#will be haunted forever now I think (complimentary)

[trans-xianxian]

EVERYBODY GO READ THE GIRL FROM THE OTHERSIDE RIGHT NOW.

[aquiescentraconteur]

My darling girl,

I wrote you a letter yesterday, by hand. It was lunch hour and there was this need for organization I felt, unprecedented. It was one of those moments when anxiety and sadness hit you simultaneously and you don’t know where to go or what to do. I ended up writing on a blank page one of the rawest letters I have ever redacted.

There’s no point in telling you everything I have on there, I’m gonna save it for a long time. It’s a list of my personal scars, of what is still healing and of the mistakes I’ve made recently.

The first haunting topic is my most recent ‘breakup’. I needed to understand what happened, what happened inside me. I realize now that all I was doing was forcing and pushing myself to work things out with someone I didn’t even want. It’s stupid really, but I was so desperate to find my person I was looking for him in every guy I had a chance. One of the passages in the letters explains it well, I think:

“I was never in love or infatuated with him, I thought I could be though. I saw someone who ‘made sense’ on paper, a possibility of ‘my person’, but I should know by now that I don’t work like that, I don’t fall for the expected person, I’m the girl falling for the unexpected, the unrequired.

So, how do I work? How do I fall in love? Maybe a list could help? Okay, here it is:

To be emotionally available. I have to solve my drawers first, I have to create space for someone to put their baggage inside them. I don’t have room for someone new in my heart because the old tenant is still there, I realize now. I need to be available for someone to become part of my life, to be complimentary to it. Do I love my life? Am I in love with day-to-day habits and random moments? How could someone add to it if there are already so many things missing? Did I forget to make room for the things that make me, me? Have I deleted parts of myself to make room for things I only wished would happen? – I know myself, I would probably do it, I would turn my back in a second for a chance at love. – Am I lost? Did I get lost? If I’m lost, how do I find myself again? What do I really want? I guess it’s obvious, I want to fall in love. Maybe a list could help?

What have I fallen in love with in the past? What has made me love someone? a) Trust: I need to know they care, I need to know they listen and I need to know they won’t leave. I need to be able to trust in him, to know he’s not going anywhere, that I won’t make him go anywhere. b) Challenge: like a puzzle you wanna assemble forever, looking for pieces and bits that you reach for daily. Like a painting, I never get tired of looking at because it challenges me. But, at the same time, I need to feel like I know this person ‘like the back of my hand’ as Sarah Kay would say. Is it possible to have both? Can I have both? c) Small intimacy: knowing looks, light touches and an overwhelming need to have that person touching you. No restrain when it comes to us, to me.”

This was problem number 1. I guess I found a few questions, but I also found answers.

Problem number 2 was the one that got me to tears. I can’t go there now, I’m at work and I don’t want to fall apart in the middle of the lab, so I’ll just leave you a passage:

“He chose someone else. It hurts as fuck. I miss him. He couldn’t care less. He doesn’t miss me. It’s okay. Is it? It makes me sad to think of it. Worthless and scared. If something like that fades away this quickly how the fuck will I ever have ‘trust’? What’s the point in trying? Will there ever be safety in someone else?

There’s also this impact on the long hall, new fears now: of never finding it again; of finding it again and being too hurt to see it.

I’m an optimist and I fucking hate myself for it. It’s like walking into a candy shop with the illusion of grabbing your favourite candy only to find out, every time, that’s sold out. So is the problem the candy shop I’m choosing or am I? Why can’t I get the candy if everyone else does?

What’s so wrong with me that I don’t get to have the one thing I want the most in this life? It’s painful to feel this, to be mistaken for a while by a blinding connection that ends up going away and taking parts of myself with it. What have I done to be paying such a big bill?”

Love,

Mom, September 20th 2023

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

Like I know that she's been dead for centuries by the time of Twilight, but it's clear she still is effectively haunting/affecting the Volturi to this day. So what are your thoughts on Didyme and her gift?

I have a lot of thoughts on Didyme, probably too much for one post, but we’ll give it a whirl and see where we land.

Caveat that, given we never see Didyme and she’s  never spoken of in the Twilight saga itself, a lot of this is me merrily headcanoning along.

Didyme

I like to think Didyme was one of those rare, very charismatic, and inherently wonderful people. This manifests itself in her gift, just being near her is enough to make you happy and see all the little joys in the world. That is to say, I don’t think her gift is a manipulative thing, but instead just an extension of her very aura. She’s one of those people whose joy is infectious. 

Aro loved her enough that he never forgot her. As a fairly young vampire, though not young enough that he couldn’t do the task at hand, he came back for her and her alone in his human life. They then traveled together for centuries (likely up to a thousand years) until they became acquainted with Marcus and Caius and started the Volturi.

To me that’s very telling of Aro’s deep love for his sister. I think he cared for her very deeply, if he hadn’t, she would never have made it to the point of joining the Volturi in the first place.

Yes, I do believe Aro did murder her, and we’ll get into that, but that’s the tragedy of it all. In his short sighted desperation, Aro murdered what he loved most in this world, and now he has essentially lost Marcus all the same and the ghost of his sister will forever hang over them both.

Didyme/Marcus

I ship none of the explicit, canon, ships presented to us in Twilight except Marcus/Didyme.

We only see the after effects of it in Marcus, that he’s still grieving and barely functional two-thousand years later, and presumably will be until the end of time. So, I will admit, this is mostly me headcanoning.

But I like to believe they had something truly profound together. Marcus/Didyme could be the ship that almost, almost, convinces me that mates actually exist. Well, I certainly like to believe theirs was the kind of love seen in epics and tales and rarely in real life.

The Greek Tragedy of Didyme’s Murder

I think Didyme saw the writing on the wall when it came to the Volturi.

First, a note, I believe the primary purpose of the Volturi is the protection of mankind. Their quest is entirely too ridiculous and pointless otherwise, for a grab at eternal power they’re kings of no one and nothing, just the swift hand of judgement for strange laws like “don’t be obvious about eating the humans” born of an age when humans very much did believe in demons. 

The Volturi, in the Twilight world, is the ones we have to thank for the blossoming of human civilization. 

I believe she agreed with her brother’s mad vision and quest. She stuck around for far too long not to. While she presumably didn’t live long after the Volturi was founded, she was around long enough that they settled in the city of Volterra, she married Marcus, Aro felt very single and got himself a wife, and I imagine the Volturi had made great strides to establishing itself (perhaps by this point defeating the Egyptian coven, gaining Demetri, and defeating the Romanians).

I think, around this point, Didyme realized that they would be doing this forever.

Imposing this law on the vampire world, rewriting the history of mankind to remove demons, it was never going to end. They would become trapped as the Volturi, despised by all the vampire world chafing at these rules they did not understand or respect, and if she stayed too long then she would never again have freedom.

I imagine she seriously weighed her love of her brother, his dream, and her own future and decided that she could not promise forever for this madness. More, she did not want Marcus to have to become this.

And so, she decided to leave.

However, the Volturi was too newly established. This was long before Jane and Alec, and they had faced very powerful threats in recent years. Marcus is extraordinarily powerful and very complimentary to Aro’s gift. Aro believes he cannot afford to lose Marcus.

And so, in desperation, he murders his sister.

Only, Marcus never recovers from Didyme’s death, and while he has Marcus he has essentially lost him anyway.

For a while, I imagine Aro brushed it off. It was difficult, yes, but he did what had to be done. However, the years go by and I imagine it starts crushing him from the inside, and by the time we reach canon we see an Aro who is not so eager to do this again.

Faced with the same decision, I imagine Aro would have let Didyme and Marcus leave, or perhaps tried to bargain with them to come for extended visits. They would, in time, likely have returned but death is something Didyme can never return from. 

This is in part why I believe Aro did not put up more of a fuss when Carlisle first left Volterra. Aro didn’t think Carlisle would find what he was looking for out there in the wide world, and while Carlisle did he also sort of didn’t, but I imagine he’d learned from Didyme and realized Carlisle needed to figure this out for himself. That, in time, Carlisle would return, as he likely would have had Carlisle not made Edward.

However, with the events of Breaking Dawn and Eclipse, this future too is doomed.

[swansandslayers]

Some fantastic Newtina fics I recommend.

Putting this under read-more since this is gonna be a pretty long list. Some of the fics listed on this post can also be found in previous posts here and here but I thought I would a bigger post for anyone interested. 

Obviously there are a lot of fics out there that I haven’t comes across, so anyone wants to add their own favorite fics/writers, or just to add their own work to this list, feel free to do so. :) And I may make more of these in the future if I have the time/energy.

Hope you guys enjoy reading these as much as I have. :)

Unplanned Beginnings written by cutenewt. Newt has locked himself in the case and hasn’t left for three and a half days. Tina is worried sick and calls his brother for help. Neither of them could have predicted what happens next though.

A Photograph of A Scamander written by cutenewt. Tina’s photographs decorate her and Newt’s new flat. As she gets used to living in England, Tina finds that the Scamander reputation is an odd one. It does not help when Theseus invites himself over for supper one evening.

What Thunderbirds Do written by gnimmish. Newt knows more about the mating rituals of most of his creatures than he does those of actual human beings - though that may not be such a bad thing.

Little Things written by littlemsbookworm. When people ask her “What is it like being married to a famous magizoologist?” she always takes a long time to answer.

Rewrite The Stars  written by cutenewt. In which Newt cares for Tina… although she is most certain that this isn’t necessary.

An American Auror, a British Magizoologist and A Parisian Sewer Monster written by gnimmish. Theseus helps a certain American auror deliver a strange beast to his brother, encounters the distinct and horrifying possibility that his brother has somehow attracted a girlfriend. One shot. Also contains some Theta as well.

Maybe A Little Family written by returntosaturn. AU in which Credence lives and Newt cares for him. Tina visits, and thinks perhaps she could make the visit permanent.

Really As Wonderful As You Seem written by Bellarsam_Chrisjulittle. Tina Goldstein has been living in London with her newly married sister, Queenie, and her husband, Jacob Kowalski, for two months. Newt Scamander is living in London after his book was published five months ago. Both receive an invitation to attend the Midsummer Festival that the Ministry throws. Though both are reluctant, both attend...and their lives are changed forever.  Also contains some Theta and Jaqueenie as well.

Good things happen when you meet strangers written by HufflepuffleMarauder. When Tina and Leta first introduce each other their conversation causes them to reflect back on previous memories with a fresh eye. After all, good things happen when you meet strangers. Also contains some Theta and Jacqueenie as well.

the stars go waltzing written by weatheredlaw. Queenie smiles. “I am happy.” She supposes it’s good that only one Goldstein sister can read minds. Also contains some Jacqueenie as well.

In the Stacks written by Kemara. "Parabolas" - the expansion of this fic - is now in progress! Tina Goldstein's first semester of college isn't going all that well until she meets a fascinating exchange student in the library.

Parabolas written by Kemara. An expansion of "In The Stacks." Tina Goldstein's first semester of college isn't going all that well until she meets a fascinating exchange student in the library. Also contains some Jacqueenie and Theta.

with all the light written by abbyli. Weeks ago, the Minister had come to Theseus with a mission to gather up a team of Aurors to go to Russia and infiltrate an underground group of Grindelwald’s followers. Naturally, Tina had been at the top of the list of candidates. Also contains some Theta and Jacqueenie.

A foggy night in London written by ravenpuff1956. Tina has been informed by a contact, that instead of being in Paris, Credence and the circus are instead in England. Also contains some Jacqueenie.

history and context written by weatheredlaw. Every time he comes back, things get a little bit bigger, a little bit bolder, until it all threatens to spill over at once.

Just This written by gnimmish. Newt and Tina try and fail to get some rest in the aftermath of The Crimes of Grindelwald.

Beneath the Surface written by ArdeaJestin. Both for her and for himself, he has to proceed in gentle touches, observe what she responds to, and ultimately make her understand that seeking the warmth of another body isn’t selfish, just the most irrepressible act of nature there is.

Find Me Where the Wild Things Are written by sakurazawa. 1929, a year and a half after the disaster at Pére Lachaise, and Tina Goldstein is at the end of her options. Haunted by dreams of Queenie, missing Newt, she’s searching for any action that might make a difference. But MACUSA has withdrawn all forces from Europe and refused further involvement in the hunt for Grindelwald, stymying her attempts to find her sister.

One Thing I’m Sure About written by HarmonizingSunsets. A letter arrives for Newt and Tina from Grindelwald. Newt knows they have to face him, but is afraid that nothing will be the same for them after. Confronting him again means risking it all, including the relationship they now have. Tina reassures him.

A Selfish Wandering Tourist written by Eilwen. It's OK to be a little selfish. Newt wanders into a bakery, attends a book-signing, tends to his creatures and meets with Tina to discuss the future of their relationship over sandwiches. Also contains some Jacqueenie.

A Silhouette Against Blue Light written by Eilwen. Outtake from 'A Selfish Wandering Tourist'.

Give Me Shelter, Be My Escape written by Bellarsam_Chrisjulittle. After the traumatic events in Paris, Newt finds Tina at a very low point, trying to escape her guilt and worry. By remembering a kindness she had once done for him, he is able to return the favor - and erase all doubts from her mind about his feelings in the process.

What Tina Gives Newt written by Bellarsam_Chrisjulittle. Takes place right after Newt, Tina and Queenie have said goodbye to Jacob. Everyone is affected with exhaustion, grief and sadness over what has happened and what nearly happened over the past few days. But the healing begins when Tina shows Newt just how selfless and lovely of a giver she is.

As Long As You Follow written by returntosaturn. He draws his rough fingertips over her bare knuckles in a certain kind of wistfulness that makes her hearten but straighten. In a new, sudden wave of sobriety she can see that he is made for these landscapes. His bronze and green and goldenrod are complimentary to the spring palette of the mountains and the old city at its feet.  

We Stood Tall Together written by returntosaturn. He curses himself for allowing his stubborn, unbridled empathy to impede even his grief, the only element that still remains within his grasp.

If I Can't Give You Words written by returntosaturn. He find himself restless, not in want of breakfast, unable to leave her side for the beasts in his case lest she wake up and find herself alone. So he settles at the chair at his desk, faces the wall tacked with sketches, strips of notes and scrawled reminders of this footnote or that, and the black, shining, well-oiled typewriter and its keys like taunting jaws.

Something Just Like This written by njckle. A collection of newtina AUs.  

a moment of apricity written by njckle. Newt returns to school. Although, he's a few years too late and on the wrong continent.

Our Midnights written by hufflepuffsstrikesback (nadvaa). Tina earned a weekend off before she had to go back to MACUSA. After a night spent together, Newt asked her out on a vacation. Finally, they have a little private time to get to know each other and to explore what they've been ignored before.

The Feeling Eyes written by hufflepuffsstrikesback (nadvaa). Tina is an undergraduate student working on her dissertation. Newton Scamander is four years her senior and currently chasing his doctorate degree. She needs him for her dissertation, and he needs her for his upcoming project. After working with him for quite some time, she realizes that he actually fun to be around.

Yours written by gnimmish. Not long after the events of Fantastic Beasts, Tina receives a missive from a certain magizoologist. Everything about it confuses her.

Maybe a little... written by EpochApocrypha. It had been happening all her life, she was always showing up where she was least wanted. This time though, her heart paid a heavy price for such a hard lesson learned. A bit of Newtleta as well here.

This Strange World written by @turnerflowers. Newt and Tina Scamander had the ideal marriage to a stranger’s eye. They were both young, healthy, and shared the kind of love that some could only dream of.

Playing in the Snow written by @timeladyjodie​. The group of Newt, Tina, Jacob, Nagini, Theseus, and Kama had been at Hogwarts for a week after the incident at the amphitheater, planning and scheming for what they should do next.

Somebody Waits for Me written by LittleLonnie. Tina returned to America to continue her work for MACUSA. Surviving four years in a place now full of tainted memories and far away from loved ones. Until one day she is offered a chance to leave it all behind to continue her life in Europe where she left her heart.

a grand canyon in the corner of your bedroom written by fakelight. “I couldn’t wait,” he says, hesitantly, haltingly. “For it to be published. I couldn’t wait.”

Catharsis written by hidetheteaspoons. Following the events of that horrific night, Newt provides his companions with the comfort they need to begin the process of healing. During this time, Newt meets with Tina and confronts his feelings for her head-on, while Dumbledore prepares the group for the next phase of the war against Grindelwald.

Also recommend the works of @silvertonedwords, @albinokittens300, @katiehavok, and @ravens-and-writings. All have written a list of awesome fics to read.

[cactibarber]

Monster Factory

So I may have decided to write my first fanfic and it may be an awful crackfic between My Brother, My Brother, and Me and The Magnus Archives- two podcasts with completely complimentary humor, tone, and storylines. 

Since it’s my first fanfic- please give me advice/critique! It’s been forever since I’ve written anything non-scientific so I need the practice lol

I’m planning on this only being the first chapter so stay tuned I guess! I don’t have an AO3 account yet, but I’m planning on putting it up there too. 

anyways enjoy the mcelroys annoying the shit out of jon sims or whatever (and also some jonmartin)

Jon tapped his fingers on his desk slowly, while he listened to the clock behind him tick on. Slowly. So, so slowly. He sighed, trying to relax his shoulders past their usual home of “right near his ears”. His boredom started to reach and stretch into that little part of his mind that could See™, but he quickly sucked those boredom tendrils back in.

After his “encounter” with Peter Lukas, nothing much had happened in the institute. Elias had disappeared after his brief meeting with him in the Panopticon, Basira had returned with a slightly more aggravated than usual Daisy in tow, and life at the Magnus Institute had gone back to whatever semblance of normal it had had beforehand. And it was driving Jon insane. He was constantly worrying about where Elias was, if Julia and Trevor were still staking out the institute, and what if Peter Lukas hadn’t been lying about the Extinction, and he was just about to miss the ritual- 

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts, and Jon looked up quickly. Martin’s round, perpetually slightly worried face peeked through the crack in the door. Jon looked up and smiled, shoulders dropping at least halfway back to their anatomically correct position. “Martin,” he said excitedly. “How are you feeling today?”

“Fine, Jon,” Martin replied. He nervously tapped his fingers against the doorframe, looking as if he had marbles in his mouth, and he was rolling them around trying to find the right one.

“We’re still on for tonight, if that’s what you were wondering,” Jon said hurriedly. “Unless-”

“Oh, no- that’s not what I was here to talk to you about,” Martin interrupted. “I mean that’s good-”

“Great, then-”

“Well, there’s another- thing- that’s come up,” he finished. 

“Oh lord,” Jon groaned. “Is it those two again? We should make sure Daisy and Basira know, and get ready to pull the fire alarm-”

“No, no,” Martin interrupted again. “It’s not them, but Rosie said we might have to watch out for anyone taking the east route since it’s full of alleys that they could be hiding in, but that’s not the point.” Martin drummed the doorframe again, taking a second before he said, “Someone wants to give a statement.”

Jon’s reaction was immediate- his shoulders shot up and he slumped in his chair, trying to make himself smaller than he already was. But his eyes seemed to light up, with a ferocity only seen in wild animals and slighted moms at soccer games. “Martin, you know I can’t- I said I wouldn’t- not to another person. Especially after-”

“Yes, I know, and I told them that I could take the statement for them, but the older one started talking about “taking it to the top”, and, well, I feel that, well, I think that we might need a little help from the Eye.”

“What does that even mean- wait. The older one, as in, there are multiple people trying to give a statement?”

“tmfhree.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said, three. Three people are outside waiting to get their collective statement taken.” 

Martin quickly slipped into Jon’s office and shut the door to keep the very loud curse Jon let out inside. 

“Come on, Jon. It won’t be so bad. You might not even have to compel them or anything-”

“Oh, I won’t have to compel them? That makes it so much better, Martin, that I don’t have to compel them. It’s not like you’re basically showing me, no, giving me, a five-course meal when I’m on a diet-”

“Jon-”

“And I know that when- if- I give in, everything will be ruined again. And- and I’ve been making progress, I swear, and-”

“Jon.” Martin brought his hands down on Jon’s shoulders heavily. Jon shakily breathed in, grounding himself through the added weight, and the warmth of Martin’s hands. “Look at me.” When Jon refused to look up from the hole he was drilling into the table with his eyes, Martin gently cupped his chin and raised his head to meet his eyes. “If you really don’t want to take their statement, you don’t have to. I’ll do my best, or get Rosie to send them along. But, their situation is a bit immediate, and they need help. And I know, that you’re worried about what happened before, but I trust you to, you know, rein yourself in.” 

Martin suddenly realized the position he was in, and flushed red, quickly trying to extract his hand from its position on Jon’s face, but Jon moved quicker, pressing his own hand into Martin’s. “Okay,” he muttered quietly. “I’ll do it.”

A slight smile spread across Martin’s face, and he rubbed his thumb in circles on Jon’s scarred skin. “Okay,” he said softly. Martin reluctantly pulled his hand away and moved toward the door. “By the way, if you do scar or retraumatize them awfully, you shouldn’t worry about them too much.” Martin opened the door and stepped into the hallway. “They’re Americans.”

Jon shifted in his chair, waiting for his customers? Patients? To step in. He caught a tape recorder in the corner of his eye, and moved to grab it and place it in the center of his desk. It wouldn’t hurt to seem a bit more professional, he thought, as he willfully ignored the state that his office was in. He heard multiple voices and what sounded like the footsteps of a monster with thirty feet coming down the hallway. “Come in,” he said sharply, before Martin could knock on the door. 

Martin opened the door and let in three men in their early 30’s. The contrast between them startled Jon, and it took a while to let the wild picture in front of him sink in.

The tallest man had bright purple hair and a beard, and what looked like eyeliner behind his glasses. He was wearing what could only be described as a cowboy shirt, and the look was completed with his dark brown cowboy boots. The oldest looking of the three was wearing a garishly neon Hawaiian shirt with a bright green fanny pack, with some weird designs on it. The shortest and youngest-looking looked like he could work in the financial department of the institute. He looked absolutely normal. No, not normal- boring. 

  But that wasn’t the whole deal. Because each one of these men was talking. Whether they were talking to each other or to Martin or Jon or just to thin air was incomprehensible, and Jon felt a migraine coming on. 

“So you’re the big boss, right? The big dog of this little establishment,” the purple-haired man said.

“Well-” Jon started.

“C’mon Trav, the big boss boy wouldn’t have this small of an office,” the Hawaiian shirt man interrupted. “Not that there’s anything wrong with your office,” he said quickly. “It’s homey and cozy in here but I would expect-”

“A penthouse office in the middle of Central London?” the youngest one interjected. “Are you kidding me? How many stories did you see on the building when we walked in, Justin?”

“How many stories a building has has nothing to do with it, Griffin! I”m just saying that-”

“That you’d expect a weird cryptid magic institution to have nice offices? This is probably one of their front offices, and they have the nice ones, you know with the haunted stuff and ghost circles and-” The purple-haired man broke off and turned to Jon. “Not that we have anything against haunted stuff or ghost circles, but-”

“But that’s not what we’re here about, we discussed this, that we weren’t gonna get sidetracked and now look at you trying to get a job here-”

“I’m not trying to get a job here, I’m just saying-”

Jon desperately looked up at Martin, pleading with his eyes for him to stay. Martin smiled, a little too cruelly for his liking, and waved to Jon as he left, shutting the door quietly behind him. 

“Gentlemen,” Jon began, raising his voice over the din. “Please- can we start with names?”

“Oh, of course,” the oldest one said, pushing the other two over to the chairs in front of Jon’s desk. “We’re the McElroy brothers-”

“You might have heard of us from our great bits in Trolls 2,” the youngest one said brightly.

“Trolls World Tour, Griffin, I told you. And I don’t think he’s even watched Trolls 1 so-”

“How would you know that? You don’t know him, he might be the biggest Trolls fan in England-”

Jon cleared his throat, and when it didn’t stop the deluge of conversation, cleared it again. By the time the three men heard him, it sounded like he was trying to hack out a hairball. “Gentlemen-”

“Yes, I’m sorry,” the older man said, shooting the other two a dirty glare. “Like I was saying, we’re the McElroys- I’m Justin McElroy, and these are my two dipshit brothers Travis,” he said, pointing at the purple-haired man, “and Griffin.”

“You didn’t let us introduce ourselves,” Travis pouted. He turned to Jon. “We have this thing we like to do, and I get to say that I’m the middlest-”

“That doesn’t matter Travis, we’re not recording an episode of the fucking podcast,” Griffin said exasperatedly. “Sorry for being blue, but we’re here to talk about some real nasty shit,” he said, whispering the last word. 

Jon took the opportunity to jump into the conversation. “Yes, what are you here to talk about? Martin said it was rather urgent.” 

For once, there was silence in the room, as the three brothers shared glances. The silence went on for a bit too long, until Griffin elbowed Justin in the side. “Ow- I guess since my brothers have decided that they have lost all use of their vocal cords, which is great for our careers, by the way, that I’ll explain.” Griffin rolled his eyes and Travis stifled a giggle. 

Jon, out of habit, reached to turn on the tape recorder, and was only mildly surprised to see that it was already running. Maybe there was a statement here after all. “What is this regarding?” he asked seriously, willfully ignoring the glances at the outdated technology.

“Well,” Justin started, “it’s about, I mean it’s a bit hard to explain.” He stopped abruptly and ran his fingers through his hair. “We-”

“We saw our video game monsters last night,” Griffin interrupted.

Jon sighed, deeper and fuller than he had ever sighed before. “Statement of the...McElroy brothers, regarding,” another deep, deep sign, “video game monsters come to life. Statement recorded direct from subjects, 1st October, 2018. Statement begins.”

[candyheartharry]

Fall Apart - Part II: Bewitched

Author’s note: Hi dolls! 💘 Sorry it took me forever to get the second part up and ready, it took a while to get some inspiration for it, but of course as soon as I got it, I had it done in one day lol. Once again our series playlist can be found here, and if you’d like to be added to the tag list at the end drop me a message and let me know, feedback is EXTREMELY appreciated, happy reading ✨ PART I

Although you and Calum had shared friends, it wasn’t until the two of you started spending more time together that these two groups began to intertwine, but it was going to be just you while he and the band were all around the world on a small promo tour. You’d kept up with him a little while he was away, receiving occasional texts and snapchat videos from wherever he was, usually either a nice picture of the scenery or a video of him and the other guys doing something funny.

It had been a little while since he was away, and you really weren’t too sure when he was supposed to be back due to a few commitments they hadn’t quite confirmed before they left, so the most he could give you before he left was a two week window on when he might possibly be back home again.

In the meantime, one of your friends who worked for an art museum downtown had invited you to an early preview party for a new temporary exhibition that was opening at the museum, so since you had nothing better to do on a Wednesday evening, you got dressed up enough to try to not look out of place among donors to the museum and fancy people who had memberships. Since she worked there she had to be there early, so you were going to be arriving by yourself and meeting her there. As you made your way through the entrance after presenting your guest pass card to the attendant at the welcome desk, you promptly made your way to the bar to help yourself to your one complimentary drink of the evening.

You had tried texting your friend to let her know you were there, but knew that since this was technically a work event for her it might be a little while before she could respond and come say hello. Until then, you decided to take a look around the exhibit that everyone had come to see. Since it was an early preview, it was obviously packed full of people who you never would’ve imagined yourself at a party with. Many people who were leading discussions in small groups crowded around the ornate frames on the wall gave off the obvious vibes that they were professors of some sort, mostly due to their use of words like “tone”, “depth”, and conversations about color choices. Others seemed like doctors, or lawyers, or stockbrokers, or maybe multi-million dollar luxury real estate agents who had so much money they decided to make very large annual donations to the museum in the name of charitable giving. There were of course others who you could tell were just membership holders out for a nice evening, and now that you think about it, you were a little surprised you hadn’t run into any of your other friends, assuming that you weren’t the only one your friend Cora who worked there had invited.

After a while of doing your best to see what types of painting and small sculptures were in this new exhibit over everyone else crowded closely around them, you still hadn’t heard from your friend, so you decided to take a break from listening to conversations about “what this shade of blue here means versus the other shade of blue in this area” and made your way out of the gallery over to the elevators that brought you upstairs earlier. Once you entered the glass elevator, you decided on going up one level to the contemporary floor. When the doors opened one floor above, there was instantly a difference in the atmosphere, not just because this area felt more spacious and open, and the pieces were much larger and not in ornate gold frames, but the first room of the gallery was completely empty with the exception of two security guards who welcomed you once they realized they were no longer alone.

After admiring a few pieces near the entrance, you followed a distant noise across the first room into the next to see where it was coming from. The only sound in the otherwise quiet gallery came from a massive mountain of speakers stacked from the floor to the ceiling, playing very quietly, but playing slightly ominous music overlapped with a few various sound effects and dialogue from movies and TV shows every now and then. Something about how gigantic and illusive this mountain of speakers was drew you in, and you found yourself wanting to stop and listen rather than explore the rest of the empty gallery. Of course, since the gallery was empty due to everyone else being downstairs, the bench across from this colossal structure was empty as well. You decided to take up a seat across from the speakers and recorded a quick video of the scene for your Instagram story. After posting, you put your phone away in the small clutch purse you brought, and decide to enjoy the peace and quiet compared to the party full of people you don’t know that you had just left.

It was nice in its own way, the quiet accented by the almost white noise coming from the speakers. It should be unsettling, but it was almost calming. Something about it felt like it was putting you in a trance, it was something so monumental, it almost felt like it had a secret that if you watched and waited long enough it would let you in on what it knew.

“Mind if I join you?” a familiar voice interrupts your from your thoughts. You look up to your right to see Calum grinning down at you, dressed in a black and white striped shirt that looked very nice on him, and a drink in his own hand. “Oh my god, Calum, hi!” you exclaimed while you instantly broke into a smile of your own after you realized who it was speaking, and rushed to set your drink down on the bench to your left before turning back to open your arms up to him.

He accepted your invitation into your open arms, starting out for a hug before he was even properly seated yet, both of your arms wrapping around his broad back and he squirmed to set his drink next to yours behind your back so he didn’t spill it on you. Once his hands were free they wrapped carefully around you, pulling you closer into him.

“Oh my god, you’re the last person I ever expected to be here, when did you get back?!” you ask once you both pull apart.

“I got back pretty late yesterday! Did you come with anybody else?” he asks as he leans around behind you for the two drinks, handing yours back to you as he holds onto his own.

“No, it’s just me. I didn’t know anybody downstairs so I just came up here,” you told him. It was still just the two of you in the gallery with the speakers, which have gotten his attention. The backing track its playing almost sounds like music that should be playing in a horror movie when the antagonist is introduced, but the overlapping track is a scene from Pride and Prejudice.

“Damn, what’s the first song you’d want to play on these if you got to pick?” he asks, turning to you before he takes a sip of his drink. You look away from him and back up at the towering mountain of speakers across from you both and think about your answer.

“Are we choosing loud songs or sad songs?” you ask, needing to narrow down what type of answer he wants to know.

“Well my answer is by Cigarettes After Sex, so pick something different for variety’s sake.”

“Can I be super cliché and go with The Less I Know The Better, Tame Impala. You said your band, but what’s your song?” you ask, shifting your position a little so that you’re facing him a little more.

“Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby,” he replies, and even though it’s just the name of the song, for some reason hearing the way he says ‘baby’ gives you chills.

“So what brings you up to the contemporary floor in the first place? Didn’t want to hang out with all the art critics downstairs?” you ask to change the subject. “Oh, you posted on your Instagram, so I came to find you,” he replies casually, sending your heart into your throat, so you take a sip of your drink to try to calm down. “Plus some of the Picasso’s downstairs looked like they could’ve also been villains on Courage the Cowardly Dog, so,” he adds with a shrug, making you laugh.

Neither of you said anything for a moment, even though there was so much you both wanted to say. He wanted to tell you every detail about his time away: the cities they went to, the people they got to meet, how he spent time with his mother which made him feel the most like himself he had felt in a while, but he probably wouldn’t tell you about how about halfway into the trip he realized he missed you a little more than he normally missed his friends when he was away. You wanted to ask him all about what he saw in the countries he had left, he always had such a more interesting life than you did, but that wasn’t all you wanted to talk about. You wanted to tell him about how mundane your life was here back at home while he was gone, and that the most interesting thing you had done was meet up with an old friend from your hometown who was passing through on a business trip. You wanted to tell him how ever since he had been gone, you had been hearing his new song on the radio nearly every time you started your car, so it almost felt like his way of saying hello even when he wasn’t around. You wanted to tell him how the barista at the coffee shop inside the bookstore you both liked had asked where your friend was the last time you went, and how you realized you actually felt kind of lonely when you told her that he was out of town. Instead you both just sat in the silence for a little while more, and listened to the mountain of speakers play a scene from the 1996 Romeo and Juliet overlapped with organ music that sounds like it could be in a haunted house.

“I missed you,” he admits after a moment’s silence. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice that his left hand is resting on the bench in the space between you two, and when he feels you noticed it he moves his hand ever so slightly closer towards you almost in an invitation that he wants you to take it.

“Sorry, I cant help it that I’m just so charming,” you tease him, nudging him with your shoulder, which makes him laugh and shake his head. When he stops laughing and is just smiling softly at you still, you place your hand on top of his.

“I missed you, too,” you continue more seriously, giving him a soft smile of your own. “The stripes are a nice look, by the way,” you add after not so subtly checking him out. You’d be lying if you said he didn’t look fucking amazing, but telling him that word for word would very likely get to his head.

He slides his hand out from underneath yours to properly hold your hand now, leaning down to place his drink on the floor before he guides you to stand up from the bench you had been seated at. “Do you want do dance with me?” he asks once you both are standing.

“Calum, this is literally a sample of a Pink Floyd song and dialogue from Titanic,” you try to oppose, setting your own now empty glass on the bench where you had been sitting. Instead, he guides you into a twirl while he shrugs his own shoulders.

“I know what I said,” he continues, reaching for your other hand and pulling you in so that you both are standing with your elbows bent and your joined hands are level with his chest, so close that if you were to let go you could reach out and touch him, but you knew better than to give in so you kept them safely joined in his in the space between you both.

In the daytime, the gallery is lit up from the natural lighting that the skylights allow, but in the evening, the darkness casts an inky blue across the room, with just a little light coming from the moon and from the occasional spotlights that illuminate certain pieces of the artwork.

“You’re supposed to say that I look nice too, you know,” you playfully point out as Calum guides you both around in a circle in the empty gallery in front of the speakers. He grins down at you before he extends his arm and lets go of your hand to guide you into a twirl again. After he spins you around he doesn’t join both your hands again, and places his free hand on your waist to pull you just a touch closer than you were standing before.

“You know I always think you look nice,” he replies. ‘Nice’ isn’t the word he wants to use, he wants to use amazing, incredible, entrancing, beautiful, captivating, but just ‘nice’ will have to do for now. Distance must have made you both a little bolder, because this evening there seems to have been an unspoken, but mutually recognized tension between you two. Staring into his eyes is almost too intense, even more so once you catch him looking away to glance at your lips for a moment, so you look away yourself to admire another piece in the gallery across the room.

You notice you’ve been in the gallery for so long now that the track on the speakers has looped back to the beginning, when you hear the same scene from Pride and Prejudice playing again. “You have bewitched me, body and soul,” is the first line you notice has started playing back, and you notice as well that Calum has started to look around the room at the other art. You take the moment to admire how he looks in the shadows of the darkness, searching to see if he’s any different now than when you left him. His hair looks like it was recently cut a little shorter, and he’s gone back to black instead of a silvery blonde. You’ve always thought the contrast of the two reminded you of night and day, and now he’s gone back to night.

“You have bewitched me, body and soul,” repeats again, now mixed over the bridge of a Lana Del Rey song you both like. He notices the song and meets your gaze again. He almost asks why you’re staring, but lets it slide in hopes you’ll return the favor eventually and let him do the same someday without questions. This time he’s the one who notices your gaze down to his lips, seeing if his smile still starts on the same side of his mouth that you remember.

He inches his face just a little closer to yours, embracing the boldness he seems to have found in the time he was gone. “Hey,” he says softly in attempt to get your attention. Your eyes flash back up to his, and he notices how where you’re standing allows you to be lit up perfectly in the moonlight.

“Sorry to interrupt, but it’s unfortunately time to call it a night. Everything wrapped up downstairs a little while ago,” a security guard announces from the archway, causing you to both nearly jump out of your skin in surprise. “Okay, thank you,” Calum nods to the guard. He drops his hand from your waist and takes a few steps back to the bench to pick up your discarded cups. You reach for your clutch purse and hold it in both hands in front of you, following his lead back to the elevators once he asks if you’re ready.

He throws away the cups in a trashcan by the doors after pressing the call button, and shoves his hands into his pockets while you wait. When the doors open, he extends an arm in gesture for you to enter first, and he follows behind before pressing the button for the main floor. In the process, you notice the time on the silver watch on his wrist reads that it’s nearly 11:00 PM, meaning you and him must’ve been up there alone for nearly an hour and a half, and neither of you had realized. You press your back against the glass to try to ground yourself again after whatever that was between you that had just happened back upstairs. He doesn’t turn to you, and instead stays just a step ahead with his back facing you the entire short ride four floors down.

“Did you drive yourself or do you want a ride?” he asks as you two exit the building through the lobby. You both fall in step side by side across the courtyard outside. “Oh, no, it’s fine, I drove myself. Did you park in the deck across the street?” you ask in return.

“Yeah, I’m over in that one, Cora gave me a pass for a reserved spot on the first level with my invite, did she give one to you too?” he replies, referring to your friend who had invited you both in the first place, and ended up never seeing the entire night. You nod in reply as you both make your way to the crossing. You had thought for a moment upstairs he might’ve been about to kiss you or say something at least before you were interrupted, but if he was going to act like everything was normal, so were you.

As you make your way into the parking deck across the street, you notice your cars are both just a few spaces apart from each other. You both stop in the empty spaces between to say goodbye before going your separate ways. “Let me know when you want to get coffee at the bookstore again, it’s been too long since I’ve been able to go,” he says after a moment.

“I’m ready whenever you want to go! The girl who always rings us up was asking about you the last time I was there,” you tell him, which makes him smile. It’s always nice to hear the home misses him just as much as he misses home whenever he’s away.

After you get your keys out of your purse, he holds open his arms to wrap you in a hug before you go, and you step into the space you’ve missed so much while he was gone. You close your eyes as he buries his head against your neck, pulling you in for the most proper hug you’ve had in a long time. You don’t realize it at the time, but the last time you’ve felt so secure and safe while wrapped in someone’s arms was his own the last time you saw him at his house the day before he left for the airport.

“Get home safe,” he requests, rubbing his hand across your shoulders before he lets go. You still feel so electrified from whatever sort of trance you both must’ve fell under in front of the speakers earlier that you can’t let him leave before giving a quick, still friendly and as casual as you can make it kiss to his cheek before you step away from him. You tried to act as if was an old habit between you both, your usual routine whenever you part ways, but you’ve never kissed his cheek before, and you both know it no matter how hard you try to not acknowledge it. Once you’ve stepped back, he doesn’t know what to say, and all he can do is blink at you for a moment.

“Be safe, I’ll see you soon. Let me know once you get home,” he requests again in attempt to snap himself out of it while he takes a step backwards towards his own car. You nod and ask him to do the same, heading around to the driver’s side of your own car in the process. Once you’re both safely in your own cars, you give each other a quick wave from the window before you go your separate ways.

You were all he could think about while he was gone, and now that he’s back it seems that you’ll be all he thinks about while he’s home as well.

tag list: @yessii-i @rexorangecouny @calssunflower @notsooperfect @outofmylimitcal @ayee-style @madbomb

[punkscowardschampions]

Jac & Savannah

Jac: Feel totally free to ignore this, and this isn't an attempt to further any more conversation between us again if you don't want it, but it would feel bizarre to pretend...well, that we hadn't known each other before, or that I'd forgotten you entirely, so Jac: Obviously things weren't great when you left but I'm fully over that as no doubt you are too Jac: As we're classmates again, it makes sense to me that we are civil and prepared to work together if necessary but I'm not going to attempt more than that, nor am I holding some kind of grudge which would prohibit the former, I thought I'd reassure you of that, as well as just say, hello, I suppose 🙂 Savannah: You're right, it would be bizarre as well as counterproductive Savannah: though, we don't actually know each other any more, two formative years having passed, so I don't see why we can't start over Savannah: treating each other like we would our other classmates Jac: That sounds logical to me too Jac: I'd be happy to treat this as an introduction opposed to a reintroduction Savannah: okay Savannah: but before we do, I just want to say I'm really proud of you for getting in Jac: You too Jac: it's amazing, isn't it Jac: better than we had even visualized and worked and prayed for Savannah: I always knew you could do it Jac: I had no doubts about you, either Jac: potential that you'd changed your course and vision but whatever you put your mind and talent to Savannah: I did think you'd go to Bath, or that I would Jac: I could lie here and say something about preferring the history and culture of Edinburgh as a city, and finding St Andrews better in X Y Z but Jac: Bath didn't happen, is the reality of it Jac: but I'm not devastated, as I once would've been to be left with my 2nd choice Savannah: We don't have to lie, it didn't happen for me either, partly because catholic school did of course, but that's not the entirety of it Jac: I try to leave lying, however innocuous and pointless, two years ago, too Jac: Karma or otherwise, just stopped feeling worth it Jac: how was your new School? Savannah: A lot of things stopped feeling worth it to me too Savannah: Oh, Sienna liked it Savannah: I did not Jac: I am sorry to hear that Jac: I can't think of anything I would've liked less than being surrounded by other hormonal, crazy, moody, bitchy teenage girls either Savannah: at least she thrived, you wouldn't even recognise her now Savannah: she's so Savannah: Loud Jac: 😂 Jac: Loud can be good Jac: at least some positives came of it all Savannah: she reminds me of how I remember Jude Savannah: but she's happy, I think Jac: I think you'd still have recognized Jude Jac: likely from a mile off, giving you time to escape Jac: I hope she is Savannah: 😄 Jac: and that you'll be happier here than you were there, too Savannah: unless either of my parents enrol, we can take that as a given Jac: I'll drink to that Jac: complimentary coffee, that is Savannah: for now anyway Jac: Hopefully the plans get a little more exciting Savannah: 🙌 Jac: Have you heard any Psych school nights being organized or do you think one of us should bite that bullet and start the group chat? Savannah: we should do it Savannah: best foot forward, you know? Jac: Absolutely Jac: Why not, eh Jac: You're in halls too, right? Savannah: Yes Savannah: where are you? Jac: John Burnet, how about you? Savannah: You only get a single bed too! Savannah: I'm in University Hall Savannah: it's so pretty Jac: The nuns taught you well then 😛 Jac: I think it's worth it for the architecture, we'll just have to remember not to roll Savannah: 👼🏾🙏🏾 Savannah: It wasn't worth ANOTHER argument with my dad about co-ed Jac: and you get to have the Libraries literally right on your doorstep Jac: I was debating it, but I'm still better in smaller crowds, that sold JB to me ultimately Savannah: if my dad didn't run my life I totally would've applied there too Savannah: I love that it has a garden Jac: I know, right? Jac: Well you can use my little patch of 🌷 🌹 🌺 🌸 🌼 🌻 whenever you like, because I'll certainly be haunting the libraries enough Savannah: You haven't lost any of your sweetness Savannah: & of course you must, I hate studying alone Jac: I'll probably be tragically uncool forever, our classmates may as well find out sooner rather than later 💁 Jac: if the sight of all those books gets too much, there's always the 🏖 for maximum studying, I'm sure Savannah: No way! I had more fun with you than I've had with anyone else EVER Savannah: they'll find all your good points Jac: 😊 Jac: Okay, we did have some fun Savannah: a lot Jac: I can't/shan't disagree with that Savannah: it doesn't feel like two years Savannah: sometimes more like twenty, or like two months Jac: It is really weird, I felt like I haven't said it because it can't be overstated Jac: but good weird Jac: are any of your friends from Sligo here too? Jac: I don't know anyone Savannah: I don't know anyone either Jac: A familiar face is a good thing Jac: as is getting to know each other afresh, they can coexist Savannah: I thought it was for the best that nobody followed me here, until I saw you Jac: Shocking as it was Jac: glad the 😱 isn't permanent Jac: I'd hate to do that to you, honestly Savannah: you don't believe I could pull it off? Jac: Of course you could Jac: but your 😄 is undeniably a better look Savannah: my lips ARE very big, I could end up looking like a blow up doll if I'm forever open mouthed from today onwards Savannah: then I'd never marry a prince Jac: Why we're here, obviously Savannah: Everyone thinks so Savannah: just because my boyfriend dumped me after the leavers cert Jac: Oof Jac: that's rough Jac: though at least he didn't steal your Summer? I guess Savannah: Oh my god! That's exactly what he said Savannah: no wonder he reminded me of you Jac: Oh God 😬 are you suggesting I should be in Sallies with the rest of the fuckboys? 😂 Jac: not the crowd I was hoping to get in with but, you know Savannah: where you are is perfect for you Jac: 🤞 Savannah: it feels right being here Jac: Yeah Jac: it really does Savannah: I was worried I wouldn't feel that when I actually got here but 🙏🏾 Jac: I thought it'd be scarier being away from home Jac: but if anything, it's a relief Savannah: you don't have to share a room with Jude any more, it obviously would be Savannah: how is everyone though? Jac: 🍵🙊 Jac: No, they're good, all doing their own thing Jac: Jesse's got his music, the kids are the same old Jac: oh, Jameson got a girlfriend though, that's cute Savannah: I can't believe one brother is literally famous and the other is adorably loved up Savannah: Sienna hasn't had a boyfriend yet, I think that's my fault Jac: Honestly, they're both unbearable now 😏 Jac: overprotective big sister vibes or off-putting dumping ex? Savannah: Jesse was always an acquired taste, which I never did Savannah: Oh, both, for sure 🤫 Jac: Musically and personality-wise, he'd agree you have a point Jac: long as she's happy, like you said Jac: always found them too distracting myself Savannah: I suppose I just always needed a distraction Jac: Clearly, that's why we aren't having this conversation in Bath Jac: for the best, in the end 🌌🔮 Savannah: I hope so Jac: Honestly, it's a better uni Jac: and I'm not just lying to myself/you to make us feel better 😂 Jac: Delia Rockford, you remember her, right? Jac: She got into Bath, so, you aren't missing out, is what I mean Savannah: I hate her Jac: She's doing International Management and German Jac: the language of the future 🤨 Savannah: She's German descent! That's basically cheating Jac: You'd think she's got a place at Cambridge studying classics the way she's been bragging Jac: they aren't remotely top in languages or whatever the hell International Management is but alright 🙄 Savannah: I'm so glad she blocked me after what happened during the party at Michelle Brennan's house Savannah: which wasn't even my fault Jac: Now that feels like a million years ago Savannah: It was Savannah: I don't think we were even friends yet Jac: We weren't for that long, in the grand scheme of things Jac: that's the weirdest part Jac: we were pretty intense, yeah Savannah: everything was pretty intense Jac: It was Jac: Isabelle is doing coaching at TUD Jac: we were never really the same but she's well in herself Savannah: She'll be incredible at that Savannah: if it had happened to me, there's no way I would've not been retaking the year Jac: I know Savannah: did you hear about my mum? Jac: No, I don't think I did? Savannah: she'll appreciate it not being common knowledge, I guess Jac: Is she okay? Savannah: She's doing better now Savannah: which I suppose means she's at about the same level as she was before I left Savannah: because she really struggled after Jac: It must've been really hard for her Jac: to have you two gone, and realize it probably was for the best Jac: did you see her much, in these two years? Savannah: not as much as I should've Jac: You can't be blamed for that Jac: you had to take care of yourself, and Sienna Savannah: but she needed me to stay Jac: Maybe she needed to sort herself out Jac: and she's getting there Jac: our parents shouldn't be our responsibility Savannah: It has to work out here, you know? Savannah: I can't go back Jac: Of course it will Jac: you're going to be fine, amazing Jac: and then you can do your masters and your Ph.D. and then marry a prince and you'll have several royal residences, neither of which will be in Dubo or Sligo Savannah: I'm just sick of things being painful, difficult is fine, but I want it not to hurt Savannah: which is a HUGE overshare if we met today Jac: it's cool Jac: I hear everyone is best friends for life fresher's week Savannah: that makes me feel a lot better Savannah: especially when I pause to consider how many of them I'm likely to cry on before it's over Jac: It's basically tradition Jac: you won't be the only one Jac: moving forward, it's bound to make you think more about what you're leaving behind, even if temporarily Savannah: I've missed you Savannah: sorry if that's like leaping over a boundary or something Jac: I wouldn't have bet on that being what you said, should I ever see you again Jac: but it's better than what I would've Savannah: It's not like this with anyone else Savannah: I can't change that Jac: I never really Jac: like I went out, people would talk to me, I'm not trying to sell a sob story here Jac: but you're right Jac: it was never the same with anyone else, not remotely Savannah: I've given you mine already, so if you have one, it's okay to tell it or not Savannah: even if I'm so embarrassed I did that Jac: Seriously, no need Jac: you were there to witness my unfinest hour Jac: I treated lots of people like shit Jac: Is, mainly Jac: but you too, in lots of ways Jac: not proud of it, but I changed, still am, hopefully Savannah: I hope you don't change too much though Jac: Yeah? Savannah: I thought you were perfect how you were Jac: And I'm the sweet one Savannah: we both made mistakes, but that's human Jac: It's been a while since anyone's accused me of being human Jac: all those exams Jac: 🤖 felt more fitting Savannah: & you look so 👼🏻 Jac: You look as flawless as you ever did Savannah: My auntie mailed all her good skincare to Sligo Jac: expect no less 🙌 Savannah: the fresher air was 🙌 Savannah: even if the rural accents took me by surprise Jac: 😵 or 🥴 surprise though? Savannah: not like 😊 😋 😍 😘 🥰 Jac: the accent here is pretty 🤭 Jac: though Savannah: which one? 😄 Jac: Valid Jac: very town VS gown Savannah: which one though? Savannah: tell me Jac: The original Savannah: very Romeo & Juliet of you Jac: Oh no Jac: am I that cliche now? Savannah: we'll see Jac: Sounds slightly concerning Jac: but I'll do my best to subvert expectations Savannah: it'll be concerning if you get distracted by some boy's accent after working this hard to get here Savannah: unless he's a prince, obviously Jac: Not changed that much Jac: I'd get disowned if I married royalty, anyway Savannah: 🚫💍👰 Savannah: just adorable heirs to the throne Savannah: 👶👶👶👶👶 Jac: adorable, illegitimate bastards ❤ Savannah: yes Savannah: or is that another cliche? Jac: Probably Jac: although if we are educated, career women now, any babies is beating expectations Savannah: except not really because every career woman is also determined to become a mother & prove she can have it all Jac: 🚫👶 it is then Jac: maybe a dissertation topic, at any rate Savannah: 😢 Jac: 👶🏾👶🏾👶🏾👶🏾👶🏾👶🏾👶🏾👶🏾👶🏾👶🏾 Jac: many as you like Savannah: they all need best friends Savannah: you have to stick to the plan Jac: Can I get through freshers first? Savannah: 🤞🏾 Jac: Please, I'm no amateur Savannah: I hope not, I'm single & the point is we do it at the same time Jac: as am I Jac: not feeling any 1st year that hard, thanks 😏 Savannah: you always date older, it's fine Jac: None of our lecturers were the one Jac: another cliche avoided Savannah: I'm not sad about that Jac: There's enough inequality of power about without actively seeking out the dynamic, agreed Savannah: ^^ Jac: the fashion show seems to have got the diversity memo though Jac: could be cool Savannah: it's going to be the highlight, I can feel it Jac: 😄 Jac: I was thinking Tues for our psych night, as nothing much is really going on Jac: what do you think? Savannah: good idea Jac: 👍 Savannah: I'll start the chat if you want Jac: You were always better at talking Savannah: when it's not that important, but when it matters, you always know exactly what to say Savannah: at least to me Jac: You're easy to talk to Jac: in a way I really could never work out Savannah: There's nobody in my life right now who would agreed with that Savannah: so it must be you Jac: my inbox full of unreads would say otherwise but Jac: I'll take it Savannah: okay, it's us together Savannah: does that make you happier? Jac: Better Savannah: your hair got really long Savannah: I'm BEYOND jealous Jac: You've got no reason to be jealous of any other girl in the world Savannah: you're not any other girl in the world Savannah: 🤫🤫 Jac: 😶 Jac: Promise Savannah: it looks beautiful, I can't cope Jac: My 😳 will not Savannah: 💗 Savannah: 🌷 🌺 🌸 Jac: Is that a dress code? Savannah: well NOW it is Jac: 😂 Jac: My wardrobe can accomodate Jac: cheers for the heads up Savannah: you're welcome Savannah: & we're all set until 💬 Jac: I better let you get on then Savannah: was it that good of a conversation starter? Jac: Solid Jac: will scare off anyone 😱 of 💗 🌷 🌺 🌸 Savannah: well I obviously don't need that negativity in my life Savannah: but I didn't mean to end this conversation Jac: We don't have to Jac: What are your plans for the rest of the day, now the obligatory are over? Savannah: don't judge me, because I know I sound like a different person, but I haven't made any Jac: Thank God, me neither Jac: I didn't know how long any of that would take Jac: nor unpacking, which is technically done but that says nothing about the decorating I wanna do Savannah: I could help Jac: Or, slightly more fair, we could check out the town, see what shops are about? Savannah: I'd like that Jac: Cool 🙂 Jac: let's have half an hour to debrief and make sure we don't look 😱 and then head out? Savannah: okay Savannah: you can put your hair up & save my life Jac: oh 🤫 Savannah: I am serious Savannah: 🚗 🚕 🚲 are distraction enough Jac: You could rock a cast Jac: but I won't let it happen Savannah: what would you write on it? Jac: That's a good 🧊breaker Jac: but I'll have to keep that secret for now Savannah: if I ask everyone on Tuesday, will you tell me then? Jac: It's a deal Savannah: it is

[alitheamateur]

The Grind- Chapter 13

431 days. A tragus piercing. A black pencil tattoo permanently etched at the highest point of my right ribcage, and shadow roots in my sandy hair thanks to Becca, my new hairstylist recommended my latest friend, Tia. All things refreshed and renewed in the life of Liv Elliott. Single Liv Elliott. Okay, nearly all. One thing most certainly, and sorely remained the same. My beating heart was still smashed like a steel mallet had turned loose on it. Sure, the festering emotional cut of our breakup was beginning to mend with time. But, we all know with a healing cut, comes a forever scar. Not a scar representing a victorious battle, or a valiant effort. But one of sheer, naïve stupidity.  I choked on a daily spoonful of utter confusion wondering where the road took such a drastic detour towards that killer cliff we had so recklessly plunged from. I constantly fought the burning urge to scratch and claw my way back up the side of that treacherous mountain to find my way back to the earliest road. The road with Colton as my copilot. 

I so graciously allowed myself 2 weeks to hide away. Flounder in tears, Rocky Road, and maybe even a drunken bonfire of most photographic evidence that Colton ever existed. I avoided mascara all together, concluding that some point of my day would inevitably lead to a blubbering breakdown as I hid in the office bathroom. I rearranged the entire span of my apartment, hopeful maybe the new positions of furniture would confuse the ghosts of him that all too often appeared laid out comfortably on the couch, ankles crossed during a Sunday nap. Or slumbering face down with one hand under a pillow and the other stretched out toward the opposite side of the bed, lips loose in sleeping breathes. I couldn’t outrun the flashbacks no matter the effort. Even still, he haunts me on a Saturday morning at The Grind, or on a Tuesday night at my place with takeout from the B-rated Chinese joint down the street. However now, the sickness of utmost sadness, overcome with a rancorous flood of anger instead. Mostly with Colton, rightfully so. But myself as well. The foolish, undignified way I had just fallen under his potent spell, I might as well have just dropped to my knees and waved the white flag the second he introduced himself. And yet, the unsolved mystery remained. HE had said he loved me first. Sure, I felt it near the moment he kissed me after our run through the city that morning, but I chose to bury the words for another time. Colton on the other hand, had no problem spouting off his revelation to me. Nor did he stutter on the admittance of apparently “thinking with his dick” when it came to the matter of our meeting that fateful morning either. One thing I was able to confirm, was the son of a bitch clearly suffered a severe case of habitual word vomit.

The Pilot for me was a bit of a safe haven in a war zone, it being a place I could hide from the demons a bit. My new title at the paper requiring me to cover all things fighting within a 100-mile radius on the other hand, posed a bit of an issue. Thank the holy heavens I had avoided the press conference for his first match following our demise, due to the short, paid hiatus I took to visit Westfield. A taste of nostalgia and familiarity seemed like suitable therapy for a maimed heart, and maybe a good caudle from my parents. An attempted one, at least.

Tony and Elizabeth, said parents, were good parents in general. I won’t take that away from their accomplishments. But when basketball gracefully bowed out of my life, their involvement followed suit. Dad & I always had ball as that bonding clue to hold us tightly together. Saturday mornings following Friday night games always began with film, 150 free throws out back on the handcrafted mock court he’d constructed for me, ending at Al’s Diner for pancakes. That first fateful Saturday after my knee surgery, we tried to replay the film and retreat to Al’s, but when the conversing concerning if I’d pass the current scoring record at Westfield High, or whether I would commit to University of Louisville or SIU no longer applied, we drifted. When the “basketball dad” shadow from the sticker he peeled from the rear window of his pickup truck faded, a hefty portion of the pride he held for his daughter did too.

As far as a closeness with mom, there truly wasn’t much. She preformed the expected team mom duties by hosting bake sale fundraisers, and chaperoning homecoming dances. But that dependable shoulder never pushed much further in the emotional realm of a relationship with me. My dad & I had always held a special closeness, leaving her to feel somewhat shoved to the proverbial back burner. I was never much for the “foofy” tea parties, or pageant queen aspirations she had, which no doubt drove the wedge deeper between the two of us. But, when I moved so far away, it seemed distance, and time had healed some wounds in our connection. When I arrived at the simple square, two story siding home on Lake Lane, my first friend in life, our Collie, Indiana nearly mounted to hood of my car to get to me. No doubt, his name sake my dads favorite action movie character, and my home-state.

“Hey Indy, you sweet boy! I’ve missed you, ya’ big guy!” I rumpled the cashmere like white coat around his neck.

Mom galloped out the red front door first, dad following suit at a slightly slower pace.

“Liv, honey! Oh, we’re so glad you’re here! We’ve missed you,” my mom squealed towards me with open arms.

“We really have missed you, kid. Look at ya’!” Dad persisted with the ever annoying greeting of ruffling the top of my head like some socially incoherent teenage boy.

They probably did miss me, I’m sure. But, apparently not enough to ever offer a visit with me since moving my things to the city of Pittsburgh. No matter what bitterness flowered, as I dragged deeper into adulthood, I had resolved that you only got one set of parents, and the importance of appreciating the ones you did get was dire. So, I decided to nurse some long dwelling resentment and go into this visit with a forgiving heart.

“I missed you guys, too. Things still look exactly the same around here.” I inventoried those familiar, award-winning rose bushes my mother grew in the landscape, and with attached garage door open, I was able to see dads tool shop sanctuary in exactly the shape I had left it. Not a hammer out of place.

“Let’s get you inside, sweetie. Dinner will be done soon, & I’m sure we have some catching up to do.” Mom placed her hands over my upper arms, guiding me into I’m sure a spotless house, while dad unloaded my suitcase from the back hatch of my SUV.

 Steaks cooked to perfection courtesy of Tony Elliott, self-proclaimed grilled master, were served in the newly remodeled dining room, and the 3 of us sat in the same assumingly designated spots that we had for all my childhood years. I did miss a motherly, prepared with love, home cooked dinner so I wasted no amount of time scarfing down the contents of her delicious spread.

“How are things with the promotion, Livvy? They aren’t taking advantage of ya’, I hope?” Dad dropped his fork gently to his plate, taking a sip of his tea.

“Things are good, dad. Ryan, my boss, really does treat me excellently. He’s always super complimentary of my work.” I assured.

“Sounds like a nice guy. Maybe someone has a little crush?” Elizabeth winked while sorting through the last few sprigs of lettuce in her salad bowl.

“Ha! No thanks, mom. He’s an awesome guy, but I’d never see him like that. Plus, I could never date my boss, you know that.” I scoffed all too quickly.

Alright, you fraidy-cat. Get to it, here! Tell them. About him.

“Plus, I think I need a little break from men these days.”

“A break? Meaning there’s been some boys around since you moved?” Mom was the first to chime in, while my dad sat idly by, trying to appear casually at ease. But, I knew he was hearing every syllable of the exchange between his wife and I.

“Just one guy, mom. Well, there was one guy.” My attention never left the chopped, leftover chunks of food on my white porcelain plate. “Remember the first piece I did on Mixed Martial Arts? My first front page?”

“Liv, don’t be ridiculous. Yes, it’s laminated and framed in the living room. Go on..” she answered, leaning on her hand as an elbow rested on the table for a blinking second, before she retracted it, minding her usual manners.

“I was with one of the competitors. Like, in a relationship for several months actually. Colton, the fighter who I was working one-on-one with.”

There, at least he’s out in the open now. The dirty secret is out.

“Was, meaning not anymore then?” Dad finally broke his cold silence.

“Not anymore, no. We haven’t been together for a while now. But, I….. I uh, I didn’t handle the split so well. Which is part of my reason for coming to see you guys.”

My mind spun like a tilt-or-whirl trying to sort through what needed to be said, and what I should leave out. They didn’t need to know how harshly he’d spoken to me, nor the pathetic amount of sick days I’d used to wallow in my tear-stained sheets and overindulge on snack-packs.

“It sounds like things were serious, honey. Frankly, I’m a little hurt you never told us about him.” My mom had taken an overbearing interest in me when I started dating in high school. Boys were something she saw as her forte, I assume. Dad and I had basketball, now she and I could have boys, and relationships. So, the lack of sharing about my now ex-boyfriend seemed to perturb her.

“It was serious, mom. Yeah. I loved him. I was in love with him. Case in point, why I didn’t handle our breakup with much dignity.”

“What happened, Liv? Anything I should be concerned about,” dad inquired in the ultimate “dad” tone of voice.

“It just didn’t work, guys. It’s done, and life goes on. Nothing more, okay?”

Life goes on, huh? Let’s practice what we preach, dear.

“Losing a love is hard, sweet pea. But you’re a strong, successful young lady, and you’ll recover just fine. I know it!” Mom smiled.

I admired her A+ efforts for the “mother bear” sermon. It’s what I needed, truly. No matter how I wanted to tell her I needed those little chats years ago. I needed that reassurance back when I thought life hated me, and some karmic attack had been yielded on my life. Recently though, she had been heartily trying with our relationship. Both of them had. And although the repairs were long overdue, and far from complete, I was thankful nonetheless.

 I hadn’t been back to my stomping grounds since I’d left slightly over three years prior, so I had my fair share of hellos to exchange, most importantly being my childhood best friend, and the shooting guard to my point guard, Sara. She hadn’t spread her wings from our small town, instead chose the “marry my perfect high school sweetheart and have the most painfully adorable twin boys on the planet” lifestyle, which suited her beautifully.  She met up with me at the local dairy freeze for a greasy order of cheese fries after ending the work day at her parents’ dental practice where she was employed as a hygienist. Sitting alone at the wooden picnic table carved with an array of heart enclosed initials of couples I knew never made it past junior year prom, I felt strangely foreign in the little town now. Distant, or homesick. Every hardware store clerk or mail carrier knowing about the family pet you had to put down because all news travelled like an unruly forest fire in Westfield, now seemed displeasing rather than endearing. I basked in a bit of big-headed pride realizing I had maybe outgrown this little corner of the world, and home suddenly felt eastbound. Whether that had anything to do with my recent ex had yet to be determined.

Sara arrived right on time, going straight for the counter to order her favorite Dr. Pepper ice cream float as she put it “first things first.” The girl may have been the only person in the whole population of 2,000 whom I held in trusting regard, so she was kept up to date through a hefty amount of text messages about the tumultuous romance of Liv and Colton. We exchanged a squealing hug before diving right into the heavy matter.

“How are you? First off, you look freakin’ amazing. The big city looks good on you, Elliott,” Sara flopped into her seat, pulling off her pink labcoat.

“Shut up, you liar. The bags under eyes have bags, Sara. I’ve been a sloppy, sobbing, bitchy, pathetic mess for going on two months now. Like, who am I and will it end?!” I felt so light being able to genuinely come out in the open with all the emotion I was dealing with. A crucial missing piece to my life in the Burgh was a real, true friend such as Sara. Someone to take shoe shopping, and call drunk at 3 a.m. when you’re well into a half of bottle of Pinot and can’t keep from hysterically bawling over the ghastly way your boyfriend spoke to you.  A woman needs the Lavern to her Shirley to share life with.  

“It’s called love, honey. Welcome to the party,” she sucked vigorously through the straw of her float. “We’ve been waiting for you to show up.” I appreciated her gracious attempt to lighten the mood.

“Well if this is what it’s all about, I won’t be coming back.” I spoke mumbled chewing on a fry.

“It doesn’t always turn out this bad, babe. You just fell really, really hard. Which means getting over it will probably be equally as difficult. As much as I hate to see you like this…”

“Easy for you to say, Sara. You practically married Prince Harry or something. Can’t I just borrow yours sometime?” I clowned.

Her husband was truly the best of the best, and he’d been that way since the beginning. So, I always harbored some envy of sorts toward the seeming perfection of their relationship.

“In all honesty, Sare, I don’t know that I’m going to have the same feelings for whoever comes along like I did Colton. I’m not going to be irrational enough to say I’ll never love again, because I know that’s just silly and overdramatic. I’m just not sure it’ll be as raging and romantic, ya’ know what I mean?”

Just as she was about to hit me with some bogus line probably directly from an article she’d read in Cosmopolitan, a familiar voice intruded.

“My God, am I having a flashback right now?” Our varsity head coach Eric Gibson yelled from the open window of his parked car.

The guy was a true, unadulterated saint. He’d pulled me from the 8th grade roster to dress up for him on JV, so I lost count on how many games we’d competed in together. He shed nearly as many tears as my own father had when I collided with that player from Carson County causing me to close out my chapter as a ball player. He quickly locked the doors to his vehicle with two beeps of the horn, and made his way eagerly to us.

“Coach, how are you?” I stood to meet his incoming hug. With Sara still residing in Indiana I’m sure their paths crossed frequently in town.

“I’m doing fine, Liv. Shocked to see you here, girl! Are you back in Westfield?” He patted Sara with a coy hand to the shoulder, and we returned ourselves after the exchange of greetings.

“Oh, no no. Just here for a visit. I finally got the chance to take a little vacation from work, so I thought I’d come check in on Sara, and my parents.”

“Yeah, you’re a real superstar here, you know that? Everyone had a field day when your article made the front page for your paper. It was the talk of the town!”  

I blushed vividly at his statement. “Thanks, coach. It’s really nothing though.”

His mouth opened wide in defense. “It most certainly is something, Liv. It’s a huge accomplishment! Don’t be so modest. Hard work deserves to be recognized, and I know you’re no stranger to working hard in everything you do.” He paused to nudge my shoulder that grazed his. “ You’re talented, Elliott. And scrappy as hell when need be! Those big shots at that newspaper better just stay outta your way.”

Suddenly, there it was. The switch of undignified pity had self-destructed. Leave it to Coach to set me straight as he always did. I was scrappy as hell! The 4 games I’d been ejected from back in school clear evidence. It was time to exercise that same fearlessness and grit to scratch myself to the surface again, leaving behind this lonely, moldy grave Colton had dug for me. He may have outweighed me by an easy sixty pounds, and could’ve snapped me in half in the concern of strength. But mentally? It’d have to be ruled a no contest.

That night, back to square one in the little town in Indiana, over cheese fries & cheap milkshakes, with an out-and-out smack reminder courtesy of coach Gibson, I awoke. The sleepwalking, gray way of life a thing of the past. I excused myself from the parade of self-pity I had long been the grand marshal for.

“Maybe she’ll take your word for it, Coach. I’ve been trying to get that very same thing through that thick head of hers.” Sara interjected, slurping the last traces of whipped cream from her glass.

“Okay, okay, you two. Lay off before it all goes to my head.” I shook with a chuckle, and decided then and there, that I was going to find peace and satisfaction in life when I got back to Pittsburgh, someway, somehow, no matter what. I wanted my heart back from him. The heart he clearly had no use for any longer.

TAGS: @torialeysha @eap1935

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Liv says: Thanks to everyone who has been so supportive of this story! I hope you’ve enjoyed it as much as I’ve learned from it <3 (I’ve never finished an AU before?!)

Read the fic here.

Our Story - The End

Despite all the years Jamie has been an author—his success turned moderate after a succession of similarly moderate novels—he has never become accustomed to seeing his own face in public. His 35-year old hair, fuller than it is now, on a book jacket. His 35-year old eyes, suggesting a wisdom he is gradually losing, on a poster. The ghost of him, always haunting.

It is a strange thing to see oneself in the hands of strangers—and stranger still to imagine the places in which one’s face has unknowingly been. A woman in Tallahassee carries What My Father Told Me in her beach bag. Two of Us Now is piled among the Strand’s $2 pickings. 

Right now, his current face is looking at his former face from across the aisle of a plane. The reader—a young woman, chipped nails, roughly 30—has failed to notice the resemblance between JAMES FRASER (emboldened, size 45 font, Times New Roman) and Jamie Fraser (human, 6’3”, approaching old age). For this, he cannot blame her. Even he finds the connection between himself and this shade, though only a few feet away, incredibly tenuous.

Over the intercom, the pilot announces their impending arrival with a lilt and un-American vowels—a voice that sounds like home. The young woman looks up from Jamie’s book and squints, as if, by narrowing her vision, the pilot’s words will write themselves into the air, more easily deciphered. Jamie laughs quietly to himself, suddenly proud of the physical (and unlikely) contact between his face, his words, and this person who is so very different from him.

(He has touched more people than he knows.)

Jamie looks out the plane window. Through the darkening light, he can almost spot the places he and Claire will visit in Scotland: Lallybroch, the university. The small studio where he had once made promises that, for the most part, he has managed to keep. He watches his wife, whose head rests just beneath his ear, and listens to her breathing—a whistle more constant than his own reflection. He turns to the reader, then back to window, the sky growing darker, darker. The tarmac coming closer, closer. And as the ground nears, he sees that familiar but foreign thing lying in the shadowed moors: His face, forever a part of this land, staring up at him.

Jamie has begun to write separate reflections, expanding the narrative of their story with brief asides. They are scrawled on napkins, on hotel stationary, on the coasters he has swiped from corner pubs. Jamie has slipped them between the pages of Claire’s notebook, their crumpled edges sticking out like so many erratic pathways, which mirror the aimless movements of his mind. 

In the hotel lobby, Claire reads them before she writes, though she has not mentioned this to Jamie. His honesty—stated so freely in these passages—could find no justice in spoken language. Out of respect, she has let his words sit between them, a significant but mute presence, for the past three days:

Today, I watched you kneel down to touch our daughter’s grave and say, “Hi sweetheart.” Today, I wondered when I’ll forget her. Today, your voice kept cracking and your eyes kept watering, and I thought, Turn away. And I thought, Give her privacy. And I thought, I should have been there, I should have been there, I should have been there. But I did not turn away, and I did not give you privacy—and no, I had not been there on that day in April. Instead, I crouched beside you today. I held your trembling hands today. After all these years I have learned to bear my pain, but still—I can never bear yours.

Today, we stumbled upon a small café and you told me it was planned, it was all on purpose. This was where I kissed you in front of our closest friends, the very first time, did I remember? I could see it meant something to you—my memory of that old gesture and that old kiss—and because you mean the world to me, I lied. “Yes,” I said. “I remember.” Today, you couldn’t stop taking pictures.

Today, you made bannocks with Jenny and sang lullabies in broken Gaelic. You knew exactly where the extra blankets were kept. Today, you did not ask Ian if he needed help carrying in the firewood. You knew it would hurt his pride. And when you passed the portrait of my mother, hanging in the upstairs hallway, I saw you incline your head, just so, as if you knew her too. Sometimes I worry that I have not said “I love you” enough.

Claire returns from the lobby to their room and crawls between the covers. Jamie’s honesty may be unspeakable, but she can acknowledge it with her body: flesh to flesh and mouths in the dark. Her hips, in sure but languid motion, are her own confession. The vulnerable way she shakes when she’s unraveled by his hands—the purest reciprocation she can offer.

A woman lets them into the apartment building on Fury Street. She grins when she sees Jamie and Claire, whose feet—now dancing a nervous shuffle—once walked this path every day. The woman’s mouth reveals crooked teeth, and the grip on her groceries shows the blue-green ropes of her veins. Claire is twenty years her senior, at least—and yet. Standing before the brick and mortar of her past, Claire feels so young, so prepared to beg for the approval of those yellowed teeth and those blue-green cords. She rushes to take a bag and open the door like coming here is a race she could lose. 

“I canna very well let James Fraser wait on me doorstep,” the woman says, once they’ve introduced themselves and their purpose for coming. “Welcome. I’m Fiona, by the way. Fiona Graham.”

It is surreal, climbing these stairs, surrounded by the ghosts of their 20-something selves. The band stickers, once pasted above the landing, have been scraped away. The section of banisters, which gaped like a broken smile, have been replaced. The door does not stick when a man, dressed in an Argyle sweater, swings it open and says, “Well, what have we here?”

“Oh, these people used to live here, Mr. Wakefield. Before the expansion, aye?”

“My, is that so?”

There is also no sign of their former neighbors—a couple whose screams had matched the music of their faulty plumbing. And when Mr. Wakefield shows Jamie and Claire their old studio, having so graciously invited them inside, they can only walk in circles. One thing, at least, has been preserved: the weak floorboards near the entrance. (A fleeting fancy: Claire wants to yell, Babe, I’m home, just to see what it’d sound like again.)

“They tore down the walls to make a bigger place, you see,” the Reverend says. “Hardly enough room for one person, much less two. Don’t know how you folks managed.”

Claire nods, yes, though her eyes are fixed elsewhere, on a certain window just ahead.

This had been their window—the one whose lancing evening light had lit up their bodies in the dark. It was by this window that Claire had learned Jamie’s secrets: the triangular birthmark on his chest, the scar on his thigh, the slight curve of his lips when he slept. It was this window that had given her a view of a world she’d thought was permanent.

To be kind, Jamie says, “It’s verra nice, sir,” though his eyes are fixed upon his wife, whose eyes are still fixed upon the window. This is the window, he vaguely realizes, from which he saw a group of carolers sing and the glare of a golden light, sparkling in the snow. He had paced before this window, a lump in his throat, before packing a bag of clothes—the tiniest clothes—inside a garbage bag. Long ago, he had spoken out of this window and wondered if she could hear him. These memories emerge and bring a hot wetness to his eyes.

“And how long have you lived here, Mr. Wakefield?” Claire asks.

“Oh, about fifteen years now.”

After all this time, Jamie is able to derive the meaning from his wife’s pleasantries and the false bravado of her chin. There is a sadness in the way she is looking at that window, trying to summon the past back through it. 

Jamie steps forward to take the crook of her arm and ignores the Reverend’s endless rambling. He points to the ceiling and says, “Look.”

They had both been secretly hoping it was there—and it is. Like a solar eclipse, a speck of marigold still shines in the northernmost corner.

Claire smiles.

Years later, the Reverend will remember the couple who seemed more at home in his place than himself. He will remark—perhaps to Alice—about the way they moved, as if in orbit. A sort of cosmic revolution that required a certain degree of closeness and a certain degree of separation, for their own balance.

In passing, the Reverend and Alice will say things like, “I’m so glad they came by,” and,  “They were a lovely couple.” On the surface, these will seem like complimentary remarks, but they will mean something else entirely.

What they will mean: I haven’t forgotten.

What they have not forgotten: the way this brief entrance has reverberated throughout their lives. Like two stars, which have long since smoldered, but whose light can still be seen from the distance of a thousand years.

And it will be the same for others as well. A nurse in 1968 can still feel the trickle down her brow, precipitated by the birth of red-haired child. A priest who said a funeral in 1992 still holds the sound of the mother’s remorseful keening. And a writer named Mary McNab still recalls a night of half-hearted passion. She can feel the magnitude of an invisible sorrow, her own willing surrender, and her own gentle possession inside a lonely mountain cabin.

All of them will think of Jamie and Claire Fraser, two strangers who became a part of their own story and changed it—even if just for a moment.

People’s stories are so malleable. One decision causes a ripple and then, however infinitesimally, changes their trajectories. A look, a touch, a conversation—what if the nurse had not delivered the baby into his mother’s dying arms? What if the priest had not said the service? How much of their stories would be different? And for that matter, how much of their stories have been edited by the stories of others?

Jamie and Claire live on in such memories—the small legacies they have carved for themselves in different lives. Pieces of them will remain, thriving, even when it seems they have been forgotten. They are two points, forever at the origin of a stranger’s long-ago decision: to say “push,” to oversee the funeral, to knock on the door at midnight. In this way, Jamie and Claire are immortal. In this way, the universe remembers them.

In the end, we are all echoes carried in the bones of things.

Today, you wore the bracelet I gave you when Brianna was born. Today, I didn’t realize you meant to kiss me, and so you found my cheek like a teenage lover. The charms moved, tinkling, when you held my hand. Have I told you that I always think of this? Those little tokens of your life, calling out as you reach for me. I felt the baby rattle, the stethoscope. The small penguin, with its jewel encrusted eye, pressed its wing into my skin. Here’s the thing, Claire: it has always been forever.

They are at Arthur’s Seat. The wind blows them sideways, and it threatens to sweep them into the city below. Claire’s earring falls from her lobe, and Jamie catches it. Jamie’s scarf unwinds from his neck, and Claire snatches its tasseled ends before it flies towards the sea. Their feet are imbalanced on the uneven terrain, and they duck haphazardly out of tourists’ photos.

Claire, seeing Jamie hoist up a struggling climber, thinks of how recklessly, how wholly she has loved him. And Jamie, seeing Claire let down her hair, marvels at their easy tumble—how effortlessly they have become a staple of his life.

Eventually, the darkening horizon predicts a storm, and the clouds roll in. Jamie and Claire are one of the few still on the peak, most visitors already picking their way down the hillside, hidden beneath plastic ponchos.

“There,” Claire says. She points to something in the distance: a dark-brick building, just on the edges of Edinburgh. “Where we first met,” she clarifies.

“Does it look the same, d’ye think?”

“Yes,” Claire says. Looking down, she laces her fingers through his, as if to give him the understanding of its sameness. “Yes, I suppose it does.”

They both support each other against the wind, thinking of the opening words in their now-shared notebook. Like a dream—to see the place where Claire had once fixed her lipstick, where Jamie had once loosened his shirt collar, where they had once walked together through a crowded room and realized how easy it was to fall in love.

They both laugh when two little girls stick out their tongues to catch the rain.

“So here were are,” Claire says.

“Here we are,” Jamie replies. And he kisses her.

FIN.

And if you’re bored and would like an Our Story playlist—here are the songs that gave me feels while writing.

[zukoscomet]

The Good Prince

This is the second part to my first piece A Little Overwhelmed which you can find here. Some good healthy Doraelin in the morning. Enjoy :)

Dorian Havilliard had lived a long life in his forty-four years and he liked to think he’d learned a thing or two about his world.

He was a scholar king. He knew big things.

The positions of every town and city in Adarlan, their distances relative to Rifthold and Orynth. He knew the names of every star in every constellation in Terrasen’s sky, could recognize every peak in the White Fang Mountains. He knew the population of Rifthold to the nearest ten. He knew the family trees of every monarchy in Erilea, back over a hundred years. He’d read nearly a quarter of all the books in the Library of Orynth.

He was a husband, a father. Dorian knew little things.

The exact angle that Aelin liked the window open at night, how much milk she liked in her tea, the coordinates of the divine places where she liked to be touched. He knew the times at which each of his children had been born, down to the glorious seconds when they each took their first breaths. He knew what their first words had been.

He knew that his son, Alec, would sleep best when he had three pillows. He knew that Isabel wrote with her left hand although she did everything else with her right. He would recognize the brown of Edric’s eye anywhere, like treacle whiskey, matured for a thousand years or more. He could recite the order of the books that were always stacked on Artemis’ bedside table. He could draw the patterns of freckles of Emmett’s cheeks to impeccable detail.

These were as permanent in his brain as a brand on his skin.

One would think, that after forty-four years surviving, Dorian would know himself best. That he knew his limitations.

One would be wrong.

“You know, I was thinking Tristan.” Aelin started as she busied herself around the room, hanging the day’s discarded dresses back into her wardrobe.

Dorian forced himself to open his eyes, as if his lids were as heavy as boulders. It was a joke. Orynth’s weather was one of the most constant things in the king’s life. He could count on that when he opened the drapes in the morning, he’d see silvery mist stretching up to the sky. He’d feel a refreshingly cold breeze on his face, the damp, earthy smell of the mountain ranges.

Today, beams of fiery white sunlight pierced the seemingly infallible cloud layer. Right into the eyes of an extremely hungover king.

“Tristan as in what?” Dorian groaned, trying in vain to push himself into a sitting position.

Aelin abandoned her attempts at wardrobe organization and wandered over to his bedside. This close, his senses were assaulted by the familiar scents of his wife in the morning. Lavender oil in her hair, peppermint in her breath, the odd waft of her rosy perfume. Over the years, they had grown as comforting to him as a good blanket.

The queen perched on the edge of the mattress, as near as she could get without sitting on him, and leaned over him.

“Hello? Is Dorian Havilliard in there or should I call later?” she smirked, tapping his forehead lightly with her knuckles. Dorian pushed her hand away playfully, catching her fist in his hand. “Tristan as in the baby, you drunkard.”

Dorian didn’t know why Aelin bothered. They had never, not once, managed to name any of their babies before they’d come into the world. They just didn’t agree until they were put on the spot. He said ‘they’ in his head. In truth, Dorian had only chosen Isabel’s name. Their sons had all had their names picked by Aelin.

“Tristan,” Dorian repeated, trying it on his tongue. “Where’d you get that from?”

“Isabel suggested it. It’s from this really old book she’s reading.”

“Tristan and Isolde?” He raised an eyebrow. “Tristan dies at the end.”

“Oh,” Aelin grimaced. “Maybe not then.” She rolled onto her back beside him. “What about Dorian Junior?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want a child named after me. It’s pretentious.” Dorian rolled his eyes, his hand drifting to the small curve of Aelin’s belly. “Anyway, you’re wasting time. You know you won’t be able to decide on anything until he or she is born.”

“It’s another boy, I’m sure of it, though I wish I could give Isabel that little sister she’s always wanted.” The queen admitted, putting her hand on top of her husband’s.

“No more after this. I won’t have you risking your life,” Dorian reminded her firmly.

Dorian loved his children more than anything, but the experiences bringing their last three babies into the world had been horrible, had haunted Dorian’s dreams till that very day.

Twins were always a huge ask on the mother but theirs had been particularly difficult, even with all the healers there for her. Two long days and nights, Aelin had been in agony with her contractions but there had been no sign of delivery. Aelin finally pushed Edric out into the world by the third morning, but his brother did not follow. Artemis did not arrive until the night. By that point, Aelin had been barely conscious. It had taken her weeks to recover her strength.

Emmett’s birth had been much shorter, only a few hours, but it had been the worst of all. It was weeks premature and Aelin had lost so much blood. More than anyone could afford to lose. It had been touch and go. Dorian had genuinely thought that he was going to lose his wife, and he wasn’t the only one. The Council demanded that Dorian sign the regency bill. Dorian had no desire to ever rule Terrasen. The people accepted him, but only because of their love for Aelin and the love she had for him in turn. It was why he was only named Prince Consort. Alec had been fourteen at the time. A four-year regency would have been hard. Luckily, Aelin did live, but she’d been on the cusp of death first.

“At least Alec is old enough to be king now.” Aelin reasoned, moving her hand to rest on Dorian’s clavicle.

Dorian shook his head. “He’s old enough, but not ready. Especially after his performance last night.”

“Oh, Dorian, he’s still a boy. Let him have some fun. Besides, there’s nothing left to teach him. He’s finished his education. He’s been appointed the heir in a ceremony. Our people support him . . .” She trailed off.

“He’s not a boy. He’s twenty years old. Alec has had everything handed to him on a plate like all princes do. He’s not spoiled, but he needs to learn responsibility,” Dorian said, entwining his hand with hers. “Perhaps, you’ll consider sending him away.”

Aelin seemed to stiffen. Alec had always been his mother’s boy and he wouldn’t, nor would he ever, grow out of it. “Send him away where?”

“To one of our properties that we don’t use. The Summer Gardens in Suria, maybe. I used to live there with Chaol when I was a teenager. Having his own household will teach him how to run one properly. It’ll be on a much smaller scale than a palace, I admit, but the principle is the same everywhere. It’ll do him the world of good.”

He didn’t say it because he knew it would upset her, but being away from Aelin would stop him from being coddled so much.

“But he’ll miss the baby being born.” The queen placed her free hand on her abdomen.

“He can visit.” He replied dismissively. There was quiet for a moment.

“I don’t know, Dorian,” Aelin eventually murmured. “Suria is so far away and he’s still so young.”

“I was already king by his age and I didn’t have half the tutoring that Alec has had. You were queen and you had even less experience. Hell, we were fighting a war by then,” Dorian laughed sardonically. “If only our greatest responsibility had been looking after a summer house for a year or two.”

“Alright, fine. We’ll send him to Suria for a year,”

Dorian took a breath in.

“A year. That’s my offer.” She repeated sternly.

The breath was let go. “Alright, fine. A year.”

“We’ll see how it goes. If it works out, he can stay there,” Aelin conceded, looking up at her husband. “And Isabel?”

Now it was Dorian’s turn to get tense. If Aelin had a soft spot for Alec, then Dorian had one for his daughter. Alec and Isabel were complimentary, in a way. Alec looked remarkably like his father, but he was all Aelin on the inside. Isabel was a near perfect likeness to Aelin, but her temperament was more reminiscent of her father. They made their connections that way. Dorian had a kind of mutual understanding with Isabel, right from the moment that Aelin had placed her in his arms. Birds of a feather, Aelin said.

“What about Isabel?”

“She’s sixteen now, too. Almost an adult. Maybe we should send her with Alec.”

“Isabel isn’t going to be queen.”

“She might be someone’s queen. We won’t be arranging a marriage for her but who’s to say she won’t fall in love with another Erilean prince on her own?

“But what are the chances-”

“As good as anyone else’s, as you well know,” Aelin retorted, prodding his chest. “Arrangement or not, the other princes in Erilea are certainly interested. Even if she doesn’t marry a prince, she’s not going to want to live in the palace forever. She’s going to want her own home and she’s going to need to know how to run it.”

Dorian’s jaw tightened. “She’s still young. Maybe in a few years time.”

“When she’s eighteen, she goes, too.”

“But-”

“It’s only fair. Promise me?”

Dorian considered making this a battle of wills, but rarely did he emerge victorious against Aelin. Her resolve was made of hardened steel. He was more malleable. He wanted to be fair to Alec, his son, the second person that he’d ever fallen in love with.

“Promise.”

Aelin smiled at him, rolling off the bed. “Get dressed, or we’ll be late for breakfast.”

Dorian watched her go as she sauntered across the room to his side of the wardrobe, pulling out a loose white shirt and brown jodhpurs.

“I would if you weren’t purloining my clothes,” Dorian mumbled, pushing the blankets from his legs.

He wasn’t exactly surprised. It wasn’t unusual for Aelin to wear his clothes, but he never had to share his wardrobe more than when she was pregnant.

She either didn’t hear him or didn’t deign to reply, buttoning up the shirt over her belly. “We can tell Alec about Suria at breakfast.” She said instead.

Dorian shifted uncomfortably. Alec was a good kid with a good heart, but he wasn’t sure how he was going to take the news that he was being dismissed from his own home. Dorian had been overjoyed when his father had sent him to the summer palace, but Dorian hadn’t been loved. Alec was certainly loved if nothing else.

“Maybe we should wait until after we’ve made the plans. He’s probably not going to be in the best of states this morning.” He suggested, reaching for a flagon of water on his bedside table.

“If he finds out before we tell him ourselves, he’ll be furious. We’ll tell him today.”

Dorian sighed.

Today was going to be a long day.

[dances-with-kuribohs]

Unnecessary Protection

another AU, but no specific ship. Yugi and Bakura have a conversation about the strange events that occur around them. (~3000 words)

I’m not sure if I’ll come back to this: I do want to explore it again sometime but there isn’t a bigger plot planned out. 

...

Yugi Motou had the strangest luck of anyone he knew.

It hadn’t been with him forever. He wasn’t sure when it had started, but it had definitely gotten strong as he’d gotten older. As a little kid, he’d enjoyed his games and toys, and if someone had bothered him or tried to take his things, he would complain. They might look at him, tease him more, but usually they would stare at him for a moment and then sheepishly return his items. He figured it was just part of being a kid. 

In middle school, he’d been accused of shoplifting by an angry shopkeeper who had nothing better to do than to bully schoolchildren. Innocent of the crime, Yugi had nearly crumbled under the man’s shouting, and had already pulled out his allowance money to pay the man. However, prompted by a strange noise, Yugi had watched as a shelving unit suddenly gave out, sending a vast quantity of canned goods piling onto the shopkeeper’s head until he lost consciousness and the issue of payment was moot.

In high school, Yugi became aware that there were times when his protection was not always immediate: the bully which had extorted money from him would come running up to him the day after, babbling about repayment, and the mean girl who’d started making a list of “untouchables” would suddenly find her skin breaking out in painful sores and boils. Though Yugi knew that their consequences were not his fault, he did find it somewhat uncomfortable to consider their fates, and did his best to avoid conflict with anyone so long as he could help it.

It was not until he met Ryou Bakura that Yugi realized there might be a more complex explanation for his luck, and Bakura had invited him over to his apartment in order to “investigate” the phenomenon further. Ryou had transferred midway through their tenth grade year, but he’d quickly found common ground with Yugi in their love of games and puzzles, devoting entire break periods to comparing the newest releases. When Yugi arrived at Bakura’s apartment, he was not surprised to find it neatly arranged with a sizable cupboard of games, though Bakura hurried to provide snacks or tea in his role as host.

Finally, after initial greetings and light conversation, Yugi had turned to the matter at hand.

“Ryou, you said you had a theory. About my luck.”

“Right, yes.” Ryou’s accent was quite charming, and it lent credence to some of his wilder suppositions. Yugi wondered if Ryou knew how easy it was to listen to him. “I hadn’t seen most of the results myself, but Anzu confirmed your stories. And it isn’t so unreasonable to think that certain individuals might have...strange events occur around them.”

Yugi nodded, eager for more. “But it doesn’t happen in games. That’s why I like them so much: I know that my luck doesn’t affect dice rolls or card draws. I’ve tried that.”

“Yes, your ‘luck’--” Ryou used the air quotes to indicate the uncertainty of the term. “--Is almost karmic, yes? It relies on specific events, certain situations. And it tends to be a punishment for someone.”

“Well, yes.” Yugi exhaled slowly, hands clasped. “I mean, it’s nice to know that people get what they deserve. But I don’t want people being hurt because of me.”

“Well.” Ryou’s excitement faded slightly, and his expression suddenly grew more withdrawn and faded. “I know that feeling. See, it’s one of the reasons I transferred here. This ‘luck’, whatever you have, I have it too. But mine doesn’t work in the same way, it--” Ryou took a deep breath, shifting to draw up his knees to his chest. “Promise you won’t hate me.”

“No! No, Ryou, I wouldn’t do that.”

“I think I hurt people at my old school. They ended up in a coma after I, um, showed them a game? And teachers, too. I promise, I didn’t want that to happen! I don’t know why it put them in a coma! But it happened because of me.”

Yugi leaned forward, reaching a hand across the low table. “Yes! Yes, I know! Do you know why it happens?”

“I thought it was, um. Okay.” Ryou leaned forward too, clasping Yugi’s hand. “The way mine happened, it came on so quickly, and so I think...I think I’m being haunted.”

“Haunted? Like, by a spirit?”

Ryou nodded quickly. “If places can be haunted, then people can be haunted too. I was doing a lot of research before I left my old school, and--wait, here.” He pulled away, moving to his cabinet in order to pull out a small stack of items. Spreading them on the table, he pointed for Yugi to peruse the set. “I tried to find ways to talk to him. Whatever it is I have. I tried tea leaves and tarot and Ouija and--”

“Did you ever hear anything? Did anything happen?” Yugi looked at him, eyes wide with wonder. Ryou had to pause, staring at the scattered items before squaring his shoulders.

“I only started hearing back from him after I met you.”

“Oh.” Yugi paled, unsure of what it meant. “So...so, what, I might be...what does it mean?”

“Well, I think it means that you, and me, or...with both of us, together, the things around us, whatever they are, the bonds are stronger. Or the boundaries between the worlds get thinner. Something like that. So when the two of us are together, maybe we could manage to get your spirit to finally connect.”

Yugi stared, shifting back to cross his legs. “Can you hear yours right now? Is it talking to you?”

Ryou shook his head. “Not right now. He doesn’t talk very much, and--” He winced, avoiding Yugi’s eyes. “He’s not very complimentary.”

“Oh.”

“But yours! Yours, it must like you, because you said it keeps you safe, right? So maybe yours is a nice one!”

“Well, I don’t know what to try. If all the things you tried didn’t work until you met me, there’s no reason the Ouija board would work for me, right?” Yugi rearranged some of the items on the table, frowning as he tried to determine the best course of action. As he moved, he recalled another question, and offered it as he created a stack on the table again. “How long have you had yours?”

Ryou shrugged. “I don’t really know. I only noticed this last year, because of my friends. But maybe I’ve had it since I was born. Or, you know.” He hesitated, prompting Yugi to look up at him. “Some stuff happened lately that might have drawn them to me. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh. Okay.” Yugi studied him momentarily, waiting until Ryou shook himself and offered a tentative smile. “Well, if you don’t mind, I think we could try a simple experiment first. If it just takes us being together, then maybe we should just sit together. I don’t have anything else to do this afternoon. Show me one of the other things you have in the cabinet!”

Ryou slowly nodded, moving again to bring out another few boxes from the cabinet. Together, the two of them pored over rulebooks and game pieces, finally deciding on a murder mystery board game that pitted them against each other and a mysterious mastermind. The rules were a bit overcomplicated, but they were able to get a decent way through the game before something changed. 

Yugi had not been able to tell when it changed: he thought the darkening light was a consequence of the sun moving, but when the board game was flipped off the table, Yugi jerked back to find that the blinds in Ryou’s apartment were now closed, and the low light made everything eerie and faded. Ryou stared at Yugi with wide eyes, both of them silent as they strained their ears to listen. Pieces were scattered over the floor, the rulebook upside-down, and finally, the table rattled again and the two boys scrambled back.

“Ryou?”

“I saw it, Yugi.”

“Um, Ryou?” Yugi looked up, suddenly staring at something behind Ryou. “Can you see him?”

“Yes! Yes, I can see--” Ryou looked to Yugi, glancing between him and another point somewhere behind Yugi. “Oh! Oh, wow. Yugi. You’ve got someone.”

“What?” Yugi had to tear his eyes away to turn around, staring in shock at the figure that had appeared behind him. Since he was seated, he had to crane his neck in order to see the figure fully, and was surprised that it looked...like him. It even had his uniform.

For a heartbeat, no one spoke, and then suddenly there were other voices, speaking over the two students.

“Don’t you dare lay a finger on him!”

“What are you going to do, pixie, smite me? He agreed to play a game!”

“Not this kind of game! You misuse your bond!”

“Bond, schmond.” 

Yugi felt his pulse in his throat, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. There was another him, standing behind him, and there was another Ryou, standing behind Ryou. Ryou, though paler than usual, was not overly shocked, and Yugi tried to gain a measure of strength from Ryou’s calm demeanor.

“Who are you?!” Yugi demanded, freezing as both beings -- spirits? -- looked to him suddenly. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, goody-goody, you never told yours who you were!” The other Ryou grinned, arms folded over his chest. “Cat’s out of the bag now.”

“Yugi. It has been my honor to guard your steps these past sixteen years. I apologize that our meeting should be marred by this.” The other Yugi pointed, then looked down at Yugi. “Hello.”

Yugi blinked. Then, inhaling deeply, he braced himself and attempted to scramble backwards. “Ryou!”

“Whoa! Yugi--” Ryou hurried to come to his side, helping Yugi back away from the table. “Yugi, it’s okay, they can’t, um. At least, I think they can’t hurt us.”

Neither spirit moved, but they both watched the mortal boys with interest, their gazes dark and piercing. Yugi and Ryou both stared back, until at last Ryou cleared his throat to continue. 

“Right? You two can’t hurt us directly unless we allow it.”

The two spirits did not answer immediately, glancing at each other before looking back at the boys. Finally, the other Yugi began.

“I am allowed to intervene if something is a threat to Yugi.”

The other Ryou grinned, rocking back on his heels. “Ryou, you shouldn’t make asumptions. The same rules don’t apply to me.”

“You are a failure.” The other Yugi interrupted. The other Ryou simply shrugged.

“You didn’t even tell your kid you existed! So fix your own arrangement before you criticize mine.” The other Ryou wiggled his fingers at the other Yugi, earning a scowl for his trouble. “Ryou. Ryou. My sweet pumpkin. My darling cream puff.”

“Don’t do that.” Ryou wrinkled his nose, gripping Yugi’s shoulder. “I told you, he’s not very nice to listen to.”

“Lies and slander! Yugi, I’m just trying to help out my good friend Ryou. It’s why I came to Earth.”

“Yugi, don’t listen to him. We have been placed here with you, tied to you by fate. Even I do not know why.”

“Oh my god.” Yugi pressed his palms against his forehead, cupping his own face in frustration. “I’m so sorry, Ryou, I should never have asked.”

“It’s okay. I think it’s more my fault.” Ryou sighed, sitting forward. “But at least we know, now. I have a spirit. You have a spirit.”

“Well. Okay, so we’ve solved the mystery.” Yugi nodded. “But why now? What did we do?”

“He was attempting to interfere.” The other Yugi pointed an accusatory finger at the other Ryou, feet wide in a strong stance. “I had to make myself known.”

“Oh, well.” The other Ryou snapped his fingers in an exaggerated expression of defeat. “Can’t get them all!”

“Why?” Yugi stared in confusion. “Why on earth would you hurt Ryou’s friends?”

“Mm, well. Call it ‘character-building’.” The other Ryou leaned forward, studying Yugi more closely. “If they could’ve played well, they would’ve been fine. But none of them were worthy.”

“Is Yugi worthy?”

“You didn’t finish the game. But, since he’s got a guardian, I suppose I won’t interfere with him this time.” The other Ryou rolled his eyes, stepping back from the table. “Not every mortal is so lucky, remember.”

“Go away!” Ryou made a shooing motion, and both boys watched as the other Ryou grinned, then faded from view. Finally free of one influence, they turned their attention to the other Yugi, meeting his gaze. “Okay. So. You’re not as bad as him, but what are you?”

The other Yugi folded his arms, his expression stern. “I am here for Yugi.”

“Right, but--” Yugi sat up, examining him more closely. “You’ve been protecting me, all this time?”

“Yes. You are my charge.”

“But...why would you do so much? Like the people at school, you did that! How could you do that to them?”

“They hurt you. There was a consequence.”

“Other me, this is…” Yugi shook his head, exhaling slowly. “Could you not do that?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Just...stop hurting people! I appreciate that you don’t want me to be hurt, but I don’t want them hurt either!” Yugi watched as his other self considered this, his expression shifting into one of clear determination.

“If this is what you wish.”

“Yes, it’s what I wish!”

“Very well. I will try to adjust the penalties.”

“Okay.” Yugi blinked, suddenly growing hesitant. “Do you...have to stay there the whole time?”

“No. I can leave.” The other Yugi bowed his head, and as quickly as he’d appeared, he faded from view again, leaving Yugi and Ryou alone in the room. Yugi felt as if he could finally catch his breath, sitting up to run a hand through his hair.

“Well.” Ryou spoke, moving away to begin picking up the game pieces that had fallen. “At least we know for sure now.”

“Right.” Yugi waved his hand through the space where his other self had been standing, making contact with nothing. “So I have a...spirit.”

“My other self called him a ‘guardian’.” Ryou observed. “That would make sense if he’s been protecting you.”

“But yours isn’t the same, right? Even I could tell that much. Yours was so rude.”

“He was being better today.” With a shrug, Ryou focused on the game box. “And he...it’s hard to tell, most of the time, but I think he does think he’s helping. I haven’t asked him very much about my other friends, but he tells me how it’s going to make things better. I don’t know his full plan. But maybe he is trying.”

It was a kind thought. Yugi tried to smile, though his confidence was low. “Why do they look like us?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh. Okay.” Yugi fell quiet again, finally moving to help Ryou put the box away and tidy the table once more. Their congenial atmosphere had dissipated, leaving them both in an uncomfortable silence as they avoided eye contact. Finally, after making a decision, Yugi got to his feet and reached out to help Ryou stand.

“Listen, Ryou--”

“I’m sorry this happened, Yugi. I didn’t mean for--”

“No! No, it’s not your fault. We know more than we did before.” Yugi clasped Ryou’s hand, nodding quickly. “Maybe we can try again to finish the game, soon. I really like the ones you’ve chosen.”

“Oh, I...oh.” Ryou smiled faintly, squeezing Yugi’s hand in response. “Thank you, Yugi, for saying that.”

“Of course. What, did you think I’d see a ghost and get scared off? You’re not the spirit. And maybe it will take the two of us to figure this thing out.”

Ryou nodded quickly, suddenly reaching forward to grab Yugi in a disjointed embrace. Yugi adjusted himself to return the gesture, surprised by how desperate Ryou had become. “Thank you, Yugi, thank you--”

“Hey, Ryou, it’s fine! Ryou, listen, you--with your help, I’ve gotten more of an answer than I’ve ever had. That’s important to me. And now that we know what’s going on, we have to work together. And!” Yugi squeezed him gently, finally pulling away to look at Ryou’s expression. “And you’re my friend. We’ll figure this out.”

Ryou smiled, stepping back to nod. “Okay. You’re right, Yugi. We’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah!” Yugi confirmed with pleasure, moving toward the door at last to leave. “See you tomorrow, Ryou.”

“Right!” Ryou followed him, letting Yugi out, and waved as he closed the door. Yugi enjoyed the walk back down to street level, letting the exertion clear his head, and finally stepped out into the evening sunshine to consider the things he’d learned. 

So he had a guardian spirit, hm? Some sort of ghost to watch over him? That meant all the things he’d done, all the people who had tried to hurt him, they were facing the reaction of this...thing. It meant all the times he’d been in danger, it was the spirit who had protected him.

Did that also mean that even when he wasn’t in danger, the spirit was still there?

He didn’t want to think about what that meant. He could blame his reddening cheeks on the setting sun, right? Quickening his pace, Yugi directed his steps toward home, focusing on the things he had left to do that day. He would have to save his research for later. But he had Ryou to help him.

[ghostbrokenbywhatever]

A Choosen One?

It's time i told something i myself was afraid of. Is this just me being paranoid? Afraid of, not darkness, but what creatures lie within it? A free roam of a girl's spiraling imagination? Or....something more?

The Following Story is of my personal experiences, and as we all know, baby memories are horrid to try remembering. Not everybody can agree with me, skeptics will be skeptics....but i know what i saw that afternoon.

--------

February 15, 2001. I'm not sure what time it was, could of been 4-5 in the afternoon, the sun was at the brink of setting as the dark purplish-orange hue dimmed up in my room. I was just barely a year old, and being in that crib was boring. Nothing to do other than tumble, rattle my crib bars and just cry for attention! Everyday, Mama would always pamper me and feed me like any other Mother, giving me the comfort i requested, or as some of my friends like to say, "Boredn't". Father was outside, chopping up some fire wood with "Randy", his old passed down rusty sheet of metal he calls an axe, preparing for a Barbecue come the following week.

It was nap time eventually! Yay! Boy was i excited! Mama tucked me in and gave me a binky, and a bottle of warm milk in case i grew thirsty. "I love you!" was the last thing i remember before the lights went out from a flick of a switch.

8:00 and all was pitch. I woke from the nap, realizing i was sucking on my thumb rather than the complimentary binky. And so i went on a search in the crip that felt like hours...which in fact was only 1-2 minutes. You just couldn't see past your eyelashes, and instead of continuing, i layed back down with the bottle of milk, sucking away until i passed out. Another hour into the night and i woke. But something was different....i couldn't move. i couldn't breathe......i couldn't cry.

9:00?....My Terror couldn't be sugar coated. With all senses of movement offline, and the inability to make a sound was terrifying for anyone. My entire body was just pulling down on me. I heard a sound that could be likened to very faint wind. At the corner of my eye, i saw it. A shadow. It looked like a floating mass, it was in no way identifiable as a figure. However-...it had appendages, such as rod protruding from the left of it, and a worm like tendril with claws likened to that of a creature of the woods. I didn't know what to think. It was scary, yes of course, but...there were other emotions. I wanted to cry...i wanted to touch...i wanted to follow it. It's tendril appeared to turn into a hand. The thing itself was darker than dark, pitcher than pitch. You can easily make out the darker mass within darkness itself. And with the hand wrapping itself around my face....everything went dark, i couldn't remember anything for awhile. In fact-....the only memory i could remember next was going to school for the first time.

It's 2019, almost 19. And it was only a matter of time before i spread the word i kept with me for 18 years. Now, this next segment comes from my Mama...it wasn't until a couple weeks ago she finishes the rest of the painting of what happened.

She was fast asleep around this time as the balck mass took over me, Mama. About 8 Minutes in, a scream was finally heard...my scream, it lasted for a quick second, but disturbing enough for my parents to hear. According to her, she quickly ran to my room, shouting my name. She discovered that my room lights were all turned on and....i was deep asleep under my crib....with the lost binky in my mouth. No one knew how i got on the floor from a straight bar crib. No one knew who turned on the lights. I never knew what the creature wanted me for. It will forever remain a terrifying unexplainable event of my life, one that will haunt me to my grave.

Some Skeptics say Sleep Paralysis...others will say forced entry of an intruder. But i know what i saw...

Leave a comment and tell me what you think of this event! Share your thoughts or even share a story of your own. Ask me any questions you'd like answered in the Ask Panel.

A Chosen One? -ghostbrokenbywhatever

[bethestaryouareradio]

Treats Not Tricks

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TREATS NOT TRICKS

Wishing you a very Happy Safe Haunting on Halloween.

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A Message from Founder & Executive Director, Cynthia Brian

When my first book in the Be the Star You Are!® series was published in 2001, in the chapter titled, The Gift of Rest, I wrote about a typical day in the life of Cynthia Brian. I discussed how an overwhelming amount of business stuff had to be squeezed into my obligations to family, animals, home, friends, and volunteer work. I thought then that technology would make everything easier, swifter, and more manageable so that I could rest. Today I laugh at my naïveté because seventeen years ago, my day began with what I thought was a tremendous amount of  “twenty-five “ emails in my inbox and an answering machine full of messages. Today, my normal inbox can sometimes reach over 800 emails, often taking me past noon to respond or delete. No matter what I do, the spam continues to grow, and tucked between those are important missives I must address. (By the way, we don’t want to spam you, so please unsubscribe if you no longer want to hear from Be the Star You Are!®)

In my 8thbook, Be the Star You Are! Millennials to Boomers Celebrating Positive Voices in a Changing Digital World, the 31 contributors and I offer practical insights into how technology has formed and will continue to shape our futures. If you haven’t purchased your copy or copies yet, now is the perfect time to do so.

Here’s our TREAT with no tricks for you!

We are offering FREE shipping anywhere in the United States through November 19, just in time for holiday sales not only on this brand new book, but, on all our books, CD’s, and shirts. Visit http://www.CynthiaBrian.com/online-store to buy your gifts and save big. You will also receive many complimentary extras and these first edition books may be autographed to whomever you wish.

To hear chapters from the book read by the contributors, listen to both StarStyle® Radio and Express Yourself! Teen Radio where a new chapter is featured weekly.

StarStyle®:http://www.voiceamerica.com/show/2206/be-the-star-you-are

Express Yourself!™: https://www.voiceamerica.com/show/2014/express-yourself

The “good ‘ole days” were probably no simpler or less complicated than our lives today. For this reason, we need to keep offering treats instead of tricks.

Make sure to vote in the forthcoming elections and send us a photo of yourself with our new book for a forthcoming newsletter. Enjoy the recent pics received.

Until next month…

Happy Halloween.

Cynthia Brian

Founder/Executive Director

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THANK YOU LETTER FROM FIRE RECIPIENTS

Be the Star You Are!® volunteers spearheaded by teens Joven Hundal and Siri Phaneendra leaped into gear with the recent fires. BTSYA donated over $8200 in resources to help the victims with recovery. We don’t expect gratitude and often don’t receive a note about our work, but when we do, we really appreciate knowing that we were able to make a difference. THANK YOU all.

“The Lions of district 4-C1 are very grateful for your donation of books for adults and children. With your support, we were able to assist approximately 800 families that were affected by the Carr, Hirz, Hornbrook, and Delta fires. We thank you for "being there" for our community in a time of urgent need. Forever grateful,” Susan Kerr, District Governor

COMMUNICATING ACROSS GENERATIONS

By Karen Kitchel

If I were given the opportunity to

present a gift to the next generation, it

would be the ability for each individual

to learn to laugh at himself.”

~Cartoonist, Charles Schulz  

Communication is a simple process of using words, sounds or behaviors to exchange information.  This process, however, can be challenging when those words and behaviors mean different things to different people.

Age differences don't need to translate into more difficult communication.  Bridging age gaps often involves a bit more effort and investment in the relationship—at least at the beginning. Why? People are products of their history, their environment, and all of their experiences, so people from different generations often have very different life experiences that shape how they think, what they value, and what drives them.

However, we shouldn't assume that because people are a certain age, they will act a certain way. Think about the 70-year-old computer whiz who designs websites and blogs or who regularly runs marathons. What's important is to be open to various communication styles and make a real effort to get to know individuals. To do that, try asking what challenges they are facing since we all have challenges!  You may be surprised by some of the things you have in common and want to know more about each other's experiences.

Communication Tips:

1. Recognize that individuals each have their own personality, experiences, beliefs, and goals.    Labeling everyone as the same doesn't work.

2. The stories you can tell. Genuine interest in another’s life unlocks conversation like no other key.  Sharing tales creates common ground.  Sharing lessons learned from past mistakes can connect the older generations with the younger generations.

3.  Social media can help or hurt.  Today’s constant technological advances can cause struggles. However, social media can also present the perfect opportunity for the younger generation to mentor its elders on using technologies and understanding social media.  Likewise, the older generations can mentor younger generations on the importance of face-to-face interaction and interpersonal skills critical to success.  In-person meetings benefit everyone.

4.  Ask questions.  Open-ended questions (those which can't be answered with a yes or no) allow for more information to flow and result in more productive conversations.  Everyone needs to feel safe to question and know he’s being heard.

Remember that generational differences can inspire greatness!

About the author: Karen Kitchel is passionate about scattering kindness. Previously she served as President of Cheerful Givers, a nonprofit organization, and Director of BI University at BI Worldwide. She can be reached at www.scatteringkindness.com

Karen’s interview on StarStyle:  https://www.voiceamerica.com/episode/109255/gardening-at-any-age-mentoring-and-kindness-designing-outdoor-a

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It is positively stunning and a great read that will catapult your thinking into everything positive. And...100% of the proceeds benefit her amazing "Be The Star You Are" charity that has empowered so many families and youth!!!

It's a great read and a fabulous gift. So buy two, or three, or four! " Diana Zimmerman, World's Foremost Lady Magician, Author, Entertainer

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[faithstruetales]

When traveling, my itineraries are typically well-researched and packed with excitement to the minute, in fear that I’d miss out on some incredible experiences. However, with Seattle, for some reason I just let go, and everything magically fell into place.

We flew into Seattle and rented a car with Hertz. I’m still in awe of how super easy it was to get our car, despite being a packed holiday weekend. I read quickly that Seattle had many eclectic neighborhoods. I wanted to try them all, but time was too short in this soulful city, especially as we were staying at the Maxwell Hotel.

Maxwell Hotel – Pineapple hospitality

AKA “The Naked Experience”

This place ruined my life forever because I loved it so damn much. Upon walking into the lobby, a very friendly lady talked to me for fifteen minutes about her recommendations for the night. She then suggested I either take a cute adorable yellow bike or shuttle to one of their hot spots for free. There’s a funky lounge and bar, a rock star pizza restaurant surrounding welcoming pineapple water, coffee, and coconut cupcakes. The elevator was quirky, the hallways were classy, and I opened my door to see an adorable husky stuffed animal named “Fluffy” on my bed. Come to find out I could even adopt him to benefit local animal shelters.

Although the complimentary hot popcorn was tempting, I took a steaming hot shower, slipped on my complimentary robe and slippers, and fell into a cloud of dreams. A friend from back home had assured me that heaven was not ready for me, and I would not be dying on the plane, but perhaps my plane had in fact crashed. Not only was the bed divine but my husband and I each had our own fluffy twin duvet. I tried to buy them later but unfortunately the Simmons Beautyrest Black Luxury Hotel Collection Mattress cost $1,395 and the two twin duvets would end up being $900.

After an hour nap, it took great effort to get up, but we ventured to an amazing restaurant in Capitol Hill.

Capitol Hill

Capitol Hill is said to be an eclectic hipster neighborhood, perfect for a night out on the town with fun bars and restaurants. During my research, I too, believed the restaurant selection was the perfect entrance to a foodie’s paradise. It took me awhile to make a decision, but I finally settled on Herb & Bitter Public House.

Dinner at Herb & Bitter Public House

The Herb & Bitter Public House was a whimsical tapas bar where every table featured a menu covered by a different children’s book. I loved the atmosphere, the cheese platter was yummy, and the mixed drinks were handsomely strong.

Like the bars in Georgetown, the ones in Capitol Hill felt like they had soul, enough to inspire the likes of Nirvana. The area reminded me of the lively narrow streets in Boston, highlighted by beautiful rainbow crosswalks.

We were supposed to do some bar hopping and neighborhood exploring but we just couldn’t get that bed out of our thought clouds. Unfortunately Capitol Hill was not as exciting as the gigantic marshmallow patiently waiting for us at the Maxwell Hotel. We soon took an Uber back, put the “I’m naked” notice on the door and sank into Cloud 9. I’m sorry to say that I fell asleep at 10:00 in Seattle but I don’t regret it for a second. Days later I’m still thinking about that stupid bed, checking Seattle flights, scrolling past the haunting advertisements in my Facebook feed, and ultimately booked a night at their sister location in San Diego.

The First Starbucks Ever

The very first Starbucks to ever come into existence is conveniently right out side the Pike Place Market. We waited 45 minutes to get a coffee. To our dismay, the barista confirmed the quality of coffee found here was exactly the same at every other Starbucks. I had hoped they’d have some sort of exclusive blend but as they didn’t, I was feeling the crisp fall weather and ordered a pumpkin spice latte. I will forever be labeled as “ridiculous for being a basic bitch at the Mecca of coffee.” In my defense, there are much better brews out there, even in Seattle, so as always, follow your bliss.

Beecher’s – Cheese. Cheese. And More Cheese.

I cannot honestly say that Beecher’s has the best cheese I’ve ever had. Their grilled cheese was actually kind of meh compared to some I’ve tried at L.A. food trucks. However seeing cheese handmade and trying their mac & cheese was definitely worth the experience.

Sorry, I was too hungry to take a proper “before” picture

Pike Place Market

I’ve been to many markets around the world and after Camden in London, Pike Place Market was my favorite. It’s perfect for foodies, the eclectic, and the adventurous. You could easily spend a few hours here, taking it all in, especially on an empty stomach. I loved listening to the musicians as I tried the original Starbucks, went cheese tasting, and slowly sipped a cup of fresh apple cider.

Inside the market, you can try some of the freshest fruits, vegetables, and organic apple cider varieties.

You can even try chocolate pasta and go olive oil/ balsamic tasting

Among all of mother’s natures gifts, I was most impressed by the incredible exotic flower bouquets, ranging from $5-$15. If I ever lived here, I would need to have a serious weekly flower budget.

I bought this endearing necklace featuring stones from Puget Sound near Seattle, for whenever I needed the city to be a little extra close to my heart. I checked out some toys and other local crafts. I was beginning to wonder where I could find some hacky sacks, chili pepper lights, and zombie dolls in the same place, and as luck should have it, someone had already thought of that for me. Score.

The Seattle Waterfront

From inside Pike Place, take the elevator down and walk left towards the water. You will come across an enormous Ferris wheel, the aquarium, an artistic fountain, and a riddle to solve. Now, you may be asking yourself, why is “Ferris” in “Ferris wheel” capitalized? Which brings me to Fun Fact 206: In 1890, George Washington Gale Ferris Jr., a 33 year old engineer from Pittsburgh, put up $25,000 of his own money to create a giant revolving steel wheel in Chicago to rival the Eiffel Tower being displayed for the world fair. Unfortunately, even though the wheel was a huge success, after the fair Ferris was sued countless times, went into bankruptcy, and died from typhoid fever in 6 years later. While that’s a crappy way to go out, I hope he’s sitting on a cloud somewhere watching all of the beautiful Ferris wheels turning around the world and seeing his name capitalized.

Good job, Ferris

PAX

The plan after Pike Place Market was to venture into one of Seattle’s many other amazing neighborhoods, like Fremont or Ballard. However, as we were leaving we saw this… and well… parked the car.

PAX is an incredible yet intimate gaming convention held every year in Downtown Seattle. Even if you aren’t a gamer, but can appreciate magic and creativity, I’d highly suggest checking it out. I didn’t attend any of the panels but immensely enjoyed myself walking around, looking at games, and people watching.

Cannabis Tours

You might not smoke marijuana but it’s kind of interesting that it’s completely legal in the state of Washington. I was curious how it all worked, as our hotel lobby had stacks of cannabis tour pamphlets.

We walked into a smoke shop and asked, “How does this work? Do I need some kind of special card?” She took our licenses and we entered a room with all kinds of variations – rolled joints in pretty tubes and bags, cookies, brownies, and candy. A man put a huge menu binder on a glass case, describing all the differences and all I could think, is gee, there must be some really happy people in Washington.

The Gorge Amphitheater

The main purpose for our Washington trip was to experience one of the countries most stunning concert venues – the Gorge Amphitheater. The Gorge is a nice 2.5 hour drive east to Quincy, Washington, right outside George, Washington. Yes, there are people who get to say, “I live in George Washington.”What a wonderful world…

Camping there alone, especially with all the friendly enthusiastic fans, was an incredible once-in-a-lifetime experience. The Gorge was so much more than a concert. I don’t think I will ever be able to appreciate one the same way ever again, so hopefully I’ll be back here one day to hear that beautiful sound complimented by a sun setting over a scenic panorama of majestic cliffs.

The Space Needle

Some would say that Seattle is most known for the Space Needle – a 360 degree observation deck 540 feet high. While I’m sure the view is amazing and it might be fun to eat inside, to me, Seattle seemed like it would be better experienced somewhere random on the ground level.

Georgetown

A ten minute drive from downtown Seattle, you’ll find the delightful town of Georgetown. Walking around, we were welcomed by street art and some acoustic rock playing in the distance. The vibe felt like I always had imagined Seattle to be – a place with perfect combination of heart, grit, and soul.

We stayed at the Georgetown Inn for a night since it was close to the airport. It was cheap, clean, friendly, and a short walk to some intimate restaurants and bars with just the right amount of character. As we took in some homemade orangecello and happy hour pizzas at Via Tribunali, I felt comfortable just lingering for awhile.

Street Art in Georgetown

I wish I could have lingered in Seattle longer, because I loved every moment here, even when I wasn’t enjoying “The Naked Experience.” I can see why people love this unique city, but for me sleeping in thi was just a tad more enjoyable than becoming sleepless in Seattle.

© Faith’s True Tales 2018. All original words and images by Faith Brady unless otherwise noted.

Ever so often, travelers must make an ultimate decision. Is it better to explore or get naked? When traveling, my itineraries are typically well-researched and packed with excitement to the minute, in fear that I'd miss out on some incredible experiences.

[thebibliophagist]

Carry Me Home by Jessica Therrien Published by: Acorn Publishing Publication date: September 26, 2017 Genres: Contemporary, Thriller, Young Adult Blog Tour via Xpresso Book Tours

“A riveting page-turner… Jessica Therrien broke my heart into a million pieces — and then put it back together again. This book will haunt and uplift readers long after they turn the last page.” -KAT ROSS, best-selling author of The Midnight Sea

CARRY ME HOME is a fictional novel inspired by the true story of a teenage girl’s involvement in several Mexican gangs in San Jose and Los Angeles. The members of her crew call her Guera, Spanish for “white girl” and it doesn’t take long for her to get lost in their world of guns and drugs.

🔸🔶🔸🔶🔸🔶🔸🔶🔸

Lucy and Ruth are country girls from a broken home. When they move to the city with their mother, leaving behind their family ranch and dead-beat father, Lucy unravels.

They run to their grandparents’ place, a trailer park mobile home in the barrio of San Jose. Lucy’s barrio friends have changed since her last visit. They’ve joined a gang called VC. They teach her to fight, to shank, to beat a person unconscious and play with guns. When things get too heavy, and lives are at stake, the three girls head for LA seeking a better life.

But trouble always follows Lucy. She befriends the wrong people, members of another gang, and every bad choice she makes drags the family into her dangerous world.

Told from three points of view, the story follows Lucy down the rabbit hole, along with her mother and sister as they sacrifice dreams and happiness, friendships and futures. Love is waiting for all of them in LA, but pursuing a life without Lucy could mean losing her forever.

Ultimately it’s their bond with each other that holds them together, in a true test of love, loss, and survival. 

🔸Goodreads 🔸 Amazon 🔸 Barnes & Noble 🔸

Author Bio: Jessica Therrien is the author of the young adult series Children of the Gods. Book one in the series, Oppression, became a Barnes & Noble best-seller shortly after its release. Her trilogy has been translated and sold through major publishers around the world, such as Editions AdA (Canada), EditionsMilan (France), and SharpPoint Press (China).

Aside from her Children of the Gods series, Jessica is the author of a kid’s picture book called The Loneliest Whale. Her award-winning stories can also be found in a published anthology of flash fiction.

Jessica currently lives in Irvine with her husband and two young sons. She is working on a YA suspense thriller series and a middle-grade fantasy series.

🔸Website 🔸 Goodreads 🔸 Facebook 🔸 Twitter 🔸

GIVEAWAY!

🔸🔶🔸🔶🔸🔶🔸🔶🔸

Normally when I review a book, I like to do a little plot summary before I get started.  Because this review is part of a blog tour, you can see all of the promotional info about the plot above.  If you’re reading this review somewhere other than my blog, click HERE to view the full post.

Now that we’ve got that out of the way, I want to start off by saying that I initially requested to join this blog tour because this book sounded really unique and interesting.  YA tends to fall into the same tropes over and over and over again -- and there’s nothing wrong with that and I love a lot of those tropes -- but sometimes it’s nice to read something different.  I saw on Goodreads that Carry Me Home had some really mixed reviews and went in really hoping to love it.

And I liked it.  Honestly, to say that I loved it is a bit of a stretch.  It’s hard for me to love a book like this.  Objectively, I can tell you that it’s a really good story.  Subjectively, it was a lot for me to handle.  It’s about as far from my comfort zone as you can get while still remaining in that YA zone.  And that doesn’t mean that it’s a bad book.  In fact, it’s really well-written.  But I tend to stay more on the fluff-side of YA and there is absolutely nothing fluffy about Carry Me Home.

Let’s get one thing straight: this is not the kind of book that you just lazily read on a quiet afternoon.  This is not a beach read or something that you read to unwind before going to bed.  This is a gritty, violent, cautionary tale about the horrible things that can happen to your family members without you even realizing.  The fights, the shootings, the rape and the murder... it stayed with me.  I had trouble falling asleep.  I found myself just sitting at my desk and thinking about these fictional characters while I should have been working.  Instead of doing my actual job, I was sitting there thinking, Is this the world that we live in?  Do I need to worry about my hypothetical future children getting involved in gangs like this?  

I would actually say that my response to this book is a good thing.  Jessica Therrien immersed me in this world of gangs and violence and drugs and it was all I could think about for days.  I had initially rated this book lower because I couldn’t really claim to enjoy reading it, but thinking back, it was really good.  It’s not for the faint of heart, but it’s certainly worth your time.

Thanks to Xpresso Book Tours for the complimentary ARC in exchange for my honest review.

Final rating: ★★★★☆

[themaraudingmisfits-blog]

The one with all the camping

Bucket lists, that pretty piece of paper filled to the brim with things we want to do, places we want to see, fears we want to conquer…most of them end up resembling a pinterest board full of pretty things and then there’s that ominous deadline of to do before I die which kinda really lessens the chances of us ever doing any of those things, what with most of us vying to be a better procrastinator than the other…BUTT if you have mad urges and a restless spirit and if your throw in some crazier than thou friends into the mix then CHEEEHOOO!!! You cupcake are gonna be ticking things off that list faster than your chubby hands can touch the base of that big tub of gooey caramelized popcorn!! And that is eggactly how we ended up going CAMPINNNGGGGGGG!!!(Hopefully your heads are still reverberating from the screechy echo that made).

Now y’all gonna be like, “Oh gawd, she’s gonna bore us with more gibber gabber about her trip and tell us how to set up a campfire without roasting off that perfect perm and how to not get entangled in your own tent and not to follow the poop trails with little grizzly bear bells in them”. BUTTT WEIGHT, I’m not gonna do that folks. Instead I’m going to bore you with swoon-worthy accounts of my camping trip which was completely poison ivy and bear attack free.

After a week of mid terms which were seriously messing with our long periods of doing nothingness, that brochure from Campper** was a godsend, it was just the kind of break we were looking for, a camping trip to Mankulam (near Munnar, Idukki), by the waterfalls overlooking never ending hills with bonfires and tents , all those goody goody treats my childhood backyard camping trips with moms shawls (masquerading as my tent) didn’t have.

We set off at about my post breakfast siesta time so we could make it in time for the complimentary lunch(raising eyebrows in that cool way).  The drive was along narrow roads, the hillsides lush and glistening under the sun, baby monkeys playing peekaboo and miles and miles of unending tea estates. Three hours and winding roads,  Ashik in the driver’s seat and the horrendous no siesta situation got to me though and I was a woozy nauseous mess by the time we got there but as soon as they opened their gates I was pretty gung ho about camping again.

We got out of the slightly stuffy and air conditioned insides to the fresh, breezy and clear air of the mountains, a welcome relief for us city dwellers. We oohed and aahed at the view, entranced by the witcheries of the misty mountains, the beckoning breeze and the trees dancing to their music, bubbling little brooks sparkling blithely nearby, the adorable homely tents and wait….the sounds of a roaring waterfall!! Wowieee!! EXPECTATIONS??? EXCEEDED!! We had our qualms about camping after our last “incident” and we dared not expect anything more than a plain old vanilla flavored ice cream situation but these guys gave us an ice cream sundae with our pick of toppings and a smear of chocolate!!

Ain’t the view pretty?? 

The gorgeouus waterfalls at our campsite!!

While my heart was doing a triple flip they brought in the complimentary lunch (I should stop saying complimentary right?). The owner’s grandmamma had cooked us up an amazing traditional Kerala meal much to the great skippety doo daa of our hungry tummies. She even sent us a huge bunch of bananas from her backyard thinking either that it’d be a nice wholesome snack for weary travelers or she just spot on guessed that we’re a bunch of monkeys. While our insatiable hunger was being soothed with the wholesome food, plans were bing made for us by the sweet people at the campsite. They were all ready with a jeep and loads of towels and some more bananas, ready to whisk us off to Some “secret” spot nearby…After an an unforgettably bumpy ride in an indestructible jeep with an amazing driver on a road which was more uphill than your average Joe steepy ones( the jeep was basically making its way up a non-existent hillside path), we finally got to our very own private multi-million dollar Jacuzzi/ shower/hot tub/…..faainnee…we didn’t get there but what awaited us was a secluded waterfall with pristine clear water, cold enough to make your teeth chatter, deep into the woods cloaked by a deep silence only broken by the sounds of our revelry.

How we got there: And we made several stopovers on the way, by rivers and hanging bridges and we even rode through a rivulet…

My very own sauna….If this were mine forever I’d take more baths…

Us water babies goofing around….

As much as I love places like Athirapally and the lot, I hate the tourists, the snack munching, giggling, loud, overly dressed up tourists. It sorta takes the joy out of going places. This, this was a different cup of tea by itself, covered by dense foliage, no prying eyes, the clean freshwater… We splashed about and frolicked to our hearts content till dusk and headed back to the base camp.

What awaited us was pure magic, as dusk turned to shadowy darkness and our tv-addicted eyes adjusted themselves, we were greeted by a bejeweled sky.

Calvin sure got that right…They’re like little bits of magic strewn all across the never sky…We just sat there, stargazing, losing all sense of time, normalcy and reality seemed a figment of our imagination. I for one was all warmed up inside being surrounded by some of the best people in my life and open starry skies and entrancing music, it was way better than all the dreaming  of shoes and ships and sealing wax and cabbages and kings I’m prone to doing at all times to the annoyance of everyone I know.

Our reverie was broken by a shout out to go check out aanakulam, a sort of teen hangout spot for elephants. Driving through the same places we went by daylight was just super spooky at night, the friendly mountains now took us back to instances from The hills have eyes and that my dears is not something you want to recall when you’re out at that time   on stranded hill roads.

When you’re pee-in-your-pants sacred think of funny puddy tats

We got to Anakulam though without any blood curdling incidents but it turned out to be a disappointing night ride coz there were no huge herd of elephants at the watering hole only a lone baby elephant who was pretty shy what with all the noise we were making and the glaring headlights of our jeep . But we were told that locals have  have seen a herd of 90 on certain moonlit nights, I guess we’re not the lucky kind. Sigh…But we got to take a nice snack break to quiet our rumbling tummies from the little tea shop nearby and we went back as a happy troop humming old tunes and thinking happy thoughts.

B y the time we got back we were ravenously hungry and gorged on the flavorsome and gravilicious chicken curry and fluffy rotis   meanwhile, the men were busy setting up the bonfire. Soon there was a blazing fire and we were drawn towards it, what followed was a night of mirth and frolic, with dancing and games of charades (which I lost miserably) . The embers turned a pretty shade of glowing reds and oranges, and there were tiny spurts and burps of flames trying to lick our little toes which were getting all warmed up…there’s something about fires which wakes up sleeping dragons and roaring phoenixes and unfulfilled dreams and they all march on with blazing spirits in your mind and these thoughts lingered on in my mind as the fire died out and I was back to bracing myself against the cuttingly cold winds which came in with their whoosh noises, rocking the dear pine trees and our little tents back and forth.  

There were yawns and shivers and sleepy eyes from the most of us and we turned in for the night. We were lulled to sleep by Mommy nature herself, the misty moonlit night, the chilly breeze and the roaring waterfall humming it’s night song, the cicadas chirping away to glory…the best sleep I’ve gotten in ages I’d say.

Our very own tent!! And yea… us smiling away goofily….

Sadly, there was no beautiful sunrise to wake up to, coz most of us sleepyheads never woke up in time for that and those who did missed out coz it was way too misty but we did squeeze in a morning walk before breakfast to the waterfalls and got a closer look at the valley with its rivulets and forests.

Morning walks and loads of sunshine …

Soon the sun was up in all its fury, the heat getting a bit prickly while we were in a rush to pack up and head back to our humdrum lives in the city. The drive back was with a bunch of subdued reminescy  people in the car who only had Moti’s moms biriyani to look forward to but then again biriyani makes everything better…

Coz happiness is biriyani!!

Camping out at Mankulam is something I’ll never forget, what with it being my first time and it certainly was an amazing one at that and I can’t wait enough for the next time out on my own in the wilderness, with haunted woods and unstable tents and  grizzly bears and no plumbing. What funnn!!! If anyone’s ready to brave the wild with us just shout out to us and we’ll be there bags, tents, grizzly food and all!!

A bunch of happy campers!!

Before you go-go: For all you wild wanderers looking forward to camping, ring up camper or mail them. They’ll whip up an unforgettable camping experience for you and your chums and all you have to worry about is getting your lazy asses to the campsite!! Get those monster trucks out, or your cute rides or RENT a car but do go for you’re sure to have loads of fun!!

Check out the link if you’re up making some memories!!

https://www.campper.com/