#you can skip through rivers and hike and take a deep breath and talk to the trees

[hetaliakinfessions]

I want to go home. I want to be important again; I want to feel a million lives and see a million years again. I want to go back to when I was small, running barefoot through the grass. I want to love and hate and fight and die and always come back. I want to go back to that house, out in the field before the forest.

.

[dandelionflower]

She hikes alone

Marinette skipped to her friends, tapping Adrien on the shoulder before hugging him tight.

“Hey, Princess,” he gave her a smile that melted her heart, “we were just talking about things we could do on our free day.”

He gestured to the class, who were all deep in a debate over ice cream place or pizza parlor.

“I was thinking we could go to a park; a new friend of mine has a couple of places we could check out. I think it would be really good as a lazy activity to get rid of jet lag, or in Kim���s case, excess energy.”

“Sounds really nice!” He smiled and began to open his mouth to tell them; he had become Marinette’s representative to the class, when Lila stood up.

“Hey guys! What if, since today doesn’t have anything planned, we went to a park and hung out?”

“That’s a genius idea, Lila!”

“I could play frisbee!”

“I’d enjoy observing the local flora.”

That’s genius Lila. You’re so smart. Marinette growled under her breath, Lila obviously overheard her talking with Adrien and took credit for her idea.

“I actually know some parks we could go to, from when I visited with Jagged Stone a few months back. We could go to one of those, if you want?”

“That sounds great Lila!” Adrien cut in before Marinette could protest. “Let’s go now!”

“Don’t worry,” he whispered to her as the class cheered and stood up, “I’ll make sure we go to a nice park.”

That’s not what I’m worried about. Marinette thought as she watched Lila attach herself to Adrien’s arm.

She followed at a fair distance from the class; not by choice, her friends just seemed to speed up whenever she tried to walk near them.

“Marinette!” Grace tapped on her shoulder, a broad grin on her face. She was wearing the headband. “Where did you decide on going?”

“A park.”

“That’s great! Which one are you going to? Because if you haven’t decided, I have a ton of great places for you to go...” she plucked some pamphlets from her back pocket and displayed one. “I think this one would suit your needs best.”

“Thanks, Grace, but...” Marinette spared a glance at the pack of students, led by Lila and Adrien. “I think it’s already been decided.”

Grace’s expression soured. “Okay, but keep ahold of that pamphlet, will you? You might end up finding time to go.”

“I hope I do.” She waved Grace a quick goodbye and dashed back to her friends, who were already going through the door.

—

They hopped on a bus and Marinette smirked as Lila worried her lip, eyes darting towards every sign that could possibly lead her to a park.

As fun as that was, Marinette quickly got bored and began perusing the pamphlet Grace handed to her.

Quarry Stone Park

Known for its towering pillars of black stone, it is rumored that Quarry Stone Park was where the brick for the famed Culpa Manor was mined.

While the parks naming is rather obvious, it also contains many hidden paths, leading to waterfalls, gem-filled caves, and even the ocean.

A popular landmark of the park is Quarry Ledge, which overlooks the ocean. The natural black spires and stark white sands make for an amazing view.

That’s where we should be going, Marinette mused, not wherever Lila’s going to take us.

“Here we are!” Lila sang. “The best park in the whole town.”

Sure... Marinette glanced at the rotting wooden sign, the crumbling letters reading, Wooded Glade Park.

The class ran in, Alix already tossing a frisbee for Kim to catch. Adrien fell back and greeted Marinette with a silent smile and had just grabbed her hand when everyone fell silent and stared at the open field surrounded by borderline rotting trees.

“Uhh, Lila?” Ivan asked, shielding Mylene’s eyes from the mistreated plants. “Are you sure this is he place? It looks a little run down.”

“Definitely!” Lila protested, and though her back was facing Marinette, she could almost see the false tears welling up in her eyes. “I- I don’t know what happened; it used to be so beautiful... I’m so sorry everyone.”

“What if we helped you clean it up?” Rose offered. “Got rid of any trash and planted some flowers!”

“Yeah!” The class cheered, voicing their agreement.

“You- you would all do that for me?”

“Of course!”

“I can’t believe this! I... thank you!”

Mylene pulled Ivan’s hand from her eyes and glared at the offending trees. “Babe? I need a lift.”

Ivan picked her up and placed her onto his shoulders.

“Alright everybody!” She shouted, voice abnormally loud. “I need someone to carry heavy stuff, a couple people for trash and, Marinette! Can you organize our efforts?”

She smiled and was about to pull out her notebook, when Lila opened her mouth, which had proven to be a tragedy in itself.

“I don’t know guys, remember how late Marinette came in? She didn’t even get to have breakfast, we don’t want to tire her out what with the jet lag and all. I can just organize, you know I was an organizer to a famous charity.”

“That’s a great idea, Lila! I’ll help!” Adrien leaned over to whisper in Marinette’s ear. “Don’t worry, I can keep her out of trouble while you just relax and walk down one of the trails, it’s a win-win.”

But I want to walk the trails with you...

She smiled, gave him a kiss on the cheek and walked to the closest trail as fast as she could so Adrien couldn’t see the tears collecting in her eyes.

She loved how selfless Adrien was, she did. It was just... he never seemed to choose her.

She stood there for a moment and allowed herself to cry. This was supposed to be a fun trip where she could hang out with her boyfriend and friends as they all explored her favorite place in the world.

Marinette finally looked up and observed the signs marking the different paths she could take.

Daisy Walkway.

Riverside.

Quarry Stone Path.

Quarry Stone?

Marinette pulled out her pamphlet and compared the names.

Maybe I will get to see Quarry Stone after all.

—

It was a fair hike to Quarry Stone, but it was so worth it.

The trees were lush and green, every bench and table were in perfect condition, people were everywhere, and interspersed across the field were dozens of giant black pillars of rock.

Marinette gave a glance to the other trails.

Waterfalls, meadows, beachside.... there were so many choices.

“Excuse me, sir?” She touched the arm of a nearby elderly man, who was exiting one of the trails. “I was wondering, do you know these trails well? Could you maybe recommend one to me?”

“Never been to Quarry Stone, have you dear?” He gave her a friendly smile.

“No.”

“Well, when I was young and adventurous, I would go on the Nymph’s River path. On a sunny day like this, it’s sure to be a magical sight.”

“It’s cloudy, you old coot!”

A frail old woman in a worn pink dress stumbled from the same path.

“What?” The man put on a thick pair of spectacles and squinted at the sky. “So it is.”

“I’m Henry’s wife, Meredith, and what’s your name, sweetie?”

“I’m Marinette. It’s nice to meet you.” She grinned at the familiar banter that reminded her of her parents.

“Likewise, dear.” A bony hand grasped her own. “Now, what’s a little thing like you doing out here all alone?”

“Um, my class, we’re here on a field trip and we had… a disagreement on what to do.”

“Ah, and they let you do your thing but it’s not as fun alone, is it?”

“No, not really.”

“I’ve got just the place for you dear. Henry, what about...” she leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“You’re a genius, Mere. Kiddo, just go down that path,” he pointed her to the forest, “and I promise it will be a sight worth seeing.”

“Okay, thank you both so much!” She waved to the couple as she headed down the path, memorizing their faces in case they encounter one another again.

—

It truly was a sight worth seeing, as promised.

When Marinette finally broke out of the dark greens in the surrounding the trail, she was met by the most soothing sight she’d ever laid eyes on.

She was standing on a large ledge carved out of the hill; metal posts and railings were surrounding the platform. Nothing noteworthy.

But the sight it was there to show was unimaginably perfect. The sand was a pure white, which would have been blinding if it wasn’t for the clouds covering the sun. The stone spires that decorated the entire forest were dotting the beach in all their splendor, rising proudly and casting barely noticeable shadows across the sand and the pale, rolling waves.

She leaned on the railing; taking in the soothing spectacle. It was almost like she was falling asleep, her consciousness drifting until she had no other thought but the muted colors in front of her...

“Meow?”

Marinette screamed and leapt away from the sound, pushing her back against the railing and gripping it with both hands likes she was on a crashing elevator.

A black cat with startling blue eyes stared at her, tilting its head in a quizzical motion.

“Mrrrrrr.” Was its only reaction to her panic.

“He- hello?”

It stared at her waved hand, like it was the most interesting thing it had seen.

She held it out tentatively, in an open gesture, leaving enough space for it to leave.

It stared at it for a moment longer before tentatively leaning forwards to place its head in her palm. It purred as she scritched its chin.

“What’s your name, kitty?” She mused. “Garfield? Like the Culpa that started the mansion?”

It leaned its head into her pinky in a silent gesture to go on.

“Harriet? Darrian? Abigail?”

No cigar.

“What about Culpa?”

The cat purred and nuzzled her hand with a vigor.

“Culpa it is.” She brought her other hand to pet at the newly-christened Culpa’s ear.

Culpa mewled with a satisfaction that seemed... almost human on the face of the pitch cat.

—

The rest

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[capsteddybear]

Our Playlist: Outstanding - The Gap Band

Song lyrics: "You light my fire, I feel alive with you, baby, You blow my mind, I'm satisfied."

You feel your phone vibrate in your pocket as you lock the door to your office. You reach into your pocket and smile as soon as you see Chris' face pop up on the lock screen.

"Hi."

'hi beautiful, you home?'

"Uh, no. I'm just about to leave work. I had some extra stuff to do. What's up?"

You hear Chris sigh on the other end of the line. 'Nothing, I just really miss you.'

"Aww, I miss you too. Don't worry, you'll be home in a couple of days."

'I know, I miss you and Dodger so much.' Your eyes tear up because you can hear the sadness in Chris' voice.

You take a deep breath before replying back, "Hey, I'll skype call you as soon as I get home, okay?"

'Okay, drive safe. I love you, (y/n)'

"I always do. I love you, Chris."

You drive home and as soon as you walk into the house Dodger is there to greet you with pup kisses. "Hi, handsome." You walk to your home office and unpack your stuff on your desk. You grab your laptop from your bag and flop on the couch in your office and Dodger climbs onto the couch and lays his head on your lap. You smile and give him a hug as you call Chris.

You smile as soon as you see Chris' face appear on the screen, "Hi!"

'Welcome home, beautiful.' Dodger's ears pop up and his tail starts to wag as soon as he recognizes Chris' voice and he scoots up closer to the computer screen and starts sniffing. 'Hey bubba!'

You pet Dodger and hold him back so he doesn't accidentally step on the keys or lick the screen. "I think Dodger misses you too." Dodger gets excited and starts licking your face. "Hey, hey, hey okay, Dodger, calm down, boy." You hear Chris laughing and shaking his head.

'I can't wait to be back home with you guys.'

"Neither can we."

You move from your office to the kitchen as you start preparing dinner. You prop the laptop on the counter near the stove so you're still in frame as you cook.

'What are you gonna make?'

"You're favorite dish." You open the fridge and you hear Chris gasp.

'Wow, rude.'

You look at the screen and see him making a pouty face, "Aww sorry, I promise as soon as you come home I'll cook for you."

'You promise?'

"Yes! When have I ever broken a promise?"

'Uh, when you said you wouldn't eat my ice cream, but finished my tub of ice cream when you ran out of yours.' Chris tilts his head and raises his eyebrows.

You busts out laughing, "I was on my period that week and you knew I was stressing out from work too."

'I offered to buy you more ice cream and went to the store for you. And when I got home my ice cream was gone.'

You feel your face turn red from embarrassment, "I wanted a different flavor... and your ice cream just so happened to be that flavor." Chris shakes his head and laughs. " I'll buy you another tub of ice cream for when you come back home."

'Oh my god, (y/n). You're torturing me more.'

"How? I'm just offering to buy you ice cream."

'Yeah, exactly! And I have to wait to get home to eat it.'

You make a sad face towards the computer screen, "Sorry, I'll make it up to you when you get home."

Chris sighs, 'okay.'

You smile, "What are you gonna order for dinner?"

Chris leans over on the bed and reaches the menu for room service from the night stand, 'Hmm, well all I'm thinking about right now is ice cream.... Ooo look pancakes!'

You glare at the screen and you see Chris trying to hide the smirk on his face, "If you're trying to make me jealous by ordering pancakes for dinner then it's working."

Chris laughs, 'sucks doesn't it?'

"Yes it does."

Chris smiles and slaps the menu on the bed, 'hmm, then pancakes for dinner it is!'

"You are such a pain in the ass."

Chris falls back on the bed, 'but I'm your pain in the ass.'

"And I wouldn't have it any other way."

You and Chris spend the rest of the evening talking about work as you enjoy each others dinner.

You move to the living room and sit on the couch as Chris continues telling you how his day went. You notice him yawn more and more as he continues. You tilt your head, "Should I let you go so you can sleep?"

Chris tries to fight off another yawn, 'Nooo! I still wanna talk.'

"Sweetie, your eyes are red, you said you had a long day of filming too. We can talk more tomorrow, okay? You need to get some sleep."

Chris groans and rubs his eyes, 'Okay, I'll sleep... but only because it'll be one day closer to coming home to you.' Chris gives you a tired wink that makes your heart skip a beat.

"I love you so much, Chris."

Chris blows a kiss to you, 'I love you too, (y/n). Good night.'

You smile and blow a kiss back, "Good night, Chris." You close your laptop and lay on the couch for a bit before taking a late night shower and heading to bed.

==== ====== ====

The next couple of days you try to stay busy so the time goes by faster. Chris sends you photos from set that make you miss him. You send him videos of Dodger running around in the backyard as you play fetch with him. You skype during his breaks and right before you go to sleep.

On one of the days you go for a day hike with your friends from work. You don't have a signal on your phone while on the hike, but once you guys get back into town you get a message from Chris:

'Good morning, beautiful. I know you're out with your friends today. Hope you have fun. Can't wait to see you. I love you.'

You have an early dinner with your friends at a restaurant on the way back home. While waiting for your food you look through your photos and videos and decide to send a few to Chris. One of the photos you send is of a deer you saw on the trail.

Chris replies, 'Oh hey look, it's our buddy we saw from spring break.'

The next photo you send is of the forest.

Chris simply replies with a pine tree and a green heart.

The next couple of photos and videos you send are of you and your friends hiking near the river.

'Woah! You need to take me to this spot. I wanna see it in person.'

'Yes! Our next day trip we'll go. :)'

'I miss you, (y/n).'

'I miss you too, Chris.' You send a photo of you standing at the top of the mountain with a beautiful sunset behind you.

'You're so beautiful, but you're blocking the sunset! :('

You shake your head, 'wow thanks, dork.'

'You're welcome. I gotta go now. Thanks for the photos. Can't wait to see you. I love you.'

'I love you too.'

Soon after your guys food arrives and you enjoy your meals before heading home.

You walk straight to the couch and fall face first into one of the throw pillows. You feel your body relax from the fun yet tiring hike you did today. You turn and roll on your back and stare at the ceiling, you start to fall asleep, but then you feel Dodger lick your arm. You jump awake and pet him before getting up to go take a shower.

You head to the bedroom and grab a clean pair of clothes and walk to the bathroom to start up the shower. You take out your phone and start your favorite music playlist. As soon as you put it down you get a text message from Chris:

'Good night, beautiful.'

'I'm just about to jump in the shower and go to bed. Good night, Chris. I love you.'

You hit the play button on your phone and place it on the counter before jumping into the shower. You stand under the hot water as you relax your body. You sway to the slow song that's playing on your phone. You massage your shoulders and hum to the music. The song changes to a faster one and you sing along to the music as you shower.

"You light my fire, I feel alive with you, baby, You blow my mind, I'm satisfied."

You finish your shower and jump out to dry yourself off before putting on your under clothes and favorite flannel of Chris'. You keep singing the last song that played on your phone while drying your hair as you walk out of the bathroom. Your eyes are closed as you continue walking while drying your hair.

"Gee, I feel so lucky, boy To have you all alone, I really love the way you lo-" you gasp as you bump into something. You open your eyes and Chris is sitting on the edge of the bed with a smirk on his face.

"Hi sweetheart. Nice pajamas." You cover your face with the towel to cover the happy tears you have in your eyes. You hear the bed creak as he gets up and hugs you. "Hey hey hey, don't cry." Your voice is muffled from hiding under the towel. "Huh?"

You remove the towel from your head, "you suck! Why didn't you tell me you were coming home early?"

Chris laughs and hugs you tighter, "I'm sorry, I just really like surprising you." He kisses your forehead.

"When did you get back?"

"As soon as you jumped in the shower."

"And you didn't want to join me?" You raise an eyebrow at him.

"I did, but I got distracted by Dodger."

You laugh, "hmm, fair enough."

Chris kisses you, "However I really enjoyed listening to you sing while in the shower."

You cover your face again with the towel, "how much did you hear?"

"Not enough." A smirk appears on Chris' face. "I'm really glad to be back home to listen to you sing now."

You bury your face into his chest as he hugs you. "I'm not singing."

Chris laughs, "come on, please?" Chris takes your hands and pulls you towards him as he lays down on the bed. You both giggle as he brushes your damp hair behind your ear. "Sooo?"

"So what?"

"Sing me a song."

"No." Chris' runs his hands down your back and starts tickling you. "Chris, stop!"

"Start singing then I'll stop."

You start to squirm on top of him, "Chris! Stop. How am I suppo- stop! Suppose to sing if if you're tickling me? Oh god, Chris. Please stop. Okay okay, I'll sing."

Chris stops tickling you and gives you a hug and rubs your back as you catch your breath. Chris hums in your ear, "Whenever you're ready."

You giggle as you bury your face into his chest, "Okay, what song?"

"Hmm, the last song you were singing."

You think back to the song and start singing it to Chris as he caresses your back. "Gee, I feel so lucky, boy. To have you all alone. I really love the way you love me. Forever I'll be yours."

You notice a smile appears on Chris' face as you continue singing to him. He plants kisses on your cheeks and his hands wander down to your thighs. He first starts humming along to your singing and soon enough joins in with you. "Outstanding. Girl, you knock me out. Excited, it makes me want to shout."

You giggle and kiss Chris as he just holds you tight against him. You start to shiver because your hair is still wet from the shower.

"You okay?" Chris whispers in your ear.

"Yeah, just a little cold."

Chris blindly reaches for the bed covers to cover you both as he kisses you. He rubs your back to warm you up. "Better?"

"Mmhmm. Sleeeeep."

"Okay okay." Chris whispers in your ear.

"I love you, Chris. Welcome home, baby."

"I love you too, (y/n). I'm glad to be home….. (y/n)?"

You moan, "hmm?"

"What about the ice cream you promised me?"

You giggle with your eyes closed, "it's too late for ice cream."

"It's only 9 o'clock."

"I'm so sleepy, Chris."

You hear Chris groan, "you didn't buy any ice cream yet did you?" You feel his hands wander down your back and his fingers start to give you a light tickle.

You gasp, "Chris?! Please don't."

Chris starts to laugh, "you promised me ice cream when I got home."

"Oh my god, Chris! You really are a pain in the ass." You give him a kiss on the cheek as you sit up.

Chris pulls you back down, "woah, wait wait, (y/n). I was kidding about the ice cream." He hugs you tight as you try to get back up.

"Noooo, the baby wants ice cream right now, so let's get you some ice cream."

Chris laughs, "I am not a baby. You're the baby." He tugs you back down to lay on his chest. "It's okay really. I'm sleepy too. Please come back to me." You moan as you bury your face into his chest. "I love you, (y/n)."

"I love you too, dork." You give Chris a good night kiss as he covers you both with the bed covers.

He hugs you tight and whispers in your ear, "we can just have the ice cream for breakfast… Oooo with pancakes. They make a yummy combination."

You groan, "Chris?"

"Hmm."

"Go to sleep, sweetie."

"Okay okay." He kisses the top of your head, "I love you."

"I love you too."

[some-dr-writings]

Shuichi, Hajime, and Rantaro comfort their M!S/O after a sleep paralysis episode

Shuichi Saihara:

·       Shuichi couldn’t help but dreamily sigh seeing how you so excitedly ran around your new house. You were so giggly, opening the windows as to get the dust out of this fixer upper. “Hey, Shuichi! Seems like the old tenants left some gifts for us!” “Oh?” He placed down the box he held, on the kitchen island. As he strode towards the hall where you were, he rolled up his sleeves so he could wipe the sweat from his brow without staining them. “What did you find?” You held up a skateboard and a few teacups. “I just brought in the coffee and tea box. We could test the plumbing and take a short break.” “Aaaaahhhhh. That sounds just lovely. I’ll get on that while you take a prebreak break!” Skipping past, you gave him a quick kiss, a light laughter in your breath. Shuichi melted under that gentle touch. Wanting more Shuichi turned around, seeing you leave, that golden ring glittering in the sunlight. He wondered how after all these years he still felt like the same teen who sheepishly asked you out in high school or how you were always the sweetest husband in existence.

·       It was the first of what would be many long days, but it would all be worth it. You managed to scrub down the place and get a few boxes in so you didn’t have to worry about cleaning or getting your essentials at least. You sat beside Shuichi on the porch. He was leaning back, resting on his hands, looking up to the starlit sky. “So, training tonight?” “Oh no. I’m exhausted enough. I could fall asleep right now.” You hugged him, pulling yourself close. “Thank goodness! My arms and legs are so sore!” Shuichi turned to you, nuzzling his forehead against yours. “You don’t have to exercise with me, you know.” “Sure, but I like exercising with you. Don’t leave me out.” “Never.” He placed a hand on your cheek, caressing it, loving hearing you hum softly at the touch. “Let’s head off to bed then.”

·       The moment Shuichi got on the futon he collapsed, falling into one of the deepest sleeps he’d ever had. Good work, new home, you in his arms, life was perfect.

·       Though at some point in the night, he didn’t realize he had begun to stir. His mind slowly caught up and he began to notice his surroundings. He snapped to attention, not recognizing the place and feeling you cling tightly to him, but then he remembered this was just his new home. “Honey? H-hey, what’s wrong?” A shaky exhale escaped you before you continued to heavily breath. “s-sleep paralysis… I think.” “You think?” Shuichi reached up and turned on the portable lamp he brought into the room before, lighting up the room. “What happened?” “I… I couldn’t breathe. This figure just sat on my chest. And… i… thanks for turning on the light…” Shuichi hugged you tightly, running a hand up and down your back. “I’m sorry, Y/N. But it’s okay, we’re alright. I’m here.” “… i… I know it’s probably the sleep paralysis, but…” “… let’s go looking then.” “Huh?” He gave you a quick kiss on the forehead before sitting up, one hand taking the lamp, the other holding one of yours. “No, no, you don’t have to do that or stay awake.” You tried to gently pull Shuichi back to laying down. “Go back to sleep, you need it.” “Just a quick look around, make sure all the doors and windows are locked, then straight back to bed, okay?” You paused for a moment, thinking it over. “okay.”

·       Hand in hand you walked around, Shuichi keeping you close, squeezing your hand the whole time, caressing it with his thumb. At every window and door he’d search for anything off, at one point he even brought up the idea to dust for fingerprints just in case, his detective instincts more so making him try to find anything wrong in the slightest than prove there was nothing. With each lock you checked Shuichi gave you a kiss, whether it be on the cheek or lips or hand or forehead.

·       “… I’m sorry.” Already knowing what this was about, Shuichi hugged you tightly. “Please don’t be. I want to be with you when you have these episodes. Let me comfort you.” You sighed, hugging him back. “I… I know… just not in a good head space right now…” “And that’s alright.”

·       You wondered how after all these years you still felt like the same teen who so giddily agreed to go out in high school or how Shuichi was always the sweetest husband in existence.

   Hajime Hinata:

·       With a yawn you stretched, taking in the sun’s rays. You listened to the gulls caw, the light rustle as the wind danced about the leaves of the palm trees, the gentle lapping of the waves against the sands. Wispy clouds drifted by slowly, dissipating and melding in with the blue it was cast against.

·       “Your amaretto sour minus the amaretto.” You sat up, taking the drink that was passed to you, a quiet clinking sound being made as your rings hit one another. “Thanks Haji.” Hajime sat beside you, his own sweet and sour amaretto in hand.

·       “You’d think after living here for so long we’d have found everything there is to find. Especially since we somewhat already knew the layout from the virtual world.” “Yeah, I thought so too. I thought we could finally relax for a change.” You tried holding in your laughter, only for it to come bursting out. “Relax? With our family? Not a chance! We literally live on an island paradise and none of them can go even a minuet without causing some sort of trouble!”

·       Hajime smiled, looking to his drink, rolling it a little, seeing the liquid spin. He found it endearing how you called your classmates family and well… after everything all of you had gone through together, making it through hell and back more times than any of you could count, Hajime could agree with that sentiment… Even if he was annoyed with several of them most of the time.

·       “I suppose we’ll have to scavenge through the new areas of the amusement park tomorrow. And just when I thought we were done with all that.” “Tell me about it.” Hajime sighed, taking a sip of his drink, dreading the extra chaos that would inevitably ensue tomorrow. You stood up, holding a hand out to Hajime. “I’ll take your glass back for you. I promised Nidai and Hanamura I’d help with gathering ingredients today.” “Oh, alright.” After passing you his glass he watched you leave, before sighing, glad that in the madness that had become his life, he had such a great husband by his side.

·       Dinner was loud as usual and you and Hajime decided to sneak off so you could get to bed early, you’d need it for tomorrow.

·       Though sleep seemed to be difficult for Hajime. He found himself periodically waking up through the night, at one point it was too cold to sleep. But then he realized why it was cold. “Y/N?” You were not in bed or anywhere in the cabin for that matter, not even the washroom. “Y/N?” Finding you weren’t at the pool either he went thoroughly searching. With some help from both Super High School Level detective and hunting talents he was able to track you down, just walking around, now passing by one of the bridges.

·       “Y/N!” “Huh? Hajime? Why are you out here?” “I could ask you the same thing.” You looked distressed, pale, and exhausted. “Well…” You looked to the side, hugging yourself. “I... was awake but couldn’t move. Like I was awake, and not awake? While also being asleep and not asleep? All I could do was just keep staring while I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t do anything to fight back, I couldn’t even force myself to take deep breaths. I don’t know how long it lasted, but when I could finally move again, I just… felt so panicked and scared. I just… needed to move, to show myself I was okay. I don’t even know what the hell happened, but now I’m wondering if it’ll happen again. Like, did I die momentarily, is this common, what happened to me!?” You lightly trembled, your voice quivered, and your pupils were like the size of pinpricks the panic practically seeping from them.

·       He placed his hands on your shoulders, holding them in a firm grip. This grabbed your attention, getting you to look into his green and red eyes. “How are you feeling now.” “… Scared, but okay. I can breathe normally again.” “Good.” His hands trailed down, till your hands met and your fingers intertwined. “Let’s go see Tsumiki. Make sure you’re fine, then after, if you are, let’s go walking and just talk for a while.” “Yeah, let’s do that.” Holding your hand tightly he pulled you close, leading you back to the cottages. He wasn’t sure if he could do much more, but whatever he could do to help, he’d do it for you.

   Rantaro Amami:

·       “I think we’re here.” “No, if we were, we’d see that ridge over there.” “Then…” Rantaro held down the map for a moment, taking a closer look at his surroundings. Looking back at the topography map he tried searching for anything familiar to the scenery. “You notice anything, Darling?” “Hmm, oh! That mountain over there, see that big indent.” “Good eye… Got it, seems like we’re here.” You held up your map of paths, comparing it to the one Rantaro had in hand. “Ah, guess we strayed a bit.” “It’ll take a while to get back. We’ll probably have to camp out for the night.” You sighed, dreading the hike back the untreaded path.

·       Unfortunately for the both of you, that was only the first of your troubles. “Uh, Rantaro.” “Yeah, Darling.” “The tent is ripped?” “Huh?... How?” “I don’t know.” It was then something caught your eye. “Something wrong, Darling?” You pointed towards the sky. “I don’t like the look of those black clouds.” Then a deep rumbling sound roared out. “… Uh… let’s see if we can patch up the tent with the emergency tape from my bag.” As you were going through your bag, wondering if Rantaro may have mistakenly placed the tape in your bag when packing, when you suddenly heard a crashing noise. “Oh No, no, nonono!” “Rantaro!? What was that sound?” “… My hiking pack fell down. I think it landed by that river down there, it’s hard to tell with the trees.”

·       You knew you were going to have to camp for a night to get to that distant town in the search for your husband’s sisters, but… you both thought it’d go a bit smoother than this. “Hey, at least the clouds are parting. We might be able to star gaze.” A smile pulled on your lips, Rantaro’s optimism being much needed.

·       And just as he said, most of the clouds were gone by night fall. You had a beautiful view of the stars, so even with a broken tent you at least could appreciate that.

·       For Rantaro, no matter where the pair of you were, as long as you were nearby, he knew everything would work out and be alright. As much as he like the view of the stars he was a little miffed about the tent. Because of that you were forced to use your sleeping bags so he couldn’t cuddle with you. Cuddling was a bit of a comfort for him. He loved that you wanted to help in his search, but it also scared him a little. What if he lost you too? Wherever you went he always held you hand, even wearing hairbands as bracelets so he could have it wrapped around both your wrists. And at night, when he was asleep a part of him was worried that when he awoke, you’d be gone, so being able to hold you through the night eased his heart a little.

·       But on a night like this where he couldn’t do so, sleep eluded him. He’d dreamily look to you as your eyes drooped. The speckles of light reflected on your eyes, the moon gently illuminating your face, making your features so soft… so, so soft. Rantaro scooched over and gently planted the kiss on your cheek.

·       After a moment you seemed to gasp, your breathing grew heavy and flipped over onto your side. “R-Rantaro.” “Darling?” You took a few deep breaths trying to steady your racing heart. “t-thank you.” Rantaro was confused for a moment before it suddenly clicked. “Another sleep paralysis episode.” You simply nodded, snuggling into your sleeping bag. “I, I felt like I was falling, or floating, and I, I could only see the stars so, so I, I thought I was going into space, and I couldn’t breath and there’s no air in space so I thought I was dying, and, and I, I…”

·       “Rantaro?” He was getting out of his sleeping bag. “Got room for one more?” It was a bit of a tight fit but Rantaro manage to slip into your sleeping bag. He gently peppered your face in kisses before speaking again. “I’ll keep you grounded. Neither of us is going anywhere, I promise.” He then hugged you a tightly as he could, hoping that could make you just as secure as you made him feel when by your side.

[crybabyjam]

born to die for you

ship: bakudeku

rating: t

fantasy au.

summary:  Katsuki is still coming to terms with Izuku's sacrifice for him.

content warning for described (past) eye trauma/injury

companion art available here

available on ao3 here

---

With nightfall comes a chill that nips at Katsuki's bones, painful where they've been broken and reformed time and again. Katsuki picks at the bracer outlining his wrist, unsure if he wants to tighten it or loosen, but is soon distracted by the sound of footfalls from behind him.

He turns, not sharply because he recognizes the cadence of the leather boots, and acknowledges Izuku's arrival with a soft grunt.

Izuku carries with him a bundle of firewood, much more than they needed for a night's rest, but he always did that.

"What if we want to sleep in tomorrow, Kacchan?" Izuku had mused, in the past. "Then you can just reignite the wood from our bedroll."

"And incinerate the entire fuckin' forest while I'm at it." Katsuki had grumbled, not pointing out the fact that it was Izuku who chose to leave their bedroll each morning, bright and early.

Now, Izuku has busied himself with kindling in the shape of thin sticks and twigs and dry dead grass. Katsuki turns away before he's caught staring.

(read more)

Small swarms of fireflies dip in and out of the treeline, flickering their delicate glow behind moonbeams that pierce through the thick throngs of branches and leaves. Katsuki waves a couple away from his face, blinking up at the sky.

It was a pleasantly clear night, though the stars were soon dulled as thick smoke entered the atmosphere. Izuku stands up tall, stretching a crick out of his neck, and Katsuki's eyes turn towards the modest campfire that soon soothes the ache from his bones with its mellow warmth.

Katsuki falls heavy on a log he'd dragged out into the open earlier, which has rotted a bit by the way it has turned green around the edges, but was stable enough to hold his weight. Acrid smoke curls around him, scaring away the pesky lightning bugs that have taken interest in his eyelashes, and Katsuki finds comfort in the way it pleasantly coats his lungs.

With a deep breath, he lets his spine curl over as he leans against his knees, still picking at his bracer. He hadn't realized how high his shoulders had been to his ears until then.

Izuku comes to join him on the log, fingers skipping across the exposed skin of Katsuki's shoulders that lay bare without his cloak. They're cold at the tips, but tepid at the palms when he curls the calloused pad of his hand around Katsuki's upper arm.

"Long day, hm?" Izuku muses, quiet. As if someone could overhear them, purposefully lost in the woods as they were. They'd travelled ages and hours to get here, to the middle of nowhere, and they had the scars to prove it.

Katsuki's eyes dart over to Izuku's. One, vibrant green and bright and a bit tired around the edges where the few sleepless nights he'd gone through have built up over the weeks and left dark smudges and swollen skin beneath his waterline.

The other eye still has the bags and the dark marks, but is nothing more than a blank, white marble that mocks Katsuki at the best and worst of times.

He turns away with a jerk, knocking Izuku's hand off of his skin. Izuku takes no offense to the motion, only offering a temperate hum as he stands again to pick through their wares for dinner.

Generally, Katsuki was the one who cooked.

He hadn't offered tonight, because there was something, some stupid feeling simmering beneath his skin and his muscles and gluing between his bones, that left him hot and cold and overtly empty in the stomach.

Katsuki could barely focus past it, which only got him more pissed. An irritating feedback loop, and Katsuki scarcely had the energy to take those feelings out on an enemy or an unfortunate tree stump, let alone talk it through rationally with his partner.

His partner, who has busied himself with their cooking pot and setting up a spit to cook the small rabbit they had prepared earlier. Izuku sets it out, the rabbit carcass, as close to the fire as it can get without preemptively cooking, so that the bugs stay off of it.

Then, he tugs out a sack filled with potatoes that have lasted them most of the month, a shallot or two squished at the bottom. The rest of their mushrooms are spread throughout, like edible ornaments, and he upends the whole of the bag atop a slab of clean wood, nestled in a cleared area on the forest floor. They spread messily across his chopping block, the heavy one that hangs off of a loop on Izuku's pack when they hike through woods and mountains.

"Peel these?" Izuku asks, holding up two of the five small potatoes they have left. Altogether it would be a hearty meal that would send them right to sleep, and probably have leftovers for breakfast if they remembered to keep it covered and simmering through the night.

Katsuki doesn't make a show of his compliance, unhooking the paring knife from their food pack and gathering up the potatoes without a sound. Izuku's head tilts, as if trying to figure out a puzzle or hear a silent song on the wind. He mumbles something, purposefully low so that Katsuki doesn't hear, but he disappears with the cooking pot before Katsuki can make a fuss about it. Off to get clean water from the stream they'd set up partially near.

With his absence, that feeling that coiled around in Katsuki's gut— like a stubborn snake that has carelessly poisoned itself— starts to rear up even heavier.

He recognizes that it is, atleast partially, fear. Fear of what will happen with Izuku out of his sight. How fucking stupid is it that he only starts getting afraid for idiot Deku after he's been injured, healed over, and shown to be alright.

And though Katsuki cares for the half-elf, he… isn't the best at categorizing his own feelings. Especially for others. Even before the incident, Katsuki's relationship with Izuku was a fragile thing: thin and easily pierced like an eggshell. Anything could come and break it, and Katsuki hadn't been ready yet to acknowledge how much it would wound him if it did happen. Still isn't.

Though, it's not as if he… didn't care before. Far from it. But the injury had only cemented some sort of mortality in the thick of Katsuki's mind, for the both of them. Each battle could bring the demise of either one of them; could end the fanciful dream they have conceived where they would wind up, at the end of their days, together and happy and peaceful.

Instead, it was more like Izuku was the one who didn't care.

He had laughed, joyous and bubbling, with his eye plucked straight from his head like grapes unready to be pulled from a vine. Covered in his own blood, dying, and he was just happy that he'd saved Katsuki.

Katsuki had been cursed, some while ago, by some asshole who hated his guts for some reason Katsuki couldn't even remember anymore. They, the one who cursed him, had thought it would be funny to torment Katsuki. To dangle his dreams in front of him and tell him, clearly, that he would never achieve them. That the only thing he had to look forward to was the dark veil of death.

The curse decreed that his vision belonged to that sorcerer. Someway or another, completely outside of Katsuki's control, he would lose them (his dreams, his vision, his future) and die. For a person without a future is nothing more than a corpse, they'd said.

Izuku hadn't liked learning that. Almost more than Katsuki hated being toyed with by a shitty spellcaster.

There isn't much Katsuki remembers specifically about the event, truly. He knows that Izuku had figured out how to fiddle with the curse, how to turn it onto himself instead of Katsuki. How to make it so that something physical is given up, instead of a full life.

Izuku had willingly given up his eye, so that Katsuki could live. He gave up part of his own vision, his iris greying like a silver coin, and had been so happy when he'd turned to Katsuki, expression bright and open, when it worked.

It took them both by surprise when the curse-giver had returned with a vengeance, even before Katsuki could get mad at Izuku for butting in where he shouldn't have. Katsuki had barely opened his lips, ready to yell probably, when sharp fingers had plunged into Izuku's face. Those fingers had sliced through Izuku's battle-hardened skin and bones like it was soft river water parted by a departing boat.

Something Katsuki does starkly remember is the intense despair that had gripped his ribs and rattled them like rusting cage bars, seeing that. Izuku's lifeblood spilled across his pores, painting across his freckles with deep, heavy crimson. Katsuki remembers how it had dried brown just around the edges, but still sluggishly bled when Izuku passed out in his arms.

He couldn't breathe with every step he took to a medic, or a necromancer, or even a fucking seamstress if only they could fix Deku.

"I'm glad, Kacchan," Izuku had mumbled, voice dying in his throat as the pain gripped him from inside and outside his skull. He was still smiling, teeth staining red as his wound spilled over across his lips. "You're free."

As an elf, Izuku had a long life in front of him. Even before Katsuki was born some thirty years ago, Izuku had lived through half the lifetime of a plain human. And even now, they've only known one another for five years, no longer than that. So why had it been so easy for him to give up the rest of his life, just for Katsuki?

It haunted him, still, that he didn't know the answer to that question.

Katsuki had to trade his sword, pommel embedded with rare stones charmed with strength magic, to pay for the medicines, the surgery, and for his new eye. It wasn't his best sword, yet was an heirloom from his parents. Despite that, he'd used the thing maybe a dozen times for the better part of the year, so it had been easy to part with. Much easier than giving up Izuku.

It was scary, realizing the extent that his care for such a stupid elven idiot went.

Before the incident, Katsuki could have even comfortably said that he hated the guy, that he was stupidly selfless and had a god-complex from always looking down on everyone. That he was annoying. It would have been a lie, the 'hate' part atleast, but Katsuki could have said it and been at ease with himself.

Even when Izuku would greet him with a bright smile, a 'Great work, Kacchan!' after battle, or a gentle touch when they had to suture one another's wounds, Katsuki had been… hesitant with his— heart or whatever. He barely wanted to let the elf in, because that was just another weakness his enemies could use to get to him. And, because…

Izuku returns with a full pot and two full waterskins.

Katsuki had been distracted and slow-going with the potatoes, so he still has two left to peel by the time Izuku sits cross-legged in front of the fire, stirring the water with spices, cuts of butter, the mushrooms.

"What's bothering you, Kacchan?" Izuku asks, knife coming down hard on the chopping block as he prepares the few peeled potatoes and the rest of the vegetables for the stew. The rabbit is quickly dismembered and stuffed tight into the tiny cast iron vessel, before the stew is placed back over the fire.

It doesn't even bubble and boil before the aroma is drifting through their humble campsite.

When Katsuki doesn't answer the question, Izuku slips his legs beneath himself and crawls over, knees staining with dark soil. His hands are dirty with rabbit blood and salt.

"I can help, if you tell me."

His hair is soft as he rests his head in Katsuki's lap, uncaring of stray potato peels. His fingers curl over as he holds them limply in the air, careful not to stain either of their clothes.

His eyes drift shut. The scarred side doesn't close all the way, a thing it sometimes does when Izuku lays his neck at odd angles. He never notices it, but Katsuki does. The scar is thick, though it wasn't keloid or bumpy, and sometimes made his left eyelid curve up away from the lower lid.

Katsuki didn't want to let Izuku into his heart because Katsuki wasn't strong enough yet, for love.

It's something he realized in the middle of a night when he'd startled awake, breathing in the scent at the nape of Izuku's neck. It was a soft fragrance, and though Izuku was a light sleeper he hadn't woken up when Katsuki jerked from his nightmare by gripping him tight around the middle.

No, he stayed peacefully dozing, as the morning sun began to melt the dew and warm the ground. And so, Katsuki was able to look at him clearly, openly, and thank the heavens that Izuku was still with him. It made him pathetically soft in the heart, pressing himself skin to skin to Izuku.

Caring takes a lot out of a person, requires a lot more. It hurt to admit, even in the hidden space of his mind, but Katsuki didn't think he'd ever be strong enough, for love.

Something else Katsuki remembers from the episode that cost Izuku half his sight is how much Katsuki had cried. His entire frame had wracked and shuddered with sobs, hands dirty with elf blood and salty tears that surely did not help the wound.

Like with everything else, he doesn't know how he was able to kill the sorcerer who cursed them both, but he does remember the vibrating, thrumming heat all through his veins. It was as if he was a beast that had been dulled with drugged food and collars and chains for all of his life, and was suddenly let loose.

He let his anger consume him in a literal blaze, igniting the earth and the air without prejudice. He seared sinewy muscle from bone, his own as they crackled to absorb his influx of power, and that of the sorcerer who dared to find humor in Izuku's sacrifice.

Izuku tells him this, laughing the same way as he did that horrible day, and also says that Katsuki had been a stunning sight, finally reaching the apex of his power: his maturation. He had glowed with his anger and his heat and his fear.

Dragonkin did not mature traditionally. Their powers were muted, though still strong, and were kept locked inside of their bodies until they reached a boiling point in their life. A period of time of extreme stress, pressuring them to mold into something new— like diamonds sitting at the Earth's core tense under magmatic rock. Katsuki matured much earlier than most.

Of course it would be Deku that brought him to that breaking point.

It was ironic, in a way that Katsuki didn't care to think further about. Especially not at that point in time, when Izuku was choking on his own tongue and turning pale as he bled out. He'd smeared some of it, the blood, across Katsuki's face, messily staining locks of hair that had grown longer with the breadth of their shared adventure.

"Kacchan," Izuku says.

Katsuki blinks, and Izuku is now sitting on his right, also atop the log. He'd missed the moment when Izuku decided to rest his head against Katsuki's shoulder, only catching the motion as he pulls away to clean his hands with a wetted cloth.

"What?"

"I asked if you weren't feeling hungry after all. It was a long day." Izuku has to wet the cloth twice more with water from his waterskin in order to get the stubborn, thin blood from between his fingers. "You can sleep, if you want."

Katsuki rolls excuses around his tongue, jaw clenching and unclenching. "It's almost done. 's fine."

The pot begins to bubble in that moment, summoned to life. It overflows a bit, and Izuku hurries back over to stir. Katsuki watches as he tucks a lock of hair behind his ear with his cleaned fingers, unnoticing of the stray strands that tickle his blind side.

He ladles some of the soup with a small spoon, though the rabbit is nowhere near done, and sniffs at it closely. His nostril flares, wrinkling at the edges of his smile line, which means that he thinks it smells good.

Still, he adds a few more dashes of spice and hurries to finish chopping the rest of the potatoes. Conversation forgotten (but not really), he hums a soft tune to himself. Bathed in firelight like this, half-angled away, it looks as though he's been untouched by the war and the battles they'd been through.

Katsuki makes the mistake of shifting, sitting up straighter, and Izuku glances up at him. His fake eye reflects brighter than his real one, and it's like a stab.

When Katsuki does nothing more than resettle, Izuku turns back to their meal and cleans up the utensils and the cutting board. He rinses them only, preferring to sanitize in the morning when they take river baths. He lays them out on a terrycloth to dry, and settles back on the log with Katsuki, crossing his legs at the ankle.

He lets Katsuki brood silently, then, busying himself with picking the dirt from his knees and pulling over his sword to see if it needs sharpening. It doesn't, but he pulls out his whetstone and tools to polish it at least. Izuku doesn't see how Katsuki clenches his fist and squeezes tight on nothing.

"Deku," Katsuki starts, before stopping just as suddenly. "Why…"

Izuku turns to him again, has to shift onto one of his hips to see Katsuki properly. Another stabbing reminder. He seems to find something worrisome in Katsuki's gaze, or maybe his tone, because he sets down his sword again and scoots closer.

He holds his hand out, palm up, and Katsuki hovers over it hesitantly.

"Talk to me, Katsuki."

There's too much to say, really.

Katsuki lets his hand rest in Izuku's and sighs. His palm had warmed from earlier, probably from gripping the chopping knife, and the physical reminder that he's here and alive settles the fear in Katsuki's stomach, just a touch.

He doesn't get a chance to fully develop his thoughts, whatever they were, because the pot starts to boil over again. Rabbit marrow and blood thickened by the heated water splatters into the campfire, further daubing the campsite with its hearty flavor. Izuku looks stricken when Katsuki pulls away, but only nods to himself and goes to tend to it.

He's still looking back at Katsuki when he reaches for the ladle, which is why he misses. His hand goes dangerously close to the flames, nearly curling around a charred log. When the heat registers, he jerks back with a hiss, but the pot is in the way.

His fingers touch the searing hot iron full on, stay in contact long enough that there is a faint sizzle, but he is able to  yank it away with a ragged gasp. Katsuki jumps to his feet, heart pounding.

He snatches Izuku back by the collar of his shirt and drags him away a few paces, eyes wide.

"Idiot!"

Izuku grunts as he's choked, and then when the pain flares a bit as he holds his fingers up to the light. Katsuki circles to his front, darkening Izuku with shadows, and grabs his hand to look at the injury himself.

It isn't a bad burn by far, somewhere between a first and a second degree. He'd probably get worse standing too close to Katsuki in battle. But it was a preventable one. Preventable by a margin of months, in a timeline where Izuku hadn't been so fucking… him that he took a blow meant to rid Katsuki from the world.

Liquid fire laps at Katsuki's throat, or maybe it's bile from the sudden deluge of anxiety, and it scorches him so much differently than his fire ever does.

"You never fucking learn," Katsuki growls, throat igniting. He has to breathe all of the fire from his lungs before he makes the injury worse, turning away until the flames putter out to embers that tingle across his tongue.

"Sorry, Kacchan." Izuku is placid when he tugs his fingers out of Katsuki's grip, rubbing his thumb across the already presenting blisters. "Guess I'm still getting used to… you know."

He says it as if it's a joke, as if it was the same as tripping over untied shoelaces, and Katsuki gets pissed.

He goes red in the face, and not in the same way he does when Deku holds him close and kisses him on the cheeks or around the neck. It's mottled and splotchy, and the same face he makes when he's moments away from crying— whether furious tears or not.

"Maybe if you hadn't taken a blow not meant for you, you'd still have your two shitty eyes." Katsuki grabs his hand again, too rough, and pulls Izuku over to their bags. Izuku yanks his appendages back when Katsuki lets go to shuffle through their things for salve and bandages.

He licks at them with his tongue, blowing cool breath to ease the biting pain. Idiot would get himself fucking infected.

"Just like the last time you said that, I won't apologize for what I did." Izuku says it firmly, as if it were an obvious conclusion he'd come to and not one born of— of fucking stupidity and martyrdom.

"I would do it again if I had to."

"You didn't have to the first time!" Katsuki explodes. It's literal when shards of their salve pot splinter between his drawn knuckles, though the ceramic is shattered to dust enough that the skin doesn't cut. He jerks his fist back, hiding it even though Izuku doesn't reach for him, and smears the smooth paste against his trousers as he continues, "I didn't ask you to sacrifice yourself, you ass."

Izuku stands up straight, looking him right in the eye even when Katsuki can't bear to stare at him back. Daring him to do something. He shoves Izuku in the shoulder, making him stumble back, and forces him to sit back on the log that has been plopped upon so heavily in the last hour that it has made its own indent in the soft soil.

What salve he has managed to save, piled and stuck to the backs of his nails, he plasters across Izuku's newest injury. It instantly soothes the pain, and the pinched expression sitting on Izuku's brow eases to something calmer. He's still upset though, lips pulled down in a frown as he tries to look Katsuki in the eye again.

Katsuki stays looking down, at the swollen blisters that would surely rupture in the next skirmish they had, and reaches for the gauze and cloth to wrap them in.

"I'm not fucking weak." Katsuki sighs, finally. Softly. He deflates with the motion, shoulders dropping until he looks small and tired, and they are so far from the campfire that he is outlined in white and blue moonlight like a dying siren in the ocean.

"You're the strongest person I know," Izuku agrees.

The fight fizzles out, just like that. No kindling to keep it alight.

The two longest fingers of Izuku's hands get wrapped thickly, so that if he knocks them into things they won't hurt too bad. Another is just lightly reddened, the most minor of burns, and only gets a thin layer of the rest of the ointment before Katsuki lets him go.

Izuku pats the spot next to him on the log, on his blindside.

Katsuki goes, not begrudgingly but tired all the same. He sits on Deku's left side and turns to look at him fully, watching the way the scar curls and curves as high as his hairline and as low as the jut of his jaw.

The overboiled pot is taken away from the fire, settled on a thicker piece of wood that can stand the heat of the iron. Izuku leaves it to simmer there, but both of them know it will be a long few hours before either is ready to eat it.

Unobstructed, the campfire flames flicker higher into the night sky.

It isn't so tall as to rival a bonfire, not even close, but it curlicues into the sky as if playing with starlight. They are granted more light, in return, and Katsuki can see clearly how Izuku is struggling to come up with the right words to stay, to figure out what was wrong with Katsuki that night.

It doesn't irritate him as much as it would have in the past.

"Deku," Katsuki tries again.

Just as before, Izuku turns to him. Before he has a chance to second-guess himself, Katsuki reaches out to touch. Izuku relaxes as soon as Katsuki's hand has curled around his jaw, fingers grazing the straight edge of his pointed ears.

Katsuki's fingers bleed warmth where they press into Izuku's skin, heating it up until he goes pleasantly pink around the fringes. His thumb brushes the edge of the inlaid scar that just barely missed bisecting one of his more prominent freckles in two. It is completely healed over, has been numb to everything for months, but Katsuki is tentative around it as if it were still fresh and raw.

He remembers tending to it, after Izuku's life was no longer in danger. It looked different then, scabs peeling away to reveal more scabs, and he hadn't been able to stick in a prosthetic piece until the cavern where his old eye rested had been aired out and cleared of both blood and debris.

Katsuki had to flush it every so often, with sterile water and stinging medicine, and Izuku had thrown up the first time he'd had to experience it. The pain had gone straight through what few nerves he had left and grabbed at his brain with sharp talons, and it had taken a considerable amount of both of their strength to get him to lay still again.

Kacchan had touched him in this familiar way, back when the eye was taken. Katsuki's face had been splattered with tears and Izuku's blood, because Izuku had accidentally brushed some of it onto his skin when reaching for him, to comfort.

But Katsuki was so beautiful and bright like the sun, but closer and more tangible and much more torrid. Izuku had felt so blessed to be able to witness his rebirth, to be the first to see his true power burst from his fingertips and his mouth, that Izuku hadn't thought to be upset that he would die soon afterwards.

"Don't cry, Kacchan," Izuku remembers saying, hopefully smiling in a way that wasn't too crazed. It hurt to move but he pressed his hand to the back of Katsuki's palm anyway and hugged it tighter against his unmarred cheek. "That's my job, remember?"

"It'll be okay." He'd said, also. "Everything will be fine." Because even if he died, Kacchan was free now, to live and to see.

For Izuku, his scar is a sign of what he is willing to do for his Kacchan, the risks that come with loving someone heart and soul. He wears it with pride, content in knowing that Katsuki survived— no, that he won that day. Even from the beginning, Izuku would have given up the world for Katsuki.

He's lived long enough to learn to cherish what he falls in love with— especially when he may live so long as to lose it in the blink of an eye. Literally.

But to Katsuki, it is only a painful reminder of his weaknesses. His inability to protect himself, let alone protect his own. It's cruel, the way that Deku chooses to stand on Katsuki's right side, so that if Katsuki even so much as tilts his head, he sees the glint of the fake, unseeing crystal glinting in sunlight.

Izuku looks at him, the injured eyelid drifting shut as Katsuki focuses on it for a long, aching moment.

Silence, only the soft lulling lullaby of forest symphony.

Then, "Izuku," Katsuki breathes. It's a whisper, softly anguished, and it breaks Izuku's heart.

"Why did you…" Katsuki trails off, leaning forward to drop his face against Izuku's shoulder. His nose presses against the jugular and he can feel the full thrum of Izuku's heartbeat pumping blood inside his veins. "Why did you do it?"

In every moment with Izuku, Katsuki is reminded of his shortcomings. It's amazing that he hasn't realized, not just yet, that it is pure trust in his abilities that makes Izuku choose to stand on Katsuki's right side. Where he is blind, he knows Katsuki is there to defend and to protect, to fight back against those who will try to take advantage of his weakness.

Though his wound could be debilitating in battle, never once after the incident had he been hit on his left. Not with Katsuki there.

"Because I care about you," Izuku explains carefully. He cradles his other hand, the uninjured one, around Katsuki's back and holds him steady. "Because I knew what I was willing to do for you, even if you hated me for it."

Izuku has never been uncertain of where Katsuki stands in his heart. He loved him with everything he had, and he would show it time and again, for as long as he was able because forever is such a fickle thing. And though they hadn't yet promised to be the other's forever, Izuku knew it was what he wanted.

"Because I love you," Izuku adds, as if it weren't clear. As if he didn't say it every day in words and in actions. He was willing to wait and to fight for it, even if Katsuki chose to never reciprocate those feelings. Izuku would always love Katsuki fiercely and purely.

The two stay like that, half curled in on one another. Izuku isn't sure if his words absorb the way he means them to, or if he should say more to prove his feelings. But Katsuki doesn't move, so Izuku doesn't pull away.

Whatever it is that Katsuki takes from Izuku's words, though, he seems satisfied as he sits up straight. He's calmer, and that self-assured look is back where it should be.

Katsuki gathers him, first by wrapping his arms tight around Izuku's torso to pull him hip to hip, and then with his palms pressing against his cheeks. He does that often, these days.

Katsuki looks Izuku in the eyes, gaze flickering from side to side as he looks first into the blank eye and then into the green one that greets him eagerly.

"Okay."

The rabbit stew sits, forgotten and simmering next to the blooming fire as Katsuki pulls Izuku from the log towards their bedrolls. He kicks away the bags from their pillows and tugs off his bracers, dropping them somewhere where their feet will rest when they sleep.

In the morning, they will scramble for their things as they begin their day: Katsuki's bracers and Izuku's sword, the rabbit stew gone cold when the fire died down in the middle of the night, and the ointment that dried sticky on Katsuki's trousers.

But, just for tonight, the only thing that matters to both of them is each other. Katsuki lays with Izuku down atop the earth, breathing with him, looking him in the eyes.

Izuku's head rests in the crook of his arm, and he hooks a blanket over their hips. He lets his hand come to lay on Katsuki's arm, rubbing semi-circles into his flesh until Katsuki relaxes further into their shared bedroll.

Katsuki sits up, only to pull Izuku closer and settle his own arm beneath Izuku's head, trapping him there until Katsuki has taken his fill for the evening.

He makes a silent promise.

Izuku was already in his heart, rooted firmly there, so Katsuki would do everything he could to protect him from now on. There was no obstacle he wouldn't face, no weakness he couldn't overcome—

Katsuki would get stronger alongside Izuku so they could live together, forever.

---

ao3 link

[choisanah]

imagery, vibes, aesthetics | ot8

・    kim hongjoong ;

traveling and holding hands while visiting art museums all over the world; taking photos of you when you're not aware because you look just as beautiful as the paintings; shopping for clothes, making a contest out of it to see who can find the most ridiculous article of clothing; late night drives to the beach, listening to music as you lay down on the hood of the car, gazing at the stars; exploring abandoned buildings, trying to decipher old grafitti; struggling to stay awake through the movie you'd already complained was too expensive; going out to a coffee shop under the excuse that you need to work, but it's just so cozy, laptops long forgotten in favor of conversations about everything and nothing; watching the sun rise from your balcony, stars still lodged tightly in your gazes; painting over old vinyls and cassettes.

・    park seonghwa ;

autumn slow walks in the park, surrounded by mountains of golden leaves; breeze blowing through your hair, flushing your cheeks; sinking into his denim jacket, melting into the faint scent of his cologne; dancing alone in your apartment to slow songs in the middle of the night; stolen glances as you try to read but you can't focus on the books; breakfast in bed every sunday since it's so damn hard to drag yourself out of the bed; old books scattered around, the smell of a library; discovering the fancy restaurants in the city, trying out the fanciest courses; golden sunlight peeking through thin, peachy curtains; lips faintly brushing over warm skin, words of praise and adoration; pearls and fine gold jewelry, a collection of watches for any occasion; bouquets of roses and lilies, their smell filling each room of the apartment.

・    jeong yunho ;

snowball fights in the evening of christmas eve, eager to get inside for hot chocolate and cuddle up in front of the fire; ordering food because you're too busy to play video games to cook; blooming trees in spring time, cherry blossom filled rivers; pointing at clouds in the pink twilight sky and trying to define the shapes as they pass by; handmade cards, with fun messages and heartfelt feelings; pressed flowers between pages of books; plaid shirts and oversized sweaters strewn about on every piece of furniture; stretching like a cat the moment you open your eyes, grunting softly and turning to the other side; the joy you find in a new hobby, investing the time and money and the moment you finally get it right when your eyes light up in excitement; electrifying touches and sparks flying with each kiss.

・    kang yeosang ;

bar hopping on a friday night, holding hands as you run through the rain to the next pub; bruised skin covered in silly plasters as if that would help speed up the healing; sitting at the back of the class and silently judging everyone; trying so hard to hold in laughter in inappropriate situations; staying up late enough to see the sun peek through the horizon; beat up vans shoes and frayed laces; pretending to be engaged just to get free samples of cake from bakeries; getting deeper and deeper in the forest, clinging to one another at the smallest sound of leaves rustling; randomly going for a drive when neither of you has any plans but don't want to stay inside either; deep red wine pouring into crystal glasses; leather jackets and chains, heavy steel toed boots.

・    choi san ;

the smell of coffee when you sleep in on the weekend and you don't need coffee, but it's such a nice morning treat; talking about your week over breakfast that you'd cooked together; fields of sunflowers in early autumn, when the september rain still hasn't made itself known; flower crowns braided from wildflowers you'd picked while hiking through the forest; grocery shopping but getting distracted by the toy aisle, playing pretend with the stuffed animals; pure white and freshly washed cotton sheets; the sparkling waves of the ocean as it splashes onto the shore; soft, gentle touches, reassuring hand squeezing and warm smiles; sharing ice cream, chips and chocolate after two hours of not being able to decide what movie to watch; the warmth of your bed on a winter morning when everything else has frozen over.

・    song mingi ;

themed park dates, shoving cotton candy in your mouth and giggling like crazy; play-fighting over the last piece of pizza before deciding to compromise and cut it in half; impossibly tight hugs, when you can't breathe yet you want to hug tighter; cute little notes with loving words spread all over the apartment, even waking up one day to one plastered to your forehead; bubble baths with candles all around, gentle music playing in the background; swarms of yellow butterflies swaying in the wind; glitter stickers and patches on denim jackets; buying tons of throw pillows, as if there's a square inch of space left on your couch; refusing to dye your hair at a salon because when your friend does it for you it's infinitely more fun.

・    jung wooyoung ;

salty sea wafting through the air in the summer breeze; ice cream dripping down your t-shirts in the sweltering heat; volunteering at pet shelters not only because it's such a selfless act but oh my god you have to see these puppies and kittens; the feeling of walking on your own after a party, drained of all energy, roaming the quiet streets; laughing so hard no more sounds come out, ten minutes later remembering and starting to laugh again; sightseeing in the world's biggest cities, neon lights flashing over excited faces; walls covered in posters and photos, fairy lights hanging from every corner of the room; black velvet and red lace, silk blindfolds and goosebumps; sitting on his shoulders at every concert so you could see better, but struggling to keep your balance because he's somehow still dancing.

・    choi jongho ;

picnics in the park under the moonlight, alone together and feeling as if the world stopped for a while; singing in the shower and annoying all your neighbors; getting kicked out of the bar for 'instigating a fight' even though all you did was talk shit to the bouncers; barbecue parties during summer evenings; running barefoot through the grass; cuddled up in front of a campfire, roasting marshmallows and singing; making up stories about the people passing by; comforting hugs and careful words; skipping class together, sneaking out of the school to go swimming; sore muscles and whining, swearing up and down you're never joining him at the gym again; staring contests and muffled laughter as tears fill your dry eyes, neither of you wanting to give up the competition just yet.

[youarejesting]

BTS Seoul mates: Monochrome couple

[MASTERLIST]

Pairing: Taehyung x Soulmate!Reader

Summary: It was you he was sure of it. In a world void of color. He finds you can paint him a thousand pictures with mere words. But are you the one he is looking for? Video chats filled with hope that every time your eyes connect your world will bloom with the colors of love. 

Taehyung was sitting in the camper van sulking quietly, today they were to head off to their campsite early. Namjoon looked awfully cheerful practically glowing. Taehyung had such mixed feelings about the Bon Voyage trip to New Zealand. Everything was so picturesque but he couldn’t see any of the colors, he had never been able to see colors just different shades between white and black. But he had never wanted to see something so bad until he came to New Zealand the boys hadn’t shut up about the color of the mountains and the hues of the rivers and lakes.

He had been told of colors, the sun and fire was a bright white, he was told it was a mix of yellow orange and red these were his warm colors. The sky was a pale grey and the ocean was a mix of different gamma or intensity of the grey shade. These were apparently called blue and green and he was told they were cool colors. His eyes were two different colors his left eye was lighter than the right which almost appeared black.

He snuck out of the grocery store to the playground. He got onto the flying fox and felt like he was flying he watched the world blur. His favorite color was grey, because it was a big part of him. It was the one constant in his life and saw him through both the happy and the sad times. Many of his photos he uploaded were in black and white for his fans to see exactly how he sees the world.

He went once more on the flying fox and watched the grey shades blur around him and he felt something strange in his head and stopped. They all got back into their vehicles travelling along, he tried to ignore Hoseok who was talking to his soulmate. They started going on about the beautiful lake saying things like, it looked like something out of a painting and he had to agree it looked spectacular but the moment Jimin mentioned the pastel colors he felt the small surge of jealousy. That they could see something he couldn’t, that he was left out again.

They stepped out to take photos and skip stones, Taehyung took his anger out throwing a large rock into the lake. He felt a little better releasing the tension. The boys were helping their soulmates skip stones. Aster and Jimin were able to skip theirs many times.

“How is it you can do it?” Namjoon asked looking curiously after not showing any signs of improvement. “I want to learn”

“It’s because they are closer to the ground” Melody muttered from behind them and everyone laughed causing Jimin to pout.

“Chim if you were any taller I wouldn’t be able to kiss you, look I already have to press onto my toes, you are the perfect height, I am the small one. Your taller and broader and muscular and manly and your hands a bigger see, any bigger and I would be upset, people would think I was your daughter and not the love of your life”

Driving along the boys went hiking but the girls agreed they wanted to rest so they headed to the campsite early setting up there two tents and such talking to the camera’s. Aster as the only driver for the girls was asleep when they had all arrived.

Taehyung saw something that made his head spin, it wasn’t his surroundings it was something else, he could see a party. People making out, drinking and running around. Some people were yelling and you split up the argument and began cleaning the mess they had made. He saw you watching the ground as you headed out the front of the yard and pulling out your phone. It was like playing a first person video game but he had no control over the character.

He blinked seeing Yoongi asking him to help with some things and he nodded the vision was gone, but as he tried to set up some of the camping gear it came back. He was watching the boys with his right eye and this movie like experience in his left. It was a little sickening for him to watch as his brain was distorted from the two different images.

With a deep breath he closed his right eye, shutting out the campers and watched you open your social media your name and profile picture displayed and it was all it took to open his phone and search for you on that social media platform sending you a message.

[Hello, I am Kim Taehyung. I see vision of you at party. I think you, my soul mate. I hope you are okay?]

[Hello. I don’t know if this is a joke or not. You saw a vision?]

[Yes, I have eyes like you. Much different, I video and see if uh, see colors you and me]

[Alright. But if you take my credit card information or doing something shady I swear I will kill you.]

Kim Taehyung would like to Face Time? 

[Answer] [Decline]

You answered hesitantly and saw a very handsome man, you blushed thanking the heavens you had dressed up for this stupid party. He smiled and he held the camera up to his face. You saw his perfect eyebrows and your eyes settled on his and he grinned and looked at you under the bright porch light. 

But nothing happened and he felt his heart sink, he apologized embarrassed and upset. Noticing the sadness in his eyes you smiled. “Hey Tae was it, We might not be Soulmates but we can be friends okay, cheer up?”

But he had seen through your eyes you had to be soulmates, he voiced this and you melted at his broken English it was charming. Swapping details you told him to keep in touch before you you had to go as your friend had arrived to take you home.

[ellewritesathing]

So Close - S.S. XXV

Summary: The universe has a funny way of putting the things you want right in front of you, but just out of reach. Stiles and Y/N have been best friends ever since Scott brought him home, but when Stiles realizes that he might want to be something other than best friends, she leaves to go to some fancy private school up North. Now that she’s back though … maybe he’s got a shot? A Teen Wolf AU in which the reader has always been so close to Stiles and yet so far.

Masterlist Prev. | Part 25

Word-count: 4.2k+

A/N: the dummies are together. the angst is heightened. we’re thriving after that short break guys

The one thing you loved about your friends was that you all had different ways of dealing with problems. The one thing you hated about your friends was that their way of dealing with problems was stupid. 

Derek pulled Malia out of school to help him track down Satomi’s pack, which - although it made sense - was mostly hurtful. You got that they were family and she needed the wolf training, but you used to be the one Derek came to when he needed help. You were the only part of his pack that was still in Beacon Hills, and you understood that things were changing and the group dynamic was different … but still. It bummed you out.

Stiles and Lydia ditched school completely to confront Parrish and visit Meredith in Eichen House. They chose to tell him that he’s on a supernatural hit-list while he was at work, which seemed ridiculous. On top of that, the last time Stiles talked to Meredith, he almost lost it, and the last time Lydia talked to Meredith, Meredith actually did lose it.

Scott had been acting weird since Violet was arrested, and he insisted that there was nothing useful in Garrett’s locker but that didn’t keep him from being shady whenever you asked about it. 

And you couldn’t find Liam anywhere. He was supposed to go for a run with Mason and then meet up with you before school started, but school was almost over now and you still couldn’t find him.

“Sorry, guys. Liam skipped my class. Maybe he’s sick,” Coach said before downing a bottle of cold medicine. “Like me.”

“Liam didn’t look sick on our run,” Mason said as he turned to you and Scott. 

“He’s not getting back to any of my texts,” Scott said. 

“Or mine,” you mumbled. 

Mason started walking away as the bell rang but Scott caught his shoulder and gave him the patented big brother smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll find him,” he promised. “But text me if you see him?” 

“Yeah, alright,” Mason said.

You sighed and looked at your brother. “Okay, so we both agree that he’s been taken, right?” you asked. 

He didn’t get a chance to answer before his phone started vibrating. “Maybe not,” he said before answering the incoming call from Liam. “Liam? … Where is he? … I’ll give you the money.” 

“What money?” you whispered, tapping his arm furiously as he continued ignoring you. 

Scott gave you a look before returning his attention to the call. “What do you want?” After a few seconds, he put his phone back in his pocket and gave you a very worried look. 

“Well? What do they want?” you asked, folding your arms over your chest. 

“Garrett’s got Liam,” he said. “And if I don’t give him his money back and break out Violet, he’s gonna kill him.” 

---

Another terrible plan: Scott meets Garrett where they park the school busses and you take Kira and start searching for Liam. He could literally be anywhere in the city, but Scott wouldn’t listen to you and you needed to find him before anything bad happened to him. 

“You do realize that we’ve been going in a circle for the past hour, right?” Kira asked, nervousness evident in her voice. 

“What? No, we haven’t,” you said as you stopped and looked around. That was the old oak that you passed five minutes into the hike. “Oh, crap.” 

“Yeah, we’ve passed that tree with the weird trunk like three times already,” Kira said. “Are you sure you know how to do this?” 

“I- I thought I did.” You ran a hand through your hair and sighed. “Okay, new plan. The woods are huge but there’s not a lot of good hiding places. There’s the old distillery, lookout point, a few caves, and … and a well, I think. We hit those first and then try along the river. Sound good?” 

She nodded and gave you an encouraging smile before you started trudging forward again.

It took you a few more hours to get through some of the different locations, but then Kira frowned and stopped walking. “Did you feel that?” she asked. 

“Feel what?” you asked, looking down to see if any of the ground had shifted underneath you. 

“I don’t know! It was like … I think it came from that direction,” she said and pointed East. 

“The only thing in that direction is the well,” you said. “Can you keep going that way without me? If it’s Liam, you can get to him before I can.” 

She gave you an unsure nod before dashing off towards the well. You followed her as closely as you could, hoping against all your instincts that Liam was still alright. When you got the well, it was still boarded up and there was some old chain lying next to it. Kira was bent over the edge talking to someone. 

“-she’ll be here any second, just hold on, okay?” she said. 

“Liam?” you called down the well. He looked ready to cry when you saw him. “Okay, buddy, there’s some old chain here from when they got water out of there, if I drop it down do you think you can hold on?” 

“You guys are gonna pull me up?” he asked. 

“We’re gonna try,” you said with a small smile. You threw down one end of the chain. “Wrap it around your waist, okay? Kira and I are gonna pull you up but it would help if you could try climbing up the sides.” 

“What do you think I’ve been doing all day?” he yelled up at you. 

He tugged on the chain after he had it around himself and you and Kira exchanged a look before taking heavy breaths and starting to pull.

“Jesus Christ, what does this kid eat for breakfast?” you breathed. 

Between the three of you, you managed to get him up to the edge of the well. As soon as his shoulders were high enough, he was able to pull himself over the edge. But then he slipped. You and Kira dug your heels into the ground but the momentum was too much. Scott got there just in time to keep him from falling in again. 

“You’re okay, Liam,” he said before pulling him into a hug. “You’re okay.” 

You dropped the chain and rushed forward, taking his face in your hands as you started looking at him. “Okay, I think you’re okay,” you said. “But we need to get you to Deaton. What did Garrett-” 

“I’m fine,” he said. “But he stabbed with something and it really hurts.” 

“Wolfsbane,” you, Scott, and Kira all said at the same time. 

“We need to go,” Scott said. 

The four of you got to Deaton in record time, and he was able to make the incision before Liam’s symptoms got worse. It was still one of the longest days of your life, and you were relieved to finally get home and shower. 

The visions were getting better as more time passed, but that didn’t mean that your dreams were free of them and you still got at least one every week in the shower. And today was your lucky day; Vision You had fangs and claws and she attacked Liam. 

Pushing the thoughts out of your mind, you took deep breaths as you used a towel to dry your hair on your way to Scott’s room. “Hey, that was pretty crazy today with Garrette,” you started. Your words fell short when you saw him and Stiles sitting on the floor with a pile of cash between them. “And it gets crazier, apparently. What is going on?”

“Close the door,” Scott said quickly. 

You did and then you sat down on the floor, opposite the bed. There was so much money right in front of you and your mom spent her Sunday nights right downstairs, going over bills in the dark trying to figure out what could wait another week to be paid. 

“I found it in Garrett’s locker,” Scott explained. “It’s the money from the jobs he and Violet did.” 

“So this is Derek’s money?” you asked. 

“Technically,” Stiles said.

You nodded slowly. “Okay, okay. And what’s this?” You held up an old cassette tape with the words ‘play me’ written on it. “I’m guessing it’s not another breakup mix.” 

“We haven’t played it yet,” Scott said, either not noticing your attempt at humor or choosing not to acknowledge it. 

He got up to find his old tape player and you sat with Stiles, bouncing your leg and biting your lip. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Stiles said softly, putting a hand over the hand you had resting on your restless knee. 

You smiled at him but it didn’t do anything to ease your nerves. “Did you find out anything with Meredith today?” 

“Uh, yeah, I guess you could say that,” Stiles said before straightening up and taking a breath. “She killed herself after we left.” 

“Oh my god, Stiles-” you moved to face him better. Tightening your grip on his hand, you asked, “Are you okay? That’s-” 

“Found it,” Scott said, a little too cheerfully for your taste. 

You pulled away from Stiles slightly as Scott put the tape in and pressed play. 

After entering the IP address, you will be connected, through a Darknet portal, to an untraceable bank. Once logged in, enter your account number to receive wire transfers. The IP address will deactivate with each transfer. You will be assigned a new IP address if you choose to continue down the list. Remember: visual confirmation is always required for payment.  

Stiles shut off the tape. “Have either of you ever made a wire transfer?” 

“Never had enough money,” Scott said as you shook your head. 

“So you didn’t understand a word of that either?” Stiles asked. 

“I don’t understand any of this,” Scott said. They both looked so tired. “Why would someone use all this money just to kill us?” 

“Someone wants you dead, dude,” Stiles said. “Badly.” 

“Okay, but doesn’t someone always want us dead?” you asked. Scott shrugged lightly. “I’m not the only one thinking that this is … extreme. Am I?” 

Neither of them said answered and after a few seconds, Scott started scooping up the money and put it back in the bag. 

“Woah, woah, what are you doing?” Stiles asked. 

“It’s late, and we’ve got the PSATs in the morning,” Scott said. 

“No, I- I meant the money,” Stiles said. “Five hundred thousand dollars. You know how much money that is?”

“That’s five hundred thousand dollars?” you asked. They’d left that part out when they explained what they were doing. “That could pay all our bills, for both our families. Our debt ...”

“Yeah, it’s half a million dollars,” Stiles said, sounding more than a little snippy. “What are you going to do, Scott? Just slide it under your mattress?”

“I have to talk to Derek,” Scott said. “The money’s his.” 

“You mean his and Peter’s,” Stiles said. You bit your lip and Scott asked what he meant. “What does that mean? It means maybe we should proceed with caution.” 

“You don’t think we should tell Derek?” Scott asked. 

“I think he means that we just don’t tell Peter,” you said. “Right?”

“I don’t know. I just-” Stiles got to his feet and sighed, rubbing his face as he turned away from you. “No, of course, we have to tell Derek. I’m just saying … Just saying some of that money’s Peter’s, right? The homicidal killer. Do we really want to give half a million dollars to him?”

“So you guys are saying we should give Derek his money back … but not Peter?” Scott asked. 

“Hey, I haven’t said anything,” you said. 

“And I didn’t say that,” Stiles said. 

“Stiles …” Scott said, “What are you saying?” 

Someone was stomping up the stairs and Scott shoved the duffel bag under his bed and jumped to his feet. Stiles pulled you up as he did, and you were still in a weird half-hugging embrace when Malia pushed open Scott’s door. 

“We found Satomi’s pack. Derek and I,” she said. She was wet from the rain outside. “But they’re dead.” 

“All of them?” Scott asked. 

“All the ones we found,” Malia said. 

“Wait, where’s Derek?” you asked, untangling yourself from Stiles slightly. 

“Braeden was there when we found the pack but she was shot,” Malia explained. “Derek took her to the hospital.”

“Okay, so he’s okay,” you said with a deep breath. “Is there anything we can do?” 

“Well, considering they’re all dead, unless anyone here knows how to make funeral arrangements, I don’t think so,” Stiles said. He was still on edge about the money and you couldn’t blame him.

“So you guys should get some sleep before your test,” you sighed, looking down. 

“Okay, come on, Malia. I’ll drive you home,” Stiles said. He stepped forward and pressed a kiss to your temple and you grabbed his hand. 

“Uh, where do you think the two of you are going?” you asked. 

“You literally just told us to go home,” Stiles said. 

“No, I said to get some sleep,” you corrected slowly. “We’ll drag my mattresses in here and sleep in Scott’s room for the night.” 

“Uh, I’m not so sure that’s a good idea,” Scott said. 

“Yeah, I don’t have any of my stuff,” Malia said. 

“You’ll leave early tomorrow and pick it up,” you said. “Guys, I know … I know it sounds crazy, but there are people trying to kill us. And I- I can’t lose anyone else. And maybe it’s the rain making me paranoid but-”

“Okay, why don’t I go shower and you guys get the beds or whatever?” Stiles suggested. “We can talk after.” 

You gave him a small smile and a nod and, before you knew it, you were dragging in your mattresses and laying them on either side of Scott’s bed. Stiles didn’t take an especially long shower so he helped get blankets while Malia showered. Then the two of you headed to the kitchen because you realized that you went almost the whole day without eating. Maybe that’s why you were so jittery right now.

You sat on the counter with your legs crossed while Stiles put together a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for you (‘it’ll fix whatever’s going with you, just trust me’). Watching him carefully as he worked in the dim lighting, you twisted the necklace he’d given you in your hand. That party felt like it was years ago now. 

“Here,” he said, quietly interrupting your thoughts as he handed you the plate. 

“You take such good care of me,” you smiled, letting the plate rest in your lap as you lifted the sandwich up to take a bite. 

“Yeah, well, someone has to,” Stiles said with a smile. He looked so tired as he leaned on the counter across from you. You were so focused on taking in all the same details on his face, you almost didn’t see how they connected to make a small grin as he looked at you. 

“What?” you asked, straightening up. You set what was left of the sandwich down and touched your face “Is there something on my face?” 

“No, well- Yeah, but that’s not why I’m smiling,” he laughed under his breath as he spoke. He took a few steps closer and lifted his hand to the side of your face, using his thumb to wipe your cheek. 

“So why are you smiling?” you said softly. It felt like your regular voice was too loud for this moment. 

“Why are you whispering?” Stiles whispered. 

You tilted your head to the side. “I asked you first.” The two of you looked at one another for a while before laughing. You moved the plate and shifted closer to him, arms gently resting on his shoulders and fingers lightly laced into his hair. “Hey, are you okay?” 

“Yeah, why?” he asked. His hands had fallen to your lower back, and you could tell he was doing his best to be still. 

“Because someone that you knew just committed suicide,” you said as gently as you could. You moved carefully to tuck some of his hair behind his ear. “And you had to go back to Eichen House for the first time after … it must have been hard.” 

“Uh, yeah,” he said, looking down. “Yeah, it was. Harder on Lydia though. The only other banshee she’s ever met and not only was she crazy but she killed herself? That’s rough.” 

He was deflecting but you knew better than to push. He’d talk when he was ready. 

So instead, you mustered up a supportive smile and said, “Then I guess it’s a good thing that she had you there with her.” He mumbled some agreement and you kissed his cheek before pushing him back slightly so you could slide off the counter. “Come on, let’s get some sleep.” 

That night, you and Malia slept on Scott’s bed, and Stiles slept on the mattress closest to you. You let your hand drift over the edge of the bed and pretended not to notice when his hand reached up to meet yours. 

--- 

“So you’re hanging out with Liam today?” Scott asked, just before it was time for them to leave. 

“Yeah, he canceled on me though so I think I’m just gonna catch up on homework. You know, since you guys decided today was the day to be good students,” you said, dramatically rolling your eyes. “Hey, you guys stay safe out there today, okay?” 

“Always,” he said with a smile before he yelled for the others to hurry up. 

“I would have been done fifteen minutes ago if Stiles would’ve hurried up in the bathroom!” Malia yelled as she stomped down the stairs, Stiles right on her heels. 

“I’ll have you know that I happen to take a reasonable amount of time in the bathroom,” he said. “You held us up with all your complaining. We get it: you’re not a morning person.” 

“Neither are you, sunshine,” you said, stifling a laugh as you pulled him into a side hug and kissed his cheek. He mumbled something underneath his breath and you turned his head to look at you. “Good luck. Be careful, alright?” 

“It’s not like I’m on the deadpool,” Stiles said. “The worst I’ve got to worry about is the math portion.” 

“Yeah,” you said softly. You looked at him for a second before pulling away. “Okay, you guys get out of here before you miss the exam.” 

You were alone for a few hours after they left. It gave you time to eat something and pull your room straight again. You sighed, still having a few hours before they’d be done with their test. Liam was with Mason today (probably), and Lydia was still trying to find answers in her grandmother’s study. Even though you offered to go with, she said that it was something she had to do alone. 

You weren’t used to having alone time anymore. 

Looking at your desk, you saw the mountains of homework that were piling up. Now was as good a time as any to get them done. 

Somewhere between finishing your reading assignments and procrastinating your chemistry booklets, you checked the time on your phone. The PSAT should have ended by now, but you didn’t have any updates from any of your friends. 

Pushing the increasing anxiety down, you called your mom. 

“Hey, Mom, I know I’m not supposed to call you at work but I was wondering if you’d heard anything from Scott yet,” you said when she answered, praying she couldn’t hear the worry in your voice. All you needed right now was to be a problem child. 

“Uh, sweetheart, I don’t know how to tell you this-” you heard her sigh and your heart lurched. “There’s been an outbreak at the school and it’s been quarantined.” 

“Quarantined?” you echoed, moving all of your papers aside and getting to your feet. “An outbreak of what?” 

“We don’t know yet,” she said. “Listen, hun, I’ve really gotta go. I’m helping Deaton figure this out, but I want you to know that I love you.” 

You shoved your feet into shoes and ran down the stairs while she spoke. “Yeah, I love you too,” you said quietly before grabbing Scott’s keys on the counter. 

You still hated the bike, but you had to admit that driving so recklessly and freely calmed your nerves slightly. After basically dumping the bike in an attempt to park it, you rushed over to where the police were. Noah could explain. 

Except, instead of Noah, the first person you found was your dad. 

“Dad!” you yelled when a deputy didn’t want to let you through. He came over and the deputy let go of your arm. “Dad, what the hell is happening? Mom said the high school’s been quarantined.” 

“Right now, we don’t know exactly what’s happened,” Rafael tried to explain. “Doctors have already been inside to get blood samples and other Hazmats are going in about half an hour to check for deadly contaminants.” 

“Okay, but Scott’s in there,” you said. “Shouldn’t you be in there too?” 

“Trust me, I’m working on it,” he said with a sigh. “Why aren’t you in there? Isn’t it a big test day?” 

“Yeah, for juniors. I’m a sophomore,” you said slowly. 

“Right, of course,” he said. He sounded tired. Everyone sounded tired. “I’ve never been so relieved that you’re not in the same grade as Scott.” 

Really? You’d never been more frustrated. 

Putting on a fake smile, you made up some lie about stepping aside to call your mom and let her know that you were safe. You took a few steps away from the group and called Derek. It rang and rang but he picked up in the end. 

“Hey, do you know anything about what’s happening?” you asked in a low voice. “I need to get in there but-”

“Yeah, you do,” he said. “We’ve got an idea on how to fix this but you need to figure out a way into the school, alright? There’s an entrance to the vault from the basement. Inside there’s a jar of reishi mushrooms. They need to take it.” 

“I thought werewolves couldn’t get sick. This is affecting them too?” you asked as you scanned the building for an entry point. 

“Yes,” Derek answered. “Your mom sent your dad in but I don’t know if he’s going to find them in time. Can you do this?” 

“Of course,” you said, pushing your doubts down. “I can get in through the locker room. The lock’ll be easy to get past and it connects right onto the school. In and out in less than half an hour.” 

“Hey, be careful,” Derek warned. “We don’t know what else is in there besides the toxin, or if it’ll affect you.” 

“Watch out, Derek. It’s starting to sound like you care,” you teased. You promised to be careful and then hung up. 

Shoving your phone in your pocket, you headed around to the side of the school with the locker room. You wormed your way there without attracting attention and picked the lock. Closing the door behind you, you moved as quickly and quietly as you could through the school. Following Derek’s instructions, you found the vault in no time.

What you didn’t expect to find was Stiles lying against the opening of the vault, face was covered in blood, but you did. 

You rushed to his side and cupped his face, trying to see if he was responsive. He was cold. “Stiles? Stiles, are you okay?” you asked, almost too panicked to realize that he was looking at you with one of the most confused expressions you’d ever seen. 

“Am I dead?” he asked, voice hoarse. You shook your head and that only made him more confused, “Y/N, how did you find me?” 

“I’ll always find you,” you said with an anxious smile. “Stiles, who’s blood is this?”

“It’s the- uh, it’s not mine,” he said. 

“Okay, okay,” you said, trying to take a deep breath. “Are the others okay? Derek said the antidote was in the vault.”

“Yeah, I tried telling them but I don’t know how long ago that was,” he said, voice fading slightly. “I haven’t heard anything in a while.” 

Nodding, you leaned closer and pressed a kiss to his forehead before standing up. “Scott?” you yelled, banging your fist against the wall. “Scotty, if you can hear me, can you give me a sign?” Nothing. It felt like your heart was breaking. “Please?”

A few seconds later, the wall started sliding to the side and Scott collapsed out of the vault opening. Stiles grabbed his shoulder and pulled him into a hug, and you collapsed down next to them and did the same. 

They were alive. They were okay. 

“You guys are never taking a standardized test again, okay?” you choked out, holding onto the back of their heads. 

The two of them said something that you wouldn’t remember five minutes later and you gathered yourselves up to check on Kira and Malia. 

You could barely tell either of them had been inches away from death half an hour ago. Kira seemed completely fine as Scott helped her to her feet, but Malia looked upset. Stiles was already there, but you went to check on her anyway. She didn’t respond, only pressing a piece of paper into your hand before walking out. 

“Malia Hale,” you read her name softly as you looked at the list. “Four million dollars.”

[mocalmangeal]

field trips through the years with the mellark children because @rosegardeninwinter put me into a mood and this ended up much longer than intended oops

Willow Mellark is four the first time her preschool class is led outside of their colorful brick building and told to prepare for an adventure.

She squints her eyes against the bright morning sun, surveying her surroundings carefully. Mama tells her it’s important to always be aware of what’s around you. Her eyes land on the faded mural flanking the sides of the school’s entrance; a dandelion field, with children of all ages zooming through the yellow blooms. Papa painted this, she remembers. A long time ago. Before mama even had any babies.

A hand curling around her back shakes her from her thoughts and she snaps her head up. “Mama!”

“Are you excited for your field trip, love?”

She crinkles her nose. “I don’t want to go to a field. Can we go back inside and read a story?”

Katniss merely laughs, grabbing her daughter’s hand to follow the rest of the group.

After a few minutes of walking, a familiar storefront comes into view with its dark green facade and large picture windows showcasing various cakes. Willow points her fingers and shrieks excitedly. “It’s Papa’s store! Mama, can we go say hi?”

Her mother smiles down at her. “Of course we can.”

Willow runs hurriedly through the door, not noticing the other kids following along. She sticks her tongue out as Papa kisses Mama, his hands resting on her watermelon-round belly. Yuck.

“I’m glad everybody could make it. Today, boys and girls, we’re going to learn all about the kitchen,” Papa’s soft voice calls from the front of the room. “If you follow me, I’ve got your uniforms all laid out.”

Ten tiny aprons lay folded over the back of chairs. Willow ties hers on (with Mama’s help) and sits up straight, hands folded on the table and watches mesmerized as Papa throws ingredients together into a large glass bowl.

“These are called shortbread cookies. First, we have to mix the butter with the sugar. Let’s pass the bowl around and take turns. Don’t be afraid to get in there with your hands; baking is a messy job after all.”

When the bowl has made its way around the table, much to the delight of the children, Peeta adds the vanilla and flour and sets out rolling the dough across the table’s surface. “Now, each of you gets to choose what shape you want your cookie to be.” A pile of cookie cutters lands on the table with a clank.

Tiny hands reach out excitedly, grasping for stars and birds and flowers. Willow picks a simple circle. When Papa makes his way over her to her, he nods and cuts her cookie out. “Why just a plain circle, Catkin?”

She grins. “Because it’s shaped like Mama’s baby.”

-

The ten minutes it takes the cookies to bake are the longest of Willow’s life. She huffs, kicks her feet against the counter, scowls at the clock (despite not being able to read the time), crosses her arms.

Finally, at once, the timer is done, and she pumps her arms in the air excitedly. Mama helps set each cookie down in front of its rightful owner, while Papa sets out a rainbow of colorful tubes and jars of shining sugar sprinkles. She peruses them carefully, squinting at her selections. No, not that one.

Finally, she settles on the purple. By the time she’s done, her fingers and face are a mess of violet frosting and Mama has to take her to wash up.

“It’s almost time to head back, love. Why don’t you go say bye to your dad?”

She skips over to Peeta, who’s at war with a red splotch of frosting on one of the chairs. “Papa?” She tugs the bottom of his apron, pulling him to her level.

“Yes, dear?”

“I think you should give me an extra cookie.” Lowering her voice, she whispers, “I’ll give it to Mama. For the baby.”

----------------------------------------------------------

Eight year old Ash stomps impatiently at the grassy edge of the schoolyard. They should’ve left for their field trip exactly four minutes ago. That’s four less minutes that he gets to spend in the woods, all thanks to--

“Hey, isn’t that Mr. and Mrs. Mellark?”

He swivels in place, balking at the site of his parents running to his class group. No, why are they here? He groans out loud.

“Sorry, I thought I forgot to turn the oven off when we left so we went all the way back and turns out it was off the entire time but then I saw that I had put on my old boots with the holes in them and had to go and find--”

Mama gasps in a deep breath, not even finishing her sentence. “Sorry, we’re here now. Let’s get going.”

They’re split into two different groups. Ash ends up in Papa’s group, shying away when Papa tries to ruffle the top of his head. He turns on his heels, pretending to not notice the hurt expression on his face. It’s a fifteen minute hike to the stream they’re studying today and he just wants to get a move on.

By the time they reach it, he’s giddy with excitement. First assignment of the day: make rubbings of bark and leaves. He’s first in line to snatch up the paper and charcoal being distributed, taking off blindly towards a fallen log. He’s deep in thought, deciding which leaf would turn out the best, when he sees another boy coming in the same direction. A scowl twists Ash’s face.

Fine, take my spot. My leaf is still cooler than yours.

He scratches the image of the oak leaf into his paper with great precision, producing a perfect carbon copy. At last minute, he decides to add another, smaller leaf next to it and sets off in search of another perfect specimen.

He stops when he hears voices, peaking around a thick pine to investigate.

“Just press down on the paper a little harder. Don’t worry, you won’t hurt it. There. See, you did it!”

Papa stands next to Blair Ingham, guiding his hand over the rough bark of a maple tree. Ash scowls. That’s my Papa. He folds up his completed rubbing, shoving it into his back pocket and saunters over to his dad.

He tugs on Peeta’s sleeve. “Papa, I need help too.”

“Well now, there’s enough to go around for everyone.”

-

On the trip back to school, Ash sits perched on Papa’s shoulders, tasked with the job of swatting branches out of the way.

“You know, it’s funny. After I showed you how to make the leaf rubbings, I found a paper laying on the ground. Looked like someone was trying to throw it out. And you know we don’t litter in the forest.”

“Oh?” Ash looks down at the top of his father’s head.

“So I took a peak at whose it might be so I could have a talk with the culprit, and wouldn’t you know, it was a perfect leaf rubbing. Now, tell me why somebody would want to get rid of their school assignment?”

Ash feels like cheeks burn. “No clue.”

“Really? Because, if my memory serves me right, I believe I saw the name Ash Mellark on the bottom corner.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s a trip that Willow has been dreading for the last two weeks.

Not to say that she doesn’t want to visit the Justice Hall, it’s just that, well.. when your parents are who they are, it just doesn’t sit right.

They started learning about the Games in school this year. She’d be of reaping age as of last month if they still existed. A shudder runs through her. Then, a sudden wave of sadness. She’s surprised her mother and father agreed to chaperone this trip, but if they have any qualms about doing so they hide it well.

Papa meets her out front of the school, hands dug deep into his pockets. “Your mother isn’t feeling well today. Ah, River Cardwell’s mom stepped up as an emergency volunteer.”

She takes a minute to study her father.

His eyes are ringed red, his cheeks splotchy. His hair is rather unruly this morning as well and a quick peak shows her he’s even forgone one shoe, the shiny metal of his artificial leg catching the afternoon light.

“Papa, are you sure you want to go on this trip?”

“I’m fine, Catkin. This place isn’t what it used to be. The last few times I was here were rather happy occasions, actually. It’s just.. hard to shake old memories sometimes.”

She curls her arm around Peeta’s waist, pressing into his side. “Will you and Mama ever tell us about...” she trails off, unable to say the words. She’s caught glimpses of their past, enough to get a general idea--it’s hard not to when your parents’ photos are printed in the margins of your textbooks--but they don’t talk about any of it, save for brief asides every now and then.

“One day.”

They walk silently wish the rest of her class towards the gray stone building in the center of town.

She’d once heard her mother call it a place of sadness, but today it is a rather ordinary looking front. Gray steps lead up to a glass door, pristine white tile shining from the inside. She pushes the door open.

A gust of frigid air sweeps out with a soft sigh and Willow shivers.

Mrs. Dalley passes out folders and pencils and clears her throat. “This Justice Hall was constructed the year after The Second Rebellion ended. In the pre-war days, it was where children said goodbye to their families after being Reaped.”

Willow turns to Papa. “Were you scared?”

He looks down, nodding. “I was. But not for the reasons you’d think.”

She peers up at him through long, dark lashes. “Was it because of Mama?”

“You’re a smart girl.” He chuckles. “By the time Effie called my name, nothing mattered anymore. Katniss was already standing up on that stage. I knew that I had to die, because if I lived it meant she wouldn’t. In a matter of seconds I’d already accepted my death.”

She feels tears pricking the corners of her eyes at his words. “But they let both of you live.”

“Well, yes, but no.”

Before she can ask another question, she’s being ushered down one of the long corridors.

“This is the Hall of Records. Here is where we keep..”

-

She’s completely exhausted by the time the day is over and ready to flop into bed, but before she can make a beeline to her bedroom, she’s startled by Mama pulling open the front door.

“Willow.”

If Papa looked worse for wear this morning, then she’s... well, a disaster.

“Come inside.”

Nervous, she steps through the threshold, noting the strange quietness of the home. Usually, Ash is antagonizing one of the cats by now, or Papa is clanking around in the kitchen.

“Where’s everyone else at?”

Mama doesn’t answer, instead reaching up on top of the creaky old bookshelf in the corner, feeling around a minute for something. Finally, she pulls down a large, dusty rectangle, blowing it off. She sets it down on the kitchen table and turns to her daughter.

“I haven’t written in here in a very long time.” Mama pulls the scarf she wears tighter around her neck. “I think it’s time for you to read it.”

Willow steps closer, peeking down at the worn leather cover.

“Memory Book”

----------------------------------------------------------------

Ash cranes his neck, searching for his mother through the crowd in front of the factory.

When he spots her, he pushes his way through the snickering kids, coughing “Mama’s boy” his way. He blushes, staring at the ground the entire time.

“Your Aunt Prim would’ve loved to have seen it,” she remarks, peering up at the four story monstrosity. Despite being constructed well over twenty years ago, she’s never actually visited the place. Until now.

“Willow talks about her sometimes,” Ash says, drawing a line in the dirt with his foot. “Almost like she knows her.”

“Prim would’ve loved you both. Spoiled you, even.” Mama treks inside, following the other groups of kids. She stops short, darting her eyes in every direction. “Wow. District of healing, alright.”

Ash follows her gaze. Tall machines whir and buzz, moving at a rapid rate. They dispense colorful pills and liquids faster than he can keep up with. A conveyor belt moves bottles from one end of the factory to another, quick hands slapping labels on and pushing them into boxes for shipment.

“It’s definitely a sight to see.”

Mama nods in agreement. They walk together, gasping and oohing as new sights emerge.

“Will you tell me about her?” Ash glances at his mother.

“She was smart,” she starts, running her finger along the glass partition between them and the great big machines running the factory. “Smarter than me, anyways. She was going to be a doctor. She was a great healer. I could never stand the sight of our mama’s patients on the table. But Prim? She could stitch any wound there was and not bat an eye.”

They stop suddenly, staring into some kind of testing room. People in strange rubber suits mill about on the other side of the glass, and Ash thinks they look a bit crazy with those fishbowls on their heads.

He spies a man in a white coat behind them through their reflection in the window. “We’ve been testing a new antidote for tracker jacker venom. I think this might be our big break.”

Mama shudders, turning away from the man.

They resume walking. Ash watches with fascination as a large roll of white bandaging is stretched and cut in one smooth movement.

“Prim always wore a ribbon in her hair. She tried to get me to wear one too, once, but I told her it was impractical. Can’t have it coming loose and stuck on the fence or a branch. I wish I would’ve just let her do it. Ash?”

He turns to Katniss. He no longer has to look up at her; he’s quickly surpassing her in height thanks to inheriting his father’s build. “Yes?”

“You and your sister be good to each other.”

-

They break for lunch around noon, propped up against the shady wayward side of the factory. Mama pulls out two sandwiches, turkey on rye, and passes one to Ash.

They eat in silence, listening to the zooming of hovercrafts here to transport the most critical medications and supplies to the big hospitals in other districts. Like the one that Grandma Everdeen works in.

“I think I might like to be a healer. Like Prim, and grandma.”

“You’re so much like her,” Katniss sighs. “C’mere.”

Before he can protest, she’s pulling him towards her, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head atop his. She leans in, whispering in his ear. “Now you know I don’t condone violence, but if those boys are still giving you trouble, stick rats in their lockers. That’ll have ‘em pissing themselves.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s a two day train ride to the memorial site.

Every graduating class for the past ten years has been required to visit one, and even though she’s known it was coming for a while, Willow still shakes the entire way.

Mama isn’t faring any better. She carries a length of rope with her, knotting and twisting until her palms bloom pink. She doesn’t sleep, instead sitting frozen, staring out the window for hours. Papa doesn’t even leave his compartment.

There’s a lump in Willow’s throat because this isn’t just any random dismantled arena-turned-tourist attraction-turned memorial; it’s the one from the 75th Games.

When she’d told her parents which arena had been selected for this year’s trip, Mama had simply nodded, got up, and walked into the woods. She didn’t come back for three days.

Papa gripped the back of a kitchen chair, shaking. When Willow tried to comfort him, he spat, holding his hand out to stop her, telling her to take her brother and stay with Uncle Haymitch for a few days. They ended up having to stay for a week.

She still doesn’t know the full story, really. She knows more than she did all those years ago, but refuses to watch any tapes from the Games, and still gets sick trying to read more than a few sparse details. She knows her parents pretended to be in love to appease the Capitol clowns that held the guns to their heads. She knows they eventually grew to love each other for real.

She knows nearly everyone they loved is dead.

She doesn’t think she wants to know every detail after all.

-

When the train pulls into the station, Willow gets up on unsteady legs.

Papa leaves his compartment for the first time with a distant look in his eyes. He shambles straight to Mama, whispering something in her ear, pulling her to her feet. Their hands are grasped so tightly in one another’s that Willow can see the fingernail indents from here.

From a distance, it looks like it could be any other nature park. There’s a fountain in the middle, a winding, paved trail, a crumpled piece of metal that could be easily mistaken for contemporary art.

A short, stout woman meets the group at the opening gates.

“Welcome, welcome! I’ll be your guide today.”

She’s far too cheery for the occasion, and Willow supposes she’s a bit like Effie Trinket in that regard (at least, from what she can piece together from her parents’ memory of her).

They’re lead first to a low stone wall, and WIllow’s eyes fall across the names. Her mouth goes dry as she finds some she recognizes. Finnick Odair. Johanna Mason.

Katniss Everdeen.

Peeta Mellark.

“These are the names of every tribute who went into this arena. Every person who was forced to fight in the last Hunger Games our nation ever had to witness. Oh, heavens, I was still in diapers at the time.” Their guide dabs at her eyes.

Willow dares sneak a glance at Mama and Papa. They stare straight ahead, silent tears falling down their faces.

She follows the group next to the mangled pile of steel she’d seen from the train.

“Now, this is all that’s left of the arena now. The rest has been recycled and put to better use. As you may know, this one was a remarkable failure for the game makers and actually helped jump start the revolution. An electrical short sparked a fire that brought the entire thing down--”

“Actually, that’s not what happened.”

Willow snaps her neck around towards Mama’s voice.

“Oh, dear, have you kids not read your history books? Everybody knows tha--”

Mama pushes to the front of the group, Papa trailing behind her. “That’s not how it happened,” she repeats.

She turns now, gripping Papa’s arm as she faces the class. Her voice raises.

“My name is, was, Katniss Everdeen. I’m fifty-one years old. And I survived the 75th Hunger Games.”

Willow can’t hide the shock that crosses her face. A few stray groups turn towards the commotion.

Her parents are a far cry from the photos in the history books now. Lines age their faces, they sport twin stripes of gray in their hair. But underneath it all, they still have the same fire in their eyes. Determination.

“My name is Peeta Mellark. I survived the 75th Hunger Games. This is our story.”

And the words tumble free.

[thundertempest]

Into the Forest

Written for @promptsforthestrugglingauthor Friday Night Fights.

There were always tales, of course. Stretching as far back as the original founding of the city, probably. About the evil witch who lived out in the woods, cursing and entrapping anyone who dared to venture too deep into the forest. It had probably started as a way to make children behave.

'Don't go into the woods near sundown, or the witch will eat you!' Naturally, in those sorts of tales, there was never really a witch, but wolves and bears were just as happy to snack on clueless kids as they were deer if they were hungry enough.

But still, the sheer insistence that I could remember my grandmother in particular having, that there really was a witch in the forest had gotten me curious, and so, smartphone in hand, a little bit of food and water in my backpack, and a camera strapped to my chest, I set off on Saturday morning. If nothing else, it would be a nice escape from the hustle of the city.

At first, the walk was pleasant enough. The weather was just right, and the light filtering through the canopy overhead got me some really nice photos on my phone.

Then as any semblance of path finally disappeared from the ground, my foot caught on a tree root, and I went face first into the dirt. When I managed to pull my face out of the soil, there was a small fox staring quizzically at me.

"Hey there, little guy," I said, pushing myself back up onto my knees, "did I disturb your home?"

The fox sat back onto its hind legs, almost like it was imitating me, but never broke its stare. With as much care as I could, I pulled my backpack off my shoulder, and opened it up, pulling out one of the grain bars I'd packed, and broke a section off, holding it out in my hand towards the little red fox. It just continued its staring until I held out the larger section of the grain bar, and took a bite of it myself. Then, and only then, did the fox nip the peice out of my hand, and scurry off into the trees.

"Must have smelled the food on me or something," I mused to myself, as I stood back up, brushing the leaves and dirt off the front of my clothes, and picked my smartphone back up, only to find that it was no longer showing the map that I'd been using.

Well, that was a simple enough fix. Just needed to reopen the page and...

No connection.

"Oh, come on, I had data thirty seconds ago, don't you pull this horror movie shit on me now."

A few moments of waving my phone around in the air, and I had signal again, and I breathed a sigh of relief as I pulled the map back up, and set off, deeper and deeper into the forest.

Several hours later, and the atmosphere had gotten noticeably colder. The canopy had gone from fairly open to completely covering the sky now, and with that came a drop in temperature, though it was still a pleasant enough atmosphere, as long as I kept moving.

The sound of running water broke my train of thought for a moment, and I remembered that I hadn't had anything to drink in a while. I dug my water bottle out of my pack, and gulped about half of it down, and decided to see if I could find the stream that I could hear.

It didn't take long before I stumbled across it, almost literally. I barely caught my footing on the bank of the stream. I knelt down, and dipped my bottle into it, it burbling as it filled up. A snap of a twig whipped my head up, and a growl sounded behind me.

As slowly as I could manage, I turned my head, and right behind me was a wolf, much bigger than any that I'd ever seen. It didn't seem to be moving to attack, so again, moving as slowly as I could, got back on my feet and began to back away. A hop and a skip took me over the stream, but still the wolf didn't make a move to attack, but continued to growl. I took one step up stream, and the wolf's growling increased.

'Must have its den in that direction,' I thought to myself, but just to confirm, I took a step down stream, and the wolf's growling decreased in volume.

Another step, then two, and the wolf was content to simply stand there and glare at me.

As fast as I dared, I headed downstream, firstly just hurried walking, but eventually breaking out into a full run, trying to leave the wolf as far behind me as I could.

 ------

It was only once I noticed that the ground underneath my feet had changed from loose, grassy soil to hard-packed earth that I stopped running. I had found a path, and a check from my phone revealed that I was quite deep in the woods. I glanced around, and began to follow the path, which lead alongside the stream that I'd been running besides. A few moments later, the path put me at the doorstep to an old, partially overgrown log cabin. A small water wheel rested in what was now a small river, slowly turning. Maybe it was some weird nature retreat or something. I still wasn't convinced that there was an evil witch feeding on the souls of wandering people out here, but I made sure that the camera on my chest was still recording, and knocked on the door.

For a moment, nothing happened, then there was a slight shuffle, and the door creaked open slightly.

"Who's there?" croaked a voice that sounded like my chain-smoking aunt's if she'd lived to be a thousand years old.

"Hi," I said, still slightly out of breath from my flight from the wolf, "I was wondering if I could stay with you for the night. I was out hiking, and then I had to run from this wolf, and I don't want to make the trek back in the dark."

The forest had only grown darker and colder as the day had progressed. I couldn't really see the sun, but my phone was getting low on battery, and the clock was telling me that it was about seven at night right now.

"Of course," croaked the woman, "I think I can spare a room for you for a night."

"I'm happy to pay you if you want, or help out or something if you need it."

"Oh, I think I can think of something for you to help me with," said the old woman, opening the door fully. The inside of the cottage looked almost exactly what I would imagine a witch's cottage would look like. Herbs and plants that I couldn't even begin to identify littered every single surface, the shelves around the room were packed full of books. The only thing missing was a big cauldron, but there was only a wood-fired stove.

The old woman shuffled through a door, and came back after a moment, beckoning me to follow her.

"You can sleep in here for the night," said the woman, "and I'll get your help with a few tasks in the morning."

"Thank you very much," I said, my mouth stretching out into a yawn. Guess running from that wolf had taken more out of me than I'd thought. I was asleep basically the second I hit the slightly scratchy matress.

 ------

The chanting was what woke me up, and I suddenly found that I couldn't move. Glowing red symbols lit up the room around me, and the old woman was at the end of the bed.

"What are you-?" I managed, before the sheets animated themselves, and stuffed one end into my mouth.

"I wondered when one of the newer generations would get curious about the legends," said the woman, her voice suddenly much stronger than it had been previously. "The forest has enough innate magic for me to sustain myself on nearly indefinitely, but not enough to stop me degrading into this decreipt husk. Fortunately, you are just the right kind of person."

I struggled against the sheets, but to no avail as the witch pulled out a knife, and made her way up to my side.

"You see, I've been watching you, judging you. You're trusting enough to share food with a fox, and not for an instant think that it was anything but a fox, and gullible enough that a simple illusion of a wolf could fool you into running straight to my cabin. You are, in short, the perfect person for this little ritual."

The sheets retracted from my mouth for a moment.

"Why are you doing this?"

"You've heard the stories, I trust? About the evil, terrible witch who lives alone in the forest, taking anyone who lingers too long in her domain? I am pleased to tell you that all of those stories are true, little one, and now you're going to help me keep them alive. Sadly for you, you'll have to die for that to happen, but I'll use your lifeforce to keep me healthy for a good century or so."

"I could keep you company!" I blurted out, "it must get lonely out here, by yourself. Must want someone to talk to every now and again, right?"

"Ah, you're bargaining, I see," said the witch, "but unfortunately for you, I'm rather stubborn. Farewell, child."

And with that, the knife thrust down, and my last sensation was a sharp pain, and something being sucked out of my body.

[ificouldau]

Section 2 - Chapter 16

> 57% of you chose to try to take the note.

43% of you chose to do nothing.

Without sparing another second, you lunge for the torn note pieces in Vernon’s grip.

He pulls back just as your fingers catch a slip of paper, one that you’re quick to match with the other half. A province, a city… now a street name and postal code as well. Still, a small corner of the note lies crumpled in the boy’s fist.

“Vernon… seriously,” Seungkwan mutters, “What’s going on with you?”

You glance back up and reach for the very last piece, but before anyone can think, it’s lying in the snow underneath Hansol’s dirty sneaker. He rubs his shoe forcefully into the ground, destroying the most specific part of the address you needed, without another word.

“Vernon!” A few of the boys panicked yelps overlap, but you don’t bother to pick apart voices as you stand, frozen, in absolute shock. Nobody moves for a second. It’s silent.

A furious growl breaks through the air and, with less than a moment to react, Soonyoung has Hansol pinned against a tree trunk by his neck.

“Do you wanna go home?!” He shouts into the younger boy’s face, “What the hell are you trying to do?!”

Vernon claws at the hands around his throat through pained grunts, but Soonyoung’s grip only seems to get tighter. Your heart sinks.

( -1 Health: Vernon )

Wonwoo and Coups hurry forward alongside many of the others, prying Soonyoung off of the younger boy as he doubles over in a coughing fit. As the group scatters about in panic, trying to console Hoshi, trying to console Vernon, even trying to console you, Vernon glances up for merely a second to meet your eyes. His seething gaze terrifies you; full of fury but somehow empty as if nothing had ever gone wrong.

( -2 Reputation: Vernon )

You try to recollect the flurry of thoughts in your head, completely still in pure shock, but Junhui doesn’t hesitate to pull you out of the tense situation. As the older boy guides you a ways away from the others, built up frustration floods your crowded mind. The note, the fighting, the restlessness… Tears threaten to fall once again. “Hey,” Jun says softly, leaning down a bit to meet your hurt gaze, “Don’t cry.”

Your throat feels choked up, your eyes burn red in anger, and as you open your mouth to assure the boy you’re okay, it feels almost as if you can’t speak a word. He reaches forward to pull you into a quick hug, hand holding your head to his chest for a moment enough that you feel better again. As he lets go, you manage to collect yourself with a nod, the jumbled voices of the others blurring into the background.

“I’m okay,” You say quietly. Junhui nods.

“You are. Plus…” He points over your shoulder, “We made it off the mountain, if that makes you feel any better.”

You turn around with a raised eyebrow to see the very sight you’d hoped to see for nights; an endless mountain disappearing up into the clouds and flurry of snow… with you at the very bottom, one step closer to reaching home.

You marvel at the image, and soon the others do too, interrupting their panicked conversation to realize how far you’ve all come since the beginning.

“We’re almost there,” Minghao says softly, instilling an odd sense of hope in everyone.

The mansion, the village, the city… It’s all behind you now. There’s nowhere else to go but forward.

Coups relieves a heavy sigh, turning to face you all with determined eyes. “That’s why we’re not gonna fight anymore, and we’re gonna keep going wherever we can with whatever we have. Right?”

“Right,” Several quiet voices reply. You wipe your eyes with your sweater sleeve, mustering up the courage to push forward once again. Coups jabs a finger towards a snowed in path stretching across the ground.

“We’re gonna make it, okay?” He says, “No more of this fighting stuff.”

The older boy doesn’t spare another second, walking ahead as the others gather themselves and begin to follow. Minghao helps Vernon stand, and Jeonghan puts a steady arm around Soonyoung. Everyone moves on in blissful silence, treading down the trail without another angry word to be said. Now at the back of the group, Junhui nods your way, patting your back warmly and gesturing towards the pathway with a smile.

“We’ll be fine,” He assures you. You do your best to smile back.

The sun begins to rise while the fourteen of you head forward, sneakers crunching the dirty snow as morning light peers through the forest trees. The snowy mountain weather fades into warm sunlight overtime, and for once in the past horrid nights, you aren’t completely freezing. A few minutes pass in silence before the boys force themselves to talk, unable to handle the unusual quiet amongst one another. There’s conversation, and there’s sunlight, and something about the moment feels so peaceful despite your sore, exhausted state.

Hours pass, and the sun rises higher into the sky throughout the remainder of the morning, fading into an unfamiliarly warm afternoon. The snowy ground begins to disappear as you walk on. You’re awestruck at the sight of grass and the cool green of the trees, scenery you were never able to enjoy up in the frozen hell of the mountain. In a way, it all feels like a mere hike with friends and family, almost like the ones you’d enjoyed with your father when you were younge-

“Where are we going?” Seokmin’s hushed voice scares the life out of you, and you look to your right to meet his nervous gaze. He huddles down a bit to meet your height, obviously trying to hide the conversation from the others ahead as you pull the two paper scraps from your pocket.

“This is where we should end up,” You explain quietly, “but I don’t know the home address. It could be any building on that street.”

“We can just hope the guy sees us walking around, then... right?”

“I mean… maybe. I don’t know.”

“Well sh-”

“We’re going the right way!” Chan interrupts excitedly, hopping at the front of the group as he jabs an eager finger towards a road sign. As you near the wooden pole, you’re able to make out a few letters, no more than a few R’s and E’s worn through dirt and badly faded writing. The arrow-shaped sign points ominously ahead, but as Chan skips about, you ignore the anxious feeling. You and Junhui share a nervous glance.

A short walk away, you recognize a loudening sound… the rush of hurried water throughout a natural stream. A lengthy river of some sort comes distantly into view.

“River Bridge,” Wonwoo states calmly, filling the sign’s blanks a ways back as the road winds out towards the water. You all continue forward along the pathway, picturing the said bridge in store, only to stop dead in your tracks when the thing comes into clear view.

The opposite bank extends much further than it seems to when far away. Not only that, but the stream is a hundred times louder this closeby and a whole lot faster than anyone had anticipated. A sign much like the one from before stands crooked in the dirt, just as worn but with a bright yellow warning sign this time around.

To make matters worse, the wooden bridge you’’d prepared to cross is almost entirely destroyed; beaten and shattered as if lightning had struck it down the very middle. You all stare forward in absolute shock, lost for words at the unprecedented situation.

“What the hell do we do now?” Seungkwan asks, but a blurred figure hurries ahead into the river without sparing another word.

The water rises halfway up Soonyoung’s upper arm, just low enough as to where he can fight the heavy stream as he moves. The others reach out to stop him, but the boy is already far enough in as to where he can’t be reached.

“God, Soonyoung…” Jeonghan mutters under his breath. Mingyu relieves a deep sigh before plunging in right after, tall enough to manage the water and hold one of the bags over his head simultaneously. Everyone watches the two in awe but asks no questions, gradually easing themselves into the cold stream after one another.

You hesitantly pull your hoodie up and over your head, tucking it away into Junhui’s bag as you watch Soonyoung near the river bank. You fold the note pieces carefully atop your sweater before pulling the thing closed, trying to collect yourself and prepare for the quick swim. Mingyu tosses his own bag onto the opposite ground as he nears as well, and soon everyone is swimming across the stream without time to spare.

Coups, Chan, and Jihoon slowly make their way into the river, Chan gently gesturing for you to hurry along behind them. You’re nervous, but Junhui sends an assuring nod your way as the two of you lower into the water.

“Careful,” Coups spit suddenly, shocked to see the water rising dangerously near Chan and Jihoon’s necks. The stream picks its pace up as if right on cue, and you find yourself straining to lift your chin above the surface at all. Seungcheol is quick on his feet, fighting his way over to a struggling Chan and guiding him along the water while those ahead climb onto dry land.

Junhui carries the last bag above his head with careful steps, doing his best to stay standing despite the cold stream growing faster and angrier. Jihoon, gathering all the strength in his body, forces himself to keep moving. You grit your teeth at the river’s sudden fury.

“Come on!” Mingyu shouts across the way, himself and a few others crouched by the bank and extending their hands out for you all to take. Forceful wind blows at the trees, making your stomach turn in fear even more.

“Shit, shit!” You hear, whipping your head about to see Chan wincing behind you with Coups pulling at his arm, “My foot got caught! Shit!””

Junhui turns to look for a mere moment just as the heavy winds pull him off balance. The bag in his grip falls atop the water, headed downstream as Jihoon clambers over to grab it.

“Fuck! I can’t!” Jihoon hisses through gritted teeth, fingers gripped around the bag strap as the stream yanks it the opposite way. Junhui reaches for it with all his might, but you can barely hear any of the overlapping shouts through the rush of the river’s flow.

The boys on land gather their grit, attempting to climb back into the water only to pull back in terror at the river’s strength. They fall into a fit of panic, running about and yelling over one another as the five of you fight to join their sides.

“Do something!” Soonyoung shouts from the river bank. 

You glance back at Coups, desperately tugging at Chan’s arm to get the boy’s foot loose. Jihoon and Junhui fight painfully against the rapids ahead, the bag threatening to fall further and further downstream. The river’s wrath grows more furious with every passing second, but any plan you might’ve had is now senseless. You don’t know what to do.

- Help Jun and Woozi.

or

- Help S.Coups and Dino.

( Vote now on instagram.com/ificould_au. You have 24 hours. )

[pcttrailsidereader]

FEAR

Michael ‘Pause’ Meyer, a former Newsweek editor and author, is dean of the Graduate School of Media and Communications at the Aga Khan University in Nairobi. This necessitates him periodically leaving the trail and flying back to Kenya and then returning.  Despite the logistical nightmare of a global commute, he is hiking as much of the PCT in 2018 as he can. This is an excerpt from his journal entry from the last day of May shortly before a return to East Africa. 

As you would expect, his writing rises far above most of the accounts written from the trail.  It is a delightful and refreshing read. His blog is:  https://pacificcresttrail2018.com/

Facts versus feelings, science versus psychology.

Ask a PCT thru-hiker where the desert ends and the mountains begin, and the answer will be unequivocal: Kennedy Meadows, gateway to the Sierras. That’s where alpine peaks, glacial streams and pine forests supplant sand, sun and cacti.

Scientists, however, will tell you differently. Geologically, the Sierras begin at Tehachapi Pass, bisected by Highway 58. To the south is the Mojave; to the north, the foothills of the Sierras. We hikers may find they look a lot like what we’ve been walking through for the past 500 miles. But in fact, Tehachapi marks a new beginning, a climactic and geological fresh chapter. Which is great. Because, psychologically, I am done with desert. So is everyone else.

The hike from Cottonwood Creek to the Tehachapi – Willow Springs road is 23 miles. I start a bit after 6 am. In the soft sand beneath Cottonwood Creek bridge, hikers are rousing themselves from tents and sleeping bags, preparing to start the day. As predicted, a weather front has rolled through. Temperatures overnight were in the 40s. They will not rise much above 70, according to forecast. This could not be more welcome.

Like many, I’ve been anxious about this last stretch of desert, almost to the point of not wanting to do it. The heat is one reason, the long carries between water sources another. But none of this is new. There have been hotter days, including the very first from Campo. So why the uncharacteristic jitters?

Maybe I sense it’s the end of something. We are all so eager to have the desert behind us. And yet, it has been wonderful — surprising in its austere beauty, even more in its diversity, from featureless scrub to high alpine meadows and those beautiful oak glades in-between.

There’s also fear of the new. The Sierras are still bound by snow; stream crossings can be dangerous in the spring melt. Trail angel Mary, driving me from the train from LAX to Hiker Heaven just a few days ago, warned me against venturing in too soon. Within the past ten days, she said, there was as much four feet of fresh snow around Mt Whitney.

Last year at this time, she gave rides to a pair of Asian girls, Tree and Buttercup, one Chinese, the other Korean. Both died in stream crossings. “I had a terrible premonition about them,” she told me on the road to Agua Dulce. “They were so small, not even five feet tall.” And they seemed over-confident. “Don’t go alone. Don’t cross those rivers without other hikers,” she told them. As it happened, neither listened. “We’ll be ok,” each said. The Korean girl hadn’t told her family she was hiking the PCT. They learned when informed of her death.

Perhaps this is my age speaking. And I am a father of four. In a long career as a correspondent, I have seen wonderful and terrible things — wars, revolutions, the strength and triumphs of ordinary people in the face of danger or adversity, but also their weakness, their capacity for bestiality or mere foolishness. By nature, we behave as though all will be well, however difficult whatever it is we might undertake. But with years, we also learn how badly things can go wrong, often beginning with the smallest things. Like underestimating the force of a small river, perhaps only ten feet wide and three deep.

Whatever my doubts, they vanish on the trail. A brisk winds blows; hikers are bundled against the chill in fleeces and rain jackets. The land is completely featureless — grass and sparse sage — save for the ubiquitous wind turbines, ghostly in the dawn light. They tower above us, in endless rows, emitting a weird whirring noise, their spikey blades miming the even weirder Joshua trees doing their Joshua tree thing. The mountains to the south are cloaked in cloud.

After a steep 3500-foot climb, six miles along, the trail plunges into Tylerhorse Canyon. Three guys who left Hikertown last night are gathering water from the trickling stream and smoking weed. I quickly camel a liter and refill my bottle. “Man, one guy last night was doing acid,” one says. Another: “At midnight, I just sucked down a beer and kept going.” An older guy with a white beard, soft-spoken Bill, listens off to the side as the other three cough roughly after their hit. One hiked 42 miles yesterday and looks wasted.

That turns out to be the pattern. Up one canyon, down another, repeat. All this through the brown, brown hills of southern California where the tallest bush is scarcely knee-high. And yet: even at mid-morning, the day remains cool. The wind blows atop the ridges. With the Mojave and its wind farms stretching far below, it is like walking on top of the world. I gulp huge breaths of air, drinking it in like water.

At 10 am, about ten miles in, I take a break at the bottom of Gamble Spring Canyon. It’s faintly disheartening to walk down the long switch-backs in full view of another set rising 1500 feet on the other side. At the summit ridge of Burns Mountain, there’s an improbable water cache with eight or ten chairs clustered under a red parasol. It even has a name: the “549” Bar & Grill — Fine Dining with a View.” House specials: Lizard Chips, Jack Rabbit Stew, Rattle Snake and Eggs.

Brandon, Penguin Pants, Ranger and Missing Person are there, along with a few others. The talk is of Odysseus, the sacred weight of hospitality in the ancient world and its echo on the PCT. As the Greek mythic hero was blown around the Aegean, he was taken in by various tribes of the Greek islands, like the Lotus Eaters, after their fashion – much as we are by trail angels. “Contrast that to Cyclops, who ate his guests,” says Yoseki. “And look what happened to him.”

Yoseki is one of the few who trail-named himself, a composite of his three favorite places in the world – Yosemiti, Sequoia and King’s Canyon national parks, all just a skip up the trail at this point. Thinking of my own imminent departure, I mention how hard it is to leave the trail, even briefly, and how I (at least) display symptoms of withdrawal, as if from a drug. “We live in Valhalla, everyday day,” Yoseki replies, still in his mythic meme. “It’s a hard place to come down from.” That’s why he recently retired from his legal practice, he adds. “So I can do stuff like this.”

The trail drops down to Willow Springs Road along pine-speckled ridges and field after field of wind turbines in their thousands. The reason they are here by now is obvious: this is one of the most consistently breezy places on earth. At times, the wind is strong enough to knock you sideways on the trail – bam, Bam, BAM! But it’s exhilarating, as well, and I keep gulping in the fresh gusts like someone who has just emerged from a vast desert into a land of cool and refreshing lakes.

It’s another of those very special days, perhaps uniquely common on the PCT, where all feels well in the world, and that deep within the gods are with you.

Where the trail dumps you at the highway, there’s magic. Rodeo happily offers up sandwiches, apples and ice-cold lemonade; the legendary Coppertone, an angel who parks his camper at trailheads up and down the PCT for as long as a week at a time, dishes out his trademark Root Beer floats.  Neither expects anything in return. For the Wandering Wayfarers that R Us, it is the embodiment of that caring-sharing PCT ethos — and the antidote to fear.

[sportymama]

Leaving Dickson, we set off for Campamento Perros. This day was one of the most beautiful! One of those days where you can’t stop taking pictures and can’t help but be grateful to be alive, to be breathing and seeing this scenery. I was starting to feel better but nowhere near 100 percent yet. We took our time and took in all the beauty of Patagonia. The mountains spread as far as we could see. This part of the hike was forested, dense, and thick with some pretty decent accents — the first coming right out of Dickson Camp. There are fantastic views of the backside of the Towers and extraordinary views of the Valle de Los Perros during this section.

Rockin’ my Elevation hat…as always!

We stopped to eat alongside a river. One of the things any backpacker has to consider is water. It’s vital and, in my opinion, one of the most important things to consider.It’s a vital life saving force. In most of my hiking experience….(ok other than when I was a hose-drinking wild kid and didn’t know better) I’ve filtered water. I have a great filtering system that condenses down into a small pouch. I’ve heard the horror stories of people not filtering and falling so sick that they’ve had to stop their hike. Heading into this trip, ALL of my research showed NO FILTERS were needed along this hike. I was skeptical. The last thing you want is to be sick… from bad water. The flu I can conquer, but hiking with a stomach illness, sleeping in a tent, with little to no showers did not sound great to me. I packed the filter, but ultimately after talking to people and guides in Chile before leaving, left it along with our “travel clothes” in the hostel in Puerto Natales. That’s trust in humanity!

“Patagonia water is the best water you could ever possibly drink,” we heard over and over. “It’s straight from glaciers and the purest, finest, cleanest water ever!”

TRUTH!! 

I’ll tell you, though, the first time I had to take the lid off of my bottle and dunk it into a water source and drink, I was on my knees praying that everything I had read and had been told was the gospel. And it was! That’s faith!

G and I still talk about the water there and wish so terribly we could find a way of getting it here. It’s hands down the best water on our planet!

We got into camp a little early, set up our space, and backtracked along the trail to Los Perros Lake and glacier. We marveled at the icebergs floating in the turquoise water of the lake. We took a ton of photos and sat taking in God’s creation. We breathed in the Holy wind.

G and I, even though we spend a lot of time together, never lack in conversation. He and I can sit into the wee hours of a morning, from the night before, talking. We can go to dinner together, sitting across a table from one another, like no one else is in the restaurant and have a 3 hour dinner just chatting away. BUT we also crave our alone time. Our independence. It has always been an important and essential part of our relationship, and we always consider and honor one another’s space.

Bridge For One

  On this day…after the funny pictures and skipping rocks into the water, trying to reach out and touch some icebergs we both found ourselves wandering to the opposite sides of the lake. Taking our time, individually to pray, meditate and just be alone. We have been coexisting in a 2-pound backpacking tent with a space of 88 x 42 inches for the past 7 days….we needed to air out our minds, our hearts….our pits. HA! We needed to get quiet, to listen, to take in what was being given to us. What nuggets were we going to glean from this adventure?

As we were getting up to leave, we heard the strangest sound… we stopped, looking around, and right across the water, a HUGE section of the glacier was cracking off. It plunged right into the water! We stood there mouths gaped.

The next morning was an early alarm. We knew we were hiking over John Gardner Pass. The weather on the pass can change in an instant, and we knew our best bet was to get an early start because weather conditions in Torres del Paine are generally better in the mornings.

We put on our headlamps and started our ascent in the dark. The first section is forested. It is wet, dripping, and had parts with creek-like crossings, and oversized puddles. It is swampy and has mud holes that will swallow you up. The rocks are slippery, and we had a couple of slips, nothing too terrible, but I was happy for my Jackie Chan-like skills when one of my trekking poles slipped off of a boulder and left me falling headfirst towards the deep, dark, black mud. Somehow I was able to hop-scotch my way whilst falling headlong, recklessly. I somehow recovered gracefully after bouncing over several logs, roots, and boulders. We stood and laughed for the longest time, remarking how we wished we would’ve “caught that on video” and thinking about what it would’ve looked like had I fallen. I am glad I didn’t find out!

We took our time over this section and eventually came to the boulder field that is the toughest part of the pass. It’s full of small and large boulders that require maneuvering around. Quite a few places were gushing water from melting snow, and we felt like we were climbing through waterfalls. Essentially… we were. We were happy that this day was sunny and hot and that the glacier water was ice cold! There was a steady stream of hikers heading up at the same time, and we would watch as other hikers, looking like ants, would disappear over the saddle to their first view of Glacier Grey.

The final pitch was steep and seemed like we were never going to get over the top… then… there we were!

The view!

Isn’t it incredible how after so much effort in a huge climb, there is a reward. Kind of like like, huh?

  DCIM100GOPROGOPR1724.JPG

I often get overcome with emotion when I hike in the mountains. The enormity of it all just takes my breath from my lungs. I feel so small and it really humbles me to be surrounded by such giants. I stood in complete silence and awe.

We were gifted on this day with perfect hiking weather. This pass is riddled with wind, snow, and rain, but today was full sun, blue skies, and NO wind. We talked with several guides who said that type of weather happens about three times a year on that pass. THREE TIMES A YEAR! and here we are atop the pass with the most perfect view of Glacier Grey, in the most perfect weather, surrounded by snowcapped mountains. I could’ve just died right there it was so magnificent. Thank you, God.

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Grey Glacier is a glacier in the Southern Patagonia Ice Field. It flows southward from the Patagonian Andes Mountains into Grey Lake. The glacier is 6 kilometers (3.72 miles) wide and over 30 meters (98 feet) high. It occupies a total area of 270 km2 (100 sq mi) and a length of 28 km (17 mi) It’s the second-largest contiguous extrapolar icefield. There are truly no words to describe this glacier!

After taking photos and spending time taking in this marvel, we made the massive decent down, relishing the views of the glacier and having fun on the suspension bridges. If you’re afraid of heights… stop here, because these bridges are incredibly long and the valleys that they connect are DEEP! The highest and longest bridge is 80m high (262 feet), and 50m (164 feet) long.

Luckily it wasn’t windy, and I wondered as I crossed how these bridges would be in heavy wind. Thank you, Jesus!! I read over some blogs before our trip that said to be sure and HOLD ON in high winds. Ummm… We stopped at Paso Camp today. We rested, drank, filled our bellies, and chatted with fellow hikers about coming over the pass. We were exhausted, sun, and heat beaten and were happy to be off of our feet this day. One thing to note, there is zero ozone in Patagonia, so if you’re planning a trip, pack FIRST; sunscreen, SECOND; glasses! The sun is no joke!

Paso to Grey Camp was up for our next day. Grey was initially not on our itinerary… but ya know… those pesky eleventh-hour reservations… We were quite happy to get to Grey. We had decided we would sleep inside (a lot of people opt for the tent area) and had a shared room with another couple. Funny enough, it was a couple we had met a few days ago on a windy ascent but hadn’t seen since. It was like a family reunion when we opened the door of our bunk house. This is the first time in our history of travel that we’ve “bunked” like this. We were a little hesitant about this sleeping arrangement with total strangers! Turns out after hiking all. the. days. adding in a nice HOT shower and a legitimate meal in the restaurant… no one cared. We were so tired, after some small talk about our future adventures, we each collapsed onto our beds and slept straight through until the morning.

Grey Camp was in a gorgeous area against a sheer rock face. We sat out on the deck in Adirondack chairs, watching the sunrise the next morning.

From Grey, you can hike to the Glacier Mirador. After the Mirador, we headed off to our next camp, Paine Grande. This is the part of the trail where you meet up with the W hikers. This also begins two-way traffic on the trail, as there are a lot of day hikers and hikers heading in and out for an overnight or two. The trail gets busier after this section. G and I always call them “the shiny people” because frequently we have been out backpacking for DAYS and sometimes WEEKS and to day-hikers, I’m sure we look and ..ahem… smell like hobos. They pass us in their clean khakis and white t-shirts, smelling heavily of that morning’s shower. They have applied deodorant, fresh-hair in perky ponytails… and I think… I used to look pretty like that!

Paine Grande is a bustling place with O-hikers, W-hikers, and day-trippers. It sits stunningly on a lake with towering mountains to its side. We had already booked a room (alone) for this night’s stay. We checked in, showered, bought meal tickets FOR REAL FOOD in the morning, and set out to explore.

First stop; the fantastic bar on the top level. With its panoramic view, great music, and ice-cold beer, how could we pass that up? It was here that we talked over the trip that we knew would soon be ending. We talked about our ups and downs and the emotions that hit you when you’re on long treks like this. The peaks and valleys, and how real life seems to always follow trail life. We both hit low points. I was upset I had not felt 100 percent dealing with the flu, and I had times I got extremely frustrated with the congestion and nose blowing. Greg’s came after descending from John Gardner Pass, where I am convinced he was suffering some slight sunstroke and dehydration.

Looking back, I am still so glad I took the risk to start this hike.

Always take the risk! I could’ve let the sickness win, the fear of being miserable, the dismay of starting and maybe not finishing the hike, but like every hard thing in life, I pressed on and was so happy for that. I (we) never take our travel for granted. We both know there are people unable to travel as we do. There are couples who, one likes to travel, and one doesn’t, so they both don’t! For some, it’s a financial burden, some constrained by their career, some just simply don’t like to travel and some… are just paralyzed in fear to take that first step into something unknown. I can’t be that person and am thankful to have married a man who feels the same! There is no chance of tomorrow, and there is no chance that we will allow this precious life to pass by us.

We sat in this bar for a couple of hours and talked about the stories we will have for our future generations. Our grandkids… when looking at the globe someday, can hear stories of us climbing mountains and hiking all the miles, getting flooded in monsoons, eating God-knows-what from street vendors all over Asia. Standing in the Sea of Galilee in Isreal, getting stuck in the middle of the jungle, alone, on a motorcycle in Panama, having lightning strike so close that we felt our hair stand on end on a backpacking trip. Walking across a border crossing into Nicaragua, paragliding and sky diving, climbing down into war tunnels in Vietnam, surfing with giant sea turtles and stingrays all around us, nearly falling to my death in the Colorado Rockies… the list goes on…..

I know all grandparents have beautiful stories to tell their grandkids… and we can’t wait to share ours if someday God blesses us with littles.

We did a little sink laundry before heading over to the mess tent to cook some dinner. Greg was utterly crippled with eating dehydrated meals, so he opted to shop in the small store and buy… none other than Cup-a-Soup. Because that dehydrated food in styrofoam was far superior to the Packit Gourmet meals that we were currently existing on. Can you hear my sarcasm? I say this laughing because BOY does that food get old, and Cup-a-Noodles is like five-star cuisine when you’ve gotten tired of what you’ve packed.

As the sun set on another incredible night, we saw a Mama fox and her kits running around and playing in the meadow just outside. We moved out to take some video. They YIPPED and wrestled with one another until it was too dark to see.

Cont…..

Didn’t catch the first part of our Patagonia adventure? Start by clicking RIGHT HERE.

      Patagonia Ocho a Diez Leaving Dickson, we set off for Campamento Perros. This day was one of the most beautiful! One of those days where you can’t stop taking pictures and can’t help but be grateful to be alive, to be breathing and seeing this scenery.