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oogaboogasphincter · 3 years

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The 50/10 Method (Agent Whiskey x f!reader)

Summary: Jack makes the most of your 10 minute study break.

Word Count: 2.7k+

Rating: E (explicit) 18+ ONLY! bc this is just cringey smut lmfao

Warnings: smut (oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (obvi use protection irl), very easily and conveniently reached orgasms (this is a fantasy i can do what i want skjfkd), dirty talk, one (1) allusion to thigh riding and one (1) instance of 💙spitting💙, fingering, positions i hope i've given enough detail so y’all can imagine what i was picturing💀), pet names (sweetheart, honey, cowboy *affectionately*, good girl, baby), there’s a sentence about reader having long-ish hair, reader and jack have a dog, swearing, reader is afab and is called things like good girl and the like, just overall trash grammar and structure 😇

Author’s Note: so this is very poorly written and extremely self-indulgent, as i myself use the 50/10 method 🙃. but i had a lot of fun with it, and i think that’s what writing is supposed to be all about! :) also i was heavily inspired to write this after reading “Take a Break” by @mellowswriting and “Study Buddy” by @pascalpanic. please go check those out because they’re absolutely fantastic!!!!! +while you’re at it, i would highly advise you to read anything on their masterlists bc they’re just 💜exquisite💜

gif by @thernandalorian

The lines of text on your computer screen are starting to blend into each other, creating a single run-on sentence that one of your previous English teachers would ridicule the author for. The sharp curves and angles that distinguish each letter from the next are becoming soft and dull, blurring into each other until your brain can only recognize it as a smeared streak of black on white.

It’s 11:00am on a Saturday, a big exam set for the upcoming Monday’s morning. You don’t feel rushed for time, or overloaded with unknown material, and the early hours of the day have been quite productive. Following a shared breakfast of homemade waffles in bed with Jack, your boyfriend, you didn’t complain when setting up your study station on the living room’s large oak table. If anything, you had been excited to begin studying early in the hopes of finishing your review by the end of the day. That way, tomorrow would be free for you and Jack to do whatever you pleased.

However, as the hours went by, your motivation was slowly but surely diminishing. The serene study atmosphere that you usually thrive in is now driving you mad. You yearn for a noise, any noise; a bird to sing a song in the tree outside your window, the smack of your dog’s loose wrinkles against each other as he attempts to shake the sleep out of him, a pencil unable to stop itself from rolling and dropping onto the floor with a tink.

You’re momentarily gifted with the crisp sound of a page turning. You flit your eyes over to gaze upon the source of your granted wish and your heart flutters in reaction to the sight: Jack’s resting on the couch, cowboy hat balanced on the back of it, deeply absorbed in the next installment of his favorite murder-mystery series. You find it curious that his desire for an adrenaline-filled challenge doesn’t stop when he comes home from mission after mission that nearly cost him his life. You’ll ask him about his insatiability one day, but for now you categorize it as fictional research for his Statesman assignments.

Your short glance quickly turns into an entranced stare. Jack looks... divine. Fetching. Luscious. As he’s lying on his back, neck propped up against the arm of the couch, his book balanced on his chest, relaxation radiates off of him in waves and utterly seduces you. You’re surprised that he hasn’t been a greater distraction to you throughout the morning. How have you managed to ignore the denim-wearin’, plaid-shirted, pornstache-sportin’ cowboy of your dreams that is only a few steps away?

Involuntarily, the thigh muscles of your crossed legs contract in an effort to bring some semblance of friction to your now weeping core. Similar to your imaginings of your dog earlier, you shake your head to force these heavy, unwanted feelings to dissipate and turn back to the work in front of you. Of course, Jack does the opposite of what you’d like him to do and takes an interest in your fidgeting. He peeks over the top of his book, “You cold, sweetheart?”

His question is reasonable: you’re purposely wearing a skirt that’s so short it rides up quite high when you sit. You don’t dare to meet his eyes and answer while pulling a textbook close and opening it up, “No, I’m okay.”

Fortunately he returns to his reading. Your attention is able to retain itself for about a paragraph, but then your mind takes a sharp detour back to those pesky, steamy desires. You mentally huff at your inability to remain concentrated on your studies and rifle through the options of what you can do to satiate yourself for the time being.

You could switch texts and force your brain to recognize the change and therefore become distracted. You could pick out some colored writing utensils and bring some fun to active reading. You could say fuck it, go straddle Jack and beg him to use you in whichever way he would like.

Jack interrupts your brainstorming, “Are you sure you don’t need a blanket or sumthin’? I can go get my jacket for ya.”

The attentiveness of your southern lover melts your heart. You turn to him, “No, really, I’m okay, thanks.”

“I wouldn’t count a bathroom break as taking away from your 50 minutes, honey, if that’s what’s makin’ you twitch.”

You had been implementing and strictly adhering to the 50/10 method all morning: study for 50 minutes, take a break for ten. Its effectiveness was never doubted, as it has proven to work for you for years. Only ten minutes into this 50 minute period, the devil of restlessness pokes at you and makes you think could time go by any slower? A hand comes up to cover the blush creeping across your cheek as you dismiss Jack’s suggestion, “No, that’s not it.”

Behind your embarrassed hand, Jack cocks an eyebrow at you. Your simple choice of words has given the Agent a hint, that there is something that’s bothering you, he just hasn’t figured it out yet and you don’t want to admit what it is for some reason. He returns to his book, however lost in thought about what your problem could be, while you task every cell in your body to pay attention to your studies.

35 minutes remain on the clock, and Jack guesses, “Did you have too much coffee?”

You can’t help but grin at his sleuthing, “No, I just had my regular.”

He conjures up another possible solution five minutes later, “Are you itchin’ to get out of the house? We haven’t left in two days.”

He’s getting warmer. Both of you know exactly why you haven’t left the house in two days: you’d been occupied with activities of the sinful variety. You can’t gauge yet whether or not he knows he’s dancing around the answer, “Baby, you’re distracting me. And nope, it’s not that.”

He smiles apologetically, “Sorry,” and uses his book as a partition, blocking your ability to procrastinate and just visually drool all over him.

Silence fills the next 20 minutes. Even though Jack is out of your sight, details from your observations exaggerate themselves in your mind to the point that they’re all encompassing, intoxicating. The way his jeans wrap around his legs ever so perfectly, the worn denim hugging those muscular thighs that he loves for you to grind yourself against when you’re feeling especially desperate (like now). How his plaid flannel slopes over the swell of his belly, stretching tight against his skin as his diaphragm contracts and deflating when he exhales. Even his large feet, strewn about lazily on the couch, his toes pointing in different directions, amuse you.

Ten minutes remain in your study session. Feeling guilty about spending the majority of the last hour envisioning the seductive intricacies of your boyfriend, you actually start to study.

“How many times do you think I can make you cum in ten minutes?”

Your eyes are ripped from your material and land on the menace lazing on the couch. He’s put his book down, one arm behind his head while the other is crooked, allowing himself to palm his cock through his pants. Jack’s wearing a shit-eating grin, bewitching your crossed legs to switch which one is on top; an excuse to apply more pressure to the yearning area between them. You fidget in the chair, shamefully trying to get the seam of your underwear to rub against you in just the right way. You shrug, “I-I’m not sure.”

He gets up and comes over to you, standing behind you and leaning forward to rest his chin on your shoulder. He murmurs in your ear, “I think we should find out during your next break.”

You turn to face him, “I think so too.”

He gives you a quick kiss, “Well, you better be a good girl and study for these last few minutes. Earn that break.” He places his large hands on either side of your head and turns it toward your materials, making you both laugh.

Somehow, you’re able to pay attention. Jack’s impending promise of ravaging you for ten minutes straight quells your jittering nerves and gives you something specific to look forward to. Before you know it, your alarm is beeping, alerting you that your break has commenced. Jack cages you by reaching forward and grabs the clock, programs it to ten minutes and keeps it in his hand. He grips the sides of your swivel chair, pulls it back from the table and spins you around to face him, the speed of the turn making your hair swoosh across your shoulders. Through mutual giggles, Jack lifts you up, winding your legs around his waist, your arms doing the same around his neck. “I want you to count for me how many times you cum.”

Breathlessly, you simply obey, “Okay.”

He practically runs to the bedroom. He sets the clock on the nightstand and turns the face towards the mattress so you don’t lose out on studying time. Tossing you onto the bed, your giggling continues as you bounce from the force. Jack hooks his fingers in your underwear and yanks them down, pulling them out from under your skirt and over your shoes. The way he wastes no time ridding you of any other garment makes blood and heat flood your center and air rush out of your lungs. He pushes your lost air back into your mouth with a kiss and then immediately retreats back to in between your legs.

He flicks the fabric of your skirt up onto your belly, letting himself have complete, unobstructed access to his early lunch. His fingers fondle your folds while his lips place sloppy kisses along the inside of your thighs. After he’s had his fill of that step, he sits back and stares at you: spread out for him, more than willing to take anything he wants to give to you. He blows out a whistle, eyeing your core, and you say, “Hey, you’re on the clock, cowboy. No time for dramatics.”

He nods, a smirk pulling at one side of his mouth, “You’re right, sweetheart.”

He spits onto your cunt, forgoing his usual gentle licks to adequately wet your pussy. A quiet fuck escapes your mouth as he plunges his tongue into you. Your fingers wind themselves in his chocolatey locks and pull, extracting an excited moan from your lover. His fingers knead the soft flesh on the backs of your thighs as he eats and when his mustache starts to tickle your clit, you’re done for. Your grip on his hair becomes vice-like and your whole body seizes up, constricted by enrapturing pleasure. You strangle out, “One.”

Jack unlatches his mouth only once he’s certain your first orgasm is complete. He stands, admires your wrecked expression, takes his cock out, spits into his hand and pumps his dick a few times. Hands slithering around your waist, he flips you onto your stomach and pulls your ass up, positioning you on your hands and knees. You’re a little bit dizzied by his manhandling in combination with his expert tongue, but this type of vertigo is the most enjoyable you’ve ever experienced.

When he pushes into you, it’s a bit of a stretch because he hadn’t warmed you up with his fingers. He relaxes you by leaning forward, pressing his chest against your back and peppering soft kisses to your shoulder blades. The clink of his belt comically punctuates his thrusts, but your laughs are swallowed by intoxicated groans. You don’t know, and you don’t really care to figure out, how he already has you teetering on the edge of cumming again. Heightened senses tell you that you’re close; the fabric of his shirt feels unearthly soft as it brushes against patches of exposed skin, his fingertips are delightful lead in their clamp on you, his grunts and pants angelically reverberate in your skull. And then, suddenly and all at once, “Two.”

Jack’s pride shows itself in a smirk while he flips you onto your back. He makes a show of hooking your calves over his shoulders, eliciting laughter from the both of you. Resting almost all of his weight on top of you, your knees find your chest and his hands find your hair. The intimacy of it all is almost too much; his thumbs stroke your temples, palms cradle your head, those goddamned puppy-dog eyes bore into you. You turn your head in his grasp to check your timing: five minutes left.

Jack’s tongue darts out to lick the pads of his fingers before he snakes it down in between the two of you to rub your clit. Your moans come out uncontrollably, your eyelids stutter and he eggs you on, “That’s it, sweetheart. Give me another one.”

Hearty moans are reduced to desperate gasps and you’re unable to verbally acknowledge the third orgasm that rips through you. Nonetheless, Jack can tell from the way your eyes roll into the back of your head and his name tumbles ferociously out of your mouth that you’re cumming. “’Atta girl.”

Jack takes his cock out of you and the whine that escapes your lips embarrasses you. He can’t help but laugh at your whimpering before he scoots down the bed and starts to eat you out again, framing his head with your quaking thighs. You find the strength to check the time, “Jack, there’s only a minute and a half left.”

He moans deeply into you, unaffected by your comment, and eases three fingers into your fluttering center. Like earlier, your hands fly to his hair like a magnet and find purchase so tight it makes your knuckles go pale. In a matter of seconds, circling your clit with his sopping tongue and tapping your g-spot with his deft fingers, Jack has you cumming yet again. This time you yell out the count, “Four!”

The sounds his ministrations make are lewd and exhilarating, pushing himself to his own precipice. You look down your body to find Jack’s other hand jerking his cock and his seed spilling out of him moments later. He groans into your pussy while you pet his hair, praising him for his efforts.

Simultaneously, you both remember that you’re being timed. Your eyes meet the clock at the same time: 30 seconds. Jack springs from the bed and pulls you up with him, grabbing your discarded panties. He squats and taps your ankles so you lift your legs up, sliding each leg hole over your body and pulling your underwear up underneath your skirt.

You fumble with his mussed clothes, stuffing his still-hard cock into his boxers, hiking his jeans up over his ass and zip and button them closed. You snake his belt around his waist and let his fingers do the work of buckling it before he picks you up bridal style and ushers you out of the bedroom, grabbing the clock off of the nightstand on your way out.

Unhinged cackles follow you two down the hallway as you return to the living room. He plops you down in your chair, straightens you out, gives you a kiss on the cheek and then your alarm goes off. You raise your eyebrows at him, “Jeez, you didn’t waste a second.”

He hums, then mumbles, “You get back to work now, babygirl,” and leaves you with a yearning kiss on the part of your hair.

Both of you return to your respective readings, hopelessly trying to downgrade your panting gasps to normal breaths. The absence of Jack’s warmth is already painful. But you rationalize that the indulgence of the last ten minutes is more than enough to get you through this next hour of studying, if not for longer.

Little do you know that Jack feels the same pain. His ache for your touch, sexual or not, will overtake him later and he’ll be unable to resist the temptation of coming over and distracting you again. Determined to finish your studying, you’ll propose a compromise: you can sit in his lap while he is lulled to sleep by the ambience of the afternoon rain and the enveloping comfort of you. The two of you can try to beat the record of four orgasms next semester.

💘taglist: @pascalpanic, @mellowswriting

#agent whiskey x f!reader #agent whiskey x fem!reader #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey smut #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #kingsman: the golden circle #study smut #studying smut

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pinkhairedlily · 3 years

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i'll be with you (but it'll be a different kind)

pairing: yoonkook/yoonjin | rating: G | ao3 read here

a short study on moving on

Yoongi broke the vinyl like he would a plate, a quaint awareness of a disaster but the quick denial of letting it fall – on the floor, in pieces. He swept each shard, vacuumed, and threw them in the bin. He crushed his music sheets and notes, thought better of it, and lit them with a scented candle.

Well, for fuck’s sake, the candle was his gift too.

So Yoongi walked to the collection area at three thirty in the morning, against the gusts of cold November wind, carrying all the evidence of the killer and the remains of its victim. He stood in front of the stack with an impulse to do something. Say a prayer? Curse them? Curse himself and bring them back to his apartment?

Ah, he wasn’t that stupid.

He truly wasn’t.

His stupidity was drained when he decided to fall in love with his roommate and friend that couldn’t be his in this lifetime.

So he came back to his home rid of everything Kim Seokjin owned and touched. Yes, even the bedsheets he washed yesterday.

“The couch it is.” He plopped down to its uncomfortable mattress and was immediately lulled not by the comfort of sleep but by the escape it offered.

He lost track of time in the next days… or probably weeks because the next time he went out for a walk to the mart, he was greeted by imposing Christmas decorations and too tall synthetic trees that wouldn’t look good in apartments that only housed one.

He came back, still alone, but at least joined now with ingredients for proper homemade food. He won’t be lonely on Christmas, not with two bottles of wine, a variety of seafood (which Namjoon hated the most, and Yoongi would order in the largest serving just to spite him), and his good old comfy socks.

He switched on the television to watch Melancholia, a fitting holiday movie in his honest opinion, and turned it up to the highest volume to tune out the looping Christmas carols outside his window and across the hallway where other occupants have rooms over to tide away the lonesome.

It was two thirty and two disaster films later that he heard the ghost of his broken heart.

It was one of the songs he wrote for Jin, the notes not at all the same, but the melody line was correctly embodied. He started up from his drunken stupor on the floor and trudged towards his kitchen sink where he dabbled his face in water.

It wasn’t the alcohol. So it certainly must be the crazy in him… well, until he realized the notes were coming from next door. The walls were thin anyway.

He nonchalantly knocked on the door of his neighbor, not caring at all if it was the devil’s hour, not when the tenant itself did not care about public disturbance.

It opened a crack wide enough for Yoongi to sweep the whole place up in seconds. Tidy floor, unmade bed, three monitors on a desk, neon lights, a christmas tree unabashedly decorated with the most frivolous pieces beside the dining table, and a guitar on top of it.

“Did I wake you?” He was taller than Yoongi, buffer, and very decorated like his Christmas tree. Daith, lobe, and eyebrow piercings, sleeve tattoos on his right arm, and shoulder-length electric blue hair tied in half-ponytail. But what caught his attention the most was the doe eyes that seemed too innocent, but Yoongi was familiar with the pretension that hovered on the surface. This boy knew pain enough to effectively cover it.

“That was my song,” Yoongi said in his usual deadpan delivery. He couldn’t get any cheerier than this.

John Doe perked up (if it could be any more possible). “Ah so you’re the one!” Then his expression immediately shifted to wariness. “Oh wait, you might be offended. I should apologize – “

“Some notes were mismatched, yes. Couldn’t be helped when you learned it by ear.” Yoongi looked at him for confirmation, and John Doe nodded enthusiastically. “But it’s all right. You played the piece so beautifully for someone who did not know it was a love letter.”

The way John Doe changed his smile to a thin line Yoongi knew at once that this was a person who simultaneously wore their heart on a sleeve but chained it before it could truly fall.

“Is it safe to assume the letter’s non-reciprocation when you haven’t played those songs for a month?”

“What else could there be?”

The neighbor bit the inside of his cheeks before answering, “Maybe you just didn’t need love letters anymore?”

Yoongi sighed. “Just keep it down. It’s three in the morning.”

“But it’s Christmas?” John Doe’s eyes suddenly widened. “Oh my manners! Merry Christmas Sir!”

“I don’t believe in Santa Claus. Or Jesus. Or capitalist splurges.” Yoongi shoved his hands into his sweatpants. “I have marinara surplus. Do you want a plate?”

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

When New Year rolled again, Yoongi knocked on his neighbor’s door. He slept with headphones in full volume, god be damned his hearing, on newly bought bedsheets that did not smell of Jin and pillows that did not have a strand of his hair. He really couldn’t turn down John Doe’s question of whether he could still play the cursed song or maybe he was two-bottles-of-wine-disoriented enough to put up a rather good argument why he shouldn’t.

“So will you cover your ears when you go to sleep?” John Doe asked after his second slurping of seafood marinara.

“Why should I?” Meanwhile, Yoongi surfed Netflix for his disaster anxiety fix.

“Try Seeking a Friend for the End of the World.” John Doe finished his plate clean. He let out a burp with an apologetic smile to his temporary Christmas host. “Well, I was wondering if I could still play the song. It’s yours anyway so you have all the rights.”

Yoongi’s eyes glazed over the first few seconds of the film, slightly amused at the insurance agent selling an apocalyptic package. “When music is released to the public, it never becomes the composer’s alone. It is also owned by the listener…and whatever they deem the music to be.”

“I’m Jeon Jungkook.”

“I just let you eat my food.”

“I’ll be your friend for the end of the world.”

A beat. “Fine. Min Yoongi.”

But it was a week of listening to ragged notes and misplaced sharps, and his (still) perfectionist ass wanted to right it.

“It’s open,” Jungkook yelled from what Yoongi presumed was his computer chair.

He sauntered inside with measured caution and watched his neighbor tick away in codes on three different screens. Yoongi silently slid the music sheets on a small free space on Jungkook’s desk.

“Software developer?”

“Not really. I’m a solutions specialist, the yes-boy,” Jungkook replied with a smug grin. He hit enter and the lines start to jumble together as he swiveled to face Yoongi. “You re-wrote your notes. You must be a producer or something.”

Yoongi clucks. “Close. A film composer.”

“Do you go to Hollywood?”

“I’m not made for performative limelight. The shadows are bright enough.”

“Cool. I want to make a film someday.”

“You have a day job.”

“Can’t a man have two dreams?”

“Touche. One can never have too many.”

“What’s yours then, Yoongi?”

“Just one but it won’t be mine.”

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

March. Spring coming alive, and for the first time in months, Yoongi genuinely thought he was getting better and over him. Jeon Doe (maybe he’ll always call him this) was a light companion – not imposing, a bit fluttery, but steady in his essence. Perhaps it was the continuous wonder that ebb in his eyes or the utterly soft disregard of pain for something nonchalant.

On the eve of March 1st, he stroked again the keys of his piano, and Jungkook came into his unit and accompanied him with a guitar. It was an improvisation of chaotic notes in Yoongi’s head and by magic, Jungkook floated with that tornado. The contrast and the blend gave way to an unlikely partnership of melody and rhythm.

And on March 1st, Yoongi felt butterflies again when Jungkook joined him on the bench and giddily watched his fingers dance on white and black.

But on the second day of the month, the butterflies were replaced with quicksand.

Kim Seokjin called and wanted to meet. It was funny how in a moment of hesitancy, it was his heart who doubled and his feet that led. Their favorite bar, whiskey on the rocks for Jin, dry scotch for him, and an expanse of silence of between them.

“He’s too busy with production at the moment.” Jin downed his drink in one gulp. Yoongi didn’t even need to ask.

And I’m the only one who’s available. “At the moment is how many months?”

“For three months now.”

“You should break up.” An unsolicited advice Yoongi gave more than twice with not much success.

“If I was a music company, maybe he would do me,” Jin jested, holding the empty glass in his hand. “Should I buy one?”

“Buy his affections as well and monopolize them.” It was a banter Jin was used too and maybe by now, he should have known that Yoongi hid half-truths in them.

“They’re too intense for me alone. He’s always destined for the world.”

What could Yoongi do but surrender at the unspoken request of comfort. “There’s someone who treats you like you’re his whole world.”

“I wish I did too.”

Yoongi never had a sip of his scotch, but Jin’s languid kiss was enough to get drunk on. He lost the flutter and the lightness, and dove headfirst in heavy, steely waters. Yoongi missed the suffocating pressure and the sensation of bursting at the seams. If his heart would burst at this moment, it would shatter a hundred times more for the many touches and whispers to follow. He would gladly die in this misshapen illusion.

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

“Your door was always locked,” Jungkook greeted a month after, carrying a big tub of fermented kimchi. “My dad dropped by to give me spares.”

Two weeks before this, Jin left in a hurry to go to the airport, saying Namjoon had been in an accident, and two weeks after, Yoongi never heard back from him.

He accepted the side dish from his neighbor, but nothing went past Jungkook. Realization was plain in his face, but he chose not to comment on it.

“Yoongi.”

“Hmm.” It was danger meeting Jungkook’s eyes so Yoongi kept his downcast.

“I told you before.”

“What?”

“That I’ll be your friend for the end of the world.”

Yoongi didn’t respond, and Jungkook took the cue to leave.

He repeated that same line later that night when he heard Yoongi trash his place, his bare arm catching the brunt of a baseball bat just before it landed on the piano keys.

“Why would you go so far?” Yoongi sneered, anger seeping through his controlled demeanor.

“Why would you go so far?” Jungkook cradled his arm like he cradled his pain. Like it was nothing. “It’s the end of the world.”

“I need a friend.”

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

It was easier being with Jungkook – lighter, happier, with no care in the world. He was also honest in a straightforward, unassuming, and endearing way especially when those doe eyes of his were used to an advantage.

When he told Yoongi in the middle of Battle Royale, out of the blue, with no precedence whatsoever that “I don’t want to be just your friend”, it knocked the air out of the latter. And when Jungkook followed it with “You can use me, however you want”, Yoongi knew he had to get things sorted.

Lest he wants Jungkook trapped inside the vortex of unresolved feelings.

So Yoongi didn’t give him a tangible response. He just skidded closer to him on the couch and Jeon Doe took the cue to lay his head on the crook of his neck as another student was slashed to their death on the screen.

When credits rolled in, Yoongi dipped his head and found Jungkook already waiting with bated breath.

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

“Ah, you found me.”

Jin was back in his penthouse in Seoul, alone with no Namjoon in tow.

“Am I a week early?” Yoongi asked.

“I just got in today.” True enough, unopened suitcases littered his living room. Too many suitcases for a vacation. “I’m relocating back. Is there such a thing?”

Yoongi went to one luggage and punched in the password Jin used when Namjoon and him got together, it did not open, so he tried another combination. Ah, only his birthdate. Yoongi packed the first of his clothes to cabinets he was all too familiar with. He went on with this rudimentary task with Jin at the kitchen, cooking up something for the two of them.

In a parallel universe, Yoongi would have been happily contented with this.

Tidied up, folded, and free, the two went through a simple steak and pasta dinner.

“We broke up.” He twirled his fork endlessly. “It hit me when I saw him go to an award show. I could never keep up with him, Yoongi, not when I’m taking a backseat while his dreams sit in the front.”

“Don’t be silly.”

Jin stared at him like he was betrayed.

“Don’t be silly,” Yoongi repeated, drawling each word. “Namjoon and his goals sit in another sports car while you drive a rundown secondhand.”

That made Jin laugh. “You’re merciless.” And then he grimaced. “I never felt this neglected. It was never this way when I was with you.”

“We’ve never had anything, Jin. You didn’t let me have anything,” Yoongi finished clean his pasta. He folded his napkin like a good guest and waited for Jin’s retort.

But he just sighed, defeated. “I destroyed what good we had. I’m afraid I also lost the friendship.”

“You know I can’t go back again to you.” Yoongi didn’t know if he threw a question or a statement.

“I saw it the instant you came through that door.” Jin put down his fork and trained his eyes on his best friend. “Happiness looks good on you.”

“You would have known already if you had just looked at me.”

Jin gave him a sad smile. “And it would have been the best sight had I tried harder.” He picked up again his fork, his lips pursed, his eyes brimming with tears. It was a foreign scene, Jin coming undone in front of him, not because of Namjoon, because of him. “So who is this guy?”

“I call him Jeon Doe.”

Jin kept brushing the side of his eyes while he twirled strands of noodles in his fork. When he opened his mouth to eat, tears brushed down his cheeks, breaking in rivulets as he chewed. “That’s a stupid name.”

Yoongi noticed the upwelling – the comeuppance of what was lost trying to mask itself as the crescent emotions. He knew it when Jungkook kissed him back that night, that he could never go back to this uncertainty. “And stupidly in love with me too.”

Jin continued to chew with salty tears. “I’m sorry, Yoongi.”

His hands clenched at the name that left his lips. “I got tired of being your placeholder. You couldn’t just leave and expect me to stay in one place. I also crack every time you touch me, and I shatter every time you go. I broke, Jin. I got torn apart, and I wasn’t sure whether I could still handle your overspilling love for someone else when I couldn’t even hold any for me.” Yoongi’s fingers stretched to touch the dam that escaped his friend’s eyes. “You must understand.”

“I’m sorry, Yoongi,” Jin repeated. “And I understand it. I get it now. I see it. It’s just overwhelming – this mountain of regrets and what-ifs and utter disregard I made for my own happiness.”

“I got in the crossfire.”

“A victim willing.”

“But not anymore.”

Jin shook his head. “No, not anymore.” He intertwined his fingers with Yoongi. “I hope it works out for you and Jeon Doe.”

Not a minute longer, Yoongi pulled away from Jin’s touch. “I hope you heal.”

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

Jin saw them on the same piano bench, playing a duet in the middle of a wedding reception, hands flying about, touches fleeting but enthralling, releasing captivating, fluttery sounds – almost akin to freedom.

He was seeing now in full high-definition panorama the gravity of his consequences. He let go of his two great loves, one he loved with no fail, the other he took to fail.

And so he welcomed the splendor of pain. He had two great loves, and regardless of how they ended, they deserved a thorough journey of grief. He could only hope that at the end of it was what he saw in Yoongi.

Freedom.

#yoonkook #yoonjin #bts fanfic #bts fic #min yoongi #jeon jungkook #kim seokjin #mention of namjin #fic!pseudolily #fic!pinkhairedlily

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wonderwomanfantasy · 5 years

Text

Alpha vs. Alpha vs. Alpha

why have Two boys when you can have three??? also I’m off the shits right now so let's go (I’m so tired please send help)

so like okay words

-Midoriya started liking you first

-then Shoto

-lastly Bakugou(he liked you for a thicc while but he’s not going to tell you that)

-you have about a week of peace where they all like you and none of them know about it

-then ALL HELL BRAKES LOOSE HERE WE GO BUCKLE THE FUCKLE UP BITCHES.

-it’s not good

-it is a constant struggle between the three of them fighting for your attention and affection

-but they all do it in different ways.

-Izuku tries to impress you

-he has to win the fight because you’re watching him and he needs to show you that despite his size he is strong and he is going to be a top hero someday.

-bakugou likes to protect you like if you trip he’ll catch you before you fall or during a villain attack he will gladly take a hit or two for you.

-while the other two rely on big showy gestures

- I mean how many opportunities are there to show off or save you?

-Shoto just likes to spend time with you. he eats lunch with you and studies with you and if you’re up at three AM he’s the guy to call and rant too

-he believes that a bunch of small things are better than one big thing you know?

-they all give gifts in different ways too.

-Izuku will get you something hella specific to your personal interests and probably homemade

-he hopes you value the time he put into your gifts and knick-knacks because you know that boy put in the HOURS

-like if you’re into Harry Potter he’ll make you a key chain with your house crest or something(it’s shitty but it’s also: the best he can do)

-Bakugou is not gonna give you gifts or at least that is what he claims but that is a lie

-mostly snacks and stuff, making sure you eat is just another way to keep you safe in his mind

-Shoto likes to go shopping with you (his treat of course)

-It’s a way to spend time with you and if we are being honest with ourselves here

-Todoroki is a dumb ass and would probably think a blender is an appropriate gift for you.

-so it’s better you pick out what you like and just let him pay for it

-your time is pretty much evenly divided between the three of them you are always doing something with one of them

-God help any other Alpha that tries to get close to you

-you already have your hands full with three alphas you don’t need another one taking up your free time

-the boys share that sentiment.

-It is hard enough to get time with you already and trust me none of them like sharing

-unfortunately, they are all equally hard to scare off.

-Stubborn and persistent the whole lot of them

-none of them like to fight in front of you but believe me they are throwing hands

- just not where you can see

-I don’t think it would get physically violent

-because if you saw any of them with a bruise or cut you felt obligated to clean them up

-its a lot of threatening and smack talk.

- “You better stay away from my Omega”

- “I think you mean My omega”

- “you’re both fucking crazy”

- so most of their competitions are trying to impress you

- who can get you the best gift or take you on the best date

-and so on and so on

-Bakugou loses his cool first

-he snaps at you to stop leading them on and just fuckin pick one

-(more specifically pick him)

-the others silently agree

-you are BIG Pissed like how F U C K I N G dare they

- you chew them out thoroughly like everyone is uncomfortable as you yell at the three alphas

-you are focusing on becoming a hero and don’t have time for this bullshit

- and if they are so upset about it then they can fuck right off and never speak to you again

-you give them each the silent treatment for at least a week

-Sharing may be difficult but they can’t force your hand on this

-so share they will

-expect a lot of group cuddling

-Bakugou on your right Todoroki on your left (they’ll switch if you want to cuddle Todroki’s other side)

-Izuku usually sits on the floor and lays his head on your thighs

-if he is being a little shit he will sit on your lap.

-things get crazy when any of them go into a rut

-Thank god they aren’t on the same cycle.

-During a rut is really the only time you are alone with one of them for an extended period

-no one wants to test a Rutting Alpha’s patience

-obviously, they won’t force themselves on you but like,,,,,, if that is something you want.....

-the option is there is all I’m saying.

-Bakugou pulls a complete 180 personality-wise

-he is clingy and soft and just wants to cuddle

-Todoroki follows you around keeping you safe

-it’s creepy but at least no one interrupts you while you’re trying to study.

-Izuku is probably the most chill

-he just asks you to scent something for him then he’ll leave you alone

-unless some Alpha bothers you that shit is not going to fly

-it's even worse when you go into a heat

-they all offer up their, Uhm,,, help

-like if you want

-god they are all so horny

- whether or not you want it you will get scented items for all of them

-it's oddly comforting the mix of all their scents mingling with your own

-soon enough you’ll have to choose one to be your mate

-or none of them

-or some other alpha

-but for now, the three of them are fine just being your friend

-and fighting for your love

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mycatshuman · 4 years

Text

The Emo Who Stole Christmas

Chapter 2: A Secret Relationship and Truths Revealed

Word Count: 3,634

Warnings: crying, misunderstandings but they are resolved, talk of past bullying, discrimination against hair color for being "unnatural", and an asshole mayor, cursing, let me know if I missed any.

Pairings: Pre-established Prinxiety and Logicality and Demus

Masterlist | Previous | Next | More Chapters

Thanks again to the wonderful @icequeenoriginal for being such a marvelous co-creator. This fic exists because of her so send her some love. 💜

❄🎅🎄❄🎅🎄❄🎅🎄❄🎅🎄❄🎅🎄❄

Emile frowned as they pulled up to their house with their dad. The house was dark and looked intimidating compared to the houses around it as they were lit up with lights of all colors and sizes. "No lights on. Your Pa must be out shopping."

A head popped up on the roof. "Oh! Good! I'm so glad you're home!" Emile and Patton looked up to see Logan up in the roof, wrapped in a long coat as he held a strand of lights in his arms. "I can feel it, Patton!" He exclaimed. His eyes alight with determination. Emile frowned as they watched their father. "When the town asks who has the most spectacular of lights in Whoville, they're going to say, 'Mr. Logan Lou Who!!' This is the Year!!"

Patton chuckled fondly at his husband. He glanced to the side and noticed something a bit concerning. He reached forward and lifted the object carefully. "Is this the Chandelier from our dining room!?!??!" Emile's frown deepened. They found their unease about the holidays taking root deeper.

"Its all for the cause, Honey," Logan called out. He had to be superior, he just had to be. "Oh! Emile, Honey bee! Could you be my little helper and unscrew the lightbulb from the fridge?" Emile blinked rapidly, trying to determine if their father was in fact serious. "I somehow missed that one."

Emile peered closer at their dad and noticed his tie tucked firmly in place and decided their father was in fact serious. Emile forced a smile onto their face as they walked inside carrying a small stack of presents.

"Every. Single. Year." Logan muttered as they grabbed light strands and began moving them trying to set them up. "Mr. Roman May Whovier has the best lights. But not this year! This is the year I am going to defeat that prim, perfect, prissy little prince-" Logan was interrupted by the man himself.

"Logan! Hello!" Roman called out dramatically.

Logan looked over to see Roman in a deep holiday red Santa dress with white trim, Santa hat and matching red boots, tights, and gloves. Logan frowned. "Roman."

Roman chuckled. "I've never seen so many fabulous holiday lights, Nerd!" Roman shouted from his spot on his front porch. He was just a little disappointed that he was stopped momentarily from his journey but couldn't help but tease his next-door neighbor.

"I'd probably blow every single fuse if I tried to keep up with you, Roman May!"

Roman smirked and picked up a beautiful sparkling antique. It looked almost like a large heart-shaped Christmas tree ornament, though it was missing the top. Each part sparkled individually when moved. At the very end, there were large gold tassels that Roman ran his fingers through. "Isn't this darling? It's handcrafted and near 100 years old!"

"Oh! Wow!" Logan muttered to himself, sarcastically. "I'm really impressed!"

He set it back down in its gift box carefully and turned to something covered in a sheet. "However, this is new." He turned the machine on and aimed it towards his house. Then he shot a stream of lit holiday lights up at his house and they quickly caught onto the house and strung up in a perfect line, giving his house a magazine perfect look. He walked around and blew out the smoke. He turned back to find Logan barely concealing his dropping jaw. He smirked. "Well, good night Logan!" He shot Patton an unseen sympathetic smile and snuck off with a box.

---

Logan rushed to answer his phone as Patton came behind him with a candle. "Hello?" He asked.

An unfamiliar voice answered, "Is your sub-zero chillibrator running?"

"Hold on, let me check." Logan paused and listened and heard the slight hum of their refrigerator. "Yes, my sub-zero chillerator is indeed running."

Virgil snickered, "Well then you better go catch it!" He yelled into the phone and hung up the payphone. (On the other end Patton snorted as Logan stood frozen, the dial tone blaring out from the phone speakers.) Virgil turned to Remy with a smile, "I think I broke ‘em." He chuckled. "Alright, let's go home." Virgil and Remy climbed into a trash chute. Virgil hit the side of the chute and the two of them were sucked through the chute as the lid slammed shut. As they tumbled through the tube leading up to the top of the mountain, Virgil groaned. "There has got to be a better way to do this." Soon they fell out into a pile of garbage. Virgil huffed. Then they heard rumbling from the chute. "Oh, wonderful! More trash!" Three bags fell into his lap and he rolled his eyes. He grabbed a bag as he stood up. "What is that stench?" He asked nobody. "It's absolutely fantastic!" He exclaimed sarcastically. He grabbed another bag and began dragging them behind him as he began walking home. "Come on Remy, let's go home. We can come back for the rest later." He huffed. "It's amazing just how much the Whos throw away. They really could do a lot better with recycling."

He sighed. "But it all falls to me, as always." Remy frowned in his own cat way. His father was so depressed. And he wished he could do more to help him.

------

Emile sighed as they looked around their room at all the holiday decorations and frowned. "Where are you Christmas?" Emile sang to themselves softly. "Why can't I find you? Why have you gone away?" Emile moved over to their window and looked out at Mountain Crumpet. "My world is changing. I'm rearranging. Does that mean Christmas changes too?" Emile sighed and moved to their desk where a letter for Santa sat unfinished. "Where are you Christmas? Do you remember? The child you used to know? You were so carefree! Now, nothing's easy. Did Christmas change? Or just me?" Emile hung their head and moved to get into bed, A fitful night ahead of them.

----

Virgil sighed as he opened the door to his home. He set the two bags of garbage he grabbed onto a catapult and pulled the lever. The bags slammed into a blown-up poster of Mayor Anton Who. Virgil smirked. He really did not like the Mayor. He moved away and hung up his cloak on a hook. He used his homemade elevator to get to the ground floor of his cave. "The first floor, factory rejects." Virgil stepped off the platform and moved behind a screen to get changed. He pulled off the suit and pulled on sweats, a t-shirt, and his favorite hoodie. As he walked past his phone, he checked for voicemails. "Any calls?"

"You have no new messages," the voice from his phone said.

Virgil frowned. "Odd. Better check my outgoing." He flipped a switch and his voice with a hint of Tempest Tongue came out through the speaker. "If you utter so much as one syllable, I'll hunt you down and gut you like a fish!!!" Virgil blinked. "If you'd like to fax me, press the star key." Virgil shrugged. He ran down the stairs and jumped into his couch and picked up a bag of chips. "I don't know why I ever leave this place, Remy. I have all the company I need right here."

Remy rolled their eyes, a strange feat for a cat but the amount of bullshit that came from Virgil's mouth, half the time Remy was so in need of an eye roll that the laws of anatomy had to be defied. Virgil opened the chip bag and stuffed them in his mouth. "Am I just eating because I'm bored?"

"Oh, you’re bored? I can change that~" a husky voice whispered in Virgil's ear, causing him to jump a mile high. Roman grinned and came around the couch and hopped into Virgil's lap.

"Roman!" Virgil coughed out. "Don't do that!!"

Roman chuckled and snuggled into Virgil's neck. "But it's so fun. And you look so flustered!"

At this, Virgil's blush only went darker. "Roman!" He exclaimed, his voice an octave higher.

Roman grinned and pressed a kiss to Virgil's neck before pulling away. "I got you something today."

"Ro…"

Roman huffed. "Yes, I know what you're going to say. But I really, really, want you to have this!" Roman quickly pulled out a box and set it on his lap. Virgil sighed but pulled his arms away from their place around Roman's waist. Roman pouted slightly at the loss of contact before holding his breath as Virgil pulled out the antique he had shown Logan earlier. Virgil's eyes widened as he realized how fragile the gift his love had given him.

"Roman...this is…"

Roman bit his lip. "Do you like it?"

Virgil gulped, wanting to look at Roman to answer but too scared to look away from the gift for fear of dropping it. "I love it...but-"

Roman shook his head. "I didn't, as you would say, "waste any money" on it. Although, how can anything be a waste of money if it's for you~" Roman said with a wink towards Virgil.

Virgil raised an eyebrow and smirked. "So you stole it then?"

Roman made an offended Princey noise. "No!" He exclaimed and then calmed down. He looked down at his hands and fidgeted. "I-um…This was in my family for decades. And it was passed down to the firstborn and they are supposed to give it to the person they want to marry."

Virgil blinked as he tried to process what exactly was happening. "Wha….are you…." Virgil blinked rapidly as he felt his eyes getting watery. "Are you? Is this a marriage proposal???"

Roman bit his lip. "Maybe," he whispered.

"I-" Virgil paused. "Can you take this?" He asked as he handed the gift back to Roman. Roman blinked rapidly. Is he saying no??!

Virgil picked up Roman and set him on the couch gently before running off to grab something. He came back to find Roman in the same position only with tears running down his face. "Love??" Virgil asked and he kneeled in front of Roman. He reached forward and wiped away Roman's tears. "Why are you crying, Ro?"

"Are ...are you saying 'no'?"

Virgil's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "No! I'm not-" Virgil groaned and facepalmed. He brought out a small box. "I'm- not."

Roman looked down at the box and let out a gasp. He carefully set the antique down as quickly as he could. He picked up the box with trembling hands and opened it to find an extravagant ring with a blood-red ruby and gold plated band. It looked like something out of a fairytale. Tears streamed down Roman's face as he put the ring on his ring finger and launched himself at Virgil, tackling his lover to the ground. "Yes!! Of course, I'm going to marry you!!! Yes!! Yes!!! Yes!!!" Roman exclaimed as he planted kisses all over Virgil's face.

Virgil giggled as he held onto Roman's hips to stop him from falling over. Once Roman stopped, he laid down on top of Virgil as the other's arms came up to wrap around his boyfriend-his fiance's torso. Roman sighed. "I love you, Virgil."

Virgil smiled dreamily as he snuggled closer to Roman (if that was even possible) and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "I love you too, Roman."

Eventually, the two moved to the bed and cuddled underneath the covers as they fell asleep to the soft hum of music.

-------

Emile sat at their desk as they frowned. They had many questions in their curious heart. Why did the Grinch hate Christmas so much? Where did it all start? They had their Pa's blabbacorder and they had used it to gather as much information of the Grinch as they could.

Emile pressed play and was taken back to earlier that day when they stopped to talk to the elderly couple who had raised the Grinch.

*Flashback*

"In your own words, please tell me all that you know about the Grinch."

The couple in front Emile shared a glance, not used to being asked about their son. "Well," they started. "First, you should know we didn't name him Grinch. We named him Virgil," Remus said as he knitted a green sweater.

"Virgil?" Emile asked.

Damien nodded. "Yes. Virgil. Now, he came the way all the Who children come." Remus perked up about to say something only for Damien to cut him off. "On calm nights, Baby Whos drift down from the sky in their own pumersellas."

"So that's how it works!" Emile exclaimed.

Damien nodded and elbowed Remus to stop him from shaking his head. Remus frowned but nodded and picked up where his husband left off. "It was Christmas Eve, and a very strange wind blew that night! It was tasty!"

Damien rolled his eyes fondly at his husband. "We were having our annual holiday get-together, while Virgil landed right at our doorstep. Nobody realized he was out there until morning came. But when we saw him, we knew right away he was special."

"How did you know?"

"Well, his hair was the most vibrant purple we had ever seen!"

"Purple??" Emile asked. It was not a natural hair color for Whos.

Remy's nodded! "Yeah! Very purple! And that morning, we tried to give him cookies! We came over with some cookies on a Santa plate. Then he said Santa!! His first words were Santa! And then we let him hold the plate and he took a bite out of it!!"

Damien rolled his eyes. "It near gave me a heart attack but he didn't get hurt and he actually tried the cookie and he liked that better. After that Remus learned how to cook and made things into weird shapes and Virgil would eat it so I was very grateful for it."

"We raised him the best we could."

*End Flashback*

Emile paused the recording and switched to a different one, trying to listen in a different order than they had first heard them. They pressed play and they were taken back to when they first talked to their neighbor, Roman May.

*Flashback*

"The Grinch?" Roman asked Emile. Emile nodded. Roman bit his lip. "He...was a very quiet child. I hardly remember him though. I was way too busy with my studies to socialize." A memory of Roman staring at Virgil in class dreamily flashed through Roman's mind. He bit his lip. "The class we were in was going to have an annual holiday gift exchange…"

*End Flashback*

Emile paused the recording and switched to another one. They remembered their interview with Mayor Anton Who.

*Flashback*

"The Grinch...he liked Roman. Now, Roman was my boyfriend." Emile kept their face as passive as they could, but they found it hard to believe that Roman really was the Mayor's boyfriend. "You know, I really dislike discussing this Grinch business so close to Christmas…But maybe if you hear the truth, then you can understand why…" Anton stopped and glared down at his assistant who was cleaning his shoes. "Put your back into it!" Anton turned back to Emile found it really rude of the mayor to treat his assistant so cruelly. "I took the Grinch under my wing."

*End Flashback*

Emile paused the recording and unpaused another one. Damien's voice came out through the recording.

*Flashback*

"Virgil told us that he was picked on by most of the students In his class. He told us Anton Who was picking on him the most for his crush."

Remus frowned. "He told him, 'You don't have a chance with him. You're 8 years old and you have purple hair!' It really upset Virgil."

*End Flashback*

Emile frowned. They paused the recording and skipped to a moment they remembered in the Mayor's interview. They pressed play and the Mayor's voice came through again. "He had this…unnatural hair. It wasn't right." Emile paused the recording again. They turned back to the recording of their interview with Roman. Emile was transported back to what happened during this part of their recording.

*Flashback*

"Did I have a crush on the Grinch??? Of course not!!!"

Emile raised an eyebrow. "I didn't ask you that."

Roman panicked slightly. "Right…..umm"

*End Flashback*

Emile stopped the recording. I think I'm on to something! They quickly pressed play on the recording with Virgil's parents. Remus's voice came through the speaker. "Virgil came home that day before his classes gift exchange and he was even more in the spirit of gift-giving than before."

"It's not that he doesn't like Christmas," Damien's voice broke in. "It's just, he doesn't like how commercialized it has become. And that whole evening, he worked on creating a gift for his crush. But the bullying from Anton made him buy cheap brown hair dye. He came home that day, just before we all moved up into the mountain-"

"You moved up into the mountain?" That was their voice.

"Yes," came Remus's voice. "Just until he was old enough to live on his own. But he told us that his teacher had asked if everyone had given their gift, Virgil called out that he hadn't and stepped out where he had hidden behind the coats."

"He had a bag over his head to hide his hair and the teacher told him to take it off. He did and hid behind an open book. She told him to set that down too. And then she told him to take off the hood on his hoodie. After that, everyone laughed at him. Even the teacher."

Emile stopped the recording and switched to Roman's. "He was so upset. He ended up throwing the gift he made for me, it smashed into the wall. Then he picked up the tree and threw that as well!" Emile paused the recording as he remembered something the mayor and his assistant had said about this moment. "The anger." That was the mayor.

"The fury!" said the assistant.

Emile frowned and pushed play on Roman's recording again. "The muscles!" A pause. "It was such a horrible day. They were so cruel to him." A barely concealed sob. "I could hardly bear it … that was the last time anyone ever saw him. The very last time."

Emile stopped the recording. "I need to talk to Roman again," they said as they stood up and prepared to go talk to Roman again.

-----

"Emile?" Roman asked as he opened the door. "What are you doing here? Did you forget to ask a question?"

Emile shook their head as they stepped inside and Roman closed the door. "No, I was curious."

"About?" Roman asked as they sat down across from each other.

"What..what do you really think about Virgil?"

Roman froze. He subconsciously played with the ring on his finger sitting beneath his gloves that he had hurriedly pulled on before answering the door. "I-" Roman bit his lip, debating with himself before he pulled off his gloves.

Emile frowned, unsure how this was relevant but paused as they noticed the ring. "Did-did the Mayor give that to you?"

Roman sighed and shook his head no. "Virgil did. I...lied earlier. Virgil is…" Roman sighed as he got this far way dreamy look in his eyes. "Virgil is the only man I could ever love. Unlike most of the Whos in this town, Virgil sees me. Actually sees me. I'm not just some pretty face or voice. Virgil loves me for me."

Emile's eyes widened. "So...are you saying the Grinch isn't bad??"

Roman frowned. "Grinch! Ugh! It's such a horrible name! One that Mayor Anton started. Virgil is the kindest person I have ever met. He just wants to be left alone. And he likes being our local cryptid." Roman sighed, starstruck. "Isn't he the greatest?"

Emile smiled softly. "You really love him."

Roman nodded. "I do. We-" he looked down at his hand. "We're engaged now!"

"Congratulations!"

Roman smiled. "Thank you."

"When…did you see Virgil again after that day?"

Roman sighed. "It was sometime 8 or 9 years later. Anton had asked me to the school dance. And I was so furious with him. I would much rather go with Virgil. Plus, he had played a big part in driving him away. So right after school, I grabbed the gift Virgil had made me, I had kept it in a box all those years, and I marched up Mount Crumpit in the hopes I would be able to see where he might have gone. And then I found a door. I knocked, and his parents opened it."

Roman paused. "I was in such a shock. And I asked to talk to Virgil and they, although suspicious, let me. And Virgil fixed the gift after I apologized for not standing up for him. After that, we just…kept in touch. I would visit him at least once every week. And eventually, after his parents moved back to town for good, we went on a date. And…” Roman smiled fondly. "The rest is history I suppose."

Emile smiled. "I think...I might want to make him the holiday cheermeister."

Roman blinked. "Oh hun, I don't know. He has anxiety and probably won't accept."

Emile shrugged. "It's worth a shot."

“You’re right about that…” Roman grinned. "I'll help you convince him!"

"Thank you!"

"You're welcome."

Emile stood to leave only to pause before they reached the door. "Where's the gift he made you now?"

Roman smiled softly. "Its sitting right beside my bed." Emile smiled and nodded before leaving. The Grinch wasn't bad. He wasn't even a Grinch after all. He was just a victim of bullying. As Emile walked home, he decided he was going to make the town see the real "Grinch".

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Everything Taglist: @spxced-oxt @superwholocked-for-life @mirror2thespirit @aroundofapplesauce @lyditist @little-euro-girl @unicornofdarknessstuff @maryann-draws

The Emo Who Stole Christmas Taglist: @logical-princey

38 notes · View notes

ragdollrory · 5 years

Text

The Jasmine Snapdragon

The sky was still a pastel mix of orange and pink when Azula’s name was called by the barista, and she picked her latte up at the counter. The shuffle in her phone switched to a calm tune, and she walked the two blocks that separated the coffee shop from her uncle’s shop, a hand searching through her bag for the heap of keys the man had given her the previous night.

A couple of minutes and several light switches later, soft music filling the room, she was comfortably sitting behind the counter. Paper cup in a hand, and a book on flowers and their meanings in the other.

It was only a couple of weeks until Iroh returned from his trip, but Azula figured if she’d been tasked with taking care of the place, then she might as well do her research. Plus, Zuko had assured her time and time again he could do with some weeks of her being absent at the company, and promptly taken her workload from her hands. So it was not like she had a lot more to do, as she waited for clients to show up. Once she tackled this, she’d start a novel, or another econ book, whichever caught her fancy first.

The place was nice enough to be in, once you got past the array of colors and aromas. Neat and varied, with some really exotic numbers as well. Or bright, happy, and completely adorable, in the words of Ty Lee, who often visited to have tea with her uncle. That was a friendship Azula could understand, but would rather stay the hell away from, lest she got her aura read, and cleaned with the weird blends the chubby man and hyperactive friend were so fond of.

Once the coffee was done, nose still in the book, Azula went onto checking the water in the vases, removing the withered flowers, and finally flipping the sign on the door over to Open. It was just a couple of weeks, she could do it, she’d lived through worse after all. The vultures at the company’s legal department, university, the institution, her family… This would be a piece of cake.

And really, as days trickled by, running the shop turned out to be effortless. Between her good memory, and knack for reading people, Azula found bouquet making to be an easy enough activity. She’d spotted several types- or stereotypes even- of customers so far.

First on her list, and last in her esteem, were cheaters. Those she could smell the second they walked through the door. Anxious as they looked through the store's varied options, toying with their wedding band when they were married, and checking the mobile an excessive amount of times while at it. They were easy to spot, and easy to sell to, and since Azula couldn't really skin them, at least she made sure her uncle's shop made a profit out of their disgusting habit.

"You don't really want to pick those." Came her usual opening line, with a discreet roll of her eyes, as they automatically went for the red roses. "Those are nice, sure, but it's a bit obvious, don't you think?”

She made her way around the counter, to point out some other options, not trying too hard to hide the disenchantment in her voice. “I’d say some chrysanthemum could be nice. Red means love, of course. White is for loyalty, and devoted love.” She let a second tick by before continuing. “Then yellow is sorrow, neglected love… perhaps an array of them would be good.

“Unless it’s not for the wife, but the lover. In that case I’d go with the red roses after all.”

It was most amusing how they just itched to buy and get it all done with, no matter what she decided was best to sell them. Always paying in cash, and oftentimes buying for both the spouse and lover. Sometimes Azula wondered if whoever received them understood the message behind the pretty arrangements. If they stayed together afterwards as well. Sometimes the client would return, and she’d known they’d not read between the lines of the flowers. Sad, really.

Probably one of her favourite type of client was the opposite of the first one, the long-run partners. They usually went in with a clearer idea in their mind, having gifted flowers throughout their marriage, or having read certain species was best for the current anniversary they were on. And their smile as they talked about their loved one was contagious.

Those, Azula helped with genuine interest, taking her time to put together a bouquet that would bring out the same joy in the receiving end as it did to the buyer.

“Perhaps it’s not the most common flower to gift, but Honeysuckles carry meanings of devoted love, and lasting bonds.” She explained to a man in his mid-sixties, who was looking for a gift for his wife of over forty years.

They’d gone over several options already, before he asked for the trumpet-shaped flower, and Azula couldn’t help but to monologue a little about the things she’d read on the plant. She even went as far as to mention the properties attributed to it when using it in a tea blend. The whole flower shop vibe was clearly getting to her, although she’d rather believe it was the man’s willingness to listen to her.

“If you plant this,” Making a quick trip to the back, where her uncle had the greenhouse, Azula plucked a little sprout of the plant in vivid coral color, to hand to the man alongside the bouquet, “then hummingbirds and butterflies are bound to come to your garden.”

He’d returned twice since then, once with his wife, who had brought her homemade cookies, and showed her pictures of the little plant in its new pot. It had been a nice day.

Other clients in her list were teenagers, and those were most amusing to tend to. Never sure of what they were looking for, blushing every couple of seconds, or everytime Azula asked them a question about the person receiving the flowers.

They usually came with limited money also, wrinkled in their pockets where they nervously pushed their hands, or in their backpacks under a pile of trash they often had to take out over the counter to be able to find the bills.

“Okay, listen to me, take lilies.” Azula’s patience was running thin with this one, but she’ll try her best not to throttle the girl, because it reminded her a little of Mai. And well, because it would not look good on the store. “They stand for refined beauty, and orange ones are passion. She won’t just like it, she’ll love it.

“Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.” Whatever it was that made the girl believe her, she was thankful for it, and she left with a stuttered thank you, and a nice arrangement of four lilies, while Azula was left methodically straightening the rumpled bills against the counter’s edge.

No, tending to the store was easy, fun even. And somehow- and Azula wasn’t pointing at people, but it had been Ty Lee- her uncle found out just how well she’d been doing her job, and decided to extend his trip a couple more weeks. It wasn’t the most awful thing to happen, but she’d been itching to go back to the company already. Still, Iroh hardly ever left the city, and two more weeks could harm no-one.

Azula had just sold a large basket of pink tulips for a baby welcoming gift, and was at the back fixing the vase, when the door chimes announced a new buyer. She called she’d be there in a minute through the parted door, getting a ‘take your time’ in return.

“Oh, you really don’t want to pick those.” Came her already trademark phrase, as she walked back into the shop, and caught the look of the newest customer.

Tall, big- so freaking big, probably a gym fanatic by the looks of it. He was tanned, with messy waves of ombré hair to his shoulders, and black ink tattoos spiralling down his arms from under his t-shirt sleeves. So, a surfer maybe? He had the aura of it, and Azula was positive the tattoos were Hawaiian.

“I’m sorry?” He turned to her from his inspection of some peonies, curiosity very vivid in his expression, a raised eyebrow towards her. Half his face was hidden by a heavy beard, but Azula had to blink a couple of times under the deep blue of his eyes. A smile tugged at his lips, and she shook her head to clear it.

“Peonies, you probably won’t want to pick those.” She took the tulips back to their fridge, taking a moment too long under the cool air, before turning back to the man. “They are linked to romance, and marriage, often times used to propose.”

“Okay.” He agreed without fuss, and Azula thought she was closer to her goal of guessing correctly. “Should I worry that you’re a mind reader, or-” His smile widened with a breathy chuckle, and she found herself smiling back at him.

“Not at all. I wouldn’t be in a flower shop if I were.” Rolling her eyes playfully, Azula moved onto what she figured were the flowers he was looking for. “So maybe roses, those are always popular, or irises-”

“Where would you be?” He cut through her speech.

“What?” She really wasn’t used to getting questions that were not flower related, not by first time buyers at least.

“I think this is a nice place to be, a happy one. But if you weren't here, where would you be?” The man commented, hands pushed into the back pockets of his worn-out jeans. She tried to ignore how he towered over her, giving a perfect view of the shirt hugging his chest as he did so.

"I, um. I'm a lawyer actually. I work at my family's company." Azula wasn't sure why she was hesitating over that, almost as if she regretted her position there. Or the fact that her name was on the very building she worked at. "I'm just covering for my uncle here. The shop is his."

"Hmm" The man gave her an appraising look, as if he were trying to picture her in a suit, maybe. Or maybe she was thinking too much into it. "Well, you seem to know quite a bit of flowers for being covering for him, then."

"Yes, well- I read a lot." Her answer was probably a bit off, but this whole conversation was. He was here to buy flowers for someone, some Barbie girl he met at the beach probably, and she had a book to go back to. Azula moved back to the flowers. "So, lilacs are good too, a magenta one is passion, so you could combine it with a-"

"Passion? No, no." He interrupted again, and this time she huffed, and turned to him with a hand on her hip. "I think you got the mind reading wrong here, who do you think I'm buying for?"

"I don't know." It was her turn to give him a once over now, and what a mistake it was. His smile was full of mischief, and her stomach had the gall to flip dangerously. "A Tinder date?"

His laugh filled the shop, loud and lively, and his eyes tightened with it, happy lines forming at the sides. Azula frowned, arms crossing at her chest.

“No, God no. Tinder dates, yeah- those aren’t my thing, really.” His voice was breathy when he spoke, shaking his head with a smile. He ran fingers through his hair. When his eyes found hers, there was softness in them. “I need something for my daughter. She has a ballet recital today.”

“Oh.” Oh, indeed. Azula’s arms dropped to her sides, shoulders losing the tension she’d gathered in about ten seconds. A daughter. “Okay, that’s- that’s nice. And easier, I guess.”

She was ashamed to say she was ashamed, and was too proud to apologise for the mistake. And there was also the fact that he seemed completely unfazed by the whole thing, and followed her around the shop in silence for the next couple of minutes as Azula pointed out options for him to pick. She could feel his eyes on her, making warmth climb up her neck, and making her breath catch whenever she turned and caught them on hers.

“I think daisies and sunflowers will do.” He said after some time, and she nodded, picking up one of the vases to take to the counter. He took the other one.

The music around them was the only thing filling the silence as Azula trimmed the stems and prepared the arrangement on a bright colorful paper. Her eyes trailed to the tattoos on his arm every so often, where he leaned on the counter.

“So what about me made you believe I was on a date?” The question definitely made her blush now, and she just focused harder on the flowers, thinking on an appropriate answer. There was none.

“Your looks.” She shrugged, not really wanting to say more, but the rise of his eyebrows encouraged for more. There was a line through his left one, Azula noted, a scar. It made him look better somehow. “I don’t know, okay. I just-”

Her hands motioned over to him, as if that made any sense, as if she made sense anymore.

“You just look like a man who would pick someone up easily, and- have many dates probably. Just, forget about it, okay?” She did not plead, she never pleaded. Azula tied the ribbon on the bouquet, and handed it over. “Here, these are on the house.”

He stood there for a moment, considering her words perhaps, about to laugh at her again maybe. And then his hand brushed over hers as he took the flowers. A shiver ran up her arm. God, please make him go now, before she made more of a fool of herself.

“I insist.” Her voice was just a tad strained, and he stopped in his pulling out of the wallet.

“Okay, then.” Azula dared to look up, and he was sporting a really soft smile that made her chest ache. Damn it, why wasn’t he going away already? “Tikaani will be very happy with them, thank you.”

A sigh she didn’t know she was holding left her lips as he finally reached the door, but he turned once again, and she had to hurry to school her face to something that didn’t say ‘I was checking you out’.

“I didn’t catch your name, if you don’t mind me asking.” There weren’t many times in her life where she’d felt like this, spellbound by a total stranger, but this right here- as he stood by the door with a corner of his lips pulling up on a charming smile- this was one.

“Azula.” And then it was a full grin, and who had given him the right to just look so happy?

“A beautiful name. I’m Tonraq.” Azula thought she managed a nod before he left, but wasn’t even sure about that, and then she dropped herself very unceremoniously on the chair.

She had only managed to take a couple of steadying breaths, when the door chimed again, and she tried to clear her head to take on this new customer.

“Hi, can I- Oh.” Tonraq was there again, plucking two flowers from the vases, amaryllis, and daffodil. She tried very hard not to bring forward the meanings. It didn’t work; joy, new beginnings, and worth beyond beauty. She didn’t dare breathe.

“So I was wondering, since you wouldn’t let me pay for the arrangement, that I could pay for dinner? Friday night? It’s not Tinder, but I did bring flowers.” He smirked, and she had the sudden urge to push a finger to his chest and tell him a few truths, and- and kiss him as well. How unfair that he could do that.

“You think you’re so funny, don’t you?” Azula couldn’t help the smile from reaching her lips, no matter how hard she tried. She plucked the flowers from his hand. “Fine. Only- because you picked them wisely.”

Grabbing a pen and a store card, she wrote down her number, and handed it over. His fingers lingered on hers a little longer this time, her heart hurried behind her ribs.

“I’ll pick you up at six, Princess.” He winked, and turned on his heels.

“I’m not- don’t-” She tried calling back on him, but it was too late, he was hopping into a Jeep already. And she was smiling at the nickname anyways. Azula smelled the flowers as if she wasn’t surrounded by them, her cheeks burning with the promise of the date.

If he thought she were a Princess, he should’ve picked a purple iris.

#azula #atla #azulaweek2019 #azula week 2019 #flower shop au #oc - tonraq #amaarok

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gethealthy18-blog · 4 years

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16 Things to Do With Used Coffee Grounds

New Post has been published on http://healingawerness.com/news/16-things-to-do-with-used-coffee-grounds/

16 Things to Do With Used Coffee Grounds

I really enjoy the challenge of trying to use every last bit of something.

There are so many wonderful things you can make from things most people throw away. Like making nutrient-dense bone broth from a leftover roasted chicken, or repurposing scarves or brown paper grocery bags to make an eco-friendly gift wrap. These things can be expensive if you buy them anyway, so it’s a win-win!

Used coffee grounds are another great opportunity for recycling, and they have tons of uses that you probably never even thought about!

How to Repurpose Used Coffee Grounds

So many people wake up so fixated on their morning cup of coffee that they toss the grounds right into the trash without a second thought!

However, there are so many wonderful things you can do with used coffee grounds. The next time you go to throw out those lovely grounds out of pure habit, reconsider and see if you’d rather give one of these ideas a try instead.

If you don’t drink coffee but would still like to try any of the following ideas, just bring a clean container to your local coffee shop or Starbucks and ask them to save you their used grounds. If you ask nicely, I bet they’ll comply!

For Your Beauty Routine

You might want to store some of those morning coffee grinds in your shower for your afternoon pick-me-up. You can use it to make your hair shiny, as a body scrub, or even use it as a star ingredient in your next batch of homemade soap.

Eliminate Build-Up in Your Hair

After making the switch to natural shampoo, some people experience build-up in their hair. This is a natural process as your body adjusts to being cleaned without the harsh chemicals that previously stripped your scalp of its natural oils.

Used coffee grounds are great for getting rid of that extra build-up. To exfoliate your hair, use 1/4 cup to 1/2 cup of used coffee grounds, depending on hair length. Wet your hair thoroughly and massage the grounds in, giving special attention to your scalp. It might help to work in sections. Once you have covered the whole scalp, thoroughly wet your hair again and use your natural shampoo to work up a nice lather. Rinse and repeat, if needed. Finish with your normal conditioner or apple cider vinegar rinse.

Repeat this once a month or as needed. I was amazed at how light and shiny my hair felt after just one application!

Note: If you have blonde or color-treated hair, you may want to test an inconspicuous area to make sure the coffee doesn’t change its color. I personally didn’t experience any color change, but it’s best to make sure before you do a full exfoliation.

Make a Body Scrub

Coffee makes a great body scrub. In addition to sloughing off dead skin cells, coffee grounds can help reduce the appearance of cellulite since caffeine has a tightening effect.

If you have ever tried my Vanilla Latte Sugar Scrub, you know how invigorating it is. The coffee grounds and sugar gently exfoliate the skin leaving it soft and smooth. The massaging action also stimulates blood flow, so it’s healthy for your skin as well.

Note that you should use dry coffee for this sugar scrub, as the moisture in used coffee grounds will cause it to go bad.

To make a simple coffee scrub, mix coffee grounds (about ¼ cup) with an equal amount of sea salt and 2 tablespoons of coconut oil. You can also add 5-10 drops of your favorite essential oil. I used peppermint because who doesn’t love the smell of peppermint coffee?

To use, massage 1-2 tablespoons of the scrub into your skin during a shower, focusing on problem areas such as legs, belly, and derriere to fight cellulite. Rinse with warm water. Repeat 2-3 times a week. This amount should be enough for roughly 6 applications. Store in the fridge and use within two weeks.

Make Soap

Coffee grounds make a wonderfully exfoliating addition to homemade soap. Plus, it comes with the same cellulite-fighting powers mentioned above!

To make an extra invigorating shower bar, add 1-2 teaspoons of used coffee grounds per pound of soap after you’ve completed the mixing process.

In the Garden

While coffee itself is acidic, its grounds are actually closer to neutral because most of the acidity is “washed” out when the coffee is brewed. This makes them great for use in the garden! Here’s how to use it.

For Your Compost Pile

If you aren’t composting, you really should give it a try — especially if you have a garden. Composting is really easy to do and adds lots of beneficial nutrients to your soil.

Used coffee grounds are considered green matter for compost and should not make up more than 25% of your pile. If you are just adding grounds from your own coffee pot, you probably won’t add too much if you’re composing enough other material, like grass clippings and eggshells. Coffee filters are biodegradable as well, so go ahead and throw that into the mix!

Help Plants and Flowers Grow

To give your plants a nitrogen boost, scatter used coffee grounds to amend your garden soil and till them into the top few inches. Doing this will help aerate the soil and also give plants a nitrogen boost.

Be sure to spread some coffee grounds on your flower beds as well. Hydrangeas, azaleas, rhododendrons, and other acid-loving plants will bloom better than ever.

Attract Worms

Earthworms love coffee grounds, and that’s a good thing! We want these garden helpers to break down organic matter and move nutrients down into the soil. Plus, if you enjoy fishing, you’ll grow some nice fat worms for your hook.

Keep Pests Away

While coffee grounds attract earthworms, they also act as a repellent for pests like slugs and snails. Make a barrier around plants that are susceptible to these unwanted critters, as they hate the abrasive texture.

Grow Mushrooms

Save on the farmers market splurge and grow your own organic mushrooms at home. You’ll need a lot of coffee grounds for this, so save them up!

Here is a good tutorial on how to grow mushrooms using coffee grounds. I haven’t personally tried this, but it looks like a fun project.

Around the House

Freshen up your cleaning routine with your coffee grind leftovers. You can use it to get odors out of tricky places, or even use them to make cleaning out the fireplace easier (yes, seriously!).

Deodorize the Fridge

You don’t need baking soda for this job! Simply place a bowl of used coffee grounds in your refrigerator to absorb odors, and replace them once a month. Instead of throwing them away, toss them into your compost pile. Congratulations, you got three uses out of this batch!

Clean Your Hands

Used coffee grounds are great for getting odors out of your hands after cooking. Whenever you chop onions or garlic, or work with fish, try scrubbing your hands well with used coffee grounds to remove the lingering smell.

Melt Icy Sidewalks and Driveways

If you ran out of salt to sprinkle on your porch, good news — used coffee grounds will work just as well! The acidity of the coffee combined with the grittiness of its texture makes for an ideal way to melt ice. Use it anywhere after you shovel for best results.

Clear Out the Garbage Disposal

Here’s a satisfying way to use coffee grounds really quickly! Use a very small amount to help deodorize a stinky garbage disposal. Large amounts might clog up the pipes, so be sure to use it very sparingly — and flush it down with lots of water.

Scrub Your Stubborn Pots and Pans

Got build-up on your cookware that even your heartiest sponge can’t erase? Try using coffee grounds to scrape off those stubborn bits of caked-on food. Be sure to rinse thoroughly before setting them in the drying rack. (Or buy non-toxic non-stick pans and save the scrubbing.)

Aids in Fireplace Clean-up

If you have a wood-burning stove or fireplace, old coffee grounds will become your best friend on cleaning day. Before sweeping out those ashes, cover them with a layer of wet coffee grounds to moisten and weigh them down. This will greatly reduce the amount of ash that will float up and coat your living room when you scoop them out.

Get Rid of Fleas

Does Fido have fleas again? Give him a good shampoo, then rub used coffee grounds all over his fur (just don’t let him eat it!). Like slugs or snails, fleas don’t enjoy coffee and this ought to be enough to get rid of most of them. Of course, this is no replacement to a prescription, so check with your vet if this treatment doesn’t work.

Crafts for Kids (or You!)

Feeling artsy? Try these fun ideas for your next creative project.

Create Vintage-Looking Paper

Soaking paper in coffee ground water can add an antique, old-world look to a piece of plain white paper. Bring 1 cup of water to a boil and remove from heat. Stir in 1/2 cup used coffee grounds and let them sit for about 15 minutes, stirring occasionally. Then, paint your paper with the coffee water by applying once or twice per side, drying with a hair dryer in between coats. This gives the paper a somewhat stiff, slightly crinkled look and feel that’s perfect for scrapbooking.

For added effect, burn the edges slightly with a lighter. This paper also makes a wonderful treasure map for adventurous kids.

Make Fossils

This is great for school-aged kids. My kids love gathering little sticks and leaves when they are playing outside and they always want to bring them in and use them for crafts and little collections. Make this coffee ground dough and press with leaves, sticks, berries, etc. to make little fossils.

All you need is used coffee grounds, cold, coffee, salt, and flour (hey, just because we don’t eat it doesn’t mean we can’t play with it!)

Make round patties on a baking sheet lined with wax paper and let your kids make impressions using the “nature collection” as my daughter calls it. My kids like to use toy dinosaurs to make footprint impressions too.

Do you repurpose used coffee grounds? Did I miss any ideas? Share below!

Source: https://wellnessmama.com/77840/used-coffee-grounds/

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diaryofaninsanewriter · 4 years

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As a mother of two and a working professional, a trip to the supermarket meant loading the trolley with the yummiest snacks that my kids and I can have while we breeze through my busy day. Those who are following my blog will know that in early 2018, my family and I committed to health transformation.

When anyone in the family falls ill, as mothers, we feel responsible and feel guilty. Our minds keep racing towards finding out what could have gone wrong.

As I walked along my fitness journey I realized, as mothers, we make all efforts to ensure that our family is always healthy.

Television, social media, apps, hoardings, store promotions, sales – just everywhere one sees products that profess to make your family fit as a fiddle.

The irony is that the very products you are buying to make your family healthy are the same ones that that are harming them.

I made many mistakes without realizing that are actually harming my family instead of helping them. After discussing with my husband, we underwent a total lifestyle change.

Here are 7 ‘healthy’ foods in my kitchen that were secretly killing my family.

1. Store bought ghee

Browse through the internet and you will find scores of links speaking about the benefits of ghee. There are hundreds of brands available that provide the convenience of just opening a bottle & offering “goodness and health” to your family. Store bought ghee contains chemicals and preservatives that are harmful to the body. At the same time, they are heavy on the pocket too.

Solution: Make ghee at home. It’s very easy & convenient.

Impact on health: I noticed that my husband’s & my acidity went down completely. Also, there is a certain fragrance of purity in home-made ghee. I have lost weight despite daily ghee consumption. My family loves the taste. My son feels more alert and at sports in school, my kids run faster.

2. Health Drinks

The goodness of milk flavoured with scoops of health powders. There are so many commercials that depict modern mothers who lovingly make their child chug a glass of milk that contains the “health” powder. The downside, again, is that they contain preservatives and flavouring substances (chemicals). So your child is actually chugging down a glass of chemicals in the milk. Most importantly, it also contains SUGAR – that poses several health risks in children and adults.

Solution: Make health powder at home using dry fruits.

Impact on health: I noticed that my children’s stamina was much better. They felt less tired despite a hectic schedule as school and play. The health drinks used to give them a burst of energy and then a low (natural effect of sugar) – with homemade health powders, they are getting healthy from within and also stay active throughout the day.

3. Refined White Sugar

Sugar is very important for the body and provides energy for all our activity. However, your health depends on the kind of sugar you are consuming: refined or natural. Refined sugar comes loaded with health hazards ranging from tooth decay to unhealthy weight gain to lifestyle diseases like diabetes. Many of us cannot do without our morning ‘chai’, the sugar in it seems to help us to kick-start our busy day. Sugar makes us dependent and taking it away from your diet can cause cravings.

Solution: Use natural sweeteners like organic jaggery for tea, beverages, and sweets. You can get loads of healthy sugar from all kinds of fruits. Alternatively, you can use raisins to feed your or your family’s cravings.

Impact on health: After you and your family get over the initial withdrawal symptoms of staying away from sugar. You will find yourself far more alert and focused and your weight loss will be faster. There are many other physiological and psychological benefits of ditching refined sugar.

4. Biscuits

For a while now, a packet of biscuits has become a quick replacement for meals in many households and offices. One finds it easier to open a pack than cooking a meal to crave hunger pangs. The downside is that apart from containing preservatives and chemicals, biscuits contain an unusually high amount of salt and sugar that is harmful to your family’s health.

Solution: Use your weekend wisely. Plan and prepare simple snacks that can substitute for biscuits – nashta puri, khakra, shankar pali, chakli, thepla, dhokla, kachori, etc. The advantage of preparing these at home is that you can control the proportions of salt/sugar and the quality of the ingredients used.

Alternatively, you can scout for home chefs who would be happy to provide you with these healthy snacks at a lower price than the store.

Impact on health: You will notice how your family gets healthier and calmer because of the decrease in harmful stuff they consume.

5. Instant noodles & pasta

This one is truly heart-breaking. My love affair with instant noodles dates back to childhood days. However, the fact remains that these contain a high level of salt, preservatives, and chemicals. With great difficulty, I removed instant noodles and pasta from my kitchen. I had to take efforts and cook fresh meals each time my children or husband had hunger pangs. However, I noticed that they reached out for healthier alternatives over time.

Solution: Plan your meal times in a way that you can serve fresh snacks like poha, upma, idlis, dosas to your family. If you are a working person, you can keep fresh fruits, home-made snacks handy.

Impact on health: With great difficulty, my kids moved away from unhealthy food to healthy food. It led to better moods, higher energy levels, and assertive behavior.

6. Vegetable oils

None of the vegetable oils is vegetable at all. Cooking oils are processed using chemical solvents, steamers, neutralizers, de-waxers, bleach & deodorizers before being bottled. For many years, I was misled into buying ‘healthy’ oils for my family till I came across this DNA article: Why you should avoid consuming vegetable oil at all costs.

Experts say common oils you must avoid include, Canola, cottonseed, soybean, and corn.

Solution: Use home-made ghee. Alternatively, you can use organic unrefined virgin coconut oil for high heat cooking. For salads, hummus etc, you can opt for extra virgin olive oil. Check and make sure that these oils don’t have anything else added to them.

Impact on health: I am finding a marked change in my husband and my cholesterol levels. We feel healthier and it has contributed to my weight loss.

7. Package juice

Many health-conscious individuals say no to aerated drinks and alcohol and reach out for a packaged juice instead. As mothers, we find it convenient to place a tetra pack of juice in the child’s dabba.

Did you know that Packaged juices are high in fructose and low in fibre? It can lead to increased insulin resistance. Next time you grab a packaged juice thinking its healthy, stop yourself immediately. When compared to freshly squeezed juices and fresh whole fruits, packaged juices are unhealthy. This article from Times Of India tells you why. (click to read)

Solution: Eat or serve whole fruit in the form of fruit salads or eaten as is. If your children or family members are fond of juice then prepare and serve freshly squeezed juice.

Impact on health: You will ensure that you are not loading unnecessary sugar, preservatives or chemicals in your family’s body. Whole fruits are rich in fibre and contain enough good sugars to help your family remain healthy. You will notice the positive impact of this lifestyle change in their complexion, stamina, alertness, mood and concentration levels.

Overall impact:

During religious festivals, this year, we served fruits as prasad along with traditional sweets. Our guests were pleasantly surprised and even happy to take a break from the heavy food they were consuming during their visits to other people’s homes.

The other day, my friends grimaced when they were served tea without sugar. It was a tough task to explain my side of the story to them.

It’s really difficult to make a switch given that we have busy lives and so many friends and relatives to entertain. However, if you remain firm, loved ones will see reason and comply. If you plan well then you will be able to depend on healthy homemade food and snacks for your family.

I noticed that my husband, children and I are calmer, happier and more energetic. My children are now aware of the hazards of unhealthy eating and stay away. For me, in the beginning, it was a huge task, a challenge in planning and implementing it all. It has helped tremendously, health wise and money wise as well. We have saved money and trips to the doctor by throwing out these harmful things from our kitchen.

Will these harmful products disappear from your life?

The answer is ‘NO’. My kids sometimes bulldoze us into buying instant noodles, the extended family brings food as gifts, adult guests demand sugar and my kids’ friends request biscuits. It’s tough to say NO all the time. But I can safely say that we have progressed to a once a month consumption just because we don’t buy any of these at home.

It’s a roller coaster ride. But not stocking them in the kitchen has helped tremendously.

Do you agree with this post? I would love to read your own experiences. Do leave a comment and don’t forget to like and share this post with your friends and family.

Penned by

Mayura Amarkant

Dear Reader: You must know that I am not a healthcare expert and nor am I posing to be one through this series. I am sharing my personal experiences and journey. I urge you to speak to your healthcare professional before trying anything in this series.

The content of this blog post contains information pertaining to the author’s own personal experience. It is not a substitute for a qualified medical professional’s advice. Please consult a nutrition specialist or doctor for more information.

#40NotOut | These 7 foods in your kitchen are secretly killing your family | #BlogchatterA2Z As a mother of two and a working professional, a trip to the supermarket meant loading the trolley with the yummiest snacks that my kids and I can have while we breeze through my busy day.

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thisdaynews · 4 years

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Emiliano Sala: A year on from plane crash, his family speak of 'pain that will never go away'

New Post has been published on https://thebiafrastar.com/emiliano-sala-a-year-on-from-plane-crash-his-family-speak-of-pain-that-will-never-go-away/

Emiliano Sala: A year on from plane crash, his family speak of 'pain that will never go away'

Sala’s first football club was San Martin, in the small town where he grew up – Progreso

On a typical Saturday afternoon in Progreso, the streets seem completely deserted. As the summer sun blazes outside, most of its 2,000 inhabitants are sheltering indoors.

The only human presence is at San Martin football club, where a family is celebrating a baptism. It is the same place where the town mourned its most illustrious son, Emiliano Sala.

Located in Argentina’s agricultural heart, six hours’ drive from Buenos Aires, Progreso sadly became better known in the tragic story of Cardiff’s record signing, who died in a plane crash in January 2019. When his casket arrived back home, those empty streets held more people than they had ever seen before.

A year later, the pain is still palpable. BBC Sport visited between Christmas Day and New Year’s Eve, a time of reflection for most of the town. Here, Sala was not only a football star. He was El Emi, the kid everybody knew. He was a friend, a neighbour, a former pupil, a former team-mate.

For his mother, Mercedes, and his 24-year-old brother, Dario, it is not easy to speak about what happened.

Mercedes says she takes comfort from the many messages of support her family has received

When Dario opens the door of their home, Mercedes is sitting in the dining room. “Thanks for coming, it means a lot to pay homage to my son,” she says as she instantly offers a glass of water.

A smiling picture of Emiliano, Dario and sister Romina lights up the room. Sala’s father Horacio also died last year. He suffered a heart attack at the age of 58 in April, three months after his son’s death. He and Mercedes did not live together.

“When Emi was 15, he sat in the kitchen at our old house and told me: ‘Mummy, I want to be a football player’. He wanted that so much, and to pursue that dream he had to move to San Francisco, in Cordoba province,” says Mercedes.

“He was just a boy, and it was so difficult to see him leave, but he was so resolute, so convinced that he would make it. It was his dream, and he did make it. He loved football. And now he was so excited to play in the Premier League.”

Sala, who was 28 when he died, was on his way to join Cardiff City, following a £15m transfer from French side Nantes, when the plane he was travelling in crashed. He had signed for the Welsh club two days before. Cardiff and Nantes have since been in dispute over transfer payments. Sala’s body was recovered from the wreckage in the English Channel, but pilot David Ibbotson has still not been found.

The Nantes supporters loved Sala, who moved there in 2015. Some have come to visit Progreso since his death. Even his hairdresser travelled across the Atlantic Ocean to see where he lived and meet his family.

Mercedes’ living room is now home to many of the gifts her son received during his three and a half seasons at Nantes. Collecting and sorting his belongings was another of the very painful experiences the family had to endure last year.

“Every year I’d go to France in October for his birthday, and I’d stay with him for a month,” says Mercedes. “The first week was always a celebration of the food he loved. In my luggage, I would pack the ready-made pastry circles to make empanadas, and also breadcrumbs for Milanesas, because the ones in France were different.

“‘Mummy, please make all the dishes I love,’ he would tell me. I’d also make homemade pasta. But after this one week he’d quickly switch back to his football diet, with lots of fish, because he was so focused on being fit. He was a hard worker. On top of training for the club, he also had a personal trainer and set up a gym in his house.”

After home matches, supporters would gather, waiting for his car to go past on the way out of the stadium.

“He was shy, but he would always stop, open the windows and start signing autographs and taking selfies,” Mercedes says.

“All those fans, today, are the ones that I want to thank, because they are still sending me pictures I had never seen before.

“I receive so much stuff from France, from England, from the rest of Argentina.”

Dario says: “It was beautiful to see how much the people loved him. I remember when he was in talks to renew his contract and people would just ask him to stay.”

Cardiff City announced Sala’s signing on 19 January 2019 – for a club record £15m

Sala was looking forward to his move to the Premier League and he dreamed of getting a call-up to represent Argentina.

In November 2017, he was Argentina’s most prolific striker behind Lionel Messi. His brother Dario, and many people from Progreso, still cherish the image captured from TV: Messi had scored a goal every 95 minutes; Sala every 98.

A photo depicting France and Paris St-Germain striker Kylian Mbappe, the man who ended Argentina’s chances at World Cup 2018, going to hug him is still treasured. Sala was so shy he would hardly ask for a jersey swap.

“We’d talk a lot about the national team, as two fans do,” says Dario. “He knew it was very difficult to be part of the squad, with the calibre of the strikers that we have. But I’m sure he never lost hope, not my brother. He wanted to be a footballer and he’d achieved it. He wanted to play in the top flight and he made it. He wanted to go to the Premier League and he’d just achieved it.

“Playing for Argentina was the natural desire. We would imagine him scoring after getting a pass from Messi, for instance. Who wouldn’t?”

Growing up, Sala admired Gabriel Batistuta and Carlos Tevez. He was a fan of Independiente, because of his friend Colito’s influence.

Dario says: “I’m five years younger than him, so growing up I would always end up going in goal and he’d get all the shots.

“We didn’t have many of the things that other kids might have had, but thanks to my mum we never had a meal missing from our table. That’s where we come from. From sacrifice. And we are all very alike. Emi was the oldest of the three and he was shy.”

Mercedes says: “It’s still so fresh. I can still see them playing outside. I would have to call them in to have dinner or take a shower. There were no toys for them, just football.

“He didn’t see himself as famous or anything, that’s why when he came back to the town. He was just an ordinary citizen… and what a son he was.”

She starts crying.

“Do you know that we would talk two, sometimes three times a day? Every day? That was my son. He would tell me everything – the food he’d eaten, the things he’d done. Sometimes he’d complain about his performance, and perhaps he had scored a goal or made one, but he was always trying to progress.”

Dario adds: “We had a WhatsApp group, the four of us: mum, Emi, Romina and me. He’d speak to mum and if he couldn’t call me, he’d write at night saying that it was late in France and we’d speak the next afternoon. There was distance, but it was like we were all together. He’d ask me a lot about football, about the team, about his performances. It was a joy to be able to watch him live on TV, too. It wasn’t the case with some of the first clubs he played for.”

One year after leaving home for Cordoba, Sala made his first trip to Europe to have a trial with Bordeaux. He signed for them in 2010, a move made easier by him gaining Italian citizenship. Before his transfer to Nantes came in 2015, he had been loaned out to some smaller French sides: Orleans, Niort and Caen.

“He was completely focused on getting better,” Mercedes says. “He learned French, had become extremely fluent, and now he’d surely have been taking English courses.”

Mercedes’ home holds many gifts to her family from the football world

On the date of Sala’s birthday last year, a giant mural was unveiled at San Martin, where it all began. The club’s small stadium – which holds about 2,000 people – was also named after him.

“It’s a very nice mural, very realistic, and very touching, too,” Dario says. “I go often to the club and I take a moment to pass it.”

San Martin also play with Sala’s image on their black-and-red jerseys, while the regional league they compete in was renamed the Liga Emiliano Sala. For Mercedes, each homage and every gesture acts like a valve releasing something of the pain of losing her first son.

“As a mother, seeing all this love, all these messages, feeling the comfort of so many people, it is touching. But what can I say? I just want to have him here with me.”

Cardiff’s fans paid emotional tribute to Sala following news of his death

Two days before Sala’s plane crashed, Progreso had celebrated its traditional Fiesta del Queso – a cheese festival showcasing producers from the local area. The main square, Los Colonizadores, was filled with joy. Through the speakers it was announced that El Emi would move to the Premier League, becoming Cardiff’s record signing. It felt as the town itself had earned that distinction.

That same square would soon be overcrowded with TV vans, cameras, journalists from all over the world. After they left, the candles and prayers remained.

“I can’t say I found peace, unfortunately. I’m still fighting,” Mercedes says. She pauses for a long time.

“I am practically dead while living. It’s been a terrible, terrible year. I loved him so much. I would tell him every day,” she says in tears.

Sala’s funeral in Progreso was held at the football club, San Martin. His father Horacio is pictured here, next to his son’s coffin, with his hand to his face. Mercedes is to the far left of the image

Outside, three dogs are barking in the back yard. One of them is Nala, the five-year-old dog Sala had rescued as a puppy in France. She became famous for a picture in which she was seen waiting for her owner to come home.

“She knew us from all the times we’d been in France, but when she came here, she found all the stuff from Emi, and I’m convinced that she also recognised his smell,” Mercedes says. “We decided to take her to the wake, so she could also be with him.”

The family had a private wake before going to San Martin’s main hall for the public funeral in February last year. “There was a whole town wanting to say goodbye,” Mercedes says. “We understood it was the right thing to do.

“Since that call at six in the morning…” she sighs deeply. “It seems as if it was yesterday, and it’s already been one year. The pain is intact and it will never go away.”

#'pain #away'

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burndownthehousetonight · 7 years

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((Me and @tinyredartist are never gonna need a different banner for our RPs are we))

Aria was busy cooking away in her apartment. The smells of homemade soup, some roast and fresh bread filled the small, one room apartment, and wafted into the hallway. Manic and Scourge were coming over for dinner after returning from their honeymoon the day prior. She truly had missed her friends while they were gone, although she was glad that they had gotten a vacation to celebrate them.

Aria made a move to set the table, pausing as she counted plates. Would her Scourge be coming? She impatiently checked her phone for messages, but none from the king. The past two weeks had him acting strange. This past week was even worse. She only hoped that Mr. And Mr. Castillo had any idea how to help him.

Her phone buzzed with two texts. One from Terra who was on her break at work, and one from Manic. "We're almost there, dude." Manic's text would start. "We're just stopping to grab some food" There was another text almost as soon as Aria read his last. "Wait that's why we're coming over nevermind" Their van was hurrying away from the fast food restaurant they'd almost pulled into. Whoops. Their honeymoon had left them happy, relaxed, and completely satisfied. They were sad they were leaving, certainly, but they weren't sad to get back to their usual lives. Their usual lives, of course, inevitably leading into some kind of nonsense. But they weren't worried about any kind of nonsense just yet, only whatever Aria was cooking. And soon from Aria's window, she could see the headlights pulling up to her building. Aria rushed to get the soup plated and checked the roast. Dinner was coming along perfectly, and the cookies she had baked earlier as dessert were still warm. Everything was perfect.

Until she remembered that she was in nothing but her underwear and an apron. The mad dash switched from the food to some clothes, settling on a pair of leggings with her girlfriends shirt as a dress. The shirt was loose on the bat, so Aria nearly drowned in it, but it was fashionable and comfortable.

She finished the table with a place setting for Scourge, but an empty bowl. If he showed up, he could have some. When the door was opened for them, Manic greeted Aria with a strangely quiet hug. He let the sudden mushy moment hold for just a few seconds before pulling away. "That place was amazing," Manic said simply. "I get it's a wedding gift and it's not supposed to be big, but- You shouldn't have done that for us, dude." He just smiled warmly, his skin slightly tanned from their little vacation. Scourge responded with a pat on Aria's back of his own. "Smells great in here," he said simply as him and Manic entered the apartment. "Is the king coming?" Aria was surprised by the hug, but nonetheless hugged back. She had missed them both, and the king’s behavior only intensified that.

“In my family it's tradition to send the happy couple as far away as you can afford. That was the best I could do,” she joked, booping Manics nose with a finger.

Scourge was hugged as well, and Arias smile lit up. “Thank you! It was a lot of hard work bit I figured it was worth it! After all, I bet this soup will hit the spot. Tell me all about the resort-”

As she lead them to the table and rambled, she paused. Fixing the empty place setting she collected her thoughts.

“Scourge has been…. Acting oddly. Its an understatement by far but I can’t explain” "I mean, even if he was acting fine, he danced with a Fiona in a wedding dress, dude." Manic shrugged as he sat down. "And he just watched a different Scourge get married." "Maybe he's jealous?" Scourge offered. "Not that petty, though. Heartbroken? Somethin' like that." They didn't know what else to offer. "Hey, we'll worry about that when he's here. Come on, there was a hell of a lot going on at that place! Oh god, where do we start...?" They let Aria finish up table preparations as they gushed over everything that resort had. A large pool and access to a large beach for some reason, a honeymoon suite with a gorgeous patio view, massages, scuba diving, bars and musical performances- they kept going on, listing more and more to seemingly no end. "...and they're supposed to be trained, but dolphins are terrifying as hell," Scourge said. "I ain't trusting 'em." “That’s not it. It wasn’t the wedding or anything like that… It's… It's just weird.”

She listened in as they described the vacations and how much fun they had. She was glad they had fun, but as they sat for dinner Aria seemed upset at the empty plate…

The soup was warm and inviting, and tasted like someone’s grandmother had cooked it. Aria ate her fill hesitantly, looking to the door every few seconds.

“He’s… Do you guys think I’m annoying?” "Annoying?" Manic put down his spoon for a moment. "What are you talking about, you're alright. What, just because you've got pep and energy and all that?" Manic smirked. "You think I ain't at least twice as annoying?" It was a delicious meal, and they were taking the time to enjoy it as much as they wanted. They couldn't ignore Aria darting her look to the door so regularly, and with the empty space at the table, it was clear why. "He's a king," Scourge delivered bluntly. "He's got responsibilities and shit, he's probably just busy. If a Scourge thinks someone's annoying, they'll tell 'em to their face. We ain't polite or nothing." “That’s not it… Its just hard to explain. He’s been distant and maybe I drove him away… Wouldn’t be the first time.” She shrugged. Appreciating the effort made by the two to cheer her up.

“Besides, when I called him to ask if he could grab something for me he sounded… Off. Overtly formal. Its just not like him… And Glare said he had nothing to do today… Maybe if you two talk to him he would feel better? It's just been really bad, its almost like he’s not the same person. Maybe I should have gone to try and de-spirit the old hall instead.” "Wait, he went in there?" Manic said, looking almost scared at that fact. "No wonder, that place is all kind of messed up- God, I'm thinking that and the wedding must've hit him hard. Maybe he's just coping." "It sounds like she's pretty sure it wasn't the wedding," Scourge commented. "We'll talk to him." "After dinner, of course." Manic said, already going to take another bite of roast. "Besides, we didn't even get to Rouge visiting. Yeah, one day, she just flew down and landed on our balcony... ..." They tried their best to stay away from talking about the king during the meal. And they had plenty stories about small luxuries and their usual less legal thievery shenanigans to keep her entertained, even if she was fidgety about the empty seat at the table. Aria smiled at stories that usually would have made her laugh, and remained neutral on stories that would have made her smile.

By the time the meal was done, Aria split the leftovers into a container for the couple to take home and a container to save for her mate when she returned from work.

Aria flopped on her couch, still distraught. Maybe ask about her art? Or work? Either way, the silence was uncomfortable. The green couple certainly noticed these changes in her behavior. They weren't just easy to see, they were blatantly obvious. "What's wrong, dude?" Manic asked. He put down the leftovers right on the table and sat down near Aria. Scourge took a seat on a nearby armchair. "You're acting a lot sadder than usual, did something happen?" Scourge pieced it together for Manic. "Exactly how weird's Scourge been acting?" “Extremely. He’s been… Forgetful, very forgetful. He forgot who I was until Glare explained it to him. Forgot Glare too. Forgot a lot of things, but he remembered you two… Just didn’t remember where you were… He’s forgotten technology too, he’s having troubles with his phone. I think his trauma is messing with his brain, or he hit his head… He’s also not wearing his jacket, which is incredibly unusual. And he ordered the old hall cleaned and refurbished in an incredibly unreasonable amount of time… He’s not himself. He’s not anyone I’ve ever met. The way he looked at me… I’ve never seen that before.”

She rubbed her arms and shivered. Clearly disturbed. Manic reached over and patted her on the shoulder. "That's insane," Manic said. "That's... I've got no idea. It doesn't even sound like him." Scourge just thought. His first thought was this was some kind of a long con. He acted kind for a long, long time, but played all his cards at once and was screwing everyone over to get... something. He was a Scourge, after all. But would saying that have helped? No, Aria was already disturbed. Doubt would just make things worse. "...Sounds to me like an alternate's in his place." Scourge said gruffly. "How tight's security in the castle, can we get in?" “No, not an alternate. He’s still got the scars from the broken glass. That’s our… My? Scourge. His just not himself. He has not reason to be acting this way…. He’s acting like a Sonic alternate or something!”

Ah, right. Things were backwards here. Scourges were good, Sonics were bad. Up was down, down was up, everything was a jumble.

“But it doesn’t make sense… Why would he remember you two and not me?" "He has to still remember you, somewhere in his head." Manic mused out loud. "Sounds like he's either acting like he doesn't, or he's completely lost it..." Scourge made a motion while Aria was looking away, telling Manic to stop with that line of thought. He shut up. "Talking about it's fine and all, but we ain't gonna get answers if we don't know what he's doing." Scourge said, shifting in his seat and ready to stand. "We're only gonna get answers by snooping around, and you've got the best snoop in the business." Manic stuck out his tongue in a goofy way, letting her know exactly who the snoop was. "You gonna want to come along? Or do you need to meet Terra without anyone knowing?" Manic was still trying to lighten her spirits just a bit. "Don't worry, we don't know a thing." “I’ll come with you two snoopers. Besides, she’s at work and won’t be back until much later… Let me just..”

Aria scribbled out a quick, romantic note to her lover and stuck it on the leftovers. Gently kissing the note to leave a lipstick stain instead of a signature. Their little ritual.

As Aria grabbed her things, her shirt would start to slide off her shoulder a bit, revealing quite a few subtle hickies, covered up to the best of Aria's ability. Manic didn't say anything. Scourge didn't say anything. But they saw. Oh, they definitely saw. The glare Manic was giving Scourge told him that he had so many jokes in mind for how they could tease Aria, but he was restraining himself with some tiny shred of restraint he had left. "Don't you dare tease her," Scourge growled at Manic, running his finger over one of the bite marks over Manic's shoulder helpfully covered up. "Or she's gonna find out about your 'hickies'~" Manic and Scourge were clearly not over the honeymoon. As though they were ever. They sat next to each other and kept flirting while they let Aria grab her things, and hopefully put on some kind of pants or proper skirt. Aria pulled on thick leggings under her mate's shirt and grabbed her purse and her phone. She turned the stove off and checked that everything was clean. Satisfied, Aria scratched over the portal and warped them to the castle.

It was quiet, Glare having gone home for the night as well as most of the servants. Aria walked right into the building and started looking around for Scourge.

“Scourge? Manic and Castillo are back from the honeymoon! I brought you dinner too!” The castle felt wrong this late at night. When all the servants were gone, it felt like they weren't supposed to be there. Like it was a crypt that some nosy grave robbers had stumbled into. They didn't go into the abandoned wing of the castle for plenty of reasons, but it was clear that some kind of big renovations were going it. The doors were opened, and there were scrapes on the floor showing that furniture had been dragged through and out of the entrances. But they weren't sure they ever wanted to even remember that old castle wing existed. He wasn't downstairs, by the looks of it. "Are you sure he's here?" Manic said. He couldn't explain what it was, but it felt like he was somehow insulting the castle by continuing to be there. The atmosphere had certainly changed, the whole castle now had the same disturbing feeling of being watched.

“Let’s check upstairs. Scourge?!?” Aria called out again, climbing up the main staircase

They passed by that mysterious door that was next to the bedroom again. Its mysteries were less intriguing but still concerning. Maybe something in there could help them? In their minds, if they were gonna be watched, they were gonna snoop right back at them. It was time to get down to work. "Let's split up for a hot minute and regroup right back here," Manic said simply. "No point searching through all these rooms one at a time, right?" "I'll stick with Aria," Scourge said. I.E., I'll stick with her and make sure she doesn't interrupt your trespassing. Manic started walking down the opposite way, creeping back the moment Aria couldn't see him from down the hall. A peep revealed a four tumbler lock. Not too hard, and there clearly wasn't an alarm system. He pulled a set of lockpicks out of his quills and started fiddling away, not needing a minute to get the lock to give way. With a spin of his hand, the lock was gone, and the door started to open. Aria passed by the bedroom, she knew he wasn’t in there because the door was open. Not dangerously out of place, but unusual. The study was empty as well, but books were strewn all over the place. All published within the last two years.

“Okay. The book on architecture makes sense, he’s trying to fix the castle. But economics? History? Warfare? This isn’t stuff he deals with. He's technically a figurehead, not ac-” Aria paused as she looked at a book, gulping as she read the cover. An old book. Older than the two hedgehog combined.

“How to regain your throne from the democracy” Aria read, instantly confused and concerned. “Why would he…”

The door swung open for Manic with a loud groan. Looks like the hinges needed oiling. When inside, turning the light on would reveal what should have been a nursery. A crib with a mobile hanging above it, a changing table, a rocking chair, a small bookcase with children’s books and a big box full of toys. On the walls, pictures hung of a much younger Scourge and a Fiona alternate. His Fiona. She was younger than the one Manic knew, her hair was longer and she had a bit more weight on her, probably from the pregnancy. A few pictures contained their son as well, a tiny indigo child, happy and healthy. He had his fathers eyes.

There was even a photo album on the table a bunch of pictures of Fiona and Luke, with writing explaining how the day went. Obviously it was written for Scourge, for when he got out of jail. Judging by the water droplets ruining the ink on the front page, he had not been able to read it.

This was yet another thing Manic should not have seen. Scourge said nothing to the books. He was all but convinced of his alternate Scourge theory, and this just hammered those points home. The crypt-like feeling of most of the castle was intense here. After everything he'd known of what occurred between Scourge and Fiona years before. The photos of Fiona and Luke weren't easy to look at. He'd seen enough Fionas to last a lifetime, and they were always slightly uncomfortable to seem if their relationship with Scourge was healthy or not. She didn't carry the same kind of edge to her looks, she almost seemed demure in the photos. Luke was utterly precious. He shared nothing in common with his son-in-law, but he couldn't help but think that this was somehow, somewhere, almost his husband's kid. There was a sorrow in the pit of Manic's stomach he didn't want to rid of. He couldn't bear to look at the papers talking about the day of his birth. The emotions from this room couldn't have been half as intense for Manic as they were for the king, but putting into word what this room felt like was maddening. He leaned against the wall, closed his eyes, and thought. He was out as soon as he collected himself, and sped down the hall to find the others. Manic ran right into Scourge's chest. Not his mate, the king they were looking for. And He. Was. Livid. Looks like Manic had been caught.

He would be dragged by the back of the vest, and pushed into the room. Castillo caught his husband, thankfully. The rage surrounding the king was justified, but completely different than what they had seen before.

“I found this little thief snooping around where he should not have been. Get a better control over your concubines and get out,” the king ordered Castillo, filled with quiet but deadly rage.

His tone and speech patterns were different, but this was for sure their king. He radiated power and fear and his presence demanded respect. Aria's ears pinned back, afraid. Motioning for Manic and Castillo to follow orders so she was the last one out. A buffer. Manic was perfectly compliant. He knew he'd screwed up. Aria was perfectly compliant. She was clearly terrified of the king. But Castillo wasn't terrified, and he didn't know exactly what Manic had found. All he knew was this wasn't the same king they'd talked to before, and he'd tried to lay his hands on Manic. "Of course he's a thief," Scourge growled, motioning for Aria to stand back. "You know he's a thief. What the fuck are you thinking, dragging him by the collar?" Scourge approached the king, grabbing him by the throat and clearly ready for a fight. "Touch my husband like that again, and I'll make you BEG for forgiveness." "Scourge, stop!" Manic yelled out, but he wasn't about to step in. One Scourge had a hell of a lot of power, he wasn't going to get between two. Scourge was taking the sudden hold on the king to look him over. The scars were real. He was the same height, same build, same everything, but not the same person. Had something happened to him? "I'm gonna let go, and you ain't gonna make any funny moves." Scourge demanded. "What happened to you?" “You Need To Work On Your Diction As Much As You Do On Your Threats.” He spat out, flipping them so Castillo’s back was shoved up against the bookcase, his feet off the floor and the king's hand on his throat, squeezing a lot tighter. His eyes had changed color, from a light blue to a deep, rich one. Only noticeable when one was super close to his face, full of malice and hatred.

But after a split second they lighted up and the king stumbled back, letting his alternate go.

“Holy shit Castillo, I’m so sorry, I have no idea what came over me!” He rushed out an apology, looking at his hands like they had betrayed him. He back up into the center of the room.

Aria held a hand out. Trying to calm him. “Easy there. Easy. Calm down”

The eyes switched back to the dark blue, although that went unnoticed. “Insolent Women. I Told You To Leave And Never Return!” He growled, grabbing Aria by the base of the quills and causing her to scream from the pain. There was a low, heavy thud and a sudden surprise in the king's eyes. The king fell to the floor, clutching where Manic had just bludgeoned him with a candlestick. Castillo jumped in and wrenched one arm behind the king's back. They didn't want to hurt him too badly. He'd done so much for Manic, he couldn't possibly hurt him too badly. But Castillo had completely different reasons, and a long bike chain he always kept on hand that was tying the king's arms behind his back in a heavy knot. Castillo knelt down in front of the king, lifting his head by his chin and showing off every one of his sharp teeth in a smug smile. "You almost had it." His voice was smooth, even flirtatious. "But your eyes are the wrong color. An' if you don't wanna see your guts, you're telling us where the real king is." The yelp that came when he was hit turned his eyes back to their normal icy blue. “Manic what the fuck?!”

The threats turned them back again, and his expression of pain turned into one of glee and sadistic pleasure. Whoever this was was enjoying the thought of being carved open like a thanksgiving turkey…weird.

“Go Ahead Boy. Spill My Guts In This Damned Room. But It Would All Be In Vain, Because You Will Never Talk To That Spoiled Brat Ever Again. Might I Suggest A Cat-O-Ninetails Whip? Scourge Always Was A Fan Of That One.” He laughed, malicious and evil.

He wasn’t expecting the punch across the face from Aria. Furious, stressed and all around angry, she took it out of the ‘intruder.’

The body on the floor yelped in pain. ��Aria stop it! Ow! It's me!” When she did stop, the evil laughter started up again… It sounded familiar, where had they heard that laugh before? Scourge and Manic did nothing to stop Aria's beating. All Scourge was doing was keeping the false king's head tilted towards his own, peering deep into his mind. He was helpless, and Scourge wanted to watch when he would eventually give in. But he didn't see that. He saw the eyes change, sure, but not in expression. The eyes changed to a completely different color in a moment, before reverting back when Aria seemed to lighten up on her pummeling. Scourge's eyes were normally a friendly cobalt blue, but this was darker. The pupils almost looked more slitted, more sinister. This looked like the king for just a few moments, whatever was going on. "Whoever the hell you are, you ain't the king." He dropped his head and let it slam on the ground. Sure, it would hurt the body, but more importantly, it would hurt whatever this dark-eyed creature was. "So what are we looking at here? This some anarchy beryl situation, some kinda drug-drug interaction with chaos energy?" There was more pain to the back of his neck from Scourge's claws, in the hopes pain could somehow draw out the king's personality. "We're getting an answer outta you, punk, so spill it." He knew he could only get an answer out of the real king, if he could ever get him to talk. The king's body had passed out and Aria was panting from all of her overexertion, sniffling as she held back tears.

“That’s not how our beryl works. It drains life forces to charge and when they do charge they grant the used amazing power at the price of their body. This isn’t beryl…. But there’s one way we can test if this is Scourge.”

She called his phone and found it under the books, bringing it over and sitting next to the body.

“Each alternate has a unique fingerprint right? So this shouldn’t work if this guy isn’t our-”

A click from the phone. It unlocked.

“Okay… So this our Scourge…. Did you two hear the way he was laughing? That’s not normal…” "No, that wasn't him." Castillo grumbled. If it was the king, they'd need to make sure he didn't move. The tied king was placed sitting upright in the main study chair. "Sounds like he isn't the same guy we know, but if it's the same fingerprint... ..." "Is he going crazy?!" Manic could only react to the bizarre actions with angry shock. "That's like multiple personalities nonsense right there! One of his is a nihilist, one normal-" "Bullshit," Castillo shot back. "We'd know if he was really insane. Feels more like-" He coughed, considering stopping himself. "Scourge's are Scourges, after all. This could've been some kinda long con, an' he's cutting the act now." "A decade long long con?" Manic rebutted. "We've heard him laugh before, that wasn't his natural laugh! It sounded like- I don't know, but it sounded like someone else!" The two stared down, each adamant about their own course of events, before they came to the same realization. "It was that person... We heard that laugh when we were in the old wing." Manic uttered. Castillo’s theory just made Aria cry, but Manic's realization got her sniffles to quiet down

“Whatever is going on, that person knew about the whipping. No one in the kingdom knows about that except for us, Scourge and-”

Aria paled, looking over at the body in the chair. “That’s why he wasn’t concerned if Scourge got hurt and why he’s trying to take down the throne. That’s why he doesn’t know who I am but he vaguely knows you two and why he’s clearing out the old wing when Scourge was trying to get rid of it… Its-…”

Aria would feel blinding white pain as she was hit in the head with the butt of a sword. Seems like whoever was controlling Scourge's body had gotten free and was holding the swords tip to her neck as she laid on the floor, unconscious.

“Women Should Be Seen Not Heard. What A Shame She Figured It Out, She Would Have Made An Excellent Concubine.” The person controlling Scourge cooed. "Aria!" Scourge yelled out. He wanted to rush forward, but the sword was to her neck and he couldn't move any closer. They just wanted to restrain him, but this person was killing to kill either of them. That was very bad. There were two of them and one of him. That was very good. There was only one way this was going to be settled, but they needed to wait for the right chance to move in. "You admit it then," Manic responded through his fear. He reached into his vest and pulled out a switchblade knife, not bothering with fancy knife tricks and holding it firm in one hand. "How about we get a name before we finish this off?" Maybe if he taunted him with killing Scourge, this spirit would let them get in close... "Don't think we're getting an answer." Scourge picked up the first thing off of the nearby shelf, a blunt and heavy bookend. "We're never gonna find out this fucker's some anti Jules." “Good Boy. You Figured It Out. I Do Have To Admit, You Are Smarter Than My Insolent Son. You Probably Would Have Seen Less Of The Whip If You Were In His Shoes. Alas, The Past Is The Past, Nothing Anyone Could Do About It Now. I Would Advise You Boys Not To Do Anything Rash. Even If You Kill The Body, I Could Still Possess Either Of You. But Its Not Like You Could Even Get Close. I Have Made A Habit Of Killing People That Scourge Cares About.”

He grabbed a second sword, keeping the first trained on Aria's throat. “I Doubt He Told You, But I Can Fight Just As Well With Both Hands. Your Move Boy.” Despite being absolutely pissed at the spirit, Scourge wasn't going to make the first move. He could press down slightly and kill Aria in an instant. He was definitely unhinged, but he didn't seem like he would kill Aria out of the blue. No moves were made. "She's unconcious," Manic reiterated simple, sounding mildly annoyed rather than seething with anger. "What, you're seriously weak enough to want to stab someone when they're down? What happened to your pride, anyways?!" Scourge knew where he was going with this. It was insane and desperate, but it usually worked. Manic ushered the study door open. "If you wanna cut us up, get Ari out of the room and we'll fight you. We're just a thief and an addict, you're a king with plenty of weapons. What kind of king's afraid of fighting a fair fight, anyways?" “Tsk Tsk. Seems Like You’re Not Quite As Smart As I Thought You Were. Tell Me Boy, What Do You Think My Endgame Is?”

An odd question as Jules moved to seat himself in an armchair, his sword lightly nicking Arias throat.

“I Will Even Give You Some Help. Think About The Consequences For The Body And The Mind… If Three People Are Found Dead Where Three Have Died Before. Books About Warfare And Usurping The Throne. The Nursery Torn To Shreds. By The Way, Thank You For Unlocking The Door My Boy. That Was Awfully Nice Of You, Seeing As I Don’t Know Where The Key Is… Everything Is Falling Into Place To Make Him Seem Like The Unhinged One. His Fingerprints Are Everywhere On This Crime Scene. Even If You Run To Tell Someone They Won’t Believe You. I Have Covered Every Single Angle Of This And There’s No Way Out. Any Way You Slice It, I Won! And Now, Once I Get Rid Of You Three, I’ll Use His Biometrics To Regain My Body Using The Beryl.”

He laughed as Aria began to stir, moving the sword to pull her up by the throat. “Good Morning. Tell Me Child, How Would You Like To Die?”

Arias only response was to scratch at her neck to pry his fingers off, the king choking her tightly. She managed somehow, to spit on his face. This made the wicked king angry, and he dropped her. Wiping spittle out of his eyes gave Aria the break to crawl as fast as she could to Manic's side. The king had dropped his hostage and one of his swords, and was distracted for the briefest fraction of a second. Scourge saw his chance and rushed the King, grabbing his arm as he took his swing. The blade was mere inches from his alternate's body. Scourge grabbed his arm with both hands and wrenched it around, until it was in too uncomfortable a position to swing. Manic gave Aria a quick pat on the shoulder before darting across at the first opportunity. He kicked the fallen sword so it would slide towards Aria and far out of the possessed king's reach. Their goal was only to restrain the spirit, but he was taking so much control it was hard to see him as anything other than another threat to be taken out. The king broke free of Scourge's grips, Sword pointed at his throat before being swung in either direction, but the distance was fine. Manic had gotten what he came for, and after bundling it in the blink of an eye, Scourge's bike chain was tossed back to him. He swung it around in his hands a few times, sending it too close to who was once the king and sending a threatening snap far too close to his skin. He had a solid five feet of lead, much longer than the spirit's sword could reach. "Alright, asshole." Scourge said with a grin, clutching the chain in either hand like a garrote. "Let's fuck it up~" Manic had taken the snap of the chain to rush back towards Aria. "He didn't hurt you too badly, right?" The spirit merely looked amused, tossing the cape he had been wearing to the side. A whip hung from his belt and he pulled it loose, snapping it in the air to let it rest. A Cat-o-Ninetails, brand new.

“I Believe The Phrase Is ‘Bring It’,” the spirit taunted.

Aria shook her head no, thinking hard. What advantages did they have… Surprise. That was all.

“Scourge, be careful! He doesn’t care about getting hurt!” She called out, a plan formulating. “Manic, do you have any kind of loose powder on you? We need the beryl.” Manic patted himself down. Switchblade, phone, wallet, earrings, makeup- He didn't have much on hand, but he had a small container of setting powder on hand, which he handed straight to Aria. "Gimme a plan and we'll nap that beryl... wherever it is." The metal chain and whip collided in mid air, snapping briskly against one another and tumbling down. But scourge used the extra moment as the short whip fell to snap the chain straight back up in the air, only striking the king for a moment. Just enough to stun him and get Scourge in closer. The whip stung more than he thought it would. He was expecting a sharp pain, but the bits of metal made it sting much stronger than anticipated. Scourge winced in pain and stumbled a bit, using the wince to force himself to tumble forward. He just needed to get close enough to chain him up again...! “Gimme. Stay here and help Scourge if he needs it.” She ran out of the room unnoticed.

The evil king chuckled at the pain of the bike chain. The shorter whip gave him an advantage as Castillo stumbled in close enough. The next crack would send a shooting pain into Castillo's side. Followed by another. The next two on his hands, as Jules got in close enough to drag the other to the ground by the quills, foot pressing his head into the ground.

“I think you weren’t hit enough as a child. Well that can be remedied.”

His jacket and shirt were sliced off, exposing his back and Jules used the bike chain to loop around Castillo’s wrists tightly. A sickening crack as the whip hit bare skin.

Aria had run into Scourge's bedroom, shoving the bed away from the wall with all the strength she had in her. Behind it was a safe with biometric locks. The powder and a cloth allowed her to bypass the fingerprint by using the oils from the last fingerprint to scan. The retina scan was actually set for her, rosy or Glare. A new addition.

Inside was a case. She pulled it out and instantly felt sick from the life draining magic. Regardless she ran back to the study.

“Is this what you were looking for?” She taunted, holding up the cape for the king to see. Manic was sick at seeing Scourge chained up like he was. And the whip- God, the whipping. Scourge bit hard on his own teeth, trying not to give in and wince at the sharp pain as they waited for Aria to get back. "You bastard...! You BASTARD!" Manic had lost it entirely. He didn't even care about pain anymore. Manic grabbed the first thing to his side - a fragile lamp, not that good - and chucking it square towards the king as he rushed him. The lamp did little damage as the glass base shattered and littered the ground. Tiny superficial cuts to him and his husband, nothing more. But Manic wasn't out for mild infury, and he wasn't out for restraint anymore. He was out for blood. Manic held the king down to the ground with either hand, his grip on Scourge's neck getting tighter as he listened to that hideous laugh... Scourge brushed off the pain the best he could and loosened the chain from his grips. He reached out for the king's hands, grabbing his left and desperately clutching for his right as Manic loosened up his hold. They just had to handcuff him more severely, and- Aria's entrance startled all of them, and the power he could feel told Castillo exactly what was draped under that cape. "Good job, kid." Scourge grunted, not letting go. "Toss it to us... Now!" Aria stumbled a bit, already weak from carrying the Beryl for so long.

Aria dropped like a stone, the beryl falling out of the case and scattering around the room. They slowly began to circle the room, focusing in on Scourge. Not Castillo, the king, who started laughing manically.

“Its Too Late Now!! Its All Over!” He shoved the other two off with surprising strength as the beryl circled him.

He parted from Scourge, manifesting in a translucent form as Scourge's body dropped. The beryl spun faster and in a blinding light, Jules set foot on the ground, his body back.

“Ah, Its Feels So Good To Be Me Again.” he cooed, voice obtaining an echo like quality to it.

Scourge groaned on the floor, weakened badly by the beryl and assuming he was having a nightmare. All bets were off. Scourge desperately unwrapped the chain from around Scourge's wrists, desperate to get his weapon back. One sword was all the way across the room from him, but the other was scattered near anti-Jules feet. Jule's whip was quickly kicked away, hopefully out of the true king's line of sight. Manic lunged to grab the sword, but it was already in his enemies hands, and he scuttled back away from the figure as soon as he saw him go for it. "Alright, so what's your endgame now?" Manic taunted, already knowing the true answer. "Point is, it's one on four now." "And your little immune spirit bullshit's worn out." Scourge said, chain whipping around in his hand. The chain he was spinning around was let loose, delivering a single harsh blow to anti-Jules's neck. The end of the chain had been knotted up into a ball as a makeshift flail. Manic grasped the large sword in both hands, Scourge his trusty chain as the two approached their newly mortal adversary. "Got one last question for you, asshole," Scourge snarled at him. "How do you wanna die?" Aria got up off the floor, panting.

“Knock the beryl out of formation, but don’t touch them!!” She called out, using a heavy book to knock one of the beryls to the ground.

Jules laughed at her pathetic attempt to hit him until he flickered back to translucent for a split second . The evil king growled out, realizing his power focused itself around the beryl.

While no one was looking, the true king got up shakily, grabbing his favorite rapier. He weighed it in his hand and turned to his father.

“Stand down. This is my fight.” He ordered, back to normal. Manic followed instructions immediately. He was backed away near where Aria was, looking around him for anything he could throw. Books, bookends, paperweights, anything heavy enough to heave and get the beryl stones out of formation. Castillo followed directions... somewhat. But those beryl were looking irresistible to him. He already had a chain in hand, he just had to... how could he make that slipknot? Could it even work with a chain? But by some stupid attempt and a lucky throw, the chain was wrapped around a large purple stone, immediately dragging it back to Castillo. The power ate at him in a way a Scourge could not only stand, but even enjoy. He wanted to keep this for himself, take over, prove his worth. A particularly heavy book managed to knock another stone far enough away that Castillo was able to lunge and grab it before it tugged back into formation, as both stones now begged to do. "This is our fight," Castillo insisted, forcing the yellow stone into the king's hand. He spun the chain around in his hands so the heavy knotted end was spinning in his hands. "Let's fuck it up." Aria slid the case and the other beryl to the true king, and Scourge put the two they had obtained in there as well. The case clicked closed and Jules was left with four circling him.

“INSOLENT BRAT!” The father called, running at his son with his sword drawn.

It was interesting watching the ensuing sword fight. Scourge was fighting fencing style and Jules was swinging to damage. The fight pushed them backwards and Scourge used his free hand to slap one of the beryls to Castillo.

Jules reached down and grabbed his whip smirking as it cracked. Scourge froze in place and felt his stomach drop. Castillo knew that just locking the beryl away wouldn't stop these other three. There was only one way to fight anarchy beryl, and that was with anarchy beryl. He threw off the halved shirt and jacket he had left on, clutching the red beryl with a death grip and the chain in his other. Pure anger stopped him from feeling the decaying feeling as anything other than a mild annoyance. The powers it granted were a strange focus, like everything had gone robotic in his mind. The chain swirling around in his hand was swirling faster and faster, with greater and greater energy while he built up strength. The first blow knocked a green stone out of the air and towards Aria, with only two circling stones remaining powering the old king. The second blow was square to Jules's left temple, sending a splatter of... was that blood? It almost looked right, but the consistency was strangely off, strangely discolored. The power of the beryl was weakening on Jules. "Let's finish this up...!" Castillo screamed, rushing Jules as he tied a simple slipknot out of the chain...! The power of the beryl was also making the king stronger, and the crack of the whip against Castillo's face was immense. He couldn't tell how much damage it had done, but he knew that his right eye hurt like hell. He tumbled to the floor, dropping his chain and trying his damnest to clutch to his stone with the energy he had. Scourge snapped out of it as he watched Castillo take a strike from the whip. This made him angry. Bright white flames licked at his feet, appearing from nowhere.

In the corner, Aria groaned and curled into a ball. She had been weakened by the beryl's case, and the jewel so close to her wasn’t helping. Aria whined pitifully for the king's help. “Scourge…”

Old rage boiled up again fanning the flames that licked at his feet and enveloped him. His eyes turned black, his quills turned white. His skin lost its color.

Jules was grabbed by the throat and slammed against the wall incredibly hard, yet Scourge barely broke a sweat. The three onlookers in the room could feel the energy exuding from the king as he held Jules against the wall. Castillo covered his eye with one hand and seemed to be panting like a predator desperate to sink it's fangs into it's prey, but the could tell that would have been entirely stupid. But like a miser desperate to take his valuables to the grave, he lunged at the chest of beryl stones, grasping that last one abandoned near Aria desperately. He threw them against the far wall of the room, as far from Aria as they could go while the other Scourge's power only intensified. The bright light in spite of the sudden violence was bizarrely entrancing, almost beautiful to Manic. Jules was as good as dead. If Scourge couldn't deliver the final blow, Manic knew he was going to end up with blood on his hands. Aria was out. Scourge was out. Manic was the only one who could stand up and help the king. He approached the two, standing behind as close as he could get without feeling overwhelmed by the power being generated. He held his switchblade out from behind the two, close enough that only Scourge could reach it. But in Manic's mind, he knew Scourge probably wouldn't need a weapon. "End it." Jules choked and gasped, involuntarily scratching at Scourge's arms to get him to give him air. The king threw the other out of the room and followed him, ignoring Manic. His hand reached out and his rapier came to him.

A beryl was locked away and Jules was left with only one surrounding him. His body began to fall apart like a scene in a horror movie. His skin melted away, his bones clattered to the flood and turned to dust, it all vanished until Scourge was left holding the ghost of his father. His sword glowed with the same white fire he was surrounded in, and he smashed his father across the face with the butt of the hilt. The flames grew and Scourge slashed through his shoulder, the spirits arm falling away like paper.

The ghost king screamed out in pain and Scourge growled, low and with an echo like quality.

“That was for Castillo!”

Slice. The other arm off.

“That was for Aria!”

Slice. A leg

“That was for Manic!”

Slice. The other leg.

“That was for Miles!”

Slice. Cut off at the waist

“That was for Luke!”

Slice. Higher up on the chest.

“That was for Fiona!”

The sword rested against the ghost king's throat, and the king growled.

“And this is for you. Goodbye FATHER”

The spirits head was sliced off, and the rapier was stabbed through his heart as the last beryl fell on its own.

The spirits scream was cut short, and the flames died away as Scourge sunk to the floor and cried.

It was over. They could only stare through the door as limb after limb was removed. Every slice was personal, furious, ladened with decades of anger and lit up by supernatural flames. And as quickly as it started, it ended with Scourge's tears echoing through deathly quiet halls. The anarchy beryl was powering Castillo, and the pain in his eye subsided slightly, although it was far from healing. He opened the case, and started to collect the scattered gems. One in the corner of the room. One behind the desk where the ghost stood. Just gathering them quickly so no one else would have to deal with the burden. Manic pocketed his knife as soon as the awestruck paralysis had worn off. He'd done it. He'd ended everything. Every one of his slow steps was intentionally louder than usual, to give the king fair warning as he approached. He didn't deliver words of wisdom or congratulations or anything, his pep wasn't going to help. And the few jokes he wanted to crack to lighten the mood were so out of place, even he knew they would only ruin things more. He said nothing, in fact. Scourge would soon find himself with his head rested on Manic's chest, giving him some kind of a tangible being to cling to after his ordeal. He hummed a soft melody, although where these notes came from or what they meant, Scourge had no idea. It was elegant, it was simple, and the gentle humming sent comforting vibrations, like a purring cat comforting it's kittens. Aria stood on shaky legs, grasping the door for support. After telling Castillo where to put the case, she stumbled over to the two of them. Aria sat on Scourge's other side and merely hugged her king as well. Her purring added to Manic's song.

After a little while, Scourge gently pulled back and wiped his face, sniffling in order to calm down. “M'okay… M’ okay” he slurred.

The castle's atmosphere returned to normal quickly and eventually Scourge got up to walk downstairs.

“I gotta… Go to…” He mumbled, clearly trying to head outside. Aria heaved herself up using a banister and when Castillo returned, they followed him. Manic stood next to aria. She was holding her own more, but she clearly needed any kind of support she could get. Castillo could see much of the same weakness in his alternate, following him at a close distance. There was no telling when he might tumble, cry, faint, anything. "You actually touched the beryl?" Manic asked Aria quietly, holder her by her shoulder. "That's amazing... We've touched beryls once before, and I couldn't stand it." There was a soft pat on her shoulder. "You're a strong girl, Ari." Castillo had no idea what could have been going through the king's mind. Whatever it was, it was intense, he knew that much. But questions would have to wait until the king was substantially calmer. He didn't say anything, but quietly walked and offered him a comforting look. Their victory march through the castle was weak, depressing, and yet somehow serene. “I feel like shit.” She groaned, leaning heavily on Manic to get the world to stop spinning. Her hair had turned white at the roots and her eyes had lost some color. Nothing a good nap and a bottle of hair dye couldn’t fix.

To Scourge, the victory march was mostly a walk of shame. They left through a side door that Castillo had never noticed and Scourge went straight for the forest. After a few minutes of walking, they came across a clearing with a manmade little river running through it. In the center were two ageing gravestones of white marble, plain but elegant. He went to a small spot next to the little creek and sat next to a tree stump.

“Sorry. I just needed to come see her.” "Do what you've gotta," Scourge said quietly. He stepped back, standing with Aria and Manic. Scourge clearly needed space. There weren't benches or seats or anything. Instead, Manic held tight onto Aria and guided her so they were both sitting on the grass. Castillo relaxed into his normal position, as though nothing had happened. Someone needed to stay casual. Castillo couldn't deny that the power of those stones was enticing to him. But now wasn't the time to think about these things. He didn't say a word to Manic as he comforted Aria and ruffled her hair. He didn't say a word to Aria as she took time to regain her posture. He only glanced from far away as Scourge took some time to meed with his Fiona. Aria purred quietly, laying back in the grass and breathing in clean air. This place was sacred in a way, truly felt like a place filled with love.

The stress melted away from the girl and the king merely let his fingers dangle in the water of the stream where fish swam. Thinking. His rapier discarded by his side.

“I'm… Sorry.” The king finally said, to no one in particular. There wasn't a response. The cold castle walls were imposing, especially with the spirit present. The forest might have felt similarly cramped. But this clearing was quiet, welcoming, serene. The grass was healthy, the fish content. After such an avalanche of emotions, the chance to sit somewhere this pleasant almost felt like whiplash with how suddenly everything shifted. He wasn't saying anything else. Castillo bit the bullet and stood to his feet. The rustling of his jeans was audible over the gentle ambience. Castillo slowly knelt a short distance from the king. "How're you holding up?" Scourge took a deep breath. “I don’t know… I feel… Lighter. Like this big weight was just lifted off my shoulders… How’s your back?”

He pushed the other around gently so he could inspect the marks. They had healed mostly from the beryls powers.

“You’ll be fine, you’re tough,” he said with something that might be considered a smile, patting his back gently. "Never worry about me," Scourge said as he turned to face his alternate. His right eye was bright red and scratched, but didn't look like it had any damage beyond a scratch. "I've had worse." He sat for a moment, not sure what else to say. When he came to a certain realization, he started to grin. "Maybe I shouldn't be walkin' around without a shirt?" He clearly didn't take any kind of shame from that comment. Scourge held him by the arm and helped the king to his feet, leaning over to grab him his sword and put it back into it's holder. "The worst of it's over," he said, trying to be gentle without sounding too soft. "Put your sword away, we'll lock up the beryl, we'll clean the study. You call up your doctor or friends or- whoever the hell you need. Get your brains in order." He looked up at the sky, not sure what else to say. Tiny specks of starlight dotted the midnight sky. "Gorgeous view." “Easier said than done. Not many therapists believe in ghosts.” He shrugged, looking up at the sky with a soft smile.

“Yeah, Fiona loved it here. This was our spot, our sanctuary. She loved sitting near the river to listen to the sound but this spot has the best view of the stars. I dug out the little river for her to give her both.” He recounted, smiling up at the wide expanse of the universe.

“I’m sorry for dragging you and Scourge into this. Seems likes you all get hurt because of me on the constant.” Aria said to Manic, staring up at the stars. "Don't apologize for anything," Manic reassured her. "You didn't wanna see us getting attacked, anyways. You're fine, dude." Manic flumped back first onto the grass and stared up with the others. The gaze they shared at the starry void held as everyone tried to collect their thoughts about everything that had just occurred. Theyer wasn't much they could say to make anything better. "We'll find you someone," Castillo assured the king. "If they exist, there's gotta be one out there who'll believe. An' you know we're here to listen and talk." It was the least he could do to comfort him. Comfort... "We've got some of Aria's home cooking at her place. Wanna hop over for some comfort food?" Aria rolled onto her side and closed her eyes, listening to the sounds of nature. The songs that the wilderness sang were her childhood lullabies and the open sky was her blanket. The tranquility was needed.

When her name was spoken she perked up. “Did you call me?” She asked the green duo.

“Yeah, he said you made dinner… Thanks kiddo. It means a lot.” He ruffled Scourge's quills and they all walked over to sit on the soft grass for a few minutes while Aria regained her strength to portal them to her home. When Scourge was on the grass, Manic gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder. He didn't have Castillo's problems with looking mushy, and if the king didn't have his back injuries, he probably would have pounced and given him a large comforting bear hug. But it was enough. Castillo sat down with Manic, and Manic ended up reclining against his lover. "My cooking ain't that bad," Castillo offered after a while, letting the cool air brush over them. "I could whip somethin' up fresh. What's a good comfort food, anyways? Mac and cheese?" "You aren't cooking it," Manic interjected, trying not to sound too goofy, only light-hearted. "I can boil water without starting a fire." "Fine, but Aria's gotta hide her paint cans first." Manic gave him a playful punch in the arm. Sure, they felt a bit overwhelmed by how much had just happened, but Scourge and Aria didn't need to see that. Anything to make them feel better. The word ‘whip’ made Scourge wince a bit, but he hid it.

“Well I mean, I’m all ready to warp whenever you wanna,” she insisted. “I don’t want to eat paint can spaghetti!”

“Seconded. Let’s go!” The king insisted, helping everyone up. He hung behind as the others went on ahead, gently kissing his fingers and pressing them to the two graves. They could rest finally. And so could he. Manic pretended to peek behind and look at what the king was doing. "Hey, Ari." Manic asked quietly as they started walking away from the clearing. "Do you know anything that like, helps him calm down? I don't want him to have a total breakdown, we gotta keep him comfortable." There was a beat before Manic spoke again. "I mean, Scourge here's gonna have to nab a shirt and cover up his back, you think you'd have any that would fit him?" He looked down at the giant shirt Aria was draped in. "Hell, you have any that fit YOU?" “I don’t think that will be necessary. He should be fine for now… But Castillo, if you can, go find his jacket, it should be in his room. Take a shirt from there as well, he won’t mind.”

Aria looked over at Manic, judging him. “Don’t you look at me like that. I’m not the only one who borrows clothes from my significant other. I recall you wearing black leather and flames at one point...”

She was teasing him of course, giggling as Scourge walked up. "Hey, I didn't wear it!" Manic protested back. "I just used it as a blanket sometimes! A lot! And sometimes wore it." Castillo walked through the castle halls, almost slowing down just to take in the feeling of the castle. It felt right again. Even if everything that had happened was far from alright, it was over for now. And hopefully, forever. He knew exactly where the king's room was. Castillo was aware that lingering to look at any of the photos would just cause him grief, so he kept away. There was no reason to think about Fiona or Luke now. He just had to get in and out, grab a shirt and jacket, and not worry about the history of these rooms. He noticed the nursery door open across the hall. He silently closed the door, it's contents a secret from him. His snooping had done enough already. The three met at the back exit to the castle, Castillo now wearing some kind of a fancy dress shirt. "Hope you don't mind, but my old clothes are kinda screwed." He shrugged and handed the jacket over to Scourge, as well as a roll of bandage tape from his bedside. "You two ready?" Aria and Manic were teasing each other back and forth, Aria cracking jokes at Manic's lovesick expense. If she had to put up with the eyefucking he had to own up to it.

“Hey, thanks. I don’t mind at all, I hate that shirt.” He shrugged and Aria looked offended.

“I got that for you for Christmas!” She protested, scratching her portal open and acting all pouty. There was a silent look between Manic and Scourge, both surprised by this comment and slightly amused as to whatever was going to come from this. Even if they knew Aria wasn't really going to chew him out for that, their glares still told Scourge they were very, very sorry for whatever would happen. They stepped through the portal into Aria's room. Castillo and Scourge walked over to the sitting area and fell into the cushions, Castillo letting out a long, heavy sigh. Manic picked up the leftovers on the table and walked over to the kitchen, starting up the stove to heat up the soup properly. A quick rummage through some of the foods in the closest cupboard was a box of macaroni and cheese, plain and simple. Just that and one set of leftovers, that would be good. One set? "Ari, didn't you leave more leftovers out earlier?" Manic asked, looking towards the counter. The container and the kiss-stained note were both gone. The shower was running, which no one noticed as Aria chewed Scourge out playfully, tugging lightly on his ear. He laughed and pretended to be in pain, stumbling over to the couch as Aria went behind a screen to collect some clothes. She knocked on the bathroom door.

“Babe? Its me. The boys are here so I grabbed you some clothes. Can I come in?”

The bat answered in the affirmative and Aria slipped into the bathroom. She didn’t leave for 20 minutes and when she came out her hair was wet but her shirt was dry. The Scourges noticed and exchanged a look. Both them smiled in that mischievous way that unsettled Aria.

Terra only briefly said hello before falling into bed and falling asleep. Aria sat on the edge of the bed, petting her mate gently. Now that Manic had access to actual cookware and utensils, there wasn't much concern about letting him handle the food as Aria was left to her girlfriend's whims. Pasta boiled, soup was warmed, and a comfortable set of scents filled the room. "Here, she made some roast and soup and stuff." Manic placed a plate down on the wood coffee table, with the reheated roast and a slice of the warmed bread. The soup was served alongside in a small bowl. "I just made some mac and cheese fresh, that's a pretty good comfort food, right?" "Didn't wanna grab a bowl?" Scourge asked. "Hey, don't judge!" Manic put the saucepan filled with macaroni and cheese in front of the king. A wooden spoon was sticking out of the pot, his evident utensil. "That's the best way to eat it, you know that! This was the first time he noticed those stares the Scourges were giving each other. "What're you guys smirking at?" "Ohh, nothing,” Scourge teased, happily eating the food set before him like a starving dog. Jules had forgotten that eating was a thing it seems.

Castillo’s eyes directed Manic's gaze to Aria's and Terra's wet hair, then raised his eyebrows as if to say, “isn’t that odd?”

Aria pulled away from her mate gently, closing the screen they had put around their bed so the tired bat could sleep. She claimed the leftover cookies for herself and sat on the floor. Oblivious to the conversations, she happily munched on cookies. Manic didn't seem phased by the realization. "I thought that just always happened with those guys?" He said without a trace of irony. Castillo laughed and let Aria munch away, not the one to ruin things this time. Manic took the time to stand up, walk to the kitchen, take a spoon, and walk back just to steal a scoop of mac and cheese for himself. Scourge was holding up for now, but there were still questions that needed to be asked. "You gonna need a ride to the castle after this, or you fine crashing here?" Castillo's question was just as much pointed at the king as it was to Aria. When Scourge managed to stop eating for a few seconds and swallow, he shook his head.

‘I think I’m gonna run home. I need to think and clear my head. Besides, crashing here is awkward when you’re third wheeling,” he shrugged and continued to eat his food

“You wouldn’t be third wheeling, but I understand,” Aria insisted. They were all really tired. "You sure?" Manic was finally letting some concern through. "We'd be happy to, dude. We ain't got much going on." "Running helps a ton," Castillo told Manic. "You should try it." "Whatever, dude." Manic said back. "I think Scourge and me are gonna try and find a hotel..." There was a loud yawn. "Ah man, we're probably just gonna crash in the van." "You guys take care," Castillo said back. "Especially you, kingy." Their walk to their van wasn't quite as casual as their conversations in the apartment were. "Damn, he's taking this well." Manic pointed out. "Do you think he's gonna be alright?" "Eventually," Castillo admitted. He didn't bring up his suspicion Scourge was much worse off than he'd ever let on, but now wasn't the time. Everyone was tired, and they just wanted to crash. The king finished his meal, washed the dishes and then hugged Aria goodbye.

“Call when you get home. Call anytime.” She insisted, voice muffled into his jacket. He pet her quills gently.

“Of course.” He said his good nights and sped off into the city, pushing himself to the limits, as fast as he could go. After half an hour of running as fast as he could, he jumped onto the roof of the castle and laid on his back, sweating and panting.

He looked up at the stars and thought. He would think for a long time, and wouldn’t go back into the castle until morning. He mused to himself, as he watched the sun rise.

“Its a new day.”

#TinyRedArtist #Show's Over #There's A Melody Playing #Strong Language

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therewillalwaysbeapril · 4 years

Text

Chapter 3: The Alaskan Desert

The linseed oil gave off a strange odor as April poured it into the small plastic casino coin bucket. The viscous, honey colored liquid made vulgar noises as it hit the plastic bottom, folding in on itself, bubbles forming on the surface. The smell was one that reeked of a mixture of stale fish, imitation pine scents, and peat. Its acrid fumes irritated my nasal passages, burning them as my face involuntarily twitched and my eyes began to water.

“Shouldn’t you be wearing a mask for this?” I enunciated my words with half-forced annoyance and disgust, carefully hiding my concern.

“Nope.”

Clouds began to form outside over the gray January day. The windows whistled as a breeze poked through a crack in the shutter. Light pitter-patters filtered through the ceiling as the neighborhood squirrels began to seek shelter; a storm was on its way.

Nimble and wiry, her well-practiced fingers skillfully began to pour red chalk into the pail. As the red powder began to run out, April hesitated for a moment, then reached for the container of blue. Colored dust began to lightly cloud, bringing a slightly ethereal quality to its immediate surrounding. April swirled the mixture confidently and deliberately. It began to take on a muddy shade of reddish brown ochre. With a palette knife, she began to lob the newly made oil paint onto the canvas in large, generous chunks. A bizarre desert scene of grime and clay began to take form, dripping with muck.

“I thought this was supposed to be Alaska. Where’s all the snow?”

Wiping the palette knife, she dropped it back onto the table with a clatter. “Oil paint is expensive. I’m just using this homemade junk for the bottom layer”

“So, are we going to talk about this?”

“What is there to talk about? I’m busy.”

“You know exactly what this is about. I could just leave if you don’t want me here.”

“Of course I want you here. I told you, I always want you next to me. Anyway, let’s eat.”

She briskly stood up and switched off the light, giving me a dry kiss as she walked out of the dark room. Hesitating, I followed.

•••

The arid hazel colored landscape was cracked in some places, with the overall texture of tree bark. April silently scratched at the surface with a dry paintbrush, adding bits of blue and white little by little. The room was completely quiet aside from rough scraping noises of April’s brush. She sat wordlessly on the floor cross-legged in front of the massive 6 foot wide canvas, only pausing to clean her brush every fifteen minutes or so. I also sat on the floor in the corner of the room, atop an old understuffed pillow, working on my laptop. It has been three days since the two of us stretched canvas over the thin frame April built from plywood that we purchased from a nearby Home Depot. The mud colored impasto layer of home made oil paint has dried and she has decided to begin applying the first layer of color.

“By the way, I’m sorry.”

April continued lightly applying the white paint without looking up, making light scratching noises that seemed to harmonize in rhythm with the ticking wall clock.

“I just wanted some sense of control, ok?” She paused for a moment, picking up the tube of white and squeezing a small amount directly onto her brush not unlike applying toothpaste.

“Okay, maybe I can kind of get it, the part where you started hiding the ball date pictures. And maybe you blocking my friends on Facebook too. But going around telling people you’re ‘technically single’?! What the hell is up with that?”

“I don’t know, alright?! Shit…” Grabbing a rag, April irately rubbed the spot on the floor that had been freshly stained with paint. Cursing, she tried to compose herself as she folded the rag neatly into a square and set it back on the table.

“Well do you want to be with me? Do you really love me?”

“Yes!”

“But...you were happier telling people you were single…?”

“I wasn’t sure okay?”

“Of—”

“Like, I love you so much but what if I got with you, which I did, and made it Facebook official and then all my friends saw and then we end up breaking up right after and then I have to change it back to single and thats so embarrassing!”

She stopped painting and turned around, her face a sudden shade of vibrant vermillion. “And it wasn’t just any ball! It was the Taiwan Airforce Christmas Ball! You have to be invited! Do you know how long the waitlist for something like that is? I barely even know the guy I went with! He’s my friend’s friend and I would’ve much rather it had been you!”

April paused and took a breath. She was clearly angry now.

“I just hid them from you on Facebook because you were so annoyed about it and I just wanted some breathing room!”

“Well that still doesn’t make it okay! Did you have to act so shady about it? Is this what happened between you and Levon—”

I knew I shouldn’t have said that. Immediately April stormed out of the room in the direction of the garage, stomping more loudly than I thought physically possible for someone of her petite frame.

“I’ll be back, I just want some air.”

It was dark when April returned. I sat in the living room with the lights off, glowering, drinking the scotch she had given me as a gift the week prior. It was a bottle of 16 year old Lagavulin — a generously flavored whisky that burned with a powerful taste of not only peat and oak, but also sweet scents of figs and vanilla. Complex, like this girl whose turbulent temper I have only just discovered. The stillness was abruptly cut by the sound of the garage door opening and the pippy rattling of the damaged Mini Cooper’s engine as it parked. Angry footsteps stomped up the stairs. The door slammed shut.

The door was locked.

“Go away.”

I knocked.

“Go away I’m eating fries!”

I paused for a moment, unsure of what to say.

“I want fries too…”

The door opened. April’s hair was extremely messy, flyaways in all directions. Ungracefully, she shoved a paper bag into my arms. IN-N-OUT BURGER, it said in large friendly red letters.

“I’m still mad at you.”, she said.

“Then why are there two orders of fries?” I gently put a hand on her shoulder.

April abruptly pulled me into a tight hug, burying her face in my shirt. After a long while she gave me a kiss.

“You shouldn’t drink when you’re mad.” she said. “You drink too much. I don’t like it when my dad drinks either.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned Levon. I know you had your problems with him.”

We ate our fries in silence as April continued scratching white paint onto the muddy surface. The bottom half of the painting was now a rocky white, still unfinished, but unmistakably a chunky, snowy terrain with indications of dirt, bootprints, and even a slight reflection of clouds. It was still somewhat translucent; the muddy bottom layers still peeked through and disturbed the surface, dirtying the texture.

“There’s something I have to tell you.” I could only see her back as she painted, now adding shades of blue to the upper portion of the canvas.

“I didn’t really want to be your girlfriend at first”

“Wait, what? How do you mean—”

“Well, I got in a big fight with Levon and he said he was going to go date somebody else, and I said, fine, me too! And then I went on the dating site and met you. Like, you seemed like the last person I would go out with, so I thought it would make him really mad, so I went out with you—”

“What the fuck man, you mean—”

“I didn’t lie to you! Really! We kept hanging out and I just liked you more and more, and then I guess I fell in love with you, but I didn’t really know what to do…”

I stood up and walked out of the room. April followed.

“So, you mean this was all a joke to you? I was just your punch line?!”

“Come on. No. Of course it wasn’t like that!”

“I thought I had found someone truly special, April. I guess I was wrong”

“No, please, you have no idea! I really do love you.”

“Then why would you do something like this? Is this something you’d do to me?!”

“No! Really, you don’t know — he was such a jerk…”

We sat down on the couch as the sounds of light rain falling pattered through the patio door.

“Like I told you before, I met him on Chatroulette a bit after high school graduation, and I really liked talking to him. He was this Armenian guy living in Sweden and he’s the same age as me and he was so nice to me and after a few months he said he was in love with me. So, I guess...he was kind of like my boyfriend? Like an online boyfriend?”

“....okay…”

“And he couldn’t decide what he wanted to study and I told him about my family wanting me to marry a doctor so he decided to pursue dental school. But he never studied well and I spent so much time trying to help him! I even look over his schoolwork for him all the time on top of my own stuff, and UCLA is really hard by the way!” April angrily grabbed a piece of chocolate from the coffee table, tearing off its wrapper.

“And then one time, he had this really important exam he was supposed to be studying for…” She chewed her candy violently, swallowing it with a loud gulp. “...and then I found out he went clubbing, and he took pictures together with so many other girls! I was so mad! I’m working so hard to help him, and he’s being such an asshole! He said he loved me and wanted to study hard and come here and take care of me, but I can’t even depend on him for something like that. It was so unfair!”

“...so you decided to go online and look for a lucky loser to make him jealous, huh? I guess that sucker was me.”

“I’m sorry…”

“And the pictures on Facebook? That was part of the ploy too?”

I sighed and stood up. “I need to think”, I said, walking back to the studio.

Over the course of the next couple of hours, April began to add more detail to her Alaskan landscape. Slowly and gradually a picture began to form. Patches of grayish white became a field of snow, clumps of blueish brown formed boulders. A red spot became a barn as a blob of brown was shaped into a moose. It was a magnificent scene, charming and cinematic. The scale of the painting was grand, bolstered by the large canvas size. However, the view was decidedly empty and desolate. It was a lonely scene, uninhabited save for the single moose and empty barn. Even the snowy mountains in the background were distant and mute, despite their artistry. As April painted, I sat next to her, reading, occasionally drifting in and out of sleep. Every now and then, she would hold my hand for a few minutes, while she painted with her right. At other times she would lean her head against my shoulder for a moment. I remained silent.

•••

The following morning, we hauled the still-wet painting downstairs. “Will this fit in your car? I can’t drive this to school in my Mini”. April looked over at my Toyota GT86. Was it a larger vehicle than her Mini Cooper Coupe? With its sweeping lines and shark-like aerodynamic styling, it was a much longer car. However, the rear hatch would be a problem. As a compact sports car, its trunk was barely four feet wide.

“Maybe we could tie it to the top?”

As the painting wobbled dangerously, teetering over the sloping roof of the 86, the car’s shark fin antenna pushed up the middle of the painting, denting it. We would have no choice but to tie it to the roof of the Mini.

“Are you sure about this? What if it rains again?” “Do you have a better idea? This painting is due tomorrow — I shouldn’t have procrastinated, but you’re the one who wanted to take me to your friend’s party last weekend” “Alright, let’s try this.”

Retrieving a roll of wax paper from the kitchen, I began to wrap the canvas as April tied and secured the knots. Leaves flew by in front of the garage.

“We’ll have to take surface roads to Westwood”, I said. “This thing’s going to blow off if we take the freeway.”

I drove slowly and wordlessly as the air whistled through the gap in the windows where we threaded the ropes. I began to feel painfully aware of the number of cracks and potholes in the road as I drove. Cars honked as they passed us by, clearly annoyed by the sluggish buggy that impeded them. An hour passed this way, with either of us holding our breath as we approached each stoplight hoping that the canvas would not tip forward.

“Can you say something?”, April asked as we drove through Echo Park on Sunset Boulevard. “What is there to say? I’m still thinking.” Traffic began to worsen, deadening to stop-and-go driving as we traveled closer to East Hollywood. Rain began to fall outside. Droplets made wandering paths as they trickled down the windshield. I felt a slight tickle on the back of my hand. April had reached out and lightly caressed it with her little finger. She looked at me and smiled.

It was a sheepish, bashful grin reminiscent of the way a child would simper at a parent at the end of a stern punishment. Against my will, I accidentally smiled back, quickly forcing it back into a frown. “I see you smiling there! Don’t try and hide it!” April grabbed my right hand and held it against her face, kissing it as I drove with my left. “I love you, okay? I really do.”

Another hour passed before we arrived at the UCLA art building. Parking in the loading bay, we unthreaded the painting and carried it up the freight elevator to the studio space. The painting was ruined. The snow was flattened in some places, pushed up against the trees and the barn in others. The blue of the sky dripped into the mountains, sullying its pristine white caps. The moose looked less like a moose and more like a melted klondike bar.

“April, I’m so sorry”, I said. “Let’s figure something out, maybe I can run over to Michael’s, find another canvas…” My voice trailed off. I was only being hopeful. She had worked on this all week long.

A strange glow appeared on April’s face. A smile so warm that it was as the heaters had come on in this empty Sunday classroom studio. “Sit tight, give me twenty minutes.” Grabbing a set of palette knives, she got to work, setting the painting on the floor and carving away. Within fifteen minutes the painting began to take form and definition again and by the time I returned with coffee, it was even better than before.

“Good as new”, she said. “Nothing that can’t be fixed!”

The rain continued to fall outside.

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