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spine-buster · 3 years

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peaceful easy feeling ft. b.boeser | one

A/N: Here’s the beginning of my new mini-series! I hope you all enjoy it. It will definitely be a bit of an emotional rollercoaster, so be prepared! There will be five parts!

SUPPORT MY WRITING HERE: https://ko-fi.com/spine_buster

CONTENT WARNING: parents with disease/sickness (Parkinson’s); swearing; sex; alcohol use; lots of emotions.

* * * * *

Brock Boeser felt like he was at some sort of Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, with everybody around the circle introducing themselves and their similar predicaments. The group was in a big meeting room at the local community centre, and when he walked in, he saw a group of dads playing basketball in the gym. He sort of wanted to join them instead of being here, in this room, with all these people that he didn’t know talking about what they were going to talk about, but he’d done this back in Minnesota, at his mother’s behest with his siblings, and he was going to do it here, too, in Vancouver, to make her happy and ease her mind and to make sure that he was easing his own mind.

“Um, hello everyone. My name is Brock Boeser. I’m from Minnesota, but I’m living in Vancouver. And um, I’m here with you all because my dad was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease.”

“Hello Brock,” everyone smiled at him, and he smiled and nodded back.

“So it was your dad that was diagnosed,” the leader, a kind, older woman named Esther who had greeted him at the door and stuck with him until everybody sat down, egged on a conversation. He knew she was doing it because he was new; everybody in this room probably already knew each other. A part of him actually wondered if anybody knew who he was. “When?”

“Um, he—he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s in 2010,” Brock revealed, stuttering it out. He knew he’d have to be open at these things – open so people could empathize with him, open so he could empathize with others – but it was still tough for him to do so. “But he—it’s—it’s not just Parkinson’s. Two years after he was diagnosed, he was in a car accident and suffered a traumatic brain injury. In 2017, he was diagnosed with lung cancer. He beat it but then in June it returned to his liver and chest. In July, he had a heart attack and his heart stopped beating for 15 minutes. I was with him and—I—it’s—it’s a lot, as you can imagine,” he tried not to start crying right then and there. Imagine that – first meeting with a Parkinson’s Society of BC support group and he’d bawl like a baby.

“Goodness me, Brock,” Esther said. “He has support at home?”

“Um, well, money isn’t an issue now, but when I was growing up my mom worked three jobs to make sure we were all taken care of,” he revealed. “I’d pitch in too wherever I could, obviously.”

“But it’s been tough for a number of years.”

Brock paused. It had been tough for a number of years. It had been really tough for a number of years. He nodded his head. “Yes ma’am. I try to take it day by day.”

Esther nodded as well. “I don’t know if you pray, Brock, but I know a couple of members around the circle do, and, well – you’ll be kept in all our prayers.”

Brock saw a few people nod their head. Another older woman, probably his mom’s age, clutching a rosary; a Sikh man dressed in a casual suit; a younger woman, probably in her thirties, with short blonde hair. He appreciated the sentiment. He knew that people took prayer very seriously – that people suffering took prayer very seriously. It was, realistically, one of the kindest things somebody could ever say to you: “I’m praying for you.” “Thank you very much,” he said, nodding his head once.

***

There was an arrangement of cookies at the end of the meeting. Even after the 90 minutes of everybody talking about their experiences and emotions, they apparently liked to stick around afterwards as well just to mingle. It didn’t all have to be doom and gloom, he thought. It didn’t all have to be about Parkinson’s or about sick people or losing your loved ones all the time. Maybe some people just wanted to talk about the news. Maybe some people just wanted to talk about sports. The weather. Anything. Anything to make a connection with someone beyond something so tragic.

After stuffing an entire Fudge-O cookie into his mouth, he looked up to see a young woman staring at him, holding her trenchcoat in her arms. She was smiling to let him know she was friendly. He was embarrassed because he knew she just saw him stuff an entire Fudge-O into his mouth. “Hi,” he said, his mouth still full of cookie, the sound of his voice reflecting that fact.

“You’re Brock Boeser, right?” she asked sweetly. “You play for the Vancouver Canucks?”

“Yeah,” Brock couldn’t help but smile. He swallowed the rest of the cookie even though he didn’t really finish chewing it. “That’s me. Are you a fan?”

“My step-brothers are more so than I am,” she said. “But I’m a fan of the team, yeah. I’m Grace Gillespie,” she extended her hand to shake his. “God, they’re not gonna believe me when I say I met you. They’re gonna freak.”

Brock couldn’t help but chuckle slightly. “Do you—I mean, do you want a picture? I don’t mind at all. I’ll sign an autograph on a napkin if you want me to.”

“Well…it’s a bit awkward to ask you at a Parkinson’s Society of BC meeting, but we could go to the Starbucks down the street and I could buy you a coffee.”

Brock was slightly taken aback at her forwardness. He shouldn’t have been. Girls came up to him all the time. All the time. And they were most definitely not shy. But he wasn’t exactly expecting it to happen here, of all places. A bar, sure. Out with Petey or any of the other guys, absolutely. But not here. “Yeah…yeah sure,” he stuttered out.

“Then we should go,” Grace smiled. She turned to look behind her. Brock saw Esther picking up a few Oreos. “Thank you for leading another great session, Esther,” Grace said.

“Oh you are most welcome Miss Gillespie. How is Hamish these days? You didn’t speak much today.”

“He’s been doing fine lately. His caregivers have been working around the clock for him. They just work wonders, don’t they?”

Esther nodded. “They are angels on Earth. Anyways – we’ll catch up next week,” she said, leaning slightly on her leg to look beyond Grace and to Brock. “I hope to see you here again next week, Brock.”

“Thank you, Esther. See you next week,” he said, realizing he made the commitment before he could even realize what he was saying.

***

“I take that was your first meeting?” Grace asked as she set down the two lattes on the table against the window where Brock was waiting.

“Was it really obvious?” Brock asked.

Grace shrugged her shoulders. She didn’t want to make him feel self-conscious. “It was the stuttering that gave it away, at least to me. I know I stuttered a lot the first few times I came to these meetings. I wasn’t the most comfortable talking about my dad’s condition to a room full of virtual strangers. But within just a few months I realized the people in that room are the kindest, most empathetic, most amazing people that I’ve ever interacted with. So I became a lot more open.”

Brock was transfixed by every word that Grace was saying. “So you’ve been coming here a long time,” he said.

Grace nodded. “My dad got diagnosed with Parkinson’s when I was fourteen. I didn’t start coming here until I was about eighteen, though.”

Brock knew he shouldn’t ask. He knew he shouldn’t. But his brain had ulterior motives, and his mouth – well, his mouth listened to his brain, because it apparently needed to know. “Is your—is your dad like my dad?” he asked. “Does he have, like, other problems complicating things?”

Grace shook her head. “No,” she said softly. “But the Parkinson’s is enough for him. I mean he was diagnosed just short of ten years ago and he’s already on puréed foods. It’s not—I mean, you know as well as I do that it doesn’t regularly develop that fast. But that’s…I don’t know how you do it.”

Brock didn’t know either. Some days he didn’t. “I just take it day by day,” he said simply, just like he said in the meeting. “If I think about it too much…that’s when it’s bad.”

“I hear ya,” Grace said, taking a sip of her coffee. “But let’s…not talk about this for too long. Do you like Vancouver? Do you find it nice?”

Brock appreciated the change in topic. “I love it here,” he nodded his head, smiling. “The city’s great. The fans are great. My teammates – I mean they’re amazing. What do you do?”

“I’m a dance teacher at Goh Ballet – little kids and teens, mostly.”

He wasn’t expecting that. She was drop dead gorgeous, sure – Brock wasn’t blind – but he wasn’t expecting to hear she was a dancer. “Do you, like, dance in the real ballet?”

Grace snorted slightly at his phrasing of ‘real ballet’. “No. I pursued it only up until a certain point. I was good, but uh, I stopped when my dad got diagnosed.”

“Why? Don’t they always tell people like us to have, like, an outlet or whatever?”

“They do. But I loved my dad more than I loved dance. And I would have rather spent the time that I was spending on dance with him instead.”

He understood where she was coming from, and he wasn’t there to judge her. “And your brothers you mentioned, did they help too?”

“Oh no no no. Sorry – I should have specified. I’m an only child. Like, the only child between my parents. But they divorced when I was six and when my mom re-married I gained two step-brothers, Jasper and Theo.”

“How was the divorce?” Brock found himself asking.

“You ever see footage of a nuclear bomb exploding?” Grace giggled as she asked the question. It caused Brock to laugh too even though the analogy she was making was dreadful. “It was awful. The type of divorce nobody deserves, you know? I became a pawn, basically, and my parents would only speak to each other through lawyers. Even stuff concerning me. It was bad.”

“That sounds horrible.”

“It was. But it’s the only life I know,” she said. “He was lucky my mom ended up marrying another rich guy. I mean, my mom only marries rich men,” she giggled slightly again. “That’s how Jasper and Theo became my step-brothers.”

“So your family has money?” Brock clarified. “What’s it from? Dad a lawyer or something?”

“Not exactly,” Grace said. “My dad and his brothers own a private equity firm that started like this,” she pinched her fingers together, “and went like…” she continued, spreading her fingers and moving her hands around her like a bomb explosion. “Gillespie Brothers Investments. I’m sure as a Vancouver Canuck you’ve heard of them. I mean they wanted to buy the Canucks before the Aquilinis.”

Brock hadn’t heard of them, but he now knew he’d have to do some snooping when he got home. “I haven’t heard of them. But I mean – sounds like they were successful.”

“Three billion dollars is pretty successful to me,” Grace quipped.

“B—Billion,” Brock sputtered out. “With a B.”

“With a B,” Grace nodded. Brock had no idea he was sitting across from the daughter of a billionaire. She didn’t act like a billionaire. Not like Brock knew what billionaires acted like. He’d never met one before in his life. Well, besides Francesco. “But tell me more about what you like about Vancouver. What about the nature? I always kind of fine a good long walk along the Seawall or through Stanley Park really clears my mind from all…this. What about you?”

Brock smiled. “I find the white noise of downtown clears my mind.”

***

“You want my number,” Grace said as a statement rather than a question as she and Brock exited the Starbucks. They were kicked out. They’d been there for so long that they’d been kicked out because they were closing. Their coffees had gotten cold. They hadn’t ordered new ones. And now they found themselves on the deserted sidewalk, jackets put on hastily, and Grace came up with that.

Brock looked down at her. They’d been able to look into each other’s soul for the past few hours. “Of course I want your number,” he said. There was no reason to hide it. No reason to deny it. No reason to have to wait until next week to see her again as they sat around in a circle in a community centre talking about their parents.

He took out his phone. She gave him her number. He texted his name to hers so she’d have his. When that dance was done, she looked up at him. “I’m really glad I met you tonight,” she said, her voice sincere.

Brock nodded. “I’m glad I met you too. I—I really enjoyed this. And I mean—I needed it.”

Grace smiled, nodding her head. “I needed it too.”

“D’you—” Brock stopped, trying not to get too far ahead of himself. “D’you need a ride home?”

“Oh no no, my driver is right there,” she motioned her head towards a black Mercedes waiting by the curb.

Brock hadn’t noticed the car until now. “Chauffeur?”

“Billionaire dad,” she winked. Brock understood. She took a few steps back before smiling one more time. “Call me,” she said, before flipping her hair over her shoulder and walking towards the Mercedes and getting into the backseat. Brock watched as it drove off, making a right at the end of the street.

He would definitely be calling.

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hongnanglen-arina · 3 years

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Forget me not | Hong Joshua

Genre: Angst

Pairing: Joshua x fem reader

Warnings: sick!reader, dementia

Words: 3k

A/N: Hey there! So here it is, my first angsty fic on here. I’m currently going through this myself but writing it down helped me cope with it a bit. Of course having to deal with this syndrome/disease is anything but romantic or nice but i tried to make it less bad if you know what i mean... anyways, i really hope you don’t have to deal with this in rl. Please be healthy!! Love you ♡

Tagged: @love-dreams @seokcalibur

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The first time Joshua knew that something was off was at your birthday party 5 years ago. When you talked too fast, often times you mixed up the names especially the similar ones. You nearly forgot the cake in the oven. Luckily your cousin noticed it. During the party, he thought you were just too excited or too stressed because you wanted it to be perfect. You’ve always been like this.

But when you were alone in the kitchen after everyone had left, you asked him about the special occasion of the party. You couldn’t remember it was your birthday.

He had laughed and thought it was a joke. But it wasn’t.

The questions increased, more and more random reactions happened until he couldn’t leave you alone anymore.

Once he was at a market with you. It was a lovely saturday afternoon. You two enjoyed those short getaways a lot. You would randomly choose a place up to 3 hours away from your home and would drive there, spent the day or even the whole weekend there and would go back happily as if you had a little vacation. That day you had decided to split up so he could secretly get the little bouquet of roses for you before joining you at the grocery store to help with the bags. The bouquet was placed securely on the backseat of your car when he stepped into the grocery store, looking for you. The store wasn’t too big so he was sure that it wouldn’t take long to find you. No sign of you at the fruit corner, the pastries, alcohol nor the snacks corner. He just couldn’t find you. He even asked the workers to call your name through the speakers because he started to get worried. 5 minutes passed. 10. 15. Still no sign. He didn’t want to bother the busy workers a second time so he made his way back to your rented apartment for the weekend. Maybe you wanted to start preparing dinner because you’ve been always like this. You never wanted to get help if it wasn’t really necessary. This was one of the reasons you two would get into an argument but those never lasted for long.

When Joshua got into the car and drove down the street in the direction of your apartment, he saw you sitting at the bus stop, crying. He immediately stopped the car and ran to you, he thought his heart had stopped beating the second he saw in what kind of state you were.

“Y/n, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” He tried his best to speak in a calming tone but it was very difficult. Joshua didn’t know what was wrong. What happened. What he missed out on. He was mad at himself that he left you alone, no matter what the reason for your tears was.

Your eyes lightened up a bit when you recognized him beside you on the bench, looking down at his hands which were holding yours, thumbs rubbing soothingly over your cold skin.

“I’m such a bad mother! I forgot to prepare dinner for our kids! I have to go back and cook. They must be hungry and waiting!”

It wasn’t what Joshua was expecting to hear.

Especially because your two children were already living in other cities for work and university. He didn’t understand right away. Again, he thought you made a joke but when his eyes met your glossy ones and he tried to find the right words.

“Love, they aren’t with us anymore. You don’t have to prepare dinner for them.”

This was the wrong choice of words. You started to cry uncontrollably, worse than before. Because you thought they had passed away.

Later on he learned that he had to “play along”. That this would resolve almost every situation with people who were suffering with this syndrome.

The other time you just wanted to throw away the trash. It was just right outside the apartment complex so he thought it would be okay. The big bins were just beside the entrance, in a separate place only residents could enter since the gatekeeper was always around. You didn’t have to go that far, it was still the same building. But what was a task for 10 minutes maximum under normal circumstances became a horrible memory for Joshua and probably you too.

Because you got lost somewhere between leaving and closing the apartment door and the moment Joshua found you. In the hospital.

Until now, he didn’t know what exactly happened on that day. But you got hit by a car when you crossed the street at a red light he was told. Even after asking the gatekeeper, he couldn’t help you because after seeing you, he got a call and didn’t pay attention where you were going after exchanging greetings.

Joshua’s fingers slightly touched your knee, the scars from the accident still evident. He was mad at himself. He thought moving to this place would help you recover and made you happier. In some aspects it did. Living on the 23rd floor with a breathtaking view over the Hangang river and all the nice lights once it got dark outside was something you two had always dreamt of. Being able to take a walk at the park next to the building and having some slice of nature around was exactly what you two wanted in this huge city. Always joked about growing old and admiring the view together.

He never thought it would become like this.

He didn’t know why God had chosen you.

He used to believe that everything happened for a reason. That you would only get good things if you do good.

He was raised to believe in God.

But after everything, it was difficult.

He even caught himself hating God for making you suffer like this.

He just couldn’t help it.

“It’s cold.” Your words pulled Joshua back to reality and he quickly got up to get your favorite blanket. The fuzzy fabric that you fell in love with when you were at an amusement park together a month before you got married. You always took great care to everything and everyone around you so it was no surprise to him that the blanket still looked exactly like it did when he won it for you. Although it hasn’t gotten the same care anymore after you weren’t able to do chores by yourself again. Joshua asked you what your secret was in maintaining it but as much as he tried, he just wasn’t as talented as you.

He wrapped you in your blanket and made sure that you felt warm and cozy before walking over to the open kitchen area to prepare tea. Your favorite organic herbal infusion.

While he was waiting for the water to boil, is eyes traveled to the side and to the wall which was decorated by different photos. Every single one holding a deep meaning.

A selfie taken on a ferries wheel. The moment he confessed his feelings for you. He planned everything to the smallest detail and wanted it to be romantic. Throughout the evening you asked him several times why he was carrying a bigger backpack. The reason was a bouquet of red roses. That day he wasn’t fully himself because he was too nervous but it still worked out. He succeeded. Joshua smiled at the memory.

Beside that was a photo from your wedding. The beautiful dress that you wore was something he had never seen. He was speechless and had to swallow down the tears. He couldn’t believe that he was the lucky guy marrying this ethereal woman in front of him. In this photo your eyes were a little puffy and nose slightly red because you couldn’t help but to cry through half of the ceremony. He could still hear your whines when his best friend asked for a photo. The smile remained on Joshua’s lips while remembering the moment.

Then photos of your children. The first born, then your second 3 years later. Time really passed by too fast because now they weren’t living with you anymore. In fact, your first born would become a father himself in a couple of months.

Joshua looked over to you, the smile changing to a painful expression. He wasn’t sure if you would understand who it is when your son would come over with his baby.

Once the tea was ready, he put everything on a small tray with some fruits and walked back to you.

You were still at your favorite spot. At the table in the dining room which was right in front of a huge window, allowing you to have a beautiful view on the Hangang river and the Paldang bridge. Joshua would catch you smile from time to time, sometimes even getting an answer from you why you were smiling. When there wasn't a smile on your lips, your eyes would be watery as if you had remembered something sad. Every time he would ask you and often times he would be surprised what the cause was. The fact he would randomly learn new things about your past even after knowing you for over 40 years now was surprising to him. But the doctor once told him that those things could also be dreams or wishes that you would mix up with reality. Sadly it was common.

He helped you with the tea, blew over it and held the cup while you took a sip. Every time you would thank him but without saying his name. It was painful but he tried to hold his smile.

“They look like the flowers we have in our garden. They are so beautiful. My mother loves them. Me too.”

Joshua turned around to a painting on the wall. A painting of small flowers, little blue petals with white and yellow centers. Forget-me-nots.

You painted it after getting the diagnosis. At that time, it wasn’t this severe. You were still able to do everything by yourself although you stopped from time to time because you weren’t able to remember what you wanted or why you were doing something. But the both of you were scared of the future.

It wouldn’t just go away after some time like a flu. There was nothing you could do, no antidote. Just medication which would temporarily improve the symptoms, distracting you from the real process. You knew that one day it would become so bad that you may hurt him.

The reason you painted the flowers was because you wanted to break up with him. You wanted a divorce. Not because you stopped loving him, it was because you loved him. You hated to ask for help. You hated to bother people, especially him. People who meant the world to you. You wanted him to live his life without you as a burden because dementia meant you would need help until the very end.

You wanted to give him the painting as a gift, like a symbol of your time together. That you were thankful for everything and hoped he would keep all the good memories in his heart. You didn’t want him to hate you and you really hoped he would understand. If not now, then later. The divorce would give him the freedom he deserved. He shouldn’t see you miserably and take care of you when you can’t recognize him anymore.

That was the biggest fight you two had.

Joshua was more than hurt of the decision you had made alone. But he wasn’t the only one in pain and he saw it in the way you were shaking as you tried to explain everything. He knew that something was wrong with you some weeks prior to your fight where the bomb dropped. You didn’t eat normally, you denied his ideas for a night out, you didn’t smile as much as you used to. You just avoided his love and wanted to be alone more and more.

In the end he convinced you to stay. Joshua told you that he swore to care for you until his last breath. To be there for you in good but also in bad times. He would be understanding if the syndrome would mess with your brain or body again. It was his purpose to be there for you. He loved you. Just as much as you needed him, he needed you as well. Even if that meant to be in the situation he was in right now.

"You really sing so beautifully. You should become a singer!"

That's what you would say every day after he played the guitar or sang his favorite song for you. And his reply would be the same as well, every day.

"Believe me or not but I was a famous singer once.”

And you would always giggle and think that he made a joke. But it wasn’t.

Joshua was 2 years older than you but then again, healthy. Unlike you who was suffering from dementia.

He knew you didn't do it on purpose but it always hurt him so much, he had no word to describe the pain. Knowing you weren't able to remember all the happy moments you two went through made his heart ache. No matter how often he told you about your adventures, your experiences and life lessons, you would forget about it right after. But he still did it again and again. At least he had a lot to tell you about and somehow it was a way of not forgetting it himself. Some kind of therapy for himself. But often times he struggled because he couldn't remember it clearly and it was always a lonely feeling as you couldn't help or correct him.

Joshua checked the secure on the wheels of your wheelchair, making sure it wouldn’t move. He slowly got up to his feet to turn on the heater on the other side of the room. It was getting cold inside and the tea was gone already.

When he first heard about dementia, he thought it was losing memory only. But as he educated himself more and more, he learned that it could also mean the loss of mobility and the loss of speech.

Luckily the latter hasn’t happened yet and he prayed it would stay that way.

That was one of the reasons he believed in God again.

He felt selfish but he had nowhere to go. No place to let everything out.

When he prayed to God again, he felt bad and pathetic at first but it gave him the strength he needed.

He prayed that you wouldn’t be in too much pain.

He mentioned his gratitude for still being with you.

He was thankful for the chance to be a good husband to you.

Absentmindedly, his fingers found his cross necklace. You weren’t in a good state and of course everything could be better without dementia but being there for each other must be the life lesson here. Even without a marriage, being with the person you love and supporting each other was one of the most important things in life. He didn’t know how it would be, if the tables were switched between the two of you. Maybe that was why Joshua understood your idea of the divorce although he decided against it. If he would have to choose again, his decision would be the same.

He didn’t want a life without you.

After turning on the heater, he joined you again.

He was watching you smile with tears in your eyes.

He asked you what was wrong but you didn't react, instead your gaze was fixated on something outside the window. He wanted to help. He wanted to turn back time but he couldn't. His wish was impossible to become true.

Joshua reached forward, grabbing two clementines from the tray he had brought earlier and started peeling them for you. You two used to do it for the other when everything was still okay. Before the drastic change had started. Now you've never done it for him again but it would never stop him from doing it for you.

Carefully taking your hand and placing the peeled fruits in it, you made a surprised noise, giving him a soft smile.

"How do you know I like them? Say, what's your name?"

He tried to smile back. The same question he would hear every day.

Leaning forward, he gently rubbed your arm through the blanket. "My name is Joshua." ...and I'm your husband, he added in his thoughts.

You pulled out your arm from under the blanket and carefully touched his hair, letting the fingertips graze his cheeks until he grabbed your hand and kept your hand like this, leaning in your palm and closing his eyes for a second before placing your hand back down in your lap. You still wore his bracelet. The one he made for you with pastel colored beads.

Every day you would ask where you got it from but Joshua made sure to tell you about it every time he heard this question. At least you two would always have topics to talk about, he always told himself.

“You are so kind to me.”

Your soft voice made him look up to you and then he saw it in your eyes. He saw that deep down you haven't completely forgotten about him and that was all he needed. That was what kept him going, day after day. You were and will always be the love of his life after all.

And that would never change. Never.

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sashi-ya · 3 years

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{+18} - Law x Fem Best Friend ♥ CH.2

♥ Daily living with the Heart pirates crew AU ♥ Spoilers after Dressrosa Arc. Law´s backstory. ♥ Female reader. Little physical description. Everybody is 18+, canon ages. ♥ TW: Nightmares related to PTSD. Little NSFW. no further warnings. If you think I should include some feel free to tell me ♥Thank you for the likes and follows, I appreciate it them so so much! If you wanna know when I’ll be updating the next chapters, you can follow me on Twitter @LawIsMyWaifu, come interact I love to have mutuals that love Law and One Piece as much as I do ♥

Word count: 4.1K

» List of parts: {CH1} {CH2} {CH3} {CH4} {CH5} «

Chapter 2.

The sound of his low, raspy voice resonated all over my head, making my body react instantly. I gasped as I felt a strike of pleasure travelling down my stomach to in between my legs. Closing my eyes, unable to move, I didn’t want to move, I wanted him to keep whispering, to kiss my neck… “Hahahaha, I’m sorry, I’m just fooling around, your face, you look astonished Y/N-ya”, he said while laying back on the bed, laughing. I chuckled as I stood up brushing my clothes as if I was trying to fix them. “Stop it, I’m not into that you ass. Goodnight”, I said trying to dissimulate how agitated and embarrassed I was.

Almost running, I left the room, directly to mine, holding on my hand my underwear. I jumped to my bed resting violently on my back. “WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?” ... a little time passed until I passed out.

Hard knocks on my door woke me up. “Vice-Captain!! wake up! breakfast is ready!!!” Clione shouted from the corridor. “God damn how many times I have to tell this whole crew I fucking hate being awakened with shouting?” I mumbled annoyed, covering my face with the sheets.

I was brushing my hair when I remembered my “memory box” for some reason. Opened my drawer and found the little velvet red box that holds my “treasures”. Inside, there is a photo of my parents with me when I was 7, happy, eating some ice cream with them. It was taken during one of “the white parades”, on Flevance, before everything turned into hell. A little blue bow that my little sister used to wear, some photos of Law, Bepo, Shachi, Penguin and me when we were the only members of our crew. And, a necklace Law made with some seashells as a gift for my 15th birthday, were also inside.

I got watery eyes while looking at it, “I must be getting old”, I thought, “I got emotional over the memories” ... laughed and put everything back to its place.

“Morning..” I said, greeting the whole crew that was already devouring their breakfast. I noticed Law wasn’t there, so I had to ask. Uni told me he was in the control room preparing for the arrival at the next island. I took a few pancakes and some tea and headed to the control room to ask my captain if he needed help.

“Good morning, doc”, I saluted him. Law that was seated facing the controls, turned the chair to look at me nodding. He has more dark circles as always, so I asked him, “Oi, did you sleep last night? are you feeling sick again?”. “I’m ok, I didn’t get much sleep last night. I got caught up with the book I was reading”, he answered with his usual unfriendly tone. “Yeah, right” I answered back, rolling my eyes, and proceeded “Let me know if you need something before we get to the island”. Left the control room and went back to my room.

I knew him well to know he hadn't slept because something was worrying him, and not because he was reading the old comic book of “Sora, the warrior of the sea against the evil Germa 66”. But hey, Law never shows any emotion besides annoyance if he is not sick.

A few hours later, the submarine got to the shore of some winter island, and we all got ready to accomplish our assigned tasks. “Ok everyone, we will meet here at 7 pm, is that clear?” told my crew members, everybody agreed and headed to the island.

The temperature was pretty low, and it was snowing. Law was wearing the long black coat with yellow dots and our Jolly Roger that he used to wear at Punk Hazard, his hat and of course the Kikoku over his shoulder. I love when he wears warm clothing, he looks so cozy, hiding his mouth behind the collar. (He does it so his lips don’t get chapped with the cold breeze, haha). I don't like to wear the boiler-suit when we get to explore islands, so I decided to wear a long yellow coat with a hood, also with our crew's Jolly Roger emblazoned on the left side of the chest.

We asked a few civilians where to find a pharmacy and headed to the destination following their instructions. Law didn’t say much during the walking, as he normally does.

The island seemed a little bit deserted, yet it had picturesque streets, full of colour that stand out from the snow. It has cobbled lanes, some canals of crystallized water, there were wooden houses and shops with little lights that garnished their architecture giving the place a romantic aura. The scenery behind the city center included big snowed mountains and a big castle over one of the highest peaks.

I saw a boutique with some cute sweaters on display that caught my eyes and I wanted to try them on. “Law, would you mind if I enter here? I want to buy a new sweater.”, I said. Law looked at me and made a gesture with his hand as he was saying to go ahead.

While searching for the sweater I like on one of the clothing racks I saw through the shop window that a few kids approached the captain. The seller asked me if I needed some help, so I stopped looking at him and l directed my gaze to the girl in the shop. So, I forget about him.

After buying two cute pullovers, we continued walking through the picturesque streets.

When we finally arrived at the pharmacy shop, it seemed like it was closed, but the door was open, so we entered. I rang the bell over the counter and waited for someone to show up. Law walked in front of me and had his hand over his sword. I knew he was alert and trying to protect me even if he didn’t say a word. I didn’t think we could be in danger, yet he never fully relaxes when we are outside. After all, he is one of the most wanted pirates of our generation, so it's understandable he trusts no stranger.

After a minute or so, an old lady approached the counter from the inside of the store. She seemed a little weak and perhaps a little sick. She coughed, covering her mouth with a handkerchief, and then greeted us. “Good afternoon, how can I help you?”, she asked. Law handed her a list of supplies we needed, and we waited. “Oi, don’t you think she looks bad? I mean, she is probably sick, should I ask if she is ok?”, I told Law who gave me a disapproving sight. I rolled my eyes, and said, “Fiiiine…”, “You know that I hate you rolling your eyes at me, you did it yesterday and now too. Stop it.” I looked at him with an “excuse me?” face and while I was about to spit an insult to him the granny appeared. “I’m sorry, I put on the bag some of the supplies, but I don’t have everything you need. We are short on medicines'', she informed us and started coughing harder. “Excuse me, Mrs. Are you alright? are you sick?”, I asked as she seemed to lose composure from all the nagging coughing. Law, that hated when I don’t give a fuck about what he had just said, gave me the look of death. “Oh young lady, we are pretty much sick, a strange illness is hitting the island. Even the only doctor in town fell ill. The orphanage, though, is getting the worst part. All of the kids are bedridden”, as she said, the memories of Flevance and the amber lead disease hit me.

Law's expression changed to a more compassionate one and asked about the symptoms they were experiencing. He might be serious, he might not want to get involved in a lot of things, but he is a true doctor. And he can't let people die if he can help.

We decided to visit the orphanage in hopes of helping the sick people, so we asked the old lady to give us directions to it. She said it was pretty far from the city center and told us her husband would take us there with his cart.

"Thank you so much for offering your help, young doctors", said the old lady's husband that later told us his name was Gerald. The cart was pulled by two brown percheron horses that opened their way through the white landscape.

We had a small talk during the journey, until Gerald asked, "how long have you been together? Are you already married?". Despite the freezing cold weather, my cheeks turned to fire, and I could sense Law hiding his head even more into his coat and hat. Almost as if clarifying that we were no couple was a life or death situation I said, "WE ARE JUST BEST FRIENDS!". I realized I almost shouted and felt mortified. Gerald looked at us with a little smirk and kind eyes, excusing himself for the mistake.

A few minutes after we arrived at the orphanage. It took us almost 30 minutes to get there and the sun was starting to set on the horizon.

When we entered the place, the situation was worse than we thought. There were kids and adults lying on the ground, some of them shivering, others coughing while others were straight unconscious. A few nurses were working in order to maintain them, but the situation had clearly surpassed them.

Immediately Law and I started working. While I helped the nurses, Law used his ope ope no mi power to scan the bodies of the sick people.

We got to the conclusion that what they were suffering was a type of bacteria that caused the respiratory symptoms and the fever.

During our duty, there were times when our eyes interlocked, and we smiled at each other. I wouldn't say we like people suffering, but, we certainly enjoyed working to save lives together.

A few hours passed since we arrived there, the sun was already set, and outside it seemed as if a snowstorm was beginning. I've lost track of time until my portable Den Den Mushi started to ring. "Oi, y/n, where are you? Is Law with you? Are you alright? We've been waiting for you on the shore! It's 9 pm already and we were supposed to meet at 7!", shouted Shachi from the other side of the line. "Oh my God I'm sorry I forgot to tell you!... you see …" I explained to them what we've been doing and that we were probably not going to return to the submarine in a few more hours.

The kids and the other people began to get better and those who were helping there offered us some food that we accepted happily.

While we were having dinner, Gerald got back from outside, who's been in the forest collecting some firewood. He informed us that the weather was getting really bad so coming back to town would be pretty dangerous.

Law and I agreed that staying there for the night was the safer choice.

One of the nurses, Sister Alley, told us we could spend the night in the cabin next to the orphanage. "I'm really sorry guys, I wished we had a better place for you, we owe you so much. The cabin has a fireplace, Gerald would start a fire to keep you warm”, she said. We both smiled at her and thanked for it.

We walked some meters through the forest until we started to catch sight of a wooden cabin. Despite being a strong pirate, I’m the queen of the clumsy people, so I slipped off with what I assume was an ice patch on the already snowy ground. I was about to hit the ground when Law grabbed me by the waist and saved me from a few bruises. His face in front of mine, the feeling of being safe on his arms, I wished it has been eternal. But the romantic moment was destroyed by Law mocking me. “It must be the devil fruit; how come you are so clumsy? Be careful”, he said, and I told him to shut up, this time I wasn’t embarrassed, but I was almost angry at him.

“Here we are, let me help you with the fire”, Gerald said, opening the wood door that creaked as it moved. The inside felt cozy, there were a few cushions and pillows on the ground next to the fireplace. There were no separate rooms, so in the middle of the lounge there was some kind of mattress with a few blankets over it. Our “host” asked for forgiveness about the lack of separate beds, but Law intercepted him and said, “It’s ok sir, we are grateful to have a warm place to stay until tomorrow. If you need help with any patient during the night, just please tell us”. It might be ok for you, damn Law. Was I supposed to sleep with him? - I mean, I wanted to, but, he was still my best friend, and those thoughts should have been erased.

Gerald wished us a good night and returned to the main building.

I hung my coat and as I love to explore, I started to do so around the little wooden house. The kitchen seemed really equipped, so I grabbed a kettle and some cups. Gerald was kind enough to give us some tea bags, so I thought making some tea was a great idea.

Law was next to the fireplace, wearing only a sweater and his jeans. Apparently he has already hung up his coat and his white spotted hat. I saw him once more with a lost sight that seemed to contemplate the firewood.

Looking at him with my face resting on my arm that was over the breakfast nook, I got lost worshiping his profile. I’ve always adored his upturned nose, his spiky black hair, his facial hair, the contrast between his grey eyes and the tanned skin. How come he has always been so handsome, but I’ve never seemed to fully realize?.

The whistle of the kettle intensified as the water started boiling, but I was so into admiring my best friend's beauty that I didn’t notice. Law turned to me and woke me up from my reverie shouting “Oi, Y/N, the kettle!”. My stupid smile quickly erased from my face, and my whole skin turned red. “Sorry”, I said straight away and turned off the burner.

I served two cups, noticing that the tea has an amazing scent. I believe it was hibiscus mixed with some other spices, perhaps some cardamom and maybe a little hint of clover. The smell of the tea mixed with the slightly one from the logs burning, was wonderful.

I walked to where my captain was, “Here, I think you may like it”, I said and handed him a cup. Our fingers brushed softly when grabbed the tea, he looked at me and said “Thanks”. I sat not so near him over one of the cushions and sipped a little bit of my tea. Law looked at me and stood up from his place. I could sense how awkward he felt when he made a little pause, and then walked away.

Why is he leaving? Did I make him feel uncomfortable?, I asked myself trying to hide little stings of pain on my chest that traveled to my throat. Somehow I felt like crying, and when my eyes started to get slightly watery, Law approached me placing his hand over my right shoulder.

I turned my face to him, looking up with a slightly pouty face. I was about to cry, and I didn’t even know why when I noticed a blue little box on his hand.

He sat next to me and said, "Do you remember when we were 15?, that day when I gave you that necklace I made myself for your birthday? I looked at him confused but I answered, "yes, of course, I got it on my memory box, I'm afraid to wear it outside the polar cause it might get lost and I wouldn't forgive myself if I lose it". He was now looking at the little box moving it around nervously and finally said "I got you a better one". He handed me the little box still not looking at me.

"A present?? OMG Law, thank you very much!" When did you buy it??" I almost shouted in excitement while opening the box. Inside there was a fine rose gold necklace that has a little anatomical heart figure as a pendant. I grabbed it and admired the beauty of the jewelry I had in my hands. The heart had a little red stone crimped on it, that shined with every movement.

"Law, this is too much! It must have cost you a lot of Berries, I don't deserve such a fine jewel!, thank you so much", I expressed with a big smile on my face.

"You do deserve more than this, you know. I'm glad you like it", he said, a little embarrassed. “When you were buying the sweaters, I asked some children there if they knew a jewelry store, turned out it was just around the corner”, he confessed.

“Thank you so much, it is just perfect! You know how I adore hearts; they remind me of you.. “Doctor Heart Stealer”” I almost shouted, realizing I have said too much…

I tried to put it on my neck, but I couldn’t clip it right, so I asked him for help. He stood up, kneel at my back and passed from behind the necklace around my neck.

Some branches hit the window violently as they were suffering the merciless wind of the snowstorm outside.

He struggled a little and finally fastened the collar and when he did, the electric power went off. The fireplace was the only source of light, the dance of the fire created figures with shadows and highlights all around the walls of the cabin. We remained silent, maybe a little scared or even surprised, but enjoying the sound of the weather and the creak of the fire.

He was still behind me, and after a few seconds he placed a soft kiss on my back that sent a shiver through my spine. Once again I was unable to speak, did he… did he just kiss my back?.. Before I could say or do something Law stood up and headed to one of the windows. “The storm seems to be even worse than earlier; don’t you think?”, he said, trying to device something through the window.

I couldn’t focus on anything else than the kiss he softly planted on my nape, minutes ago. He suddenly yawned and walked to the mattress that was in the center of the room, on the floor. He then took his jeans off and hopped inside the bed, naturally. I remained on my spot, contemplating his actions. “How could he be acting so normal?, I’m right here. He just gave me a necklace, kissed my skin and now he just goes to sleep?” I said to myself, still with a confused expression on my face.

“Oi, aren’t you coming to bed?”, he asked me, freely. “Yes… give me a second”, I said, and ran to the bathroom. The toilet was pretty tiny and basic, but enough for me to hide for a few minutes. “Come on, Y/N you slept with him two nights ago, it’s ok, he is like your brother, it’s ok…” I thought, trying to calm myself down.

I finally left my hiding place and headed to the mattress. Law was lying there, he took off his sweater, probably while I was in the bathroom, so he was only using a white tight undershirt, that molded his torso anatomy. Some blankets were covering the under part of his body from his hips. He had his forearm over his eyes, covering them with his neck stretched back.

I bite my lip, as a reaction for such a tempting scene. I was enjoying it, watching him breathe peacefully. I started feeling hot, so I took off the sweater but not my jeans and approached the “bed”.

I thought Law was already asleep, so I got in bed trying not to wake him up. I muffled myself up with the sheets. I remained still, hearing the snowstorm, fixing my eyes on the wooden ceiling, as the memories of my childhood flooded my mind. It must be the snowstorm, the wind, the cold that triggered these memories. eventually I fell asleep.

“No, stop it, my family, leave us alone!!!!”, I screamed. “Y/n-ya! Y/n-ya!, wake up!” said Law, pulling me out from the terrific oneiric world I was submerged in. I got lost into his eyes, and remained there with tears streaming from my eyes, rolling into my cheeks. Law was holding me close to his body around his arms. “Are you having those nightmares, again? why didn’t you tell me?”, he asked, worried. “This is the first time in ages, I think it must be the storm, perhaps the orphanage, the children…”, I expressed amid tears. My best friend brushed his tattooed fingers through my hair, moving it out of my face, and then wiped the tears from my cheeks.

“Oi, do you remember what happened when I gave you the first necklace?” he asked, trying to distract me. A feeling of warmth invaded my insides, suddenly I felt happy. “I do...” I said, laughing timidly, and continued, “It was my first kiss”. He smiled back at me, and said, “Mine too”.

For a second we both closed our eyes. I was grabbing the pendant with my left hand cherishing it and the memories of our younger days when we kissed for the first time. We haven't had much time to think about love while striving to survive so we forgot about it, letting the days, months and years pass, leaving the experience as a mere child’s play.

Suddenly we started laughing, Law didn't let go of me, and our faces were pretty close. “Everything's better when you laugh, I hate it when you cry, it makes me so sad…” he said, rubbing his thumb over my right cheek. I stopped laughing, as he got even closer. Almost as if the point of our noses were about to touch. I could feel the warmth of his breath over my lips, and he did too. My heart started racing, and the only thing I could hear was the blood pumping on my ears. I wasn’t moving, I wanted him to kiss me, I wanted to kiss him… I just didn’t care that he was my best friend, I just needed him to kiss me. What is taking him so long? Why am I not moving if I wanted this more than anything?. After a good minute, that felt eternal, he exclaimed “Fuck it”, and plant the sweetest kiss over my lips. A feeling of happiness filled my insides, I’ve never been so joyful in ages, it felt the same way as the first time. I was like a teenage girl experimenting love for the first time. Both smiled still with our lips pressed. I doubted for a second if succumbing to my deepest desires was the right thing to do until he decided to turn the cute kiss into a more passionate one. From then on, the desire I’d been accumulating inside of me took control of my body…

We kept on kissing; Law slid a hand under my shirt timidly caressing the skin of my tummy. The kisses migrated from my mouth to my neck, mixed with little bites that surely would turn into hickies tomorrow.

“Law…” I gasped when his hands reached my breasts. “What?” he replied, whispering next to my ear and pinching one of my nipples in between two fingers…

Chapter 3

Ch1: Link

#Trafalgardwaterlaw #one piece law #law x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #Trafalgar law x reader #one piece x reader

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seasonsofeverlark · 4 years

Text

Oktoberfest Effect

Author: @alliswell21

Prompt: Town boys (drunk?) dare each other to venture into woods (Halloween night? [Oktoberfest]). Katniss saves Peeta (from peacekeepers? storm?) by pulling him into a cave for the night. (Drunk Peeta talks too much and is cuddly?) [submitted by @567inpanem]

Rating: Teen (for drunkenness)

Author’s Note: Thank you to @mandelion82 for lending me her beta services, and being a generally awesome cheerleader! Thank you @567inpanem for the prompt, I hope it brings you joy! Thank y’all for reading!

Oktoberfest, originally from Munich, Germany, is a two week folkloric festival, celebrated between the third Sunday of September and the first Sunday of October. Copious amounts of beer get served worldwide to celebrate Oktoberfest…👀this fic doesn’t reflected the cultural richness of the festival and or what it represents!👀

Tags: In Panem AU; No Games AU; Not representative of Oktoberfest; Drunken Shenanigans; Thunder storms; Snarky!Everlark; Humor; Blink-and-you-Miss-it fluff. One Shot.

———————

Oktoberfest is one of my least favorite festivals in the small repertory of celebrations my District is allowed.

It’s usually held in the beginning of October, after the first showers of Fall, and tends to last all day long, severely cutting into my hunting time in the woods, which comprises the bulk of my family’s livelihood. My mother is a healer, but people used to struggle to pay for her services back in the day, so she stopped charging anyone; people gave her what they could: rations, produce from their squalid gardens, old clothes and such. You’d think people would pay with coins, now that things have improved for common folks, but some habits die hard.

It’s probably the same reason we keep observing a holiday that’s real meaning has been lost to Panem since before the Dark Days; people just know that at some point, Oktoberfest was celebrated around this time, and people ate and drank ale by the bucketfuls, so that’s what they do today.

By the same token, it’s the most popular festivity in District 12, since it’s the only day of the year in which drinking is sanctioned and even encouraged by the higher-ups of government. Trains come carrying ale, spiked ciders, and even hard liquor for the celebration. People like Ms. Ripper, who sells moonshine and white liquor in our black market, better known as The Hob, have free range to sell their wares openly, without suffering repercussions.

The meek, dull denizens of District 12 drink the spirits by the gallons, just for the one day, and pass out in the most unseemly places around town, like savages. If something had become clear to me with the passing years, it’s that people tend to enjoy drunkenness to soothe their woes away, so it’s natural everyone embraces Oktoberfest.

But, as with everything, things aren’t as bleak as I tend to see them myself.

“Katniss!” My sister, Prim, calls breathlessly from the maypole circle, beckoning me over with one hand, while holding a bright, yellow ribbon in her other, “There still are a few ribbons left!” She shouts excitedly, her meaning plain: she wants me to join in the festivities.

Normally I’d shy away from any and all activities that would have me interacting directly with the townsfolk. It’s nothing personal against them, I’m just not used to being touched by anyone, except for my family, and weaving ribbons around the maypole practically ensures I’d be brushing up against any number of strangers …but, there are worse games to play, and I could never deny my sister anything, not even this.

I make my way to Prim and reluctantly snatch up a pale blue ribbon from the ground. My sister’s smile is so bright I almost relax when the music starts, and the dancers take to moving in and out around the pole.

It isn’t as bad as I was dreading it to be. The music is lively; the fiddler follows the dancers while the rest of the band plays on the makeshift stage a few feet away, and the pole is relatively short and moderately wide, so we make quick work of braiding a pretty pattern in one go. Also, people are at a respectable distance from one another, and most everyone feels as awkward around me as I feel around them, so they just give a wide berth when they pass me by.

Prim and I are laughing when the song comes to an end, and we take a minute to admire the pole’s multicolored design.

There’s a line of smiling people waiting in the fringes to take the ribbons the opposite direction to unravel them and weave them together again.

I pull Prim into a hug and kiss her blonde head, fondly. “Let’s give somebody else a turn, Little Duck.” Prim narrows her eyes just a smidge; she’s almost 16 and doesn’t appreciate the nickname as much anymore. “Let’s put some warm apple cider into you, yes?”

Joy returns to her baby blues immediately. “Yes! We should go find Mother as well!” she says excitedly.

“Let’s go then!”

After finding our mother in the crowd, and haggling over three cups of cider and one bag of boiled peanuts, our mother suggests we go home early, before the party gets rowdy.

An unfortunate byproduct of Oktoberfest with all the unchecked drinking is men get loud, bold and stupid. Better to clear out before that happens, because while crimes aren’t tolerated— under the influence or sober—people tend to get belligerent when alcohol is involved.

President Snow died years ago, when I was Prim’s age. Many things changed drastically, like the abolishment of the Hunger Games, and a slightly better salary for miners, but the seemingly tolerant new government of Panem gives men a strange leave to criticize the Capitol while drunk…which technically, is still a crime in today’s Panem, just not as mortally dangerous anymore. Still, women try to haul their spouses home before they can say something incriminating and land themselves in prison.

Nothing can be done about the youngsters, though.

With women trying to keep a leash and muzzle over the men, the teenagers have unhindered access to alcohol and close to no supervision; although spirits are supposedly only served to people 17 and older, I wouldn’t put it past the vendors to look the other way if a group of merchant kids pass a few extra coins across the table, when nobody is watching.

If grown up men are loud, bold and stupid while drunk, teen and young adult men are even worse, and that’s without a gaggle of equally intoxicated girls egging them on.

This year— as in every Oktoberfest— the electric fence surrounding the district lays dormant and harmless, lest one of the hundreds of inebriated fools roaming the meadow fall into the wires and fry themselves upon accident.

Not that the Capitol cares if a few malnourished— probably discontented— miners fall dead during a district festival; people in 12 used to keel over from starvation all the time back under Snow’s regime, but those deaths were usually chalked up to any number of unrelated causes: pneumonia, heart weakness, black lung disease…anything, except starvation. But dying electrocuted on the very fence that’s supposed to keep us safe in our little district is unthinkable! The fence is there to keep dangerous beasts— and nutritious game alike— away from us.

District 12 remains that enduring jewel of Panem, where you can starve in safety! All we need is to drink the memory of our empty pantries away for another year, and everyone is happy. I sigh. At least they did away with the Hunger Games; now we have singing contests and trivia challenges playing on national television instead of the blood shed of innocent teenagers, which is certainly an improvement. Somehow it’s still not a fair bargain, but district folk will never complain about this particular trade; our children are safe, and we get to watch Capitol people make fools of themselves in front of everyone.

Mother, Prim and I make it home early enough to make a quick supper of roasted potatoes, salted fish and the last of the bakery bread I traded for this week. I make a mental note to bring down a couple squirrels to trade with the baker for more bread. The man is one of the few I can regularly count on to trade fairly with, so I always save him the best of my squirrels.

By the time dinner is being cleared off the table, I can hear the murmur of families returning home from the meadow. A surge of nervous energy takes over me. I start bouncing my leg restlessly, peeking at the old clock hanging on the wall.

“Are you going out again?” asks my mother. Her tone is light and her eyes focused on the heap of plates and forks she’s balancing in her hands. I know better than to believe she’s alright with me leaving again.

“For a while,” I answer.

“You could get stuck out there!” says Prim, clearly displeased.

“I’ve been working on a shelter, just in case. I’ll be back before dawn if I can help it,” I say, brokering no arguments.

“Be careful,” Prim mumbles, her blue eyes pleading.

I stand up from my chair and plant a kiss on the crown of her blonde head. “I promise. Now, go make sure Lady is secured before I leave. I don’t want anyone getting any ideas seeing a goat loose out there.” Not that anyone would cross me knowingly, but people get a lot dumber while drunk.

The sun set on the horizon long ago, but all my years sneaking around urge me to blend instantly with the river of dark-haired children trailing their dark-haired mothers and fathers all over The Seam. It certainly is an entertaining sight; the children are immensely happier than their parents, of course, bouncing and giggling, carrying in their spindly arms their Oktoberfest bounty of apples and freshly picked ears of corn stuffed into old burlap sacks, prizes given to them by the Capitol for every one of those silly games they played at the festival. At least they know supper won’t consist of tesserae bread tonight.

Reaching the fence will be trickier now that the meadow is crawling with blond merchants and peacekeepers patrolling the perimeter of the fence ‘for our safety’. A few miners remain, helping with the cleanup process to earn some extra money, but they are so few I can’t use our physical similarities to hide in plain sight. The merchants, meandering around the meadow, throwing nervous glances at the fence every so often, pretending they don’t care the thing is off, certainly hinders my ability to sneak around.

I wasn’t the only person who ventured outside the fence by any means. Historically, people have snuck under the barbed wire links in the past to steal apples and berries, when the hunger pains were scarier than the bears and wild dogs roaming the woods; necessity is a great incentive, it either makes you very brave or very reckless…but the few merchants still hanging out here only linger ‘cause an alcohol-fueled thrill holds them captive. Tomorrow, when they’re home nursing a head-splitting hangover, they’ll go back to cowering at the sight of the fence.

There’s a group of towheaded youngsters, singing obnoxiously, near the edge of the meadow.

I roll my eyes and try to ignore them for the time being. Meanwhile, I skirt around the maypole, pretending I’m admiring the workers’ effort, pulling the pole out of the ground to haul it into storage until next year. It’s a massive effort, but all I can do is lament how now there’s gonna be a soft spot in the ground for a while there, even after they fill it back with dirt and rocks.

I curse darkly under my breath when I startle at the sight of two peacekeepers passing by the merchant boys.

The singing stops while the townies nod politely at the albino buzzards. The boys stare at the peacekeepers until they disappear at a bend behind a big, tall retention wall where the fence stops into a jagged corner, and then the young merchants do something very peculiar…they start a round of ‘Row Your Boat’, holding up their fingers in some sort of countdown. Their voices are so shrill and out of tune, everyone around covers their ears and looks the opposite way.

I cock my head, studying the boys. They’re clearly intoxicated: red noses and ears, laughing at nonsense, and the biggest telltale, a bottle of white liquor passing around their misshapen circle. I realize, they’re not all teenagers. A few of them I recognize from my days in school, and I know for a fact two of them are married, and at least one of them has a child on the way already.

I roll my eyes at their childish behavior.

The peacekeepers appear again in the distance, and the singers stop their song abruptly. One of the older guys lifts his fingers up, showing all ten digits; he closes his fists quickly and opens them again, now showing seven fingers. They all giggle like lunatics, and I lose interest in them.

I round the cleaning crew closest to the fence, but suddenly, one of the townies stands up and starts calling at the top of his lungs, startling me.

“Hey, you! The girl with the braid!”

I whip around, because I’m 99% sure he’s talking to me! I’ve worn my dark, Seam hair in a single braid down my back for the last 8 years or so; it’s practical, really, to keep it that way. But that’s besides the point.

I wear my fiercest scowl on my face, and I get an uncomfortable jolt to the stomach when I realize I know this guy, the one waving at me while his companions guffaw around him, still intoning their childish ditty.

Peeta Mellark, the baker’s youngest son, a boy I owe the biggest debt of my entire life, and for the first time since I can remember, he’s meeting my gaze without wavering.

Debt or not, I have half a mind to stomp his way, grab him by the collar and shove him into the nearest tree in retaliation. My mouth opens to ask him what his problem is, when out of nowhere a pair of peacekeepers pop up from behind the retention wall, walking in the opposite direction of the previous set of guards.

“Did you know it takes about a minute and a half to sing ‘Row Your Boat’ seventeen times?” Peeta Mellark chuckles, pink cheeks and nose, tilting his head towards the fence, and then his blue, sparkly eyes flit to the peacekeepers passing by; all the boys stop singing and nod at them in greeting. “Then, it takes like five minutes to sing something else, until we go back to Row Your Boat!”

These guards must’ve crossed the other ones at some point while out of sight without me noticing. If I hadn’t been distracted by Peeta calling out to me, I would’ve run right into them on my way to the fence, if not flat out caught red-handed crossing into the woods, and how would I explain myself then?! Everyone in District 12 knows of my poaching proclivities, peacekeepers included, but that doesn’t mean I should go flaunting around my intention to trespass. Panem is still not completely free and whether people should have the right to escape into the woods for sustenance is still a murky topic…I’m not too keen on finding out if hunting is still a punishable crime by today’s parameters.

I turn my eyes back to Peeta, but he’s already singing and joking with his buddies, and although he seems to be invested in whatever shenanigans they’re doing, I’m not too sure he’s oblivious to me. After all, he had to be watching me pretty closely to accurately guess I was close to being discovered.

I huff. My debt to Peeta just increased, and I have no idea how to start paying him back for it.

The peacekeepers are again out of sight; the merchants are singing again, and like before, people look away from their ruckus. There’s one boy with his fingers up…counting.

Peeta’s watching me; he lifts 4 fingers offhandedly and turns to face his friends.

Clever!

It’s a code, I gather.

They’re timing the passing of the peacekeepers into the ‘blind spot’ with one song, then start a different one to predict when the keepers will be back on the retention wall.

I shake my head to clear off the hint of a smile taking over my face. The silly drunks aren’t as stupid as I thought, I guess.

I make sure no one is looking my way; I also check the kid counting how many boats they’ve rowed, and leap closer to the spot I know there’s a loose link. I only have ten rows before the peacekeepers come back, so I make quick work out of the wires and slip to the other side fast.

The drunk boys break into hoots and cheers once I’m in the woods, and despite myself, I look in their direction just to make sure nobody saw me scurrying out. I’m partially hidden by a tree, and should be safe now.

The cheering isn’t because I slipped out of the districteffectively; the boys are either harshly ruffling Peeta’s hair, or slapping him on the back. They’re all laughing and crowing something I can’t make out, but soon I see the glint of white uniforms out of the corner of my eyes, and hide deeper into the woods.

I decide to check on my snares around here and head home right away. This was perhaps the worst entrance I’ve made into the woods, and too many know I’m out here as it is, but, if the townies are gonna act as a siren of sorts, better to use their system to my advantage.

Then…I need to figure out how to finally speak to Peeta Mellark and start getting my ledger even with him.

It’s completely dark by the time I reach my snares. I look at the sky and scowl. The stars are obscured, and the moon has a hazy ring around it. Clouds are rolling in too fast for my liking. Rain is coming, soon. So I make haste and run my fingers along the first wire I find.

My snare wields two rabbits, and I bag them without resetting the traps. I figure one of these will be enough to hold my family over for a couple of days. I can make some coins out of the second rabbit, which should be enough until Oktoberfest has died down and business resumes as normal. It’s a good plan if I say so myself.

A peal of thunder breaks in the distance, and I grunt lowly. This night keeps getting worse by the minute; it’s good that I’m almost back to my entry point. I head back to the fence, where I can still hear the faint howls of laughter of the merchant boys.

I’m 30 yards from the fence when another clap of thunder roars overhead, loud enough to reverberate in my bones; people beyond the fence shriek. I’ve only taken a step forward when lightning strikes, and I know the storm is hot on my heels.

The chanting of the merchants is getting louder. I never thought I’d think this, but it’s a relief, knowing I can count on them to distract the patrols while I sneak back into the district.

They’re egging and heckling each other like a bunch of rowdy hoodlums.

“Go on! Ten coins says you won’t last a second!”

“I say fifteen, if he brings back proof he was there!”

Somebody belches loudly, making the rest giggle like school kids.

I roll my eyes and try to concentrate on finding my loose wire in the distance. I’m only a few feet away from the fence, but it’s dark and windy.

“Seeriouslee, though,” hiccups another, mispronouncing his words. “Gwhat should he…” hiccup, “bring?” Hiccup.

“Don’t know. A berry maybe,”

“Or a bear bite!” cackles another. They all laugh boisterously.

I wonder what they’re up to now. The fools! Don’t they know they should be running home for cover? The first raindrops are already falling.

“Fine! Okay…I’ll do it! But I wanna see all that money now!” slurs a voice I recognize, because I heard it calling me less than twenty minutes ago. “Pay up!”

No! Not him! I think, feeling my stomach drop. Whatever it is they’re doing, doesn’t sound very smart.

“Dis it?!” Peeta Mellark groans, “I’m taking all your money, so I can buy me a hen house! Dis not even ‘nough to buy me chicken feed!”

I hear grumbling nearby, and the clicking of metal, suspiciously similar to how coins sound falling on each other. I assume they’re shedding the rest of their money for Peeta to see.

“‘Kay…‘Kay…better now. Okay. Imma go now. Hold me money, Rye…and don’t spend any of it! I counted it… it’s me money! Don’t steal it, or I tell Lavender you were smooching girls a week before you got married!”

“Don’t you dare!”

“Don’t steal me money!”

“Fine!”

“Fine! And don’t tell father ‘bout dis either!”

Somebody yells, “Mellark, stop stalling!”

“Yeah! Get—“ hiccup, “on with it al—“ hiccup, “…ready!”

“Goin’, I’m goin’!” I hear a few murmurs.

I swear, Peeta Mellark! If you set foot in my woods, I’ll shoot you in the toes!

I’m close enough to the fence to see a few lights flicking close by, but then another thunder drums, with a lightning to boot, and the rain droplets fall heavier.

“Wait! White helmets!” hisses someone, and even I drop to the ground to hide.

“Evenin,’ officers!” says Peeta.

I can picture him in my mind’s eye, smiling the same way he used to in school when covering for one of his friends to the teachers.

“Evening? It’s almost nine o’clock, boys!” says a woman. I’m not quite familiar with her voice, but I can surmise she’s one of the peacekeepers on patrol. “Curfew starts in 30 minutes, and a storm’s on its way. I suggest you all head to your houses.”

“Yeah, we will finish pickin’ up our garbage and head right home, officer!” says Peeta, all polite and pleasant like.

“Very well. You better clear out by the time we return, or we’ll have you spend the night in a cozy cell at the Justice Building,” says a gruff male voice, most likely the second peacekeeper. “Now, get on with the cleaning, gentlemen.”

There’s a chorus of voices murmuring stuff like “Right away, sir!” and “Of course, officer.” A lot of movement and hushed conversations go on for a minute or so while I lay on my stomach like an idiot.

I can only assume the peacekeepers are out of earshot when Peeta exclaims happily, “Aight! I’m goin’ in!”

The others start fussing and protesting, talking over each other frantically: “You can’t go in!”, “Are you crazy?! You heard them, there’s a storm coming!”, “Stop being a damned hero, Mellark! You already showed us up, by speaking to Everdeen!”

Peeta calls out, “Guys! Shut up! She’s the reason I wanna go in there! She ain’t back yet!”

I frown.

“Everdeen? Dude, she’s probably stalking a deer or somethin’…she’s fine!” says who I believe is his brother.

“Well…but what if she needs help? Shouldn’t some’ne go get ‘er?” He sounds concerned and strangely hopeful.

My stomach does a strange little flip at Peeta’s words, and then I have to shake my head to stop myself from being grateful for his concern. Outside of my family, Peeta Mellark seems to be the only person in this entire district who cares about me.

“No! That girl’s half feral! All them wild things in the woods are probably more afraid of her than we are!” says Peeta’s brother.

I find myself nodding in agreement, but scowling at the same time, because I’m not feral! I just hunt and enjoy the respect— bordering on fear— people have for me.

It doesn’t matter, though! Right now I feel almost as silly as they sound, and I just want them to take Peeta home, so I can climb back into the district and go home myself.

“I’m still goin’ in!” I realize Peeta is looking for the spot I used to come into the woods, and I hear muttering and hissing trying to dissuade him from coming in, but he’s already pulling the wire the same way I did, and a moment later, he’s wiggling his broad frame under the fence like an inchworm rolling on salt.

“No!” I huff under my breath, scrambling to get up, to push him back in the other direction, but then somebody is whispering harshly.

“White helmets!”

I’m not even surprised to hear Peeta’s so-called friends run away then. Coward merchants the lot of them!

A thunder booms above us, and I see Peeta struggling to pull through under the flash of the lightning that follows. It’s a miracle the peacekeepers haven’t seen him, splashing in the muddy pool forming rapidly under his body.

“Ugh!” I finally find my feet and practically throw myself on top of his arms, to pull him in.

Peeta shrieks, startled by my sudden appearance, so I slap a hand over his mouth to keep him quiet.

“Hush! Or they’ll find us!”

I pull him further out from under the wire. He seems to realize what I’m trying to do and relaxes his muscles, letting me guide him forward while propelling himself with the toe of his boots.

There’s a bush just two feet away from us. I drag him with me on all fours and crouch behind it until the peacekeepers’ flashlights disappear.

“Hi!” says Peeta.

“Shush!”

“Sorry!” he whispers…loudly.

“Quiet!” I hiss, bringing a finger to my mouth, as if I was dealing with a toddler instead of a 20-year-old man.

“‘Kay,” he responds, this time in an actual whisper.

I still roll my eyes at him.

Thunder and lightning and cold, stabbing rain fall from the sky unrelenting.

“Listen, we can’t stay here too long; we need to crawl back into the district!” I tell him, peeking from behind our hiding spot to make sure we are alone. I can’t see very far ahead, but it’s obvious the meadow is empty now.

“What?!” he calls loudly.

“For goodness sakes!” I mutter in frustration. “We need to crawl back into the district, or we’re gonna drown out here!” I’m having to yell so he can hear me over the rain.

“Oh! O-kay!” he says, smiling beguilingly at me. “I came to get you!” he yells.

I look at him, trying to convey all the annoyance I’m feeling towards him right now with just my facial expression, but I guess the moonlight is so minimal he can’t see me, because all he does is smile back at me.

“You’re welcome!” he yells after a second in a self-satisfied tone.

“For what?” I snap.

“For rescuing you, of course!”

I stare at him, dumbfounded. “Rescuing— you… what?!” I screech.

More thunder and lighting make it impossible to keep doing this where we are. And thanks to the storm, it’s too risky trying to crawl under the fence, too. Negotiating Peeta’s humongous body back under the railings in these conditions is just calling for trouble; we’ll either get found by the peacekeepers— if they’re still patrolling— or get hit by lightning; after all, the fence is meant to conduct electricity and fry whatever touches it.

I’m lost in my head, thinking about our options at this point, when a bright flash cracks overhead, so strong, it makes everything look like it’s day time, and I fall back on my butt for how close Peeta’s face is to mine.

“What are you doing?” I rasp.

“Wow! Has anyone ever told you, you have freckles over the bridge of your nose?” He asks, placing his two paw-like hands on my shoulders, pulling me back onto my haunches. “From close up, your face is as pretty as the night sky with all its coteslations!”

“Hmm…no—nobody’s ever said…” I huff. “Come on. We can’t stay here.” I tell him, pulling him by the hem of his coat’s sleeve. “I think you meant ‘constellations’ by the way. Alcohol really messes up your speech, you know.”

I think he says something, but I’m not sure, since the storm is swallowing up all the sounds around us.

The going is slow, because we have to wait for lightning to illuminate our way, and once, I realized we were straying onto a different path from the place I have in mind. Plus, I have to keep trying to untangle myself from Peeta’s grasp, so I can feel around the way with my feet. Peeta talks too much…nonstop, and I think it’s mostly the alcohol talking, but ugh! Would it kill him to just be quiet for a second?!

He’s awfully clingy for such a big man. I mean, he’s grown a few inches since we were in school, and he used to be stocky and broad-shouldered, even as a teenager, on account of him being wrestling champion two years in a row, plus having to handle those heavy trays in the bakery and whatnot.

I forgot where I was going with this?

Anyway, I hope the alcohol clears his system soon. He seems like an overgrown puppy at times, the way he trails after me and touches the end of my braid, which I guess he might be using as some kind of leash or rope to tether himself to me. Surprisingly, I don’t find it as annoying as I should. In fact, I find the warmth of his fingers… reassuring.

“Stop!” I tell him, when I hear rustling nearby I know isn’t from the rain.

A wild dog jumps in front of us, and I curse loudly. I should’ve grabbed my bow on our way out here, but I didn’t want Peeta to see my hiding spot; not that he’ll remember how to get to it, but he was able to find my loose chain in the fence, so…

I think the dog is coming after us. But before I can tell Peeta to run, he pulls me flush with his chest and somehow lifts me over his head like I weigh nothing. The dog is momentarily confused, and I take the chance to chuck one of my rabbits past it. The dumb animal looks at us curiously, but after a second, loses interest and goes for the easier, smaller prey.

I just got reminded of how strong Peeta is.

“Thank you!” I call out when he lowers me back to his chest. “You can let go of me now. The dog’s gone, but there might be more around.”

Peeta nods. His blue eyes are wide and alarmed, his cheeks, ruddy with booze just a few minutes ago, are drained of color. “Alright!” he gasps, clearly shaken.

I grab his arm and squeeze, leading him away from the spot.

It’s times like these when I miss my old hunting partner, Gale Hawthorne; for starters, he would’ve had a bow on him…he would’ve shot and killed the dog. He would’ve had my back… but Peeta had my back this time, and he surely is no seasoned hunter, not even an outdoorsman, yet it was his quick thinking and sheer brute strength that saved my hide.

It’s also the reason Gale and I broke our partnership to begin with. Given the chance, he would’ve left Peeta stranded out here, instead of finding him shelter. But that’s his style, not mine, and Peeta has shown his worth twice tonight, inebriated as he is.

I release a sigh of relief when I see the opening of a burrow on the side of a small hill. It’s not truly a cave; it’s much too shallow to be called that, but, I found it about a year ago, and have been carving it out little by little for these kinds of emergencies, when I need shelter on the run, and the concrete little shack by the lake is too far, and I want to stay close to the fence, anyway.

“Oooh! Is this a cave? Is it abandoned? We ain’t gonna walk into some bear den or somethin’?” Peeta asks, bumping into my back when I stop to remove a few branches from the entrance of my little hiding spot.

“Get in!” I command him, and he obeys at once.

I take a few minutes to rearrange the branches at the mouth of the cave, just to keep the water from splashing inside, although we are soaked through our jackets.

“Sit,” I tell him, bumping into him again when I turn to feel round the wall of the cave for my provisions. The little hollow is only 5 ft wide by 6 feet deep, so there isn’t much room to wiggle for two people even if we were both my size.

Peeta has to hunch down as it is.

He’s quiet for the time being. My fingers touch the cool glass of the oil lamp I was feeling for, and right next to it, is a box of matches. I can finally breathe!

I make quick work of the lamp, and we are finally in better shape than we were a moment ago. Peeta blinks owlishly at the lamp, and I can tell he’s surprised, but blinded by the sudden light.

“Where are we?” Peeta asks in awe.

“It’s my emergency shelter,” I tell him, kicking a log from the back of the cave towards him. “Here, you don’t have to sit on the ground.” I tell him, watching him sitting almost directly in front of the entrance with his legs crossed.

“You have a shelter out here? I knew you were smart, but I didn’t know you were a genius!”

My cheeks heat up for some reason. “Nah. It’s just common sense. Too many experiences out there without one. Whatever. Intelligence has nothing to do with this, really.”

“So…do animals come in here?” he asks, turning his head around to study the place, not as nervously as before.

“No. It’s too small for a big animal’s den, and too big for a small critter’s burrow. It’s ‘me’ size because I’ve been digging it out little by little, and putting stuff in it for when I find myself in the same predicament we are in right now.”

Peeta shifts to his knees and slowly stands up, hunching a smidge, ‘cause the cave ceiling is too low for him. He lumbers to the log I offered him earlier and sits on it heavily.

“This place is great!” he states, looking at the crude shelving carved into the dirt where I keep the lamp, matches, a couple of cans of food I’ve agonized about leaving here because it feels like a waste, and things like spare arrowheads and fletchings; things that’d be useful in a pinch.

I have a knife hidden inside the very log Peeta’s sitting on, but I’m not about to divulge that secret. It’s my last line of defense, and since I don’t have my bow on me, I feel safer knowing there’s at least one weapon in the cave I can count on. I need to bring a bow here at some point; I just haven’t found a good way to camouflage…yet.

“Thank you,” I say quietly.

“Um, you can sit here,” says Peeta after a long moment passes in silence. “Plenty of room!” He motions to the log, scooting to free up some space.

It looks ridiculous, because there truly isn’t any room left on that log for me to sit. Peeta looks like a smushed rag-doll, sitting on a match box, and all the room he’s leaving next to him, is only big enough to accommodate a toothpick.

“It’s okay,” I tell him, with a reluctant smile. “I’ll stand for now.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, biting his lip guiltily.

“Yeah. Let me be a generous host.”

His face falls. “I’m sorry,” he rushes to say. “You wouldn’t have to be playing host in your lovely cave if it wasn’t for me. Sorry I was so stupid,” he says sheepishly, “I should’ve known you had it under control before I tried coming in after you.”

“Oh…it’s alright. It was…touching. All those things you said back there.” My cheeks are burning with embarrassment.

“I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true,” he says, sounding almost sober.

Another long minute goes by in silence. “Was that a wolf out there?” he asks suddenly. “I didn’t know what to do. I thought about kicking it, but I was afraid it would mangle up my leg, and then I’d get blood poisoned and since medicine is hard to come by, I probably would’ve lost my leg, and I’m not sure I’d be able to master a fake one…unless it was like a Capitol grade thing with robotic nerve connectors and the such… I read some man in District 3 figured out how to make prosthetics that you can control with a chip implanted in your brain!”

I find myself laughing at his nonsense. And he seems to enjoy my laugh, because he keeps saying outrageous things, I can’t tell if he’s just making them up on the fly, or if he really read about them somewhere.

I slide against the wall after a while, until I’m crouching close to the wet floor. Our clothes cling to our bodies, but most of the water has leaked off of us already, which is good, since I can’t light a fire inside the cave.

“Are you hungry?” I ask him, interrupting his musings about how chewing gum is inherently evil, since we don’t have dentistry accessible in the districts. The boy really talks too much!

Peeta cranes his neck to glare at my game bag, which I recently placed by my feet.

“What do you have there?” He asks, interested.

“A rabbit. But we can’t eat that raw. We’d get sick with fever if we try. I wouldn’t recommend it,” I tell him. “But I have canned fruit we can share,” I offer.

He makes an agreeing noise at the back of his throat. “I could eat.”

“Fine. Um…close your eyes for a second. And don’t peek!” I chide.

As with everything else I’ve commanded today, Peeta obeys without questioning, and soon I’m darting my hand into the end of the log, retrieving my knife.

“Open your eyes,” I say.

“Where did you get that from?!” he screeches, staring open-mouthed at my knife.

“Secret compartment,” I deadpan.

“Well…I hope you’re not planning on stabbing me with that thing. That blade is bound to be dull now that you hacked into that can with it.”

“What does it matter if the blade’s dull?” I ask, exasperated.

“It’ll tear up my skin if you try stabbing me with it!” Peeta answers, arms moving in exaggerated arches, “I much rather get a clean cut through, thank you very much!”

What’s wrong with this boy?! He’s acting like discussing his own potential stabbing is an everyday thing.

“For your information, I’m pretty adept at sharpening things! And…Eww! Gross! Why would I wanna stab you?” I shudder. “I’m sorry, but I don’t do wounds, and I don’t do blood.” I pull a face, shivering.

“You kill things for a living!” He rolls his eyes in disbelief. “Why, the inside of your bag is covered in dried blood from those bunnies right now!”

“Animals! I hunt animals! I don’t do people’s blood and stuff…gross!”

“You’re kinda squeamish for such a lethal thing, aren’t ya?”

“Shut up and eat your pears!” I shove the open can into his hands, and he stares suspiciously at me for a minute before digging in.

Peeta moves over a few more inches, and the toothpick space widens to a Katniss’-rearside-size spot. This time, I take his offer gratefully and sit down next to him. He passes the can to me when he’s done.

“You know…this is the first time we’ve done something normal together,” he says, pensive.

“It’s the first time we’ve done anything together, Peeta, period!”

Peeta gasps, and there’s silence for a second. “You’re amazing!” He says, staring and blinking at me while I chew, as if I truly was some extraordinary sight to behold.

I scowl. “Why? Because I fed you canned food in a torrential storm in the middle of the woods?” I didn’t mean to sound so sarcastic.

“Yeah…” he says dreamily, then scowls, then shakes his head. “Nah! You’re just…amazing! Even my mother says that you’re a survivor and the only thing District 12 has of worth…a better version of Haymitch Abernathy!”

Haymitch Abernathy is District 12’s one, and only living, Hunger Games Victor. He’s also a grumpy hermit, and a drunk, and the richest person in the district. Like me, he was born in the miners’ sector, nicknamed the Seam. People say Haymitch used to be smart as a whip, and a looker too, but now he’s just a paunchy, middle aged man, with anger issues.

“Well, that’s not much of a compliment, is it?” I wrinkle my nose.

Peeta laughs, brushing his shoulder against mine…but that’s to be expected, he’s a giant after all, and the cave is practically a tall dresser.

“No, I guess it’s not. But father always gushes about your squirrels. Says you never hit the pelt. You always shoot them right through the eye!”

“Well, anyone can do that with enough practice.” I shrug.

Peeta snorts, and his knee presses against mine. “I wish I could do even half of the stuff you do. You’re an amazing hunter, and smart, and so pretty, and you can bring down deer, and the way you are with your sister…well, my big brothers have never been doting with me as you are with Primrose.” He sighs, looking at the flickering flame of the oil lamp. “You are something else!”

“I— that’s not…” I’m frustrated and embarrassed, so I snap, “I wouldn’t have been able to do, or be, any of those things without your help, so…there!”

He scoots closer to me. His body is strangely warm, even under the layers of wet clothes. There’s bewilderment in his blue eyes, and for some reason, I can’t look away from the way his hair is all matted to his forehead. He looks boyish. Kinda cute.

“What do you mean?” He asks in a small voice.

I chuff. “Well, it was like today,” I start, leaning back, averting my eyes. He smells of spirits, but weirdly enough, I’m not repulsed by the scent. “You called out to me in the meadow, and I was about to rip you a new one, but then I realized you were trying to help me. Then, you save me from a wild dog, by doing something as simple as lifting me over your head, like I weighed nothing.” I feel small, all of eleven years old, and the fact that I’m wet to the bone and cold to the marrow doesn’t help my case. My voice comes out tiny, “You fed me when we were kids. I’ve never been able to even thank you for that!” I purse my lips to keep them from trembling, and blink some 28 times to keep from crying.

Peeta sidles up against me. “Oh, Katniss,” he says low and reverently. I realize with a jolt, that it’s the first time he’s said my name. “You’re talking about the bread when we were kids?” His eyes glass over. “You can let that go now… after saving my ass tonight from the storm and the peacekeepers, I think you can count us even.”

“How can you say that?” I demand, “You keep saving me, and I don’t know why?!”

“Really?” he asks, cocking his head sideways, scrunching his face, and shutting one eye like he can’t quite see me clearly with both eyes open; his tone isn’t malicious, just surprised. “You know why…at least, I think you should,” he says, shrugging and leaning closer. “I thought you’d notice how all of my friends were roasting me because I finally said something to you, and all I said was something lame about Row Your Boat.” He chuckles. “Fifteen years I’ve been trying to pluck up the courage to talk to you, and when I finally do, I call you ‘ Hey, girl with the braid’ like an idiot!” He practically leans into me.

“Fifteen years?” I ask, bewildered.

“Yeah…” he trails off, his ears turning cherry red. “I seem to have harbored a crush on you since the first day of school, when we were five.” He slumps back against the wall, and suddenly I wish he was still draped over me, warming me up.

“Really?” I ask, because this story seems far-fetched.

“Oh yes! It’s a whole thing! Me being a goner from the moment I heard you singing that very first day…remind me to tell you all the gory details some day.”

“You betcha,” I say, amused.

“I’m sorry I’m such a dork, but hey! At least imma buy me some chickens to sell eggs, and save, to buy my father’s bakery one day, and then I’m gonna ask you out on a date or somethin’.”

“Uh— what? Really?!” I chuckle.

Peeta yawns. “Yeah, Imma take you somewhere nice for a picnic, like Victor’s Village or something, and I’m gonna bring good bread this time! None of that burnt, soggy crap I threw at you when we were kids, but real, freshly baked bread. With butter. And probably canned pears, ‘cause those are my favorites now!”

“Okay,” I tell him, not completely sure why I’m agreeing to this. After all, I decided a long time ago I was never getting married or having any children, at least, not as long as the Hunger Games loomed over me; I won’t be stringing Peeta along either. Gale accused me of doing just that once, which I don’t think I did? The accusation still stung.

Right now, it feels nice to think I could go on a date with this crazy merchant boy; and who knows?!

“Buttered bread sounds nice,” I say, sinking next to him.

“This is nice!” Says Peeta, sleepily, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

“Yeah…it is,” I agree, realizing just how steady and warm his arms are, even encased in wet clothing.

“Will you go out on a picnic with me, then?” He asks hopefully, yawning again. His eyes drooping with sleep.

“I think I might,” I tell him. I haven’t felt this safe in anyone’s embrace since my father died when I was 11 and I stopped trusting my mother. “I think I will,”

I’m beginning to think that the alcohol fumes clinging to Peeta have gone to my head, and left me as simple minded as all the intoxicated people back home, maybe I have it wrong, and Oktoberfest does have its charm, because despite myself, it feels right to indulge in that fantasy tonight. After all, Peeta was the only person in the district back then, that cared enough about me and my family dying of hunger, to do anything about it. He gave me bread he purposely burned for me, all he gained was a bruised eye from his mother, and my inability to repay his kindness, for his generous gesture.

“Good! Just a heads up, though, I’ll prolly propose to you at that picnic, ” he says. His eyes are already closed, and I roll mine in response. “What you think my odds are of you saying yes?” He snuggles up to me, his head falls onto my shoulder.

“The odds might be in your favor,” I tell him softly; I’m not so sure I say that to humor him, though. I am really tired, and sleeping in his arms does sound like a luxury right now, so I’m gonna blame it on the ‘Oktoberfest effect’ in the morning. Plead sleep depravation insanity or something. “Night, Peeta,”

He mumbles a response, which turns into a slow snore.

I close my eyes, smiling.

I’ll indulge in the drunken ramblings of Peeta tonight. Tomorrow is a new day, and if the saying is right, the sun shines brightest after a storm…maybe it’s time I bask in the rays.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #autumn 2020 #alliswell21 #submission #autumn #prompt

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nowheretobefound101 · 3 years

Text

I Will Find You

A one-shot story dedicated to humanity who suffers fear and pure sadness because of the unacceptable truth about death.

I know how you admire this place so much. A place where you always pick up your fresh daisies and collect it in your handwoven basket. This flower field of yours is where our story began and I still remember the scent of freshly picked flowers all over your dress and hair, and also, your signature smile that never fails to enlighten my days after it.

Right now, at this moment, you give me this nostalgia just like back in the day I first met you.

I was just roaming around in this unfamiliar place until I got lost in the middle of your flower field. I am just moved in at my grandparents' house at that time, and I decided to sneak out of the house for a while to find out if something is amusing in this place. I continue strolling around until I saw you, gracefully sitting on the ground filled with daisies, sweetly humming a calm melody, and your hair flows smoothly with the air that also gave off its a vivid color like it kisses the sun.

I silently walked towards you and crouched in front of you. As you opened your eyes, I saw a great shocked in your face.

"AHHH!! WHO ARE YOU!? DON'T MAKE A MOVE." You screamed as if I will gonna rob you.

"Ohh, My bad for scaring you, I'm lost." I said.

"Your name's lost? I think your parents' had a bad taste." She giggled as she fixed her dress.

"No, I... I mean, I am literally 'lost',and Jack is my name!" I corrected.

"I'm just kidding! By the way, I'm Elsa. I see that your are the newcomer that your grandma told me for a couple of days ago." She said.

"Okay, so my grandma never runs out of stories to tell huh. But, please, I just want to go home right now 'cuz I just sneaked out in fixing my stuffs."

"So someone's getting trouble later!" She teased.

"C'mon, just help me!" I pleaded.

"Calm down you sneaky ones, I'll help you, okay, but first, help me to pick these daisies for your grandma. And yeah, if you wanted a place for yourself you can just freely visit my flower field."

"Thank you for your warm welcoming, Elsa." I said.

After we picked up those daisies for my grandma, she guided and walked me home. I never imagine that my grandparents are really closed to her. I thought that they'll gonna sermon me, instead, they were both glad and shocked that I already known Elsa.

And also, I found out where my grandma, who is so fond of daisies, came from.

Every afternoon, we are always staying on our spot in your flower field. We eat, laugh, tell some stories, collect some flowers to be sold on the market, music jamming, and even ending up taking a nice nap wherein sometimes, grandma will gonna wake us up if she minded to visit the place.

Days... Months... To years. Two people who begin and meet up as strangers, and now, I can't believe that you are my fiance.

But, Is this a right choice?

I keep regretting myself, every day along with our joys and love, not telling you the real reason why I moved with my grandparents. You only knew that I moved because I don't have parents anymore. I also told my grandparents for a long time ago to keep my secret hidden from the world I know.

I agreed to live for the rest of my years with my grandparents, hide until it ended because of my terrible fate, yet, everything changes until you came into my hopeless life. It is all coincidental and you never failed to enlighten me. Honestly, I failed too many times in love but you are something unique and special that I've never seen to anyone.

You are the only one who enlightened my hopeless heart and soul.

And the day I feared came as I passed out in the middle of the fields while we are happily collecting some daisies. That moment, my sight slowly turns blurry and I can't even feel my body anymore. As I fell through the grounds, I saw the daisies burst out in the mid-air, suddenly, I heard your voice repeatedly calling my name... calling some help, until everything went pitch black.

As I woke up, I feel so weak, I am not even aware of what day it is, and I am just catching up on my breath. I tried to look around and I saw you, sitting beside my bed and sleeping as your head placed to your arms down to my bed, I want to call your name, but, I really can't. Luckily, you noticed me awake as you feel me moved my hands to yours. You quickly stand up and sit in front of me, you planned to call my grandparents but I stopped you because I want to let you know all my regrets before my time ends.

"Elsa, I am begging you, just listen to me."

"What is it Jack, I'm here and I can hear you." I see into your eyes how worried you are and feel it on how you pressed my hands.

"I am sorry if I'd never confessed to you about this unknown disease that makes me weaker every single day. I moved to my grandparents to hide my terrible and undesirable fate to all as I wanted to shut myself out from anyone. Yet, you came into my life. I don't blame it okay, honestly, I am glad that I met you. I know from the start that I can't keep this from you forever but I just don't want to see you and my grandparents burden the pains when I left. I'm so sorry, Elsa. I am really sorry."

"Hush, my darling and just take a deep breath. I knew it already, as I observed how clumsy you are, as to how you see the world around you, as to how those medicines were in your pockets... I knew it already, Jack. When you were carried here by our fellow villagers, your grandparents also talked to me about this and on how you shut yourself so you can't see anyone suffers. Jack, I am also glad that you are the only person who showed me the beauty of falling in love, you also gave colors to my world, and you also enlighten me to appreciate the world. You had done nothing wrong." She confessed.

"If this is the time for you to take your rest... It's okay, Jack. Don't worry too much about us." She added.

"Uhm... Elsa... Ca... Can I ask you something?" I weakly said to her. I am trying my best to catch up on some air as I still can.

"What is it?" She answered.

" I know we can't stop the time, dear. I'm sincerely sorry, but, I... I just wish to see you, smiling in front of me for the last time because this is the only thing, my last memorabilia of you, that I can take for my departure. I... I know it's hard for you to--"

You stopped me as you placed your hands on my cheeks and rubbing my tears that flow in my face. I weakly smiled at you as I felt the your gentle hands for the last time.

"I'll smile for you even you don't request it from me." She answered.

As she smiled, she can't control herself from her overflowing emotions of pain and sadness as I see her cry at the same time.

I see my grandparents for the last time trying to not interrupting us. They are just silently standing, and peeking and listening through a small gap in the door. She didn't notice them as she continuously cries out.

"It's okay to cry, Elsa." I said. I just hope that I can wipe her tears back. "Thank you for making me happy within my limited time. I'm sorry if I need to leave you so suddenly. I love you as I will be waiting for you in our next lives." I smiled, yet, everything surrounds me faded little-by-little.

"I love you 'till we meet again. Sleep now, Jack." And this is the last thing I heard.

Elsa cried so hard after I left and my grandparents open the door and approach her. Then, the room is just filled with their mourns and tears around my dead body.

Days turn to weeks that passed away quickly... I can't even tell you that my soul is still wandering around in this world because I was told to finish my last mission.

From the first, it made my mind discombobulated until I see your name flash within my memory.

"You are my last mission." I told to myself.

Even though you can't see, feel, or hear me anymore, I can still able to guide you throughout your sufferings. My soul's still alive to finish my last mission because you are still believing in me.

But history repeats itself, and now, I see myself to you who shut yourself to everyone. I can only sense your agonies, fears, and sadness all over the room. My grandparents always checked you in your home, yet, you always said that "You're fine. Just leave me alone."

What should I do? I want to accomplish this mission, but how?

I remembered that you have a sister who lives in the near village with her husband. I tried to find her, however, I still don't know what will should I do.

When night came, I planned if I can able to write and luckily I have enough strength as a soul to do it. While your sister and her husband sleeping, I tried to write a short letter that I hope it may help you.

Days later, your sister saw your letter and visit you again. She opens and enters your cabin, removed and placed her winter coat into the rack behind the door, and she goes straight to your room.

She knocks on your door but you didn't answered. She called,

"Elsa, please I know you're in there

People are asking where you've been

They say, 'have courage' and I'm trying to,

I'm right out here for you

Just let me in."

But still, you have no response.

Anna calls you for another time,

" We only have each other

It's just you and me

What are we gonna do?"

And you suddenly opened your door and let your sister enter. Both of you stand beside your window that is full of daisies. You still don't make any response and Anna seems so worried about you. But, as the moment you pick up a daisy, Anna blurted out in her soft comforting voice, "Do you want to build a snowman?" After you hear it out clearly, you cried out in front of her.

I see, You made to let out your emotions again after I left at the beginning of winter.

Tears just suddenly flow down from your eyes and your sister continues to comfort you.

"Elsa, shutting yourself and burdening it by yourself is not what Jack wanted for you right? Yesterday, I found a piece of paper hidden in our picture. Do you wanna read it. Here, take this." Anna slipped out a paper and held it to Elsa.

Elsa read it loudly that the two of them can hear...

"Love can heal a frozen heart. Both of your hearts were like your daisies: Pure, innocent, and there it lies your true love. If you had read this, remember that when you feel lost through your darkness, let your daisies enlighten you towards your true love.

P.S. I will get mad if you forget how to smile :)

Anna, protect her from me okay. I'm sorry if I can't give you some chocolates this time."

"Jack's really full of fun and suprises." Elsa giggles.

"Finally, you smiled again, I hope he can see you smile like that again." Anna frankly said.

"C'mon, I know that whenever he is, he always gonna see this smile of mine." Elsa said.

"So, do you want to build a snowman, the flower fields seems to be filled up with snow." Anna joyfully asked.

"If you insisted. Thank you, Anna." And she hugged her sister so tight and Anna also hugged her back.

Anna suddenly holds Elsa's hand and rushed out because of her excitement, they run straight to the fields and dive mountains mountain of snow.

I watched you played with your sister and build a snowman, I also tried to join your fun the last time. So, I scoop a pile of snow and form some snowballs. At first, I hit you, and it was so fun that you blame Anna just like before when I still have my body. Then, I hit your sister next that makes her revenge and rained you with her snowballs.

Finally, you set me free and I also set you free.

I know you can sense me even you can't see me anymore...

For the last time, I just wanna say thank you for believing in me for no matter what reasons, and, for now, before I take step to eternity, I want you to know that I promised myself that you are the only person I'll find and love you again through our next lives, see you soon.

"I will also find you, Jack. You are the only man that I will love again in our next lives. Thank you and see you soon." You whispered and tears started to fall to you.

Did you really reply to me, Elsa? No, it must be a coincidence.

"I can sense you there like a friend I've always known. Show yourself, I'm no longer trembling." You opened your eyes and started to see me like a dream.

I come close to you and place my head into yours.

"I see, you still believe in me no matter what." I whispered to her.

"Yes, Jack. Until eternity. Can I feel you for the last time?"

"Yes, you may, Elsa. I love you."

"I love you too." You smiled as you closed your eyes and cry.

Once I closed my eyes, I cried and at the same time I feel my soul fades little-by-little.

And for the last time, I see your smile from the day I first encountered you.

Because it is the only smile that enlightened me out of my darkness.

See you soon. I will find and love you again to our next lives.

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drake-the-incubus · 3 years

Text

Post Note: This is long and I’m sorry.

I want to expand on what I mean but not use that post to do so.

Believe it or not, “x is a sign of y” isn’t as harmful as everyone is screaming about.

For example, my knees. I intermittently use a cane. Recently I haven’t had to use it- or I’ve forgotten it- but I have had days where I needed it.

I’ve had bad knee pain for a long ass time. Issues with pain in my legs in general.

But a lot of the time it would be a dull throb and I was fairly active as a kid and teen.

I also have a joint cracking problem. And I don’t mean I’m purposefully cracking my joints- though I do- I mean I’ve earned the nickname, “snap, crackle and pop” and “rice krispies”.

And my mom, when I was 12, went in for osteoarthritis and after years of pain finally found out she had a degenerating back that caused her back to create shards and she had a pinched cyatic nerve.

Forgive me as I’ve never seen this written down.

I’ve also had a problem with being incredibly sick as a child. Bronchitis to Bronchial Pneumonia almost yearly, and a couple of gland infections.

Do you know what mom tells me and I do?

Warning signs. Very common and not at all unusual warning signs.

I’m at risk for arthritis. In fact mom and I are both certain if it’s not there in my knees it’ll develop at some point.

In fact, earlier this year, I had back pain. God awful back pain. It ran down one leg at some point.

So I asked my mom because these were the symptoms for her issues. She told me to immediately see a doctor.

To most, that’s an overreaction. But it’s not.

I’ll round back to my sickly childhood.

I have a devil of a cough, I’ll hack up a lung if I have a fit. In fact if I’m ill I have the chance to seriously damage my throat- Halls my saviour.

I’ve had colds turn into serious medical issues because they don’t go away on their own, and what was considered a cold turned out to be an infection.

So now I’m hyper vigilant. A cold that last three days with medicine, I go to the doctor. If it’s just a cold, I’ll refuse their medicine, if it’s bronchitis, I’ve caught it early and now can avoid an emergency room visit.

Because of this sickly thing I’ve had for over two decades of my life- since I was an infant/toddler- I now have to tell people I live with, “hey if I’m sick too long tell me I’ll need to see a hospital”.

COVID came around and I literally got messages from multiple people worried I was going to die if I caught it, and I’m going to say, I’m terrified. I’ve been in the hospital multiple times due to illness, days away from being hospitalized.

The virus fucking terrified me. I’ve had more than ten scares of having it, with no idea what I should do, so I treated myself with care, waited for day three, when it didn’t come I was relieved.

I’ve nearly died twice to an allergic reaction, to this day, I’m deathly allergic to two things and I don’t know what they are.

I’m also allergic- but not even close to severe- to other things I can shrug off.

I’ve also had a negative general allergy test. It’s where I found out my blood type.

But I’ve had my throat slowly close up as I took a specific anti depressant. I didn’t notice until my tongue had started swelling in my mouth, that I had more itchy skin than usual and I was having breathing issues. I got told I was a few days out from actual death.

For mental health. I have very weird applications of symptoms.

I can tell if someone is angry or not, I can have genuine conversations with someone and notice minute details.

I’m also traumatized and was forced into recognizing emotions.

But I don’t know when to stop a conversation. I don’t know when to interpret someone’s polite way of ending something. I don’t know the social etiquette to not embarrass people. I can be sociable, but I hate people and I never seek them out myself.

I’m not the model someone looks to for an AFAB with autism.

My trans status really pushed the diagnosis.

But I do have the symptoms, they’re just not presenting in ways that make people scream autism- more like scream freak.

And as a teen I never knew I had it. But I found people who related to me outside of a psychological textbook who explained my issues and gave tips that worked for once.

I was Fourteen before it clicked in my parents were abusing me. That it wasn’t normal to stop and listen to make sure those were their footsteps. If they were coming to my room. How heavy? Is that anger?

I’d explain normal life things and get people telling me it wasn’t normal and I needed to be away from it. That the behaviour was terrifying.

That if my parents were threatening to beat me black and blue, I should be trying to get out.

Trauma causes memory issues? How would I know that as a teen going to the police and not being able to say anything other than, “they threaten me when I brush my teeth”.

A terrified seventeen year old, describing how they were punished and the police couldn’t take them seriously, as they sobbed and begged to not go back.

In a week I had to return because there was no where else to go.

I couldn’t tell the police office my parents threatened my life that night.

I couldn’t remember why I was convinced by my friends online to run away.

My teachers got mad: “Did you think of your grades, you’re graduating this year”

Not even thinking about how I was suffering so much I got sent to the councillor- and then dumped- multiple times for suicidal ideation and the absolute terror I had in ever speaking of my issues.

It took meeting someone who was traumatized to learn I had panic attacks.

“Go take Your medication they give you for anxiety, you’re having a panic attack”

I’ve had them since I was a child and it took frantically talking in a chat room to figure it out.

I got half my diagnoses from the people around me before medically getting them. And that’s not a joke.

I had abnormally painful periods for my entire childhood, and it took a friend telling me it was probably bad I needed my mom’s painkillers for her back sometimes to even exist.

And do you know what, extremely painful periods is a sign for something really bad. And about 1/3 of afabs have that experience.

It’s considered normal. And yet it can lead to a deadly disease if you’re not careful.

A painful boob can be breast cancer.

A cough and fever could be COVID.

People relatively will explain their experiences in a way that people see is normal.

Making it Hard to actually convey how these experiences are normal for US but they’re not normal.

“Haha I Just found out reading a lot as a kid was a sign of PTSD” isn’t someone taking the piss abt PTSD, it’s a common experience due to escape fantasies. I know a lot of people, most who hate reading now, that explained how they’d read for hours as a child to get out of life, sometimes pretending to be something better.

And so in good conscience, I can’t say that post is great.

TDLR; The post that insinuates “x is a sign of y” comes off as ableist, as my lived experiences I know where this comes from.

Sometimes minor things can be a sign of something major and ignoring it doesn’t help.

Physical and Mental health are hard to convey, and most of the time someone doesn’t have the language or forethought to in depth describe their experiences.

#abuse tw #child abuse tw #period tw #near death tw

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smkkbert · 4 years

Text

Time for a story - The Candidate

“Sit.”

Immediately, Hawk sat down. His eyes were completely focused on Felicity, his ears turned forward. He was just waiting for the next command.

“Down.”

Still completely focused on her, Hawk lay down. His muscles were tense, read to jump up if she told him to.

“Up.”

He got up, making Felicity smile.

“And back up.”

Hawk went backwards a couple of steps before he stopped.

“Here.”

The moment Felicity reached out her hand, Hawk was already there. He pushed his cold nose against the palm of her hand and sat down. Continuing to hold her hand stretched out, she lifted her arm, so her hand was a little higher than her head.

“Touch.”

Hawk jumped up and touched the palm of her hand with his nose once more. As soon as his paws were back on the ground, he sat down there and looked at her with vigilant eyes.

“Spin right.”

Hawk did before he looked at her once more, once again ready to do whatever she asked of him. The posture of his body showed that he already knew what she was going to suggest next.

“Spin left.”

Again, he followed her order immediately before he sat down right in front of her. He was so eager to learn and so willing to please. He always was, and it was a joy watching every time.

“Roll over.”

With a noise that sounded like a potato bag dropping to the floor, Hawk lay down and rolled himself over. He didn’t even have to interrupt the fluent movement and sit back up in front of her.

“Speak.”

Hawk barked. Loudly.

“Shake paw.”

Hawk was so eager that he was lifting both of his front paws at the same time, putting them into Felicity’s hand.

„Beg.“

He got up on his hindlegs and lifted both of his paws.

“Pang.”

Felicity aimed a finger gun at him and pretended to pull the trigger. With a loud whine, Hawk fell back and staid on the floor unmoving.

“And now kiss.”

Hawk’s legs were struggling in the air for a moment before he managed to turn back onto his stomach and get up onto his feet. He waited until Felicity had bowed down towards him and licked her face. She chuckled, moving her fingers through his soft fur.

“Good boy.”

Not only Hawk’s tail, but his entire body was waggling from all the joy. He loved to do what was asked of him because he loved if Felicity, Oliver and the kids were proud of him. It was the one thing he really wanted. She pulled him closer and kissed the top of his head. He really was such a good boy, the best of all.

Hawk had been a part of this family for one and a half years now. Compared to the time the family had existed, Hawk was still a relatively new addition to it. Still, the family was unimaginable without him now.

Felicity was still petting Hawk when Emily came in, her usual clipboard pushed under her arm. She smiled at the sight of her boss being so natural and soft when she was talking to her dog.

“Is the next candidate already there?” Felicity asked and glanced at her watch. “I lost track of time completely.”

Emily smiled, her arm tightening around her clipboard when she said, “We all would do if we were playing with Hawk.”

Hawk walked over to her like he had understood every word and snuggled around her legs like a cat. Emily chuckled and petted him which filled him with joy visibly. He just loved being petted by everyone that was friends with his family.

“How did the last job interviews go?” Emily asked. “Is there anyone promising?”

“Kind of.” Felicity shrugged her shoulders. “I am just not really convinced.”

“Too mainstream?”

“Kind of, yes.”

Emily nodded her head. She had been working for Felicity long enough to know what she meant. Felicity was never aiming to hire to the ordinary guys. She always wanted more, preferably someone with an extraordinary background or someone who had trouble to be hired. Those people often thought outside of the box which brought some great new perspective to the company. At the same time, she liked to know that she had given someone a chance that usually had trouble finding a job for whatever reason.

“Well, the next candidate might be what you are looking for then.” Emily shot a brief glance at her clipboard. “Her name is Anahira Ngata.”

Felicity nodded her head and smiled. If Emily thought that she was a good fit, she was sure that it was true. Emily just knew exactly what Felicity was looking for.

While Emily was leaving the office, Felicity looked at Hawk. She nodded to his dog basket that she had put in front of the large windowfront.

“Into your bed.”

Immediately, Hawk hurried over to his basket and lay down there. His head came to rest on the edge of the basket. Although he looked relaxed, his ears stayed turned forwards. He was still alarmed.

When Felicity turned towards the door, the new candidate was already coming in. As soon as Felicity saw her, the candidate’s cheeks turned red from a slight blush. Something told Felicity that it had something to do with the baby carriage she was pushing into the office in front of her.

“Ms. Ngata?”

“Yes,” she replied, shaking the hand Felicity reached out for her, “it’s a pleasure to meet you Ms. Smoak- I mean Mrs. Queen. I’m sorry. I have been a fan of your work for so long and-“

“It’s fine,” Felicity interrupted her softly, smiling at her, before she turned her gaze towards the sleeping baby in the baby carriage, “and who do we have here?”

“Kai, my son.” Ms. Ngata turned visibly calming at the sight of her sleeping baby. “My mom takes care of him usually, but she got sick overnight, and I couldn’t find someone else to take him for the job interview, so I didn’t know what to do with him and, I don’t know, I guessed my only real possibility was taking him with me.”

That was definitely the thing that made her the most nervous. Felicity got that. Whenever she had gone to job interviews, she had been incredibly nervous. This branch was a particularly tough one, all the more for women. Getting into a male-dominated area of work was hard enough for a woman. Being a mother that had to bring her child to the first day of meeting a possible new job was even harder.

At least it was that way with most bosses. Felicity was different though. With two steps, she reached her desk and grabbed a photo from it. She shot a glance at it first before she showed it to Ms. Ngata.

„This,“ she said, lifting the photo for her to see, “is my family. I had trouble with childcare a lot of times too. I always just took my kids with me to work, just like my husband did. I brought our youngest family member with me today too.”

When Ms. Ngata perked up her eyebrows, Felicity nodded towards Hawk. As soon as all eyes were directed at him, his tail started waggling against the floor, creating a patting sound.

“Sweet.”

“Oh, he is.” Felicity smiled at Hawk briefly before she gestured to the chair in front of the desk. “Please sit down. Can I offer you something to drink?”

“No, thanks. I am so nervous, I wouldn’t get anything down.”

Felicity shot her a sympathetic smile and sat down in the soft leather chair behind her table. Emily had been right. She already liked Ms. Ngata.

“So, tell me about you.”

Ms. Ngata sucked in a deep breath before she replied, “I have studied biomedical engineering at Boston University. While studying, I have also been working in the research group of Professor Doctor Buyeo.”

Felicity smiled as the name Professor Doctor Buyeo was very familiar to her. The ambitious woman, who had come to the U.S. from Korea as a child, had been actively supporting the development of the biochips. She had also been the first doctor to ever implement a biochip.

“So, you have kind of worked for Queen Incorporated already.”

“Kind of, yes,” Ms. Ngata replied with a chuckle, “I guess.”

“Why did you choose that field of work?”

“You mean those nerve-stimulators?”

“Or biomedical engineering in general,” Felicity replied with a slight shrug of her shoulder, “you can choose.”

Ms. Ngata continued to look at Felicity for a moment before she lowered her gaze to her hands. She seemed unsure how to answer that question which only made Felicity nosier. She knew that the answers her candidates had to think about for a moment were the ones that were the most honest. Hence, they were also the ones that helped Felicity the most.

When Ms. Ngata lifted her gaze to Felicity again, she could see that she was still struggling. With a deep intake of breath, she seemed to have decided on answering with exactly what was on her mind right now.

„I am a very faithful person,” she explained, “and I believe in a good and fair god.”

Felicity nodded her head slightly. She could follow so far. Felicity was a very faithful person, too. Maybe she didn’t practice her religion as much as she should do, but she did believe in God, and she believed that, ultimately, he made the right decisions. Despite everything she had seen in her life and suffered through herself, she still believed that there was a God that actually meant well with them.

“However,” Ms. Ngata continued after a moment, “I also know that a lot of people are suffering. Babies are born with disabilities. Accidents and diseases cause problems to people too. Some people might still believe that God had his own plans and people shouldn’t interfere, but I don’t agree with that.”

Felicity narrowed her eyes slightly, looking at the woman in front of her thoroughly. She was already excited to hear the rest of this. Just like Emily had said before, Felicity liked to hire people who were able to think outside of the box.

“I think that God wouldn’t have given us the possibility of developing such things as bio-stimulants or abortions or even different kinds of surgery if he hadn’t wanted us to use them.” She smiled the smile of a woman that had been derided for her beliefs a lot of times. “There is so much bad in the world. If we assume that god created all of that, why wouldn’t he be the one to create all the good too? Why wouldn’t he give us the tools to try and make some of the things better?”

Felicity nodded her head slowly. “I like that way of thinking. It sounds nice.”

“It was my way of still believing in God when I realized how cruel this world could be.” Ms. Ngata sighed. “I thought it was a better way of dealing with it than just giving up on everything.”

Again, Felicity nodded her head. “Sounds about right.”

“Well, once I realized that, I figured that I wanted to be part of that. I wanted to help finding the right tools to help people that felt like their lives could improve if only the right technic was invented.”

“But why not medicine?” Felicity asked. “I mean if someone-“

When the baby started crying, Ms. Ngata pushed the baby carriage back and forth a little bit more quickly. She smiled at Felicity, asking her to go on without really saying the words, but Felicity could see how nervous she was.

“Most people who want to help others,” Felicity continued eventually over the cries of the baby, “think about medicine first. Why biomedical engineering?”

“Compared to medicine, it’s still a relatively new field,” she replied, shooting a nervous look towards her baby boy when his cries grew even more desperate, “and I just thought- I-“

Ms. Nagata looked from Felicity to her baby where her gaze stayed. Felicity could see the struggle she was going through, and she could see her making her decision – the wrong decision if you asked Felicity.

“I think we should end the conversation here,” she said, “I shouldn’t have wasted your time. Coming here with Kai has been the wrong decision from the start, and I-“

Felicity got up, shaking her head. She didn’t agree with any of what she was saying. It hadn’t been a mistake that she had come here. Actually, Felicity got a feeling that she was quite right here.

With a couple of steps, Felicity walked around the desk and looked at the crying baby in the baby carriage. Her kids might be quite some time older than Kai, but Felicity knew that she wouldn’t ever forget what it felt like to hold such a small baby in your arms. Kai wasn’t older than four months. He was still so tiny.

“Do you mind if I-“

Felicity looked from the crying baby to the mother, pointing a finger at the tiny human being that continued crying.

“No,” Ms. Ngata replied quickly, “of course not, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to-“

“Not want to?” With a chuckle, Felicity lifted Kai from the baby carriage and rested him against her chest. His head came to rest on her shoulder, and she leaned her face against his head. “Who couldn’t want to hold this beautiful baby?”

Felicity leaned her torso back a little, making sure the baby was safely tugged against her. Her right hand moved under his butt then, and her left hand tugged at the hem of the baby’s shirt. His cried grew quieter, so Felicity rubbed her hand over his back and went up and down with him. It seemed like Kai hadn’t been hungry at all. He had just wanted or needed some attention.

“My kids are all older, but it really doesn’t feel like it’s been years since my youngest was at that age,” Felicity said, almost missing the days when her kids were that small for a moment, but she didn’t allow this thought to go any deeper, “anyway, I think this will allow us to continue our conversation a little longer. That is, if you want to.”

Ms. Ngata seemed unsure what to say about this. Looking at her baby boy, who had almost fallen back asleep in Felicity’s arms, she seemed to be relieved that she still got a chance.

While Felicity was walking up and down in the office, alternating between rubbing her hand over Kai’s back and patting her fingertips against it, Felicity continued to interview Ms. Ngata for the job. Admittedly, at this point, it was less of trying to figure out if she wanted to hire her and more of trying to confirm that her decision had been the right one.

It was safe to say that Anahira Ngata was very passionate about her job. She loved what she was doing, and she did it because she was convinced that she could do some good in the world. In addition to that, she was also very skilled and willed to learn more if she realized that she was pushed to her limits. She was persistent, patient and strong. She wasn’t unsettled easily, and she could deal with a bunch of work.

Emily had been right when she had said that Felicity would like her because Felicity really did. She liked women that managed to make something out of themselves, women that came from rather poor or uneducated families and still decided to work their asses off, so they could graduate from college, study at colleges or universities and have jobs that were usually saved for men. If they decided that they didn’t want to give away their chance at a family of their own despite aiming for a better job.

“So, one last question, if you allow?” Felicity asked eventually.

“Sure.”

“Would you like me to book you a place in our in-house daycare?”

Ms. Ngata perked up her eyebrows. “There is an in-house daycare?”

“Yes.” Felicity smiled proudly, knowing that it was still relatively rare for most bigger companies around here. “I built it a couple of years ago when I realized how easily you could get in trouble with trying to find someone to take care of your kid when it was needed. I have always allowed and still see no problem in bringing your kid to work if that is necessary and if safety measures allow it. If possible, I also have no problem with parents working from home. All those options are still available even since I have opened the daycare.”

“Are your kids in that daycare too?”

“No,” Felicity replied with a smile, “they would be if I hadn’t hired a wonderful woman that has helped raising my husband already. She is part of the family and like the second grandmother they never got to know. I could never put her out of her job, and she likes to have the kids around.”

Ms. Ngata nodded her head slowly before she smiled. “If I get a job here, I would be more than happy if Kai could get a place at daycare. That is if you hire me of course.”

“I will hire you.”

The simple statement made Ms. Ngata’s eyebrows perk up. She seemed to be surprised about the fact that she was already hired.

“Don’t you have to discuss that with the head of HR or the board or anything?”

Felicity waved it off. “They always agree to my decisions because they know that I have never made a wrong choice. If you want to, you can sign the papers right now. Or maybe you want to read them through thoroughly which is absolutely okay too. If you ask my assistant Emily to just give you the papers, you can read them at home, and we can talk about them after the weekend.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Just say that you will think about the offer.”

“Of course I will. I probably won’t be able to think about anything else than this offer. It’s like a dream come true.”

“I am happy to hear that.” Felicity stepped in front of the woman that was hopefully going to be her newest employee and offered her hand to her. “I hope to be able to welcome you on board of this crazy ship soon.”

“The chances are good.”

Ms. Ngata took Felicity’s hand and shook it. Felicity was sure that she had enough knowledge of people to know that she wasn’t lying. She really wanted to think about this offer, and she was currently tending towards agreeing to it.

Once they had continued to shake hands, Felicity waited for Ms. Ngata to say goodbye. She was just looking at her though, almost like she was waiting for Felicity to say something more.

“Like I said,” Felicity said almost a little awkwardly, “Emily will give you the papers. If you just call me on Monday. We will find an appointment to sign the papers and talk about them if there are any open questions.”

“Sounds great.”

Again, Ms. Ngata shook her head, but she continued to look at Felicity. When the latter frowned slightly, the candidate shook her head and gestured towards Felicity’s shoulder.

“My baby?”

Following the direction of the gesture, Felicity looked down at the tiny human being that was resting against her shoulder. Only now she realized that Kai was still sleeping in her arms.

“Oh my god,” she said quickly, “of course.”

She put the baby back into the arms of her mother. She really couldn’t say how she could have forgotten that she was still holding a baby in her arms. Maybe she had been too flashed by the idea of hiring this woman. Felicity just already knew that she was going to be a great addition to the company.

“Goodbye then, Mrs. Queen.”

“Ms. Ngata.”

This was all going to work out great. Felicity just knew it, and she really was never ever wrong when it came to her employees. She had like a sixth sense for choosing them.

* * *

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#arrow #olicity #olicity fic #olicity fanfic #time for a story

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its-always-the-witching-hour · 4 years

Text

Chapter 1 of Apocalyptic AU - Sanders Sides

This is way longer than I intended it to be, and it’s only chapter one. I don’t have a name for it yet, but I’ll come up with one soon.

Word count - 1643

Pairings - None (yet)

Warnings - (Spoilers) Zombies, blood, guts, the undead, being left alone, death, disease, summoning rituals - Tag anything I missed

Characters - Virgil Sanders, Deceit (Devan) Sanders, Remus Sanders

Next chapter

---

Everyone had called his parents crazy, and conspiracy theorists, but now they probably wished they had listened to them. It was month 4 of the apocalypse, and Virgil was probably the only survivor. The outbreak had started with what seemed like a new disease, one that was extremely contagious but harmless, and put the infected person into a sleepwalker like stupor that lasted for days. At first, things just continued like normal, with people still going to work and school, and traveling around the globe, but Virgil’s parents hadn’t bought it. They had locked him from the outside and inside in a bomb-proof bunker, stocked with enough food to last a person a year. They refused to join him, though, and instead attempted to figure out where the disease had originated from. The days down in the bunker were long, but not that boring, due to the fact that there were at least three charging points for electronic devices on each wall, and a tv to keep connected to the outside world, not to mention the bookshelf with all of Virgil’s favorite books in it. He thought that the whole thing was an over-reaction at first, but still got some pleasure out of it, mainly because he now had a valid excuse not to turn up to school, as he was locked in his crazy parent’s basement. Then the disease went into its second stage.

Everyone who had been infected once, or was still suffering from it just collapsed onto the ground. Scans of the bodies showed that their brains had just stopped functioning, and nothing that was done could bring them back. There were too many funerals that week. A week after every dead body was buried, stage three started. People walking past or paying their respects to the dead reported scratching sounds from the graveyards. The government and police dismissed it as a Halloween prank – as it was October at the time – and stated publicly that there was no point looking into it further. Then, the voices started. At first, it just sounded like the wind ripping through the leaves of trees, until people realized that there was no wind, and hadn’t been for weeks. The unexplained chattering noises became the root of many dares that week, and police had to stop many people, young and old, from doing stupid things like digging up the bodies, or chanting so-called ‘summoning rituals’ and trying to connect to the ghosts of the dead. And then, about a month after the disease was first discovered, all hell broke loose, literally.

A report to the police had told them that a man was walking strangely along the pavement outside their house, and they suspected that they were illegally drunk in public. However, when the police arrived, they found a man covered in dirt, mud and grass. Both of his hands had sizeable splinters sticking out of them, and a few fingers dangled as though they were broken, but there was no blood. He walked with a shambling gait, looking like he had broken at least one of his legs. One policeman approached him, to see if they needed to call an ambulance, and the rest, well the rest was recorded by a camera crew doing one of those police documentaries for TV. The horrifying video, which was aired on every station in the world, started off with the policeman approaching the man and asking him ‘Are you okay’. When the man didn’t respond, the policeman tried again, each time moving closer to the man, until he put his hand on the man’s shoulder. With a creepy, unhinged look, the man turned slowly towards the policeman, who seemed happy to get a response out of him at last. The man flew at the policeman, shoving him to the ground and sinking his teeth into his arm. The policeman screamed in agony, then his head flopped back against the pavement.

After that video, Virgil’s parents re-enforced the door with twice as many locks, and for once he was glad that his parents always thought the worst was going to happen. Even days after the video came out, Virgil was still having trouble sleeping, so at 3am, when it happened, he heard everything. It started off with a banging on the front door, but nobody took any notice of that, because their house was pretty old, and weird noises appeared almost every night. As soon as the groaning and mumbling bubbled up, Virgil knew his parents were going to die. He huddled under the weighted blankets of his bed, silent tears running down his face as he listened to his parent’s screams. A couple of times, the zombies banged on the door to his bunker, trying to find a way to get in, but it was built too well. They left around 5am, leaving Virgil alone in a now broken home.

That happened 2 months ago, and Virgil hasn’t heard a thing since. The TV in his room doesn’t work, because there is nobody left to air anything, and the electronic generator has been slowly running out of energy. Every book on the shelf has been read for at least three times, and food and water levels were running low. He knew that his slow and painful death from starvation or dehydration was about to begin. All he could do was just try and ration the remaining supplies he had left, and sleep. When he heard the noises, it was no wonder he thought the zombies had returned. Then, he heard their voices.

“Try this one.”

“I can’t it’s locked.”

“Oh. Well this one is empty. Looks like someone beat us to it.”

A pause, then, closer to the door of the bunker,

“Hey, look at this. What do ya reckon it is?”

“Pictures of… paranormal activity?”

“Woah. This one’s really cool. Look at all the organs on the floor.”

“I think I know who lived here…”

“Yeah? Who?”

“Those weird scientists that were convinced that the world was going to end soon.”

“Well, looks like they were right after all.”

A small bout of harsh laughter with no humor behind it caused Virgil to retreat further back into the safety of his bed, his heart pounding.

“Hey, didn’t they have a kid?”

“Yes, a son, I’m pretty sure. He went to our school, I think, but we’ve never seen him around because when anything remotely strange happened, his parents locked him up for days. Wait Remus don’t –”

A loud crash echoed through the house as ‘Remus’ knocked over something.

“I’m fine, stop fussing Dee. Was there a door here before?”

“A what?”

“Look, it’s like a safe door! But with a thousand more locks!”

“Interesting. Perhaps there’s more food inside.”

“Or bodies!”

“Why am I friends with you?”

“Because I’m the only one left alive apart from you.”

“I hate it when you’re right.”

“Aw, you know you looooove me.”

“Quit being weird and help me open this door.”

Virgil could hear them unlatching locks, and then, alarmingly, the door to his bunker began to shake. He let out an audible gasp, thankful that he kept the inside of the door locked in fear that the zombies would figure out how to open the outside locks.

“Huh, I think it’s locked on the inside as well.”

“But how, unless…”

There was a moment of terrified silence for Virgil, then the voices started speaking again, not to each other this time, but to Virgil.

“Hey, if there’s anyone in there, we won’t hurt you.”

“Yeah, we’re nice people, really, and also… we might be the only other people left.”

“Please open the door, if you need it, we can help you.”

Taking a deep breath, Virgil realized that they were his best chance at surviving, even if it meant leaving his safe haven, he would have to go with them. Steeling himself for what would lay behind it, he opened the door.

Standing in front of him were two boys of a similar age to him. One was wearing an interesting black cloak around his shoulders, fastened with a golden chain. The shirt he wore under it was plain grey, and he had jeans on. Half of his face was covered in dirty bandages, and he had a slightly surprised look, as if he hadn’t expected the door to actually open. The other boy had a dark green parker jacket on, and shorts, which made an interesting combo. His hair was extremely messy, with twigs and clumps of dried mud in it. He had a wide-eyed smile, that almost made him look crazy. Virgil regretted opening the door immediately.

“Hey…” the one in the cloak stepped forwards slowly, wincing as Virgil backed up nervously at the movement. “Don’t worry; we’re not going to hurt you. I’m Devan, but you can call me Dee, and that idiot over there is Remus.” Remus gave an energetic wave as he peered past Virgil into the bunker.

“I-I’m Virgil,” Virgil whispered, “and don’t bother looking in there for food; it’s nearly run out. I do have some medical kits if you need it.” He directed the last one at Dee, who touched the bandage on his face self-consciously.

“That… would help.” He admitted, sending an exasperated look at Remus as the energetic one glanced over at Devan, worry clear on his face, “I’m fine, Remus. It just… hurts sometimes.”

“Okay, but you need to let me know if it opens up again. I can help you, ya know.”

Unsure of what to do at this moment, Virgil retreated back into his bunker, then came out moments later carrying a bundle of blankets.

“Here,” He mumbled, offering the bundle to the other two, “This will hopefully have enough stuff to keep us going.”

“Us?” Devan asked.

“Yes, I’m coming with you.”

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #remus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #sympathetic remus #zombie warning #zombie apocolypse au #tag this as dukedon'tlook or twdeceit and I'll steal your knee caps

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perfeggso · 4 years

Text

till the sun’s seeing through my eyes (yumark)

hitting for six

Yuta and Mark are next-door neighbors who grew up together, joined at the hip until Yuta went off to college. Due to their four-year age gap, Mark’s freshman year at the same school marks the halfway point of an unprecedented amount of time apart. Yuta is sure he can handle it, until Mark’s arrival home for spring break makes him wonder if the fondness he has for his friend might be blooming quite literally into something stronger. It’s up to him to handle the consequences.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Masterlist

Characters: Yuta x Mark + NCT ensemble, other SM (and non-SM (?)) idols tbd, character families

Genres: heavy angst, fluff, Hanahaki!AU, small town!AU, slight Witchcraft/Magic!AU, College!AU

Warnings: blood and gore, mentions of death, disease, vomiting, college-typical alcohol use, swearing

Rating: T

Length: 8.3k

Yuta twirled the stick of rock candy he’d picked up at the market around between his lips, enjoying how it felt rough on his tongue and filled his mouth with the flavor of unadulterated sugar. He checked his phone – no new messages.

He tapped the toe of his sneakers against the linoleum floor of Kun’s coffeeshop and drummed his hands against the seafoam counter before pulling the candy from his lips with a pop and dunking it in his glass of mint tea. All around him, the clinking, hissing, and chatter of a well-liked café filled his ears, and the arousing scent of coffee steam kept him a fidgety kind of alert. On second thought, replace “alert” with “distracted.”

“Did you hear me, Yuta?” Sicheng was saying, sitting at the table nearest the espresso machine and picking at a mini egg custard tart. Yuta had not heard him, that much was evident.

Yuta sighed with some effort, then made a fake sorry face. “No – no, I apologize, babe, I didn’t.”

Sicheng rolled his eyes. “Whatever, it wasn’t important.” He took a large bite of his tart, pale, buttery crumbs affixing to his lips.

“Neko latte!” Kun interrupted, setting a white coffee cup in front of Yuta, the frothed milk on top of it shaped like a stubby-tailed cat that wiggled as the cup moved. Yuta had to restrain himself from jiggling its foam butt into oblivion. Kun returned a moment later with a plate. “Aaaand, let’s see, one slice of orange poppy seed bread.” He dropped his smiling customer service face momentarily as he leaned in towards Yuta. “I thought you said you could handle calling out the orders. That was my condition for letting you behind the counter, wasn’t it?”

Yuta shrugged, repeating the order at double Kun’s original volume and smirking when a customer instantly shot out of her seat to come collect it. Yuta downed his tea, burning his throat, and stuck the melting candy back into his mouth as she made her way over, pushing the now-empty cup forward as an encouragement to leave a tip in it, which the poor girl did. Kun snatched the sticky bill from the cup and shook it out, disapproval contorting his face as he voiced his disappointment with a simple “nope.”

“But Kun, I watched her earlier and she didn’t leave a tip when she ordered,” Yuta protested, making himself laugh until it was threatening to become a cough. Dammit. He pulled in a shaky breath. “I’m only trying to help.”

Kun pointed to the seating area. “Out.”

Yuta sulked his way to the chair opposite Sicheng, noting on his way that it was still pouring not insignificantly outside. Yuta had gotten off work early because of the rain; the indoor soccer field had been reserved weeks earlier for the high school team. Instead, he’d taken his kids to Yukhei’s gym for a short workout and then sent them home, choosing to wile away the rest of his time waiting for Mark with his buddies over a warm beverage.

“Has he responded yet?” Sicheng asked.

“No,” Yuta pouted. He’d sent Mark a text nearly twenty-five minutes ago saying he was ahead of schedule and to come meet him at Kun’s shop. “Ugh, wait, I’m sorry. What were you saying earlier? Nothing you say is unimportant, friend.”

Sicheng looked like he wanted to smack Yuta and hug him at the same time. Yuta was used to this.

“I was only teasing you for missing my speech last night because no one cut you off,” Sicheng clarified, wiping his hands against each other once he’d finished eating.

The memory of heaving in his bathroom in an attempt to extract whatever was obstructing his airways hit Yuta like an unforeseen ocean wave. He nodded slowly, schooling his face to pretend to be irritated rather than scared. He didn’t want to lie to his friend, but not even he knew what the real issue was, and it would undoubtedly get sorted, so why worry people?

Yuta made his face into the disappointment emoji. “Mm-hm,” he said. “Well since you can only process my suffering as it pertains to you, maybe you’ll cut me off next time you have something important to say.”

Sicheng raised his eyebrows. “Someone’s feeling bitchy today,” he observed. “This is because your boyfriend’s not texting back, isn’t it?”

Yuta scoffed. “Boyfriend,” he huffed in disbelief, but the word stirred a sickened feeling inside him. He chose to ignore that. “Yeah, it is,” he teased, “you jealous?”

Sicheng shook his head. “Not at all,” he said. “It means you’ll let me be for a couple weeks.”

Yuta laughed, his body once again nearly giving into coughing. Like, choking on one’s dinner and needing the Heimlich kind of coughing. Instead of letting that happen and calling attention to himself, he doused his throat in the contents of a glass of water.

His breathing had been a bit better since he’d spoken with his mother that morning, but the problem wasn’t gone, and the raw coughing fits that started the day before were only growing more frequent. A particularly violent one had gripped him during practice, scaring some of his kids enough that he’d run away to the bathroom to get it under control. Thankfully, Yukhei had been in another room.

Yuta came from a tradition of hedge witches, of which his mother was a shining example. She ran an apothecary in town with his father; handling the medicine and potions side of it while he handled the business angle. She was a skilled potion-maker and healer, and she had a keen sense of spiritual effects on the physical. She was often able to gain insights that seemed so spot-on that Yuta had no choice but to believe whatever she told him to do.

She’d encouraged her children to utilize tarot cards from an early age and endeavored ever since to teach them everything she knew. Now and then, having someone so spiritually inclined as a parent could be burdensome, but it was times like these – when Yuta felt something strange and unwelcome stirring in him – that he felt he was lucky.

When Yuta had gone to the main house that morning, he found his mother in the kitchen, making banana pancakes as his little sister looked over her advanced biology homework. The high school still had a week left before spring break.

“Hi Haruna,” Yuta greeted, shoving her face softly into her papers and receiving a well-earned glare.

“Good morning, dingus. You really shouldn’t be partying when you have work in the morning.”

Haruna was a senior, less than a year younger than Mark (a fact which regularly escaped Yuta’s mind) and possessed an attitude problem – though one quite different from Yuta’s. That morning, she wore a long, eggplant-purple frock dress with lots of heavy eyeliner and her hair in a helmet-like bob. She might have been sartorially challenged and a bit of a bitch in Yuta’s view, but she was also his adorable little sister, and a veritable genius, he had to admit.

Yuta went to the fridge and pulled out an apricot yogurt. “I assure you I can handle myself,” he said, grabbing one of a collection of mismatched spoons and plopping it into his breakfast. “The last thing I need is a seventeen-year-old lecturing me on alcohol.”

Haruna tried to flick some of the syrup on her fork into her brother’s hair but missed. “I can’t wait until Momoka comes home to visit,” she grumbled. “Maybe you’ll listen to her.”

Yuta’s mother gave her youngest and middle child a heavy look of disapproval as she flipped a pancake with a wet, resounding plop. The action itself communicated as much authority as any scolding words could have. Yuta just smiled sweetly, digging into his yogurt.

“Yuta, dear,” she began, “can I interest you in some pancakes?”

Yuta shook his head, feeling a little guilty, but he was rarely very hungry in the mornings. “No, this is enough for me,” he said. His mother smiled. It was the same smile Haruna would flash when she was about to tease him.

“Well, I’m sure you didn’t come all the way over here just to bother your studious sister and refuse my cooking, so there has to be something else, hm? I’m right, aren’t I?”

Yuta sighed. As usual, she was indeed correct. “As a matter of fact, there is something bothering me.”

His mother listened attentively as he recounted the last day’s events: the asthma scare, trying to use the potion she’d taught him with a prayer, his concern over the reading he’d had that morning. All the while, she finished shaping her stack of pancakes and leaned on her elbows, steam rising from the food and swirling in front of her paisley house dress, fluffy hair, purple kerchief, and concerned face.

“It sounds to me like you’re having anxiety about change,” she offered once he’d finished. “You always tend to have flare-ups during transition periods.”

“Yeah,” Haruna cut in, spearing a chunk of pancake and narrowly escaping dropping it on her school papers, “remember when you were a freshman and you had a panic attack before coming home for winter break? You said you could hardly breathe all night and that you didn’t think you wanted to come back.”

Haruna seemed a little too casual with that difficult memory for Yuta’s liking, although she was right that he hadn’t forgotten. He pinched his eyebrows together.

“Is this a transition period though?” he asked. Everything for him was more or less the same as it had been all year.

His mother nodded. “I’d say so. Some of your younger friends are coming home, and Taeil will be going back to the city soon. There are a lot of moving pieces in your life at the moment, dear. I don’t think it's at all strange that you’re feeling off and maybe hiding some things from yourself.”

“Alternately,” quipped Haruna as their mother went to fetch a cloudy, pastel purple concoction she had sitting in a beaker by the window, “you’re just a drama queen.”

Yuta started. “Wanna get your butt kicked by a college athlete?” he threatened. Haruna stuck her tongue out at him.

“You mean former intramural college athlete?”

“That’s enough!”

Yuta and Haruna both turned to face their mother. She looked like her hair would be suspended in exasperation if she were in a Ghibli Movie. Yuta knew that meant it was time to Shut Up. Oops.

She sighed, running her hands over the lip of the beaker in her hand and muttering to herself to calm down. Then, she slid it forward to her son.

“Bring this to work with you, Yuta,” she advised, voice still stern. “I made it fresh this morning for the shop, but I think you could use it. It has lavender, mint, chamomile, soy oil, salts, and I’ve charged it with moon water. It’s something I’ve been messing around with for dealing with anxiety and stress during liminal periods in life.” Yuta nodded, listening attentively and twirling the little vial in between his fingers. She went on. “Then later whenever you have time, I want you to sit alone with your confusion for a little while. I think that might give you more insight into what is driving this spiritually and subconsciously. Try not to smother it, whatever it is.”

Of course his mom’s advice was essentially “meditate.” Why had he even bothered to ask? He nodded one more time, subdued, and dropped the vial of pale liquid into his pocket. He would put it into a water bottle and bring it along.

Yuta finished his yogurt and chucked the container into the recycling. “Thank you, Mom,” he said, snagging a pancake on his way out of the kitchen just to win a little more of her favor. “And have a good day, Haruna.”

“You too, dingus.”

“Tell me if you’re feeling better tonight!” his mother called after him, finishing off with a mild threat: “And I’ll be able to tell if you didn’t follow my directions!”

Yuta sighed for what felt like the eightieth time all day, watching the café’s glass door from over Sicheng’s shoulder for any signs of Mark. He didn’t know how to summon people or things, but he half-imagined that he did, concentrating so hard on the door that it was making his eyes cross. And in a matter of seconds, it worked (or, at least, the universe gave the illusion of it working).

Mark rushed into the coffeeshop, looking harried and tugging a cumbersome guitar case along with him which he tried desperately to protect with a too-small umbrella. The image put Yuta at attention, smiling.

“I’m so sorry!” Mark spluttered as he rushed through the door. “I was practicing, and I didn’t check my phone!”

“Whoa there,” Kun warned from behind the counter. “This does not need to be advertised to my entire clientele.”

Mark shook out his umbrella and shoved it into the holder in the entryway, checking with Yuta that they planned on staying for at least a little while and apologizing sheepishly to Kun.

He sat down at the table with Yuta and Sicheng as Yuta grinned at him.

“Don’t be sorry, Markie-boy,” Yuta said, poking Mark in the side and making him almost giggle his way out of his chair. As the chair tipped and then slingshotted violently back to its starting position from Mark regaining his balance, it clattered so loudly that it attracted more concerned looks than Mark had when he’d busted through the door. Yuta hardly seemed to register this as he gushed about how devoted his friend was to his craft that he would haul his equipment through a rainstorm. Kun rolled his eyes and huffed in defeat at yet another disruption.

“Mark, the usual?” he asked, and Mark nodded after nervously confirming Yuta didn’t have other plans for them to go eat somewhere.

Only then did he allow himself to settle in, peeling off his damp jacket and balancing his guitar case against the side of his chair.

“Did you carry that all the way here?” Sicheng asked, and Yuta shot him an obvious look.

“Of course he did,” he replied for his friend, and Sicheng glared at him. “The kid can’t drive, after all. Just like you.”

Mark nodded in confirmation as Kun set a mug of hot chocolate and a cream cheese bagel in front of him. “I love being referred to as ‘the kid’ as if I’m not present,” he snarked. “Also, thanks, Kun.”

“Sure thing.”

Yuta crunched absently at the end of his rock candy. “Aw, don’t go trying to make me feel bad when you forced me to wait for thirty-five minutes and didn’t even tell me you were on your way. It’s like you want to keep me in constant suspense with your little surprises.” Mark scowled, but his mouth was too stuffed with bagel to form a retort, so Yuta went on. “Anyway, you got a guitar in there?”

Mark swallowed. “What do you think?”

“I think we’re just impressed you lugged it all the way here,” Sicheng clarified, trying to clear the air of Yuta’s usual bitchiness. “Surely, you brought it for a reason.”

Mark clapped his hands against each other to rid them of crumbs, body going taut with excitement.

“Actually yes!” he mouthed around his food. “I did have a reason. I wanted to show off what I’ve been practicing!”

“Oooooh!” Yuta buzzed, applauding preemptively at hyper-speed. “You might want to check with the stickler in charge though,” he warned, stage whispering and indicating towards Kun. The subject of the jest frowned at his table of friends.

“I can hear you, Yuta,” he said, “and it’s fine. Just give me a minute to turn the speakers off.”

Soon enough, Mark had extracted his guitar from its case and had it over his knee, strumming experimentally to warm up and drawing the attention of most of the customers behind him.

“Don’t look now, Mark,” Sicheng began. “But it looks like you’ve roped yourself into a little concert.”

“A little what now?” he asked, immediately going against the advice he’d just received and turning around to meet the gazes of at least fifteen people he only marginally knew. “Oh, uh, okay. This is fine.”

Yuta smiled to himself as he watched his friend adjust his fingers over the metal strings and clear his throat, red face betraying that he might not, in fact, be fine.

Pretty soon though, he was finger-picking his way through the intro to Frank Ocean’s “Cayendo.” Once Mark started singing, Yuta found himself lulled into an admiring trance at the smooth sweetness of Mark’s voice. Mark was usually shy about singing solo, but he’d been working on it and Yuta loved that he had gained some confidence. The fact that the song was in a language Yuta couldn’t understand served even further to pull him under its calm spell.

He pretended to swoon at the little performance, rolling his eyes around and fanning himself theatrically. “Ooh, Markie, take me now,” he joked, just loud enough for his table to hear and no one else. Mark’s ears went red and he struggled to sing through a giggle.

Right in the middle of the song though, Mark sang a stanza that Yuta did understand. It ended with a melancholy plea of love:

When I still really, really love you, like I do

If you won't, then I will

If you can't, then I will

Is it love to keep it from you?

It was such a sad sentiment. Yuta thought that if he were a more sentimental person, and under different circumstances, he would have started to cry. Though, maybe he wasn’t as unsentimental as he thought he was…

Mark transitioned back to singing in Spanish and Yuta took the moment to lose himself less in his friend’s voice and more in the space around them: the chatter of impressed coffee-sippers, the whirring of the espresso machine, the soft and appreciative expressions on his friends’ faces. It was almost as sweet as the leftover sugar which coated the inside of his mouth – almost sweet enough for him to forget that some kind of repression within him was causing him vascular stress. Almost; almost.

Mark plucked the last note of the song and the café broke into a pitter-patter of applause which echoed the pounding of rain outside, and in that moment, as if to remind him of the tenuousness of his almosts, Yuta found himself hurled into the most intense pain he’d felt in the last twenty-four hours.

He bent himself over and started retching into a napkin. It was the same sensation he’d gotten the night before at the party, when he’d locked himself in the bathroom and coughed himself raw into the white sink, trying to force something out that just wouldn’t budge. He felt like he had a copper wire weaving through his muscles, and someone was sending shocks of electricity through it.

Sicheng and Mark stared at him in concern and Sicheng pushed a glass of water his way. He choked out his thanks before downing it in one go, once again taking note of the clump of – something – which drifted back down along with the liquid. By the time he had himself back under control, both his friends were posing some variation on the same ‘you okay?’ question.

“Yeah, yeah,” he lied. “Just aspirated some very sharp candy.”

Sicheng winced. “Ouch,” he said. “At least you had the courtesy to wait until Mark was finished.”

Yuta stuck his tongue out, but the way his friend went so casually back to teasing him actually made him feel a little better.

“I know the Heimlich maneuver!” Mark said, a stupidly proud grin crossing his face as he set his guitar back into its case and puffed his chest out involuntarily. “So I could have saved you if it came to that.”

Yuta smiled weakly. “That’s very reassuring, Mark.”

“NBD.” Yuta groaned, the sharp pain from only moments ago leaving him just as quickly as it had come. He cringed. Had Mark really just said “NBD?” Whatever. Mark continued.

“Seriously though, what did you guys think?”

“It was really good,” Sicheng said, “and I would say, a glowing testament to your four years of high school Spanish.”

Mark snickered. “What about you, Yutaaa?”

“Well if you couldn’t tell by the way I reacted at the beginning, I loved it! Really, like your voice just keeps getting better and better.”

Mark placed a hand over his heart, meaning to indicate that Yuta’s compliment had touched him.

“Aren’t you not supposed to be using instruments though?” Sicheng chimed. “I mean, considering you’re an a cappella person?”

Mark rolled his eyes. “Very funny,” he said. “But thanks, guys. I think I might play it live sometime on the Serotonin Hour.” That was the name of the radio show Johnny had left to him upon graduation.

“You know,” Yuta began, rapping his fingers against the table, “when Johnny willed his time slot to you, I don’t think he expected you’d use it for such self-serving purposes.”

Mark rolled his eyes even farther into his head this time. “It’s an hour where I impose my music taste on the small group of people who actually bother to tune in. What could be more self-serving?”

Yuta clicked his tongue. Mark had a point.

“Anyway,” said Mark, hopping to his feet, “what do you want to do, Yuta?”

***

Since it was raining out, they decided they would have to stay mostly indoors, so they resolved to wander around the market hall until they came up with a more exciting activity, Yuta letting Mark store his guitar in the trunk of his car while they perused. Sicheng was invited along too, but he had a dance class to run in half an hour and needed to review his lesson plan ahead of time, so it was just the two of them.

Well, it was just the two of them until they got to the Jung family farmstand at the end of the long, warehouse-like building. Jaehyun sat behind it, writing something into a notebook and looking so bored that his face was practically melting into the hand supporting it.

“Oh, thank god,” he said when he saw his friends approaching. “It’s been such a slow day I was ready to choke myself out just to have something to do.”

“Ooh, kinky,” Yuta guffawed at his friend as Mark nodded slowly.

“Nice to see you too, man,” Mark said.

“Want anything?”

Yuta and Mark surveyed their options: a selection of dairy products, meat, and eggs in a set of coolers, and a table covered in artichokes, celery, pears, asparagus, broccoli, brussels sprouts, cabbages, and a veritable rainbow of root vegetables. As usual, the Jung family farm’s output looked delicious. Maybe Yuta would get something for his parents to put in tonight’s dinner. He grabbed a bundle of radishes by the leaves and shoved them at his friend with a grin.

Mark, on the other hand, knew immediately what he would go for.

“And, uh, can I get a banana milk?”

Jaehyun nodded as Yuta gave his younger friend his best side-eye.

“You just drank a giant hot chocolate. Haven’t you had enough dairy for one day?”

Mark pouted, fishing for his wallet, and Yuta couldn’t help but smile at the way Mark’s eyes looked like shiny tea saucers. He could be devilishly cute sometimes. Cute enough to make Yuta want to buy shit for him, which he did, paying for the radishes and the milk before Mark even had the opportunity to complain.

“Drink up!”

Mark glared. “Fine. I’ll just sneak-buy you something next time.”

Yuta wobbled his head like an anime heroine as he spoke. “Oh, so I’ll get a next time? Man, this date is going so well!” he said, and Mark’s ears flushed for the second time in thirty minutes. A niggling voice in the back of Yuta’s head told him he wanted to see Mark like that more often. He brushed that idea away, not quite knowing how to process it.

“Whatever,” Mark mumbled as Jaehyun looked on in his usual casual detachment. Yuta turned his attention back to him.

“By the way, Jae, where are your parents? Can’t they come relieve you of your existential dread?”

Jaehyun blew a puff of air at his bangs. “I wish,” he responded. “They’re out of town for the weekend though, so I’m left to suffer alone. Oh – which reminds me! Can you go check on Sugarfoot and Lacey for me? They probably need their water troughs refilled right about now. And besides, I’m sure they miss Mark.”

Yuta and Mark agreed easily. Everyone loved those horses, even if Sugarfoot could be a pain in the ass. When Yuta was a teenager, she had apparently decided he’d lived long enough, because she tried to buck him off until Yuta was pretty sure he’d suffered acute whiplash. Besides Jaehyun, Johnny was the only person she seemed to tolerate (and tolerate simply meant she was a bitch to him rather than straight-up murderous), but alas, Johnny wasn’t around.

“Perfect,” Jaehyun said. “I’d do it myself, but everyone here knows my parents and they’d definitely somehow manage to tell them I’d abandoned my post. You know where the keys to the stable are and everything, right?”

“Yup!”

And with that, Yuta and Mark left Jaehyun to return to pondering auto-asphyxiation.

It had stopped raining outside, and the sky was in the process of clearing from a mournful grey to a clear periwinkle, like a windshield-wiper was slowly swiping across it to rid it of clouds. They ran into Taeil on the way to Yuta’s car, in the middle of walking five dogs of varying sizes and breeds.

Naturally, Mark became immediately preoccupied by the tangle of fur attached tenuously to Taeil’s wrist by a set of leashes. The cute scene made Yuta’s chest go tight with fondness.

Yuta told Taeil they’d missed him at the party the night before as Mark rolled around on the wet ground, getting his face smothered by a particularly friendly Chow Chow and laughing like his lungs were about to burst out of his chest.

“I know, I’m sorry!” Taeil said, trying not to let himself get tugged around. “It was just last minute and I’d already been roped into cooking for my family, and we had friends over – bad timing.”

Yuta waved him off. “Don’t worry, I’ll only hold it against you forever. But when do you go back to the city?”

“Next week,” Taeil replied, leaning down awkwardly to save Mark from five rough tongues. Taeil didn’t have a dog himself (although he did have a goose in his backyard, a fact which Yuta was never not perplexed by) but his family owned the local pet shop and he always had dog-walker duty when he was home. It was also how he made money when he was in high school. “We should definitely get together before I go back though!” Taeil continued. “You guys can help me make this pasta dish I’ve been wanting to try. Sound good Mark?”

Mark got up, brushing the wet dirt off his backside. “What? Oh yeah, for sure! I’m always down to eat – and to see you, Taeil. I didn’t forget about you.”

Taeil looked dryly at his younger friend. “Yeah, of course. But listen, Mark, it’s really good luck we’re home at the same time. I need you to tell me all about how the Aca-Fellas are doing.” Mark nodded shyly. Taeil had been the star of the a cappella group at his college, so he’d had plenty of run-ins with the Fellas at competitions. His own superiority at singing was something it was at times difficult to get him to shut up about. Taeil continued:

“Anyway, I should be going. These guys are getting squirrely, and I don’t want them to do their business right here. I’ll see you two around, I guess. Enjoy the rest of your date!”

Hey, Yuta thought, that’s my joke. Somehow it made him feel weird to hear someone else use it.

***

They were at Jaehyun’s stables after a short drive, and they found the keys easily. Mark scratched lovingly at Lacey’s chin as Yuta filled the troughs with water. Then, they decided it was as good a time as any to see if Johnny was free to FaceTime. He was.

“Heyoooo,” Johnny greeted once his pixelated face flashed onto Yuta’s phone. Yuta laughed. His friend looked happy and healthy. “Oh what? You have Mark with you? Sweet!”

They caught up on Johnny’s life for a few minutes; he was having a great time on his own, but he missed everyone and couldn’t wait to come home in the summer.

“Hurry home,” Yuta joked, getting up from the bail of hay he’d been sitting on because Sugarfoot was cribbing on the door to her stable. “I think Taeyong is wilting without you here.”

Johnny chuckled indulgently. “I’m sure he’ll be fine.” He gasped and his image froze in the exaggerated reaction face he’d pulled, making Mark squeak with laughter. “Is that my favorite girlie?” came his crackling voice.

Yuta held the phone up to Sugarfoot, nudging her head a bit to get her to detach her teeth from the wood. “Sure is.”

Johnny asked if Jaehyun was there, so Yuta informed him on their friend’s predicament. Then Johnny addressed Mark, telling him he should try braiding Sugarfoot’s dark mane – he’d found she had come to enjoy it. Mark, being the least experienced with Jaehyun’s bitch of a mare, immediately fell for it and tried, causing Sugarfoot to squeal and jerk her neck away from his touch. He fell back on his butt in surprise and Johnny cackled through Yuta’s phone speaker.

“Aw, I see college hasn’t made you less gullible, Markie-boy.”

“It most certainly has not,” Yuta confirmed, and Mark attempted a glare, but it only ended up looking like what he’d done when Johnny tried to teach him how to flirt that one time.

Johnny continued. “Anyway, Mark how are you really? I don’t care about this old hag; Yuta, give the phone to Mark.”

Yuta handed over the phone with a casual threat of murder.

Mark was doing well. Johnny asked if his a cappella group had let him rap yet. Mark rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, leaning against the stable door right next to Lacey.

“Naw, not yet,” he said. “Just beatboxing for now. Eventually...”

Johnny shrugged. “It’s okay. When you’re a senior you can run the group and do whatever the hell you want. And, when they see how good you are, that’ll really show ’em.”

Yuta watched the conversation unfold, reveling in the warm feeling he got from watching some of his favorite people interact.

“Are you doing the Serotonin Hour justice, by the way?” Johnny asked. “Playing that good shit?”

Mark fumbled around a response so Yuta cut in, yelling from off-screen. “He’s great, Johnny! Wish you were here to tune in because I think he might be surpassing you in quality already.”

Yuta heard Johnny scoff as Mark looked embarrassed. “Impossible!” Yuta leaned in next to Mark and Johnny asked about his own parents.

Yuta frowned. “Can’t you just call them and ask how they’re doing?”

“I did! I do!” Johnny said, exasperated. “I wanted to hear it from a third party though, otherwise all they tell me is ‘we’re good, John, we’re good. Everything’s just fine.’ Know what I mean?”

Mark answered. Mr. and Mrs. Seo were doing just as well as they let on to their son, as far as he could tell. This seemed to satisfy him.

Johnny had to go soon after this, so Yuta and Mark took the opportunity to get back in Yuta’s car and drive to his house, where brand new purple crocuses had pushed through the dirt in the front yard.

Yuta led Mark straight to his loft when they arrived, happy to finally have some actual alone time with his friend. He didn’t know where this territorial streak was coming from. He usually did it as a joke – especially with Mark and Sicheng – but all of a sudden, he didn’t feel like he was joking anymore. He shrugged it off mentally. It probably had something to do with his repression, he figured, realizing he hadn’t followed all his mother’s instructions yet. Oh well, the meditation could wait.

“Do you want to stay for dinner?” he offered. “We can hang out all day that way, until you’re absolutely fed up with me.”

Mark giggled as they traipsed through the wet grass, passing the fresh crocuses.

“Uh, yeah, that sounds good,” Mark agreed. “I’ll text my parents and ask them.”

“I don’t think you’ll need to,” Yuta remarked, pointing straight ahead to where Mr. Lee stood in his driveway, getting ready to go out. “Mr. Lee!”

Mark’s dad turned around, startled for a moment, before waving.

“Your son is eating dinner over here!” Yuta yelled. “We’ll take good care of him!”

Mark laughed nervously at Yuta’s side as his dad consented. Yuta had to admit that his life was a little emptier when Mark’s ridiculous giggle-fits weren’t a daily feature.

Back in Yuta’s room, Mark hooked his phone up to Yuta’s Bluetooth speaker and played one of his most recent DJ set playlists while Yuta sat at his vanity and yanked a radish from the bunch he’d bought earlier from Jaehyun, biting off a chunk. It tasted watery and sharp.

“What are you doing?” Mark protested. “I thought those were for your parents.”

“I’m only taste-testing,” Yuta defended, mouth full of radish. “Calm down.” He poised the other half of the radish as if he were about to overhand chuck it in Mark’s direction. That was, in fact, what he planned to do. “Open up.”

Mark’s eyes went wide. “But it has your spit on it!”

Yuta rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a baby.”

Mark nodded in acquiescence, opening his mouth for a split second before thinking of something else to worry about.

“This seems dangerous though, like what if I choke on it?”

“Then that’s really too bad because I do not know the Heimlich,” Yuta snarked. “Try not to.”

Mark opened his mouth again and Yuta threw the radish in an arc the few feet between them. Mark shuffled a little to align his mouth and caught the radish, doing a little dance of victory when he realized he’d succeeded.

“Yoooooo!” he yelled around his mouthful.

Yuta clapped, he remarked to himself, like a cheerleader congratulating his boyfriend. Whatever. He wasn’t above that.

“That’s what I call synchronicity!” he said.

Then, Yuta decided to experiment with combinations of the new earrings he’d bought recently while he and Mark talked. They ended up mostly reminiscing about the stupid hijinks they’d gotten themselves into over the years: the time they got drunk and went skinny-dipping in the bioluminescence despite a slew of recent shark sightings (Mark kept trying to drift off into the mist and when they heard a loud splash near them in the water, Yuta asked Mark if he’d retrieve his dick if it got bitten off. “Is that something you would want me to do?” Mark had responded); the time they went cliff-diving as a group and somehow Yuta managed to injure himself while stumbling over rocks to take a picture and then tried to tell everyone who hadn’t been there that he’d hurt himself jumping into the water so he wouldn’t sound like an idiot; the time Mark tried weed for the first time and became convinced he was suffering an aneurysm, begging Yuta to make him a potion for it; all the times Yuta and Mark travelled to dance competitions together as kids and shared hotel rooms, planning their entire futures as they waited to get sleepy. They had promised to always have houses next to each other, and that their families and spouses would be forever close.

Yuta sometimes found that, with long-time friends he didn’t get to see as often as he would have liked, it was easier to reminisce than to create new, whole memories. It had nothing to do with Mark’s value as a friend, and they still came away from every summer with plenty of additional experiences and stories, but Yuta hated the feeling he sometimes got of their rhythm being off during the shorter breaks. He worried their friendship would calcify into something past tense. But then again, he figured, a deep understanding like what he and Mark shared didn’t need constant updates.

Being with Mark sometimes took him back to being eighteen – right before he left for college – and in a way he liked that as much as he liked his friend. He just got an occasional sinking feeling that they were missing each other’s landmarks. It was irrational, but he couldn’t deny it.

Mark had moved on to updates about his friend group as Yuta held a thin and dangly silver earring against his lobe. Mark nodded in approval and Yuta worked to stifle a sudden bout of coughing. Ah yes. There it is.

Later, at the dinner table, Yuta hardly got a word in edgewise with his parents and sister grilling Mark on how his first year was wrapping up: was his friend group holding up? Yup. Did he like his second semester classes? He did. Was he still sure he wanted to pursue a conservation major? Yes. Did he know who he’d room with the next year? He was going to try to room with his friend Yeri, but they had to sign a consent form for co-ed housing first. When was his next a cappella performance? The big one was in late April. Did he have a significant other?

Yuta almost hacked up a spoonful of his root vegetable soup before glaring at his mom, the source of that query.

“Aish, why does everyone wanna know that?” asked Mark, setting his spoon down for a second. “Sorry, it’s just really funny to me. No, I don’t.”

Yuta looked across the table to his mother and caught her sending an irritated look right back at him. He figured it was probably related to the vague threat she’d made earlier that she would know if he didn’t follow all her advice by the time he got home in the evening.

Once they’d finished eating, the boys helped wash the dishes and Mrs. Nakamoto gifted Mark a little vial of her signature lucky potion for him to use during finals.

“Bye, little dingus,” Haruna called to Mark as he and Yuta were on their way out for a quick post-prandial stroll. Yuta turned around.

“Don’t talk to your elder that way!” She rolled her eyes.

Outside, it was fully dark, and a distinct late-winter chill tinged the air enough that Yuta had to burrow his chin into the collar of his bomber jacket. Rather than the chatter of crickets they would have heard at that hour during summertime, the air sung with the hush of breeze rustling the pines and the distant break of ocean waves. Yuta thought bittersweetly about how the next time he’d see Mark for an extended time, the crickets would be back.

“Sorry for all the prying,” Yuta grumbled as the two made their way to the little pedestrian suspension bridge over the river on the edge of town. The river led to the ocean eventually, but inland, it felt thin and closed-off all the same. This bridge passing over it was one of Yuta and Mark’s favorite spots to sit and chat late at night without anyone hearing. In fact, it was that type of spot for most of the town’s young residents.

“Don’t be,” Mark said jovially, kicking his feet leisurely as he walked. “I expect it at this point. Bet you remember what that’s like.”

Yuta nodded. He did.

“You know,” Mark began, “it’s actually sorta calming to get the same questions over and over again. Cuz like, for some reason I keep getting really stressed out when I come home. I don’t know why…It’s kind of annoying.”

Yuta pointed at Mark in recognition as he chimed in. “No – I know exactly what you mean. I used to get that too. Remember when I had that panic attack?”

Mark nodded. “Oooh yeah, man, I do. You were calling me at like two in the morning and you sounded like you were crying. I had no idea what you were on about. But I guess now I understand more.”

Yuta smiled to himself as the sound of the river added its own particular hush to the mix of natural noises. He tried not to take too much comfort in the idea that his friend was now suffering the same way he had. At least it was a pretty privileged form of suffering…

Yuta took a deep breath, looking up and trying to find stars in the hazy dark sky.

“My mom calls it liminality. She says it's natural to feel spiritually detached at times of transition. It’s like your identity is thrown into flux and it can be hard to balance your competing selves all at once. You’ve got your independent college self and my little Markie boy who lives with his parents and can’t drive.” At this, Yuta grabbed Mark and tried to give him a noogie. “I think that’s what’s stressing you out. Might do you some good to recognize it and hear it verbalized.”

Mark laughed. They were approaching the entrance to the bridge. “I guess that makes sense. I – wait.”

Yuta took a second to register that Mark had cut himself off and stopped walking. He was staring into the distance towards the bridge, so Yuta followed his gaze. He blinked a few times in the dark, but once his vision focused, he noticed what Mark had been looking at: a dark lump in the center of the suspended walkway. It seemed to be moving – writhing almost – and Mark placed a finger over his mouth to indicate they should be silent. Little groans and giggles emanated from the wiggly lump over the rush of the water. It was a person – no – people.

Yuta felt himself about to start laughing, and he didn’t want to disrupt whatever moment was going on in front of them, so he grabbed Mark’s arm and hauled him away, running back towards their houses and cracking up the minute they thought they were out of earshot.

Mark tried to catch his breath from all the exertion. “Were, were they –”

“Fucking?” Yuta finished for him. “Yeah, I think so.”

Mark leaned over his knees. It was the same position Yuta had used several times in the last day to combat his lung issue. “Shit, man,” he said. “I was not expecting that.”

Yuta shook his head in disbelief. “Me neither. Here; on that note, let’s get you home. The Lees deserve their son back.”

“Sounds good. That’s enough excitement for one night.”

***

Yuta tiptoed back into the kitchen before going to the barn to sleep, opening the fridge to sneak another few bites of the raspberry meringue cake his mom had bought on a whim from the Seos while shopping for dinner.

Her voice in the dark startled him so badly that he jolted against the refrigerator shelving, rattling a whole row of bottled drinks and sauces and causing a racket.

“Holy shit, mom, you’re going to kill me,” he said, holding a hand against his chest like a 19th century gentlewoman.

“Come to the living room with me, Yuta,” she said, bypassing his griping.

Yuta gulped, following his mother’s directions until he was sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of her lounge chair.

“Didn’t I tell you I’d notice if you blew off my instructions?” she asked, sipping from a cup of tea. It smelled like chamomile and it was making Yuta sleepy.

“I know,” he said, “but I was with Mark all day and I didn’t want it to be weird for him while I like, went off into a corner to ruminate on my inner demons or whatever. I was still gonna do it. Also, I drank the potion you gave me.”

“I understand Yuta,” she said, cutting him off before he could spew any more excuses, “but you’re going to do it right now. I want you to feel better.”

“I already do feel a little better,” Yuta said, though he knew he was lying. His mom knew it too, because she gave him a skeptical sideways glance.

“You looked like you were holding in a coughing spell all through dinner,” she informed him. Had he? Yikes… “So, close your eyes.”

Yuta knew how this was going to go, but still, he let his mom lead him through breathing and visualization, focusing on tracking and changing the color and temperature of his internal energy as it passed through each of his limbs, his gut, hit neck and shoulders, his head, and finally, to his lungs. He tried to pull air in until it touched the extremity of them, boundaries of his body going fuzzy in concentration, but it was difficult for him; shaky almost.

His mother’s voice floated into his consciousness, instructing him to imagine the hollow of his mind and let thoughts begin to trickle in without obstruction; to let them come and go without judgement.

He thought of what Mark had been saying on their walk and how it resonated with his own experiences, how it frustrated him that he could never quite recreate the comfort of his and Mark’s dynamic when he visited him at school and they were with all Mark’s first year friends (at least Kun and Jaehyun were around at times, but still). He thought about how weird it felt for all his friends to be scattered around. Mostly though, he thought about the strange burning tightness that had been threatening to cut off his air supply over the last day whenever he dwelled too much on thoughts of his best friend, on observing him, on feeling lucky to know him.

Next thing he knew, he was coughing aggressively again, dragging in empty breaths whenever his throat gave him a break from its violent convulsing. The metal wires felt like they’d made their way into his heart. Neither his breathing nor his coughing was satisfactory though; there was still something stuck. What on earth was wrong with him?

Yuta latched back onto the sound of his mother’s voice as he calmed down and opened his eyes. She knelt next to him on the floor, rubbing over his back and knitting her brows in concern.

“Oh darling,” she cooed. “Have some tea.” He drank gladly, but this time the obstruction inside him stayed right where it was halfway down his windpipe. “It’s just as I thought. Something is blocking you off from your spiritual self.”

Yuta blinked some tears of exertion from his eyes, smirking as he returned somewhat to himself.

“You sure it’s not just my sarcasm?” he joked, and his mom scowled.

“Well, that’s certainly not helping,” she said. She kissed his forehead and pulled away to find her tarot deck. “But I am proud that you took that seriously. It obviously stirred something. Let me do a quick reading for you and then we can both get to bed.”

Yuta waited as she set up the deck and drew a six of cups, reversed. He sighed. Intense nostalgia; feeling caught in the past or with a past self. That much was obvious.

Yuta’s mother smiled at him softly. “Whatever this is, it’s holding you hostage in memories and longing.” He nodded, remembering his earlier conversation with Mark where they couldn’t seem to stop dwelling on an idealized highlight reel of teenage shenanigans. Right. “Do you want to talk about it now?”

“Not really.” Yuta yawned. He didn’t know if it was because he was actually tired or because he wanted this to wrap up.

Mrs. Nakamoto started packing her cards back up. “That’s alright. You should get some sleep anyway. Good night, dear.”

“G’night.”

***

Yuta gave back into coughing the minute he’d crossed the threshold to his room. He ran to the small trashcan next to his desk, still full of bottles from the night before, and heaved into it so hard he thought his eyes might pop out. Finally though, he had a twinge of relief when the thing that had been caught in his airway materialized on his tongue and his trachea cleared fully for the first time all day. He reached into his mouth and plucked out the offending object, holding it between his fingers over the trash. It was long and yellow and smooth, shaped like the wooden paddles Donghyuck’s ice cream shop gives out for testers.

A horrifying thought crossed Yuta’s mind as he rolled the delicate yellow petal softly between his fingers, watching it disintegrate under his touch and the acid of his saliva. He turned to the bouquet on the coffee table to his left, shivering as he caught a glimpse of the sunny yellow rays of petals adorning each of the three baby sunflowers in the vase. His heart dropped into his feet.

Of course.

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munsonsduchess · 3 years

Text

So, I re-watched The Old Guard, again. Just like my Mag 7 re-watch I made some notes, six pages of them to be exact which is why I’m gonna drop them under the cut so I don’t clutter up anyone’s dash with my mildest of observations and all my feelings for a sad alcoholic Frenchman.

I love how we’re introduced to everyone, Andy walking alone through Marrakesh and Booker speeding through the narrow streets on his bike. Are we supposed to think they’re strangers or do they know each other

Bookers little smile when he catches up to Andy like he’s so happy to see her again and Andy’s face lighting up to see him again too

Andy spent a fortune on a book because she knew Booker would like it. “First edition Don Quixote, that wouldn’t come cheap” “it didn’t”

“What brings you to Marrakech?” // “Family'' leave me alone I’m already sobbing

Andy honey they’ll still be able to see that picture in deleted photos but you tried and that’s what matters

Nicky and Joe!

Nicky is so happy to see Andy. That little smile. It’s adorable

“You look good” “you look ok” gentle family teasing is the best ok

“Boss”

It’s been a year since they saw one and other and they just love each other so much. No one touch me.

Nicky and Booker betting on the baklava and Joe just sitting there like “let him lose his money it’s fine, he won’t learn and it’s funny”

Everyone teasing Nicky for loosing and he’s just stood there like “no it’s fine ”

These are the best people for the job and Copley knows it and doesn’t care how much it will cost him. He has faith

Copley knowing Nicky is there and the little wave

Andy taking her axe with her. I love that axe

Just a group of immortals walking through the desert with swords and guns nothing to see here

“Peace be with you” those catholic teachings never quite leave

“It’s a trap!”

That has got to hurt. Those guys emptied full clips into them. Like I get the need to do a job and do it well but come on guys that’s overkill

This is what women want. Andy and her axe

Nicky still having faith there are girls

The picture on Copley’s desk. Like if you knew why did you have to go through this bullshit?

Andy has lived too long and seen too much

Like I know now that Booker knew what was happening or maybe he didn’t know the extent of it but him saying sorry did feel genuine

Andy is just all kinds of done. She didn’t want to do the job in the first place

Nile proving that yes you can be in a strange place and you can serve your country but you don’t have to be a dick about it

“Keep it respectful”

She made an effort to learn the language and learn the customs which goes a long way to establish trust

How traumatic must this have been for Nile? She always knew there was a possibility of being injured in combat or worse never coming home but to be injured so fatally and have your friend hold your life in their hands only to come back and be rejected because you’re an anomaly. A freak

Goes a long way to explain Booker’s feelings too

Nicky and Joe sleeping in the train car is something that is obviously so normal for couples and goes such a long way to show people how ‘normal’ queer people are

“What did you see?” “Part of a name tag” thanks Booker that’s helpful

“I felt her die”

“Everything happens for a reason boss”

Booker didn’t want to go after Nile. He didn’t want her involved

Nicky pushing for them to go after Nile. The emotional centre of the group, appealing to their own experiences and feelings from their first times

Andy is not happy and I can understand how she feels. Given their current situation bringing an unknown element into the mix is only going to complicate everything

“I know I saw her die”

No scarring. Nothing to suggest that anything happened to Nile

The seeds of doubt already growing amongst Nike’s friends and allies

Merrick looks like he should have been a doctor who villain who got his shit kicked in by Donna

Copley you asshole what did you think was gonna happen? They were just gonna get clips emptied into their bodies and let the mercs walk away? Use your big boy brain

Nile trying to come to terms with what happened to her. Everyone around her looking at her with suspicion. Even her Sargent who’s sending her away from more tests

The hostility in the barracks. The fact that her things are already packed.

Everyone knows what happened. Nile has never been more alone just like Nicky said

Trying to drown out the noise of the world and decompress and understand what happened“

But you can call me Andy”

Just casually steals a military transport. Nbd

MA’AM PLEASE I AM ALREADY GAY. Riding around in a tank top and shades like that is not helping

“These damn kids”

Zero hesitation in shooting Nile. This is a woman who has run out of every kind of fuck

“Why does it always have to be so goddamn slow the first couple of times?”

“You shot me” “yes honey now back in the car

”Andy might think she’s cold and heartless and only here to do a job but you can see how much she already cares about what happens to Nile

Soldiers. Fighters. Family

You know what I’m really glad they didn’t make Andy’s tank top skin tight or moulded to show off her body. That isn’t how she rolls

Andy is so proud that Nile stabbed her. Look at that smile

!Nile already having the makings of a plan within minutes of stepping onto the plane

Andy just like “god isn’t real, I’m real though and people thought I was god”

I wonder how many nights the group sat up until the wee hours discussing things like theology. Andy who was worshiped as a god. Nicky and Joe who fought in a holy war for their beliefs and Booker who probably had his own feelings on the subject

Andy being so chill about the crash. The best poker face

It was a good try Nile and look Andy is proud of you!

The smile on Andy’s face when she’s fighting with Nile gives me so much serotonin

Soft Andy. Who had to be tough to teach a lesson

Poor Nile. Coming to terms with what she is and the fact that she might never see her family again

Family dinner time!

Awkward family dinner time

Nicky and Joe staring at each each other with their puppy dog eyes “we’re meant to find each other”

Then Booker and Andy like “misery loves company”

Everyone’s just like “awh Nicky and Joe are so cute”

Andy reliving the people she’s fought with and lost

Booker knows just how much ‘help’ talking to ones family about the situation is

Booker do not put your finger on the trigger of your gun when it’s still in your trousers! You might be immortal but that’s gonna hurt a lot more

Oh no. Quynh.

Andy’s face. I can’t

Joe in tears telling the story“

Before me and Nicky it was just the two of them”

Booker knowing exactly how it feels to hang there for hours and not die or dying and coming back time and time again. Knowing how Quynh and Andy must have felt

I cannot imagine what it must have been like for Andy. To be with someone for so long. The only other person who understands you. To be ripped apart like that

“Why do you blame yourself” that’s not a nice question to ask people

The big emotional talk with Andy and Nile in the churchyard being interrupted by the gunfire

Andy being so afraid Booker wouldn’t come back and delegating to Nile who just accepts her orders

“Welcome back asshole” / “it feels like someone was dancing on my chest”

The banter

Nicky being banished to the table in the corner after 2006 is my favourite headcanon

“Wait for my signal” Andy is more pissed than ever at the people coming after her family

“Big wounds take longer to heal” Nile as a millennial presses x to doubt

The sheer emotion in Andy’s eyes as she fights. The tears. She’s doing this for her family.

Will I ever stop harping on about found family in this show? No I will not“

How can you even tell what the signal is?” One explosion later “oh wait nvm”

The wound on Andy’s shoulder probably doesn’t even feel like anything with the amount of adrenaline

The van. These two“

What is he your boyfriend?” Stanzas of Arabic poetry later, “he’s not my boyfriend he’s all and he’s more”

Nicky and Joe Horny on Main all day every day

These cocky little shits “can you remove the chains? no? ok”“

There’s a TV Joe!” “Champagne?” it’s not a field trip boys

“I used to keep my stuff here” in an abandoned mine she found in the 1150s or that’s when she thinks she found it

Nile being amazed by Andy’s ‘stuff’

Booker meanwhile makes a joke at the expense of his sister

Merrick really should have been a doctor who villain honestly. The grand gesturing the weird mood swings. He could have been great in a two part episode and then had to reckon with Donna

Donna Noble is my favourite companion don’t @ me

Copley beginning to have second thoughts on everything

Andy realising only now that she hasn’t healed from the fight in the church“

Just because we keep living doesn’t mean we stop hurting” I have a lot of Booker feelings ok“

I thought you were the brains of this outfit” oh honey no

Bookers family. Oh no.

No but really how hard must it have been for Booker. To know that his son, his baby was suffering from cancer such an awful disease all the whole cursing his father for being selfish, uncaring, cursing Booker and Booker can’t do anything about it. He’s immortal, he heals, disease will never ravage his body, but he can’t share it with his son. He can only sit and watch as death claims everyone he’s ever loved. Living with the fact that his family despised him at the end of their lives because they didn’t understand that his immortality is a curse.

I have a lot of Booker feels don’t @ me

The pharmacy girl though. Helping just because she could

Reaffirming the reason why Andy started to help people in the first place

A selfless act. A purely good deed. Nothing expected in return. An unselfish act

Andy’s wound and Lykon’s death causing Andy to come to terms with her own mortality

Merrick “prosperity data” and Copley “I’m sorry those are people not objects”

Nicky is not here for your bullshit

Malta Sex Vacation ™

HORNY JAIL

Family bonding time with Nile and Andy

Andy “whatever it takes” and Nile “not on my watch”

So what I want to know is obviously Booker was in on it from the beginning but did actively derail Andy looking into Copley after Joe and Nicky were taken or was he just genuinely having a hard time

Nile prioritising her flesh and blood family and Andy totally understanding because she’s doing this for family too“

You and me Book. Now and always” my heart can’t cope

Nile finding the empty clip. Realising what’s about to happen and going back for her new family because as much as she loves her flesh and blood family this one matters to her as well

Meanwhile Copley I guess got a tip off from Booker (?) and knew this was all going down

The conspiracy wall

Booker you bastard why did you shoot her in the back?

I love this man but god damn

Booker wanting to be ‘normal’ because the memory of being rejected is still so raw

Suicidal tendencies in a 200 year old man

They’re both so upset by the whole thing. The betrayal

Book loves this woman with all his heart and soul. This is the woman who saved him and now she isn’t healing. She’s dying

Booker putting up so much of a fight so they wouldn’t take Andy

“I’m sorry Andy I’m sorry”

You might disagree with me but in my mind Booker never meant to hurt anyone. He didn’t want to be a lab rat. Didn’t want anyone else to be a lab rat. He just wanted to be ‘normal’“

All things die”

“Your time is coming” // “As is yours” Nicky is gonna fuck someone up

“I’m new” says Nile after shooting herself in the foot to make a point

Copley’s conspiracy wall or his fanboy wall for all the good Andy, Booker, Joe and Nicky have done

Copley’s grief at losing his wife being the driving factor for handing the group over to Merrick is tragic and heart breaking and just goes to show how much of a human story this really is

Nile said no guns Copley

Nile is here to save her family

“Those three men in there and I we’ll keep you safe” // Nile coming in guns blazing for them instead

Joe is going to kill Booker himself

“You and Nicky always had each other. All we had was our grief”

Everyone being so surprised to see Nile like “what the fuck?”“

Just leave me here” // “No man left behind”

Meanwhile Joe is fine with just leaving Booker right there to be the last lab rat

The groups concern for Andy who’s always been so strong

The concern. The subtle little head nods Andy does to let them know she’s ok

Andy spies an axe

Joe being so concerned for Nicky and making sure he comes back ok

Nicky immediately scrambling to his feet to go and help Andy

“What happened in 1934?” // “1834”

“Wait for the signal” “like the last one?” “Go big or go home!”

Arguing over who goes first and Andy just “if it doesn’t work our next time you can go first”

And there’s your signal

“You shot Nicky” Joe is not messing around when it comes to his other half“

You ok?” // “Everything hurts”

Andy has been immortal for so long she’s lost all sense of feeling human. Then Nile shows up to do just that. Remind her

Merrick calling Nile selfish like I’m sorry you entitled little shit what did you say“

Do you think he speaks Russian?”

YEET!

That one must have hurt

Nicky and Joe just like “wow the new girl is hardcore”

“Faster than the elevator”

Gotta save Andy’s axe

Nicky sits in the middle which is the actual worst place to sit in a car

Do you think they al rocked up to a hotel covered in blood like “don’t ask just give us a room and a shower”

Joe still seething at Booker through the pub window

Nile having to live with the fact that her family will never know what really happened to her. That they’ll all think she was KIA and whatever body they send back won’t be hers

The 100 year naughty step

I love that Nile was gonna let Booker off with an apology like “he didn’t mean it he’s just a sad alcoholic”

Nobody look at me. Ok. Andy and Booker saying goodbye on the shore. I can’t. This is it. This is the scene that breaks me

“I won’t see you again” // “Have a little faith Book”

Joe really wants to hit Booker. Probably did in the interim

The big picture“

Maybe this is the why Andy”

Andy laying down the law and Joe in the background like “yeah this isn’t a request”

Meanwhile in Paris. Booker is tired and just wants a drink

I am a fan of the scruff though

If that’s water Quynh definitely brought it in herself for The Drama ™

QUYNH THOUGH

#the old guard #long post #disjoined thoughts #i have a lot of booker feelings #i am not apologising for what he did #i just have a lot of feelings about the why #in which my fave is the traitor of the group #why you ask? wish i knew mate #duchess.txt

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santacarlahorrorshow · 4 years

Text

Searching (Gen; Rick Grimes POV)

Author’s Note: Set before the events of Meet Me Under the Stars and from Rick's POV. This is from a series of extra scenes and drabbles set before, during, and after Meet Me Under the Stars.

Word Count: 1.9k

Masterlist / Meet Me Under the Stars / Read on AO3

Rick had always been sure that he would do just about anything for his family.

He had his fights with Lori, but he knew that they could weather any storm. From a teen pregnancy to financial struggles to marital strain, they were able to stick together through it all.

He loved his children fiercely and he knew that he would die to protect them. Even though his relationship with Y/N wasn't where he wanted it to be and even though Carl had to suffer through his fights with Lori and see him at his worst, he knew that his kids loved him. He knew that when push came to shove, their love for him was about the only thing keeping him going.

He knew that he could also count on Shane. Shane, who had been a constant presence in his life for years. Shane, who had been there for him through every fight with Lori and had practically helped raise Y/N and Carl. Shane, who was always going to be his best friend and family.

Rick knew that with the four of them in his life, he would always have something to fight for.

He just didn't think that when he woke up from a coma, it would be to find out his family was nowhere in sight and the world had ended.

The only real motivation he had to keep going was the thought that he would eventually find his family. When Atlanta turned out to be a bust and overrun by the ravenous undead, he worried that he wouldn't find them. It seemed like there was death everywhere he looked and he feared that he would find a familiar face among the dead.

Relief warred with grief as he left Atlanta with his new group. They claimed they had a home for him, and while he was sorely tempted to take them up on their offer of shelter, he knew that he couldn't settle down until he found his loved ones.

When he got to the Atlanta camp and saw Lori and Carl, he could hardly believe his luck. When he looked over while embracing them and saw Shane standing there, he thought he might be dreaming. Everything after he woke up from his coma seemed like one never-ending fever dream, but with his little boy and wife in his arms, he could start to believe that it was real. That he was real.

The only thing that really hurt was that Y/N wasn't with them. He couldn't bear the thought of his daughter out there all by herself. He wouldn't even consider the possibility that she wasn't alive anymore. He knew his daughter. She was resourceful. She was stubborn. She was the best of him and Lori and even Shane. She would be okay.

That didn't stop the nightmares from happening. He was plagued each night with fictitious realities in which he found Y/N as a walker. Most of the nightmares consisted of going back to the house in King County just to see Y/N waiting for him. But she was never alive and he always had to put her down. In the dreams, he convinced himself it was a mercy killing, but it was the cruelest trick his mind could play on him.

He wanted to go search for her. He knew that she would have been at school when disaster struck. He hoped that she would have tried to make her way home. But what if he was too late? What if she never made it there?

It was selfish and foolish, but he never fully broached the topic with either Lori or Shane. He didn't really have to. Sometimes, when he caught Lori staring off into the distance as if she longed to see her little girl walking down the road or when Shane met his eyes, a yearning tinged with grief clear in his expression, he knew they were thinking of her.

By the time they learned that the CDC was a pipe dream, he was starting to consider searching for her. He couldn't help but think that he had to know. He had to find her. And if she was a walker and no longer the little girl he remembered, then he would do what had to be done.

It wouldn't be easy and he would rather die than harm her, but he couldn't leave her like that. He wouldn't.

Before he could tell Lori or Shane that he wanted to look for Y/N, the group ran into trouble. Between a traffic jam and a broken-down RV, the last thing they needed was a shambling herd of the undead and Sophia getting lost in the woods.

His heart broke with every moment he searched for Sophia in the woods with Daryl. It completely shattered when Carol begged him to find her little girl. All of her concerns about Sophia alone and surviving on her own echoed his own fears about Y/N so strongly that he had to stop himself from combing the woods for Carol's lost little girl and his own in the dark.

He couldn't risk it, though. The threat of getting surprised by a walker was higher at night. He wanted to find Sophia and he wanted to find Y/N, but if he went into the woods and never came out, then what would become of the loved ones he would leave behind?

Even though he knew every second that passed without finding Sophia didn't bode well for the fate of Carol's daughter, he couldn't help but hold out hope. He had left Sophia to take care of the walkers on their trail and it was his fault that she wasn't with the group now. He would find her and he would save her. He had to.

His hope was nearly completely devastated when Carl was shot. He couldn't stand the idea of his little boy taking a moment to enjoy the beauty left in a world half-gone only to be punished for it. It was cruel and unfair. Unfortunately, it was their new reality.

By the time he had lost enough blood to leave him nearly senseless in an effort to save Carl, he was hit with the startling realization that he could very well lose both of his kids. He knew it was a sick and twisted situation that many faced in the new world, but it never occurred to him that it could happen to him. Not Y/N, he pleaded with a higher authority. Not Carl either, he begged with a fervency he hoped would be heard.

Everything seemed to pass in a daze after that. He was so desperate to save at least one of his children that he wanted nothing more than to join Shane and Otis on their scavenging mission. He wanted to be of more use than sitting in a chair beside his son's bedside and watching him slowly die right before his eyes.

All he could think about were Jenner's words to him right before they left the CDC. Everyone was infected. Everyone was tainted by whatever disease was reanimating the dead and turning them into mindless, hungry monsters. The realization that everyone in their group had the potential to become walkers was horrifying, but there was something else that truly terrified him in that moment.

If Carl died, then he would come back as a walker. If Carl woke up as one of the undead, then who was going to carry out the unthinkable?

He was scared that it would have to be him.

As time wore on and there was no sign of Shane or Otis, he started to worry that he would lose even more of his family. Hershel didn't seem to think the odds were in their favor and Lori was slowly unraveling as Carl's condition worsened.

He wasn't sure if it was sheer dumb luck or a blessing from God when Shane showed up. He had a moment to mourn Otis, but it was overwritten by the pure relief that Hershel would be able to save his boy.

He hadn't lost Shane and he wouldn't lose Carl. He could only hope that one day he would be reunited with Y/N to complete the family he was fighting so hard for.

After Carl's surgery, the group's focus went back to finding Sophia. Daryl had taken to scouring the woods for her, but Rick feared it wouldn't be enough. They would have to organize search parties and attempt to get a better lay of the land in order to have any shot at finding the lost girl.

As each hour passed without any hope of finding her, he began to fear it was a lost cause. He had pressure from all sides to either find Sophia or to give up. He felt like his head was spinning from having to endure one tragedy to the next and while he wished more than anything that he could just stop and take a breath, he knew that it was a luxury he couldn't afford. Not when Carol's daughter was still lost. Not when his own was somewhere out there all by herself.

When he heard the screaming and yelling, he feared the worst. He was so sure that a walker had stumbled upon the farm. He thought maybe it was the herd from the highway. His mind cycled through every worst-case scenario he could possibly dream up, but for the first time in what felt like years, it was good news.

He saw Carol take off across the field in the direction of the woods that lined the Greene farm. He could just make out the little girl Carol rushed to embrace. He felt an overwhelming sense of relief at the sight of Sophia reunited with her mother.

When he caught sight of Daryl turning to talk to a woman standing with them, he let himself focus on her for the first time. He thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. He was sure that he was getting his hopes up. It couldn’t be. He had never been so lucky in all his life, but maybe he was due for some good fortune.

When he heard Shane suck in a sharp, startled breath beside him, he started to believe that it was real.

"Is that--" Shane started, before he cut himself off like he too was too afraid to hope.

"Y/N," Rick finished before he took off across the field, wanting nothing more than to see for himself that his daughter was alive.

As he got closer, he began to recognize the features he had grown so accustomed to seeing since the first time he held his baby girl in his arms. When she turned to look at him, he knew for sure that he was right.

By the time he drew to a stop just a couple of feet away from her, he could feel tears begin to well in his eyes. He wasn't sure if it was because he was just so damn happy to see her or he was trying so hard not to blink because he feared she would disappear the second he closed his eyes. He didn't care that his eyesight was blurring from tears or that he couldn't stop staring, because another miracle had been handed to him.

It was her. It was Y/N.

She was alive. She was breathing. She was unharmed. She was alive and standing right in front of him, looking just as gobsmacked as he felt.

And he could breathe again.

A/N: If you read this, thank you so much. It really means so much to me. If you want to request that I write an extra scene from someone's POV in my MMUtS 'verse, then please let me know/send me an ask. It really is the best way for me to get back into writing TWD again until I finish my rewatch and can write the MMUtS sequel.

#the walking dead #twd #rick grimes #the walking dead fanfiction #rick grimes fanfiction #reader is a grimes #meet me under the stars #sophia lives #canon divergence #reader insert

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border-spam · 4 years

Text

Leech Lord: Regret

Tyreen

Regardless of how much of herself The Leech has eaten away, how difficult it is for her to remember what empathy felt like or the way feeling sadness for another person burned the back of your eyes and throat in a way you could never really sooth, Tyreen will never forget how much she regretted lying to Troy about Pandora.

It's not the being here she regrets, I mean, things turned out incredibly. Look at them, Godhood is their destiny... it's remembering that first week planetside. Remembering the slash of that glass bottle across her face, or the scream that was either Troy's or the Bandit's she husked in defense for the first time as both twins stared on in horror, or sitting in that rancid filthy shack, watching her brother die.

Ty hadn't been sick in so long that she couldn't recall what it felt like anymore, and Troy? Well, he was sick all the time, but nothing like this. This was disease ripping through a body with no protection, no immune system grown over a lifetime to fight it back. Neither of them had considered what illnesses would be waiting on a planet they'd never visited after all, they'd no medical experience bar what the ancient E-Doc onboard droid on Dad's old ship had been able to share from databases so corrupt with age that it barely functioned anymore.

She'd sat with him for 2 days, completely helpless, terrified. Watching him vomit up blood streaked bile and gasp for air between painful retching spams, nothing left in his stomach bar the water she'd try and force into him every hour. Not even clean water just.. muddy filth, but it was all she could find in the barren wasteland of those flats. She'd scrabble out into the desert every couple of hours when he’d lose consciousness again, and find anything she could leech. Dry half dead plants, insects, mangled roadkill still dragging in twitchy breaths, anything she could pump back into him and hope he'd heal.

He didn't.

Troy would wake and be incoherent, rapidly flip between spewing hate at her for MAKING HIM COME HERE when he'd told her so clearly it was a stupid fucking idea, when he'd said they would die... and begging her to forgive him. Apologising, reaching out to shakily grasp at his sister's hand as he stumbled over his words and tried to let her know how sorry he was that it hadn't worked, that the natives had rejected them. It was his fault. He hadn't researched, he hadn’t written her dialogue right... his script let them down.. he’d..

She never forgives herself for the betrayal of what she did to him, even years later.

God Queen Tyreen still wakes up some nights remembering the stink of his blood and vomit and sweat in that shack, and those are the mornings he finds poorly prepared breakfast ready on his kitchen table, or a scrawled note that seems so out of character - thanking him.

Genuine, heartfelt words reminding him how much she loves her twin... Even though she forgets so quickly after.

Seifa

She left friends to die once.

Well, not “friends” friends. Not like the friends she's grown over time since, but people still. Living people who'd expected her to protect their backs even though she'd been clear that wasn't going to happen, that if shit went south she was gone. It had, and she'd done exactly as she said, but their faces... man.

She's alive and they aren't. That's how it goes. That's the long game.

She can't remember their second names but she remembers what they looked like. Bavi and Cass, pair of small time smugglers she'd run trades with for a couple of years, played poker with, shared leads with... They'd convinced her this was a good call. She'd said it hadn't been. They'd argued there was nothing to worry about, she'd told them there was.

She'd gone along anyway. Stupid kid, barely 20. Idiot. She'd gone along because they told her they needed her skills, when what they actually needed was a gun behind them and someone a hell of a lot more competent than Seifa.

She'd told them it would go sour, she'd tried to catch their attention from the corner of their eyes as they buttered up the supplier they were keen to fleece, despite his companions subtly moving to palm their guns.

She'd tried, they hadn't listened, so she'd walked. Cut her losses there and then just before that powder keg ignited and she'd go down with them. They'd turned to pay attention far too late, shock and betrayal on their faces as the door closed behind her with one final glance.

She'd heard the gunshots before she made it to her ship.

But she's alive and they aren't. That's how it goes. That's the long game.

Troy

A million faceless, nameless people have suffered directly under God King Calypso in one way or another. He's done horrific things, and he's allowed even worse ones to take place.

In the back of his mind, there is usually a kind of excuse. They wanted it, or they themselves had done terrible things, or he truthfully wouldn't have been able to stop Tyreen anyway, or that's just how Pandora is, or...

The few things he cannot excuse are the ones that haunt him. The real failures, the real shame. Troy will never, for the entirety of his life, forgive himself for Jak-Knife, Ven, or Sei. It won't matter how much they reassure him. It won't matter if one day the tightness in their eyes when they reminisce about the original COV softens, he will take it to his grave.

Not just the slow trauma he knows he is responsible for regardless of how things had been, the abuse, the stress, the constant push for more and more from people who were already breaking themselves trying to give everything they could, but what happened after that. The visceral failures that are entirely his fault.

Jak-Knife's annointment... God. That had been meant to help. That had been meant to soothe burns and bolster a body into a fortress to match the soul inside, that had been meant to be a gift, and he'd done what instead? Tortured one of the most loyal beings he had ever known with a slow, agonising corruption.

Ven? He'd known. He'd seen the signs the Oracle couldn't, and still he'd not kept him underwing. Troy should have been a towering wall between Tyreen and Ven at all times, he knew he should have and yet he'd still travelled to Athenas without him. Had left him behind, unprotected and vulnerable in the Grand Cathedral. Ty had been a predator stalking the shadows of those halls, keen eyes watching for a weak link, an opportunity.. and Troy had practically dropped his friend into her waiting claws. One stupid, pointless, OBVIOUS mistake and it had been his Ven that had suffered for Troy's distraction.

Seifa? He catches her sometimes, out of the corner of his vision. The sadness as she stares at those scars on his neck. Her unspoken concern towards him. The whispered care to JK and Ven every time they meet, just before the smiles settle root and everything feels right. She's still carrying wounds for everyone, he can see it even if she can't, and Troy caused the injuries.

She regrets for him.

He remembers Leda apologising on those nights where his ribs burned and the mangled tissue along his right ached from growth spurts it couldn't keep up with. He remembers her feeling at fault, like she'd made the cuts that disfigured him for the rest of his life.

He see's that in Seifa, and he regrets becoming his father after all.

Asks are Open!

#borderlands #borderlands 3 #bl3 #troy calypso #tyreen calypso #calypso twins #seifa #jak-knife #ven #leech lord #my writing #my hcs #lldrabbles

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tabloidtoc · 3 years

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National Enquirer, December 28

You can buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Ghislaine Maxwell scandal explodes

Page 2: George Clooney was rushed to the hospital after rapidly dropping 28 pounds to play an ailing astronomer in his latest movie The Midnight Sky and the harrowing incident has infuriated worried wife Amal Clooney -- George’s scare came when he was diagnosed with life-threatening pancreatitis days before he was scheduled to start filming on a glacier in Finland -- Amal was unhappy and angry that he put his health on the line for the role and she was also furious because this wasn’t the first time the father of her twins has been in harm’s way and she’s demanding he take better care of himself so he’ll be around to care for his kids

Page 3: Lori Loughlin’s deluded daughter Olivia Jade Giannulli is clueless over the college admissions scandal that landed her parents in jail and believes her own hype according to a body language expert -- in an interview on Jada Pinkett Smith’s Red Table Talk Olivia claimed she had no idea posing for pictures on a rowing machine to finagle a crew scholarship to the University of Southern California despite never having practiced the sport was deceitful but body language expert Susan Constantine said Olivia doesn’t appear to have any understanding of the consequences of her actions or those of mom Lori and dad Mossimo Giannulli -- after observing Olivia’s confession Constantine said she didn’t notice any deceptive indicators such as pauses in her speech or shrugging of her shoulders however she labeled Olivia completely unequivocally oblivious which she said made it challenging to judge Olivia’s truthfulness

Page 4: Lonely Diane Keaton is longing for love and she’s turned to former flame Jack Nicholson for help in landing a new guy -- Diane is truly desperate to find a man and she knows if there’s one person who can help her navigate the dating scene after all this time it’s Jack -- the Oscar-winning actress shocked the world when she recently admitted she hasn’t been on a date in 35 years and she made a joke of it but the pandemic has made her realize how lonely she really is -- Diane would never date Jack again but knows he has a lot of eligible friends who would fit her dating profile

* Dying Olivia Newton-John worries endlessly about her daughter Chloe and made a touching final request of close pal John Travolta: Please take care of Chloe after I’m gone -- Olivia’s concerns for Chloe spiked after she blasted the COVID-19 vaccine on social media writing that natural medicine is the party she belongs to -- Olivia has been battling stage 4 breast cancer while John lost his wife Kelly Preston to the same disease and John loves and admires Olivia for the way she’s battled this disease and she’s given him the hope and encouragement he needs -- now Chloe’s ongoing issues have pushed Olivia to beg John to pledge he’ll be there for her daughter because Chloe has spent over $450,000 on multiple plastic surgeries including breast enhancements and a nose job and lip enhancements and Botox and she’s also battled anorexia and depression which led to bouts with cocaine and alcohol addiction -- Olivia has always been deeply concerned about who would look out for Chloe if she wasn’t around and now that she can see the end is near she asked John to be that person; he never blinked an eye and said of course

Page 5: Ozzy Osbourne’s frail and feeble appearance has friends fearing for the rocker but he has no plans to abandon a 2022 comeback even if it kills him -- the 72-year-old singer has battled Parkinson’s disease and crippling nerve damage but has vowed he will die onstage -- nobody disputes he has the heart of a lion and it’s great to see him out and about again recording music and talking the good talk but ultimately Ozzy is a very sickly guy who needs to protect himself and not charge around trying to delude himself by living life at a pace that doesn’t make sense anymore

Page 6: Rattled reality star Kylie Jenner is living in fear after being terrorized by two crazed fans and is now spending $350,000 a month on a 25-person security detail -- Kylie filed court documents seeking a restraining order against Justin Bergquist who allegedly broke into her $36.5 million California home last month

Page 7: Lonely Ryan Seacrest may have nearly half a billion bucks in the bank but he’d trade in his riches for another shot at love -- he was so devastated by his breakup with on-again off-again galpal Shayna Taylor last summer he fears he may never find a woman to spend the rest of his life with and he now realizes her put his career before his personal life one too many times and may suffer for it forever -- Ryan’s recent health woes have been a wake-up call and forced him to understand the price he’s paying for taking his partners for granted for so long -- Ryan now realizes life is too short to go it alone and it’s finally dawned on him he’s not invincible and not so self-sufficient after all

* Miley Cyrus’ admission that she’s had a lot of FaceTime sex has left friends and advisers fearing she may be setting herself up for some unwanted exposure -- though Miley explained she’s turned to virtual hookups to avoid physical contact during the pandemic but she’s putting herself at an entirely different kind of risk and she’s setting herself up as a potential victim of revenge porn

Page 10: Hot Shots -- Brooke Burke showed off her toned figure in Malibu, Andrew Garfield looked bored on the NYC set of Tick Tick...Boom!, Busy Philipps cleaning, Audrina Patridge and her daughter Kirra on a Beverly Hills playdate

Page 11: Guy Fieri is eating up heaps of praise for handing out $500 grants to more than 43,000 restaurant workers across the nation -- he scrambled to raise over $21.5 million in seven weeks to help legions of unemployed restaurant laborers who have suffered financially due to the COVID-19 health and economic crisis -- through his new Restaurant Employee Relief Fund Guy personally buttonholed fat cats at cash-rich corporations such as PepsiCo and Uber Eats and Moet Hennessy USA to make donations -- he shows how he did it and shines a light on the industry’s continuing challenges in Restaurant Hustle 2020 a documentary he produced for the Food Network

* Garth Brooks and Trisha Yearwood are spreading yuletide cheer with their TV holiday special but they’re more interested in ringing cash registers than Christmas bells -- Garth and Trisha rake in $60 million a year from concert ticket sales and CD purchases and merchandising but the couple saw their cash flow slow during the pandemic -- they lost a bunch of money but they had the unique opportunity to do TV specials and grab a big chunk of it back -- while the $10 million they are pocketing for their TV specials won’t make up for what they would have netted on tour it was a sweet stocking stuffer and they both want to get back on the road and really rake it in but TV has made the wait a lot easier

Page 12: Straight Shuter -- With Beyonce and Taylor Swift facing off for Song of the Year at the upcoming Grammy Awards producers are scrambling to prevent another Kanye West explosion like what happened in 2009

* Killing off The Talk may be the only hope of saving Drew Barrymore’s tanking talk show

* The Real Housewives of New York are treating the first Black cast member Eboni K. Williams with kid gloves because no one wants to come across as racist

* Niecy Nash and Jessica Betts (picture)

Page 13: January Jones’ desperate bid for online attention has pals concerned she may be cracking up -- her red-hot career appears to have cooled since Mad Men ended in 2015 and January is dying to land another plum part like Betty Draper but she’s going about it the wrong way -- she’s been posting sexy bikini pictures and leggy dance numbers on Instagram but that’s not the way to catch the eye of casting directors especially with so few shows in production during the COVID-19 lockdown

* Caitlyn Jenner has reached out to trans actor Elliot Page offering to be his big sister in an opportunistic PR ploy -- while Caitlyn was one of many trans celebs including Jazz Jennings and Geena Rocero to offer Elliot congratulations and support, Caitlyn viewed the announcement as a new opportunity to leap back into the limelight and she believes that by aligning herself with Elliot she can regain her status as an activist and the symbol of transgender rights in Hollywood -- Elliot is happy to listen to Caitlyn’s advice but he’s been navigating his gender issues for years and doesn’t need guidance and he’s not going to be rude but he doesn’t need the help

Page 14: Crime

Page 15: A never-before-heard audio recording is of iconic soul singer James Brown’s wish to leave his $100 million fortune to educate poor children -- in the garbled 1999 recording the singer who died suddenly in 2006 called the creation of his I Feel Good foundation his lasting legacy but his precious foundation has not seen a dime because his fortune has remained tied up in court since his death which is the subject of an investigation by the Fulton County, Georgia District Attorney’s office after allegations surfaced that Brown might have been poisoned by someone after his money

Page 16: American Life

Page 17: What Shocked and Rocked in 2020 -- the best scoops and stories of the year

Page 25: Fired Hillsong Church pastor Carl Lentz was so starstruck by his celebrity parishioners he believed he was a star himself and his ego fueled his shocking fall from grace and now he’s getting mental health treatment after being accused of cheating on his wife and getting sacked for moral failures -- Carl tended the trendy megachurch’s New York City flock and regularly rubbed shoulders with celebs including NBA star Kevin Durant and singer Selena Gomez and even once invited Justin Bieber to live with him before being booted by bigwigs but now he’s said to be getting help at an outpatient facility specializing in depression and pastoral burnout but cunning Carl may have made the move simply to revamp his wrecked reputation

Page 26: Prince Harry and Meghan Markle are heading to couples therapy in a desperate bid to stay together because their marriage is hanging by a thread -- the pair are at each other’s throats as they struggle to adjust to their new life in America -- Harry’s gone from being excited about the move to feeling tortured and it’s like he swapped his royal prison in Britain for a new hell in a $14 million California mansion and he fears he’s made a terrible mistake but Meghan’s ordering him to man up and grab this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to make millions away from the monarchy’s suffocating shadow -- the fighting came to a head before the holidays when Harry was feeling especially homesick and guilty about abandoning his family especially his brother Prince William and his grandmother Queen Elizabeth -- adding to their troubles Meghan seems hellbent on staying in the public eye during the pandemic and she masterminded their personal video calls to charities in London and the U.S. and the secret deliveries of meals to the needy but then she made them public and the truth is it’s The Meghan Show now and Harry’s just the side act

Page 27: A charming Chinese spy bedded two Midwestern mayors and courted other clueless politicians to weasel her way into U.S. government circles -- Chinese national Christina Fang also known as Fang Fang, reportedly entered the U.S. as a college student in 2011

Page 31: Candice Bergen moaned that at the age of 74 she’s a wreck and that she has a wattle -- Candice admitted to having her eyes done while filming the Murphy Brown reboot because they were very hooded and as for today she knows she should have injections because she has deep lines along her lip but she can’t take the pain

* Rachael Ray lost her New York home to a blazing inferno but her holidays were salvaged by the warmth of community spirit -- following the devastating fire she and her husband moved into the property’s guesthouse and in a clip on The Rachael Ray Show the emotional host showed off her festively decorated digs and gushed she didn’t know where she’d be without friends and a community and people so dear to her that helped her bring Christmas to life even when you’re not at home

Page 32: Health Watch -- blood test predicts Alzheimer’s

Page 34: Longtime lovebirds Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell are hoping to make a movie with their whole family -- the star-studded cast would include Goldie’s kids Kate Hudson and Oliver Hudson and the couple’s son Wyatt Russell -- as for filming with the entire gang Goldie gushed that they have thought about it and she’d love to do something with her kids and the grandchildren too

* Hollywood Hookups -- Kristin Cavallari and Jeff Dye heating up, Malik Beasley and Larsa Pippen dating but Malik’s wife Montana Yao filed for divorce, Chrishell Stause and Keo Motsepe dating

Page 36: Infamous Hollywood hotel Chateau Marmont has a storied history of sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll ever since it opened its doors in 1929 and nearly a century later it hasn’t been tamed -- even during the pandemic the majestic hotel is wild with drunks, overdoses and luckily averted suicide attempts and according to 911 records the debauched celebrity haunt is filled with people having breakdowns -- the Chateau’s crazy days and nights are legendary: it’s where John Belushi died in one of the bungalows in 1982 from a deadly cocaine-heroin concoction

Page 38: One of the most iconic images from the James Bond films which is a handgun used by Sean Connery in Dr. No has sold for $256,000 at auction in Beverly Hills -- the gun is a deactivated semi-automatic Walther PP pistol -- the winning bidder who asked to remain anonymous is an American who’s seen every James Bond film with his children -- a helmet created for Tom Cruise in Top Gun also sold at the auction for $108,000 while a sword used by Bruce Willis in Pulp Fiction sold for $35,200

* Dolly Parton has one major thing left on her bucket list which is she wants to see Beyonce sing Jolene one of the country star’s signature songs -- Jolene has been recorded more than any other song Dolly has ever written but that isn’t enough for her because she also wants to see it updated by one of the top female stars of a new generation -- it has been recorded worldwide over 400 times in lots of different languages but nobody’s ever had a really big hit record on it and Dolly always hoped somebody might do it someday by someone like Beyonce

* Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson has wrestled his way into the alcohol market with his own tequila brand and lifted it into first place as the most successful spirit launch in history and he’s even on track to double George Clooney’s first-year launch -- Dwayne is expected to move more than 300,000 cases of small-batch Teremana Tequila in its first year of trading

Page 40: Smitten singer Rihanna has fallen hard for A$AP Rocky but friends fear the playboy rapper will leave her broken-hearted -- Rocky is a charming guy but he also has a love ‘em and leave ‘em reputation and everyone’s concerned she’s more into him than he is into her -- Rihanna’s desperate to meet a man she can see herself with for the rest of her life and she believes Rocky might be the one but everybody thinks she’s rushing into things with Rocky -- Rocky is not interested in a long-term romance and Rihanna shouldn’t be thinking of this as more than a port in the storm

* Lizzo is livin’ large and she’s showing every inch of her jiggles and folds on TikTok -- the body-positivity enthusiast wore a white bikini for an all-angles video in which she amply demonstrated the tricks models and celebs use to look slimmer -- she bared her belly and back and legs and sometimes jiggled her thighs or grabbed a hunk of herself to prove there’s more to luscious ladies than meets the eye and wrote, “Wild to see the body positive movement come so far. Proud of the big girls who gave it wings.”

Page 42: Red Carpet -- The Crown stars -- Claire Foy, Emma Corrin, Gillian Anderson, Vanessa Kirby, Erin Doherty

Page 47: Odd List -- baseball fan Darren Johnson hatched an unusual idea for his new chicken coop making it a model of Houston’s former Eighth Wonder of the World The Astrodome

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kpoptrashmx · 4 years

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A Misunderstanding: Lee Minho Soulmate Au Pt.3

Hey guys, I know it’s been a while since I posted for this series and I would like to apologize for that. In the past couple of years, I have had things happening in my life for the good and the worse which has affected my overall health. Because of that, I was never in the right headspace to continue this series. But every now and then, I’ll get notification that people have read my series which makes me happy. Now, that everything is okay with me, I have decided to continue writing and finishing up this series. There will be another part to this with an epilogue in the end so do look out for that! But for now, do enjoy the continuation of this series, part 3 of A Misunderstanding!

PS: It’s been a while since I’ve written so that quality might be bad...

PSS: If you have any questions or requests do leave them in my box, I’ll be sure to read and write them because I have nothing else to do during quarantine now

But anyways, do enjoy reading!

- Iman

_______________________________________________

Genre: Romance, Soulmate Au, Themes of Hanahaki Disease, Slight Angst

Pairing: Lee Minho (Stray Kids) x Reader

Word Count: 3195 words

Description: Y/N and Minho have been best friends for their entire life and have bonded as soulmates but there is one problem within this fantasy. Minho has been blinded and tricked by a fellow classmate by making him believe that he is her soulmate. A replica of Y/N and Minho’s soulmate bond has been tattooed on her body in spite of stealing him away from his original lover to fulfill her needs and crush on him. Now, if Y/N doesn’t find a way to bring Minho back to reality and become an official couple before the end of their high school careers, she will have to suffer from internal and external pain for the rest of her life because of the separation from her one and only. Will Y/N be able to make her best friend and her soulmate realize that she’s the one for him before it’s all too late? Or will she have to suffer the life-long consequences?

Prologue / Part 1 / Part 2

_______________________________________________

Minho’s POV

“Minho have you heard of soulmates? My grandma told me that two people who have the same mark on their body and fall in love with each other when they get older!” “That’s cool! I wonder if we have a mark or the same mark!” I remember hearing Y/N talk about the concept of soulmates when we were younger and it always intrigued me. After my mark was visible on the side of my torso, I always walked around town pulling up people’s sleeves and taking a quick glance at their arms to find a mark that was somewhat similar or identical to my own, however I couldn’t find anyone with any marks with birds flying and a bouquet of flowers so I started to lose faith and hope in the whole idea of soulmates. When senior year came along, I found Seoyun, my soulmate. I was ecstatic to finally find my soulmate after 17 years of finding them, but it affected my friendship with Y/N so badly I have caused her so much damage and pain. All this time, I was blinded by a girl who wanted me for my popularity and skills rather than falling in love with a gain who knew me inside and out and was always there for me no matter the time of day or the place I was at. However, I only realised my mistakes after seeing my best friend suffering alone at the hospital with a chance of either dying or losing all emotions due to her diagnosis of Hanahaki Disease. In order to find out more about my mistake and to learn in-depth, I decided to go back to the countryside quickly to visit my grandparents and the local shaman to talk about this issue.

An hour bus ride back to Gimpo from Seoul is enough time for me to read the book Jennie gave me when we saw each other in the hospital. She told me to read it in order to understand what soulmates are and the consequences of soulmate rejections. I remember seeing this book in my parents’ house because of their special bond. My mother and father consequently are soulmates and they found out about their faith in college and got married a few years after the whole incident. When I get back, I want to talk to both of them about their experiences with the whole concept of soulmates. Anyways here we go, hopefully by the end of this, I can understand fully about this concept Y/N dearly loved ever since she was a child, fix my mistakes and make it up to her no matter what it takes.

Gimpo Station, Gimpo Station. We will be arriving at Gimpo Station shortly.

Well, that’s my station, hopefully both my grandparents and parents are home so that I can talk to all of them. I need to do this quickly before something bad happens to Y/N while I’m out. I make my way to my small house where I used to grow up in in the countryside, a lot of memories flash through my mind especially my memories with Y/N. The playground reminded me of the times where I would play at the swings with Y/N and push her from behind, I still here her scream “Push me higher! I want to touch the skies'' in my head. Makes me chuckle knowing that sometimes she’d lose her grip and fall on her face. Damn… she means a lot to me but I’m so lost, confused and blinded. I walk through the gates of my house and open the doors, a familiar smell of the house hits my nostril and brings me back to my childhood days, “Eomma, I’m home!” I reunited with my parents after 3 years of not seeing them because of my studies in Seoul and my dancing career under JYP Entertainment. Brief hugs and kisses are given but after all of that commotion, I pull both my grandparents and parents into the living so that we could talk about my problems and issues back in Seoul. “Eomma, Appa, I wanted to ask you about relationships and soulmate bonds in specific... Can you tell me about your story about how you met, how you got together. Also can you explain why this whole soulmate thing is really important and why people who are bonded should be other and not with other people?”

“I see that you're having problems with Y/N and Seoyun, and you’re unsure who your real soulmate is. Don’t worry my child, we’ll help you find your true identity and loved one. I hope you have time on your hands because there’s a lot to talk about. So, sit down and pay attention to what we have to say.”

After hours sitting down with my parents and finally understanding the concept of soulmates with their expertise, I have come to a conclusion that I have in fact messed up and caused great pain to the person that has been by my side since we were young and always supported my dreams. I don’t know if she’ll ever forgive me for the pain and agony I have caused her but, I’ll do anything to make sure things are cleared between the both of us. I need to fix what I have caused and end things with Seoyun even if it means certain consequences. Before I take my leave back to Seoul, my parents give me their last advice and hand me a good luck charm hoping that I can mend things before things are too late.

“Minho, my baby, you need to know that the hanahaki disease may or may not take Y/N’s life after this considering the stage she’s currently in right now. It may hurt you and cause you pain after this as there were mishaps along the way that require consequences so do keep that in mind, but remember we’ll always be by your side and will help if you need anything from here onwards, okay?” My parents say while bringing me into a warm hug for support. I thank them and make my way out of the house and back to Seoul where I need to make things right with the girl I love.

Y/N’s POV

Bright lights start coming into view and hushed noises start surrounding me as I wake up.

“Hey babe, you’re finally awake. How are you feeling right now? Feeling better?” Jennie comes up to me from the chair across the room with a bottle of water in hand. I nod my head to her last question as my throat feels too dry to give a reply. “Here take this and drink up”

As I drink up the water she offers me, so many things start going around in my head. Am I okay? What’s going to happen to me after this? Is everything going to be alright? Am I even breathing properly?

“Where is Minho?” I ask Jennie.

She looked at me unsure of what to say which made me think he’s probably with Seoyun right now doing whatever. The thought of them together makes me so agitated that I started to cough out more flower petals in the process. Jennie looks at me frightened and runs out of the room in search of a nurse. As she leaves, I come to a decision that I can’t live like this anymore and decide to go through with the removal surgery regardless of the consequences that come with it. I look at the clock beside me and hope for whatever faith has in mind for my future.

Minho’s POV

After arriving in Seoul after a long bus ride, I start making my way to Seoyun’s house to break things off with her and start fixing things with the girl I was supposed to be with a long time ago. Along the way, I start to think of ways to make it up to Y/N and how to apologize to her for all of the troubles and pain I have caused her. Seeing Seoyun’s house in the distance, I dash up to her front step hoping to end things quickly and make my way to the hospital. I knock on the door and wait a bit for her to come down. While standing outside, I hear her come down quickly and hear a slight tud.

“Jagi what are you doing here? It’s late” Seoyun opens the door abruptly while looking slightly disheveled. I look at her up and down in confusion. While I am suspicious of her previous activities, I make my way into her home and sit on the couch telling her that we have to talk which makes her a bit uneasy.

“Seoyun, just tell me the truth, are you really my soulmate?” I ask while I look up at her while she’s fixing her hair and shirt. “Of course, I am. Why are you asking that so suddenly? Why are we even talking about this right now? Can we talk about this tomorrow morning, I need to sleep babe” She answers back. While I look at her I can tell she doesn’t feel comfortable and looks as if she wants me out of the house. Her uneasiness raises some suspicion in me and makes me think she’s hiding something from me.

“Why do you seem so uneasy and why do you want to talk about this tomorrow morning and not right now?” I ask her while taking some steps towards her. As she’s about to answer me, I hear a low voice talking in the background, “Babe, are you still talking to him? Are you not coming back upstairs?” I look around to see a head pop up at the staircase. Tensions start rising between the three of us and the puzzle pieces start coming together.

Seoyun looks back at me and the figure at the staircase and seems to come to a realization that things have gone wrong. I look back at Seoyun in anger and start asking her who that man was and what was going on right now. She looks back at me in fear and has nothing to say to the situation that unfolded. While she’s flabbergasted at the situation, I look back at the man and start approaching him to find out what was going on. “Who are you and what are you doing in my girlfriend’s house?” I ask him. He looks back at me, “I was going to ask the same thing”. We both look back at Seoyun hoping to get an answer to our questions and that’s when the truth starts coming out for the first time from her.

“Okay stop, Minho, you’re not my soulmate. I was just using you because I wanted the fame and wanted to have more status at school. Also, I was jealous of the bond you had with Y/N so I wanted to take that away from you and have it all to myself. I didn’t know how to do it but I found that pretending to be your soulmate was the way to have my plans to go the way I wanted them too.” Seoyun confesses with no remorse on her face. She looks at the man beside me with love in her eyes and quickly glances back at me “But now, since I found my true soulmate, I don’t need you anymore”. Her final sentences create so much emotion in my body that I didn’t know how to react. The man beside me could tell that things were settling in my mind and I was going to take action for her faults, so he reacted by holding me back before things went down.

“I can’t believe you did this to me and Y/N! Because of your selfiness, she’s in the hospital hurt and suffering because of you and your selfish gain. You have a soulmate now and you know the consequences that come with it if you reject him. If you rejected him, he would be in the hospital right now contemplating whether he wanted his emotions removed, but no, you found a way to use me and find your true soulmate. But guess what? That’s what Y/N is going through right now because of your bullshit! You hurt me and Y/N, I hope you understand the problems you’ve caused!” I start screaming at her while thrashing around in the man’s grip. I look back at the man holding me to see some pain and regret in his eyes for the things his soulmate has done to two innocent people who were minding their own businesses.

I jump out of the man’s hold and start making my way out of the house. Before I leave, I look back and say, “Seoyun, I hope you understand what you’ve done and let’s say things that you had in your plan will be crumbling down when I see you in school again.” With that, I walk out of the house and start making my way to the hospital to start fixing things with Y/N. I take out my phone and start looking through my contact list. “Chan, I’m on the way to the hospital. I broke up with Seoyun and found out the truth behind my relationship with her. Now, I need to fix my friendship with Y/N before it’s all too late.”

Y/N’s POV

Jennie manages to find a nurse who comes to help calm down my coughing fit and keep things in place for the time being. After she helps with my coughing fit, she starts to check my vitals to make sure everything is okay and to see if my condition is stable after what has happened. I looked at the nurse and asked her to bring my doctor in as I needed to talk to him about my decision. The nurse nods at my request and makes her way out of the room to find my doctor. After a while, the doctor makes their way into the room and takes a seat at the edge of my bed.

“You called me in Y/N to discuss something?” The doctor asks. I look back up at him and say that I wanted to go through with the removal surgery. “Alright then, I’ll get the documents ready and we will go through with the surgery.” He touched my lower leg as a way of an understanding and support and made his way out of the room. I lay back on my bed and contemplate whether I have made the right choice.

I heard a door swing open. I look up to see Chan and Jennie standing at the door catching their breaths.

“Y/N please don't go through with the surgery please. It’s not worth it”. Chan and Jennie saying hoping to persuade me out of the decision I just made. “I can’t guys. I just told the doctors I wanted to go through with it. Plus, Minho is with Seoyun, I don’t have the power and strength to keep this up anymore. I need to get rid of the flowers in my chest even if it means no more romantic feelings.” I say as I look at the room around me too scared to look at them in the eyes. “Y/N, Minho’s on the way to the hospital. You don’t have to do this. He said that he called it quits with Seoyun and wants to fix his friendship and build a relationship with you. He knows how much he fucked up and how blinded he was to not see that the love of his life was helping and aiding him the whole time and was right in front of him. He knows the whole soulmate thing by heart now and wants to make things right for you and him.” Chan says to me while making his way towards the bed. He takes my hand in his and looks me in the eyes and says, “Don’t go through with this surgery Y/N because now it will hurt the both of you.”

I take my hand away from his grip and look at the both of them.

“Sorry guys what’s done is done. I am going through this no matter what.”

Minho’s POV

After making it to the hospital, I get on the lift and make my way to Y/N floor. As the elevator doors open, I see a stretcher being taken away from a familiar room, and realize who was on that stretcher. “Y/N don’t please! I’ve come to make amends” I shout from the lift. As I shout, I see the doctors and nurse look back from the stretcher and point in my direction to show Y/N that someone was here for them. I see her head pop out from the strecther and lay right back down on it. I start running towards them and ask the doctors to give us a moment. The doctors agreed and walked away to allow us to settle some things.

“Y/N I know I fucked up and I know I caused you so much pain without even realizing it, but I want things to work between us and restore the things we were supposed to do together as soulmates. I just broke up with Seoyun and found out the truth from her. I know you might not forgive but please give me another chance so I can make it up to you. Please call off the surgery and let’s fix things together.” I begged while holding onto the handles of the stretcher. I feel a few tears running down my face as I try to hold in my sobs. I could help but feel like an asshole as I hurt the person that loved me more than anyone, and to see her goes through this surgery pains me even more. While sch thoughts are going through my mind, I feel a hand on my face wiping my tears away. I open my eyes to see Y/N with her arm out with a slight smile on her face.

Before I could say anything to her, she spoke up. “Even after all the times we’ve been through together and even having those connecting thoughts or even finishing each other sentences, this took you a while to understand which makes me question if you’re really my soulmates.” She says while touching my face. She lets out a small giggle which warms my heart.

I take her hand in mind and I look straight into her eyes, “Y/N I know I’m in the wrong but I want to make things work between us even if it means damaging my health for you. We can make things work out and I finally understand that you’re the one for me. I’m sorry for what I’ve done. Please forgive me and call this surgery off. I’ll nurse and help you back into good health and fix things between us first, and you can decide our future together after that.”

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