the silly.... shes everything to me

What are your personal favourite fics? :D

Great question! A perfect excuse for us to reach out to our members and ask them for their personal favourites and thanks to our collective recs, we're about to unravel a list of some real gems for you and hopefully therein you'll find a few favourites of your own.

want you in my room - beethechange | E, 13k, Complete

As they watch, Tall Guy takes his beanie off, revealing a mess of thick, shiny brown hair. He runs his hand through it to shake out the hat hair and Ryan feels like he’s stuck in an Herbal Essences commercial, except he’s the one making inappropriate lustful noises.

Ryan adjusts his snapback, determined. He is, after all, wearing his very finest basketball shorts, without even a single hole at the hem, and the knowledge puts an extra spring in his step. “I’m gonna climb that dude like a tree,” he tells Curly.

guidance for sailors, lost at sea - varnes | T, 6.2k, Complete

“I’m not the mom,” Shane says, drowsily appalled.

Ryan raises his eyebrows. “I didn’t say you were the mom,” he soothes, sincere in the way that Ryan kind of always is, even when he’s being sarcastic. “I just said they reacted to you as if you were the mom.”

“It’s -- that’s the same thing,” Shane protests, but quietly, because he has a tiny ghost perched on his hip and he doesn’t want to wake her. It. Whatever. It’s kind of hard to tell, because they don’t look like people, exactly, more like -- outlines.

Actually, ironically, what they really look like is people covered in sheets, round at the top and kind of vague at the bottom, but Shane has stopped trying to say that because Ryan gets mad about it. He thinks it’s disrespectful.

Shane thinks it’s disrespectful that he was made step-parent to a bridge full of baby ghosts without anybody asking him, but sure. Pointing out that they look like sheets is the problem.

You can run away with me anytime you want - PhyllisDietrichson | E, 12k, Complete

But sometimes Ryan scrolls through Shane’s instagram when his socials go quiet and their text convo takes a long pause and Ryan knows it’s because Shane is off camping somewhere, and Ryan can’t deny that he feels the tug of his absence.

we were wrecks before we crashed into each other - uneventfulhouses | E, 24k, Complete

Cleo’s smile is soft. “Shane told me his memory. What’s yours?”

“Less about memories,” Ryan says truthfully. “More about the future. Where we’ll be and such.”

Arching a brow, she drops her arms, so she clasps her hands in front of her hips. “Where do you think you’ll be?”

Ryan laughs. “Dunno.” He isn’t brave enough to say that he does know that Shane will be there, somewhere, wedged between the regular, the obtuse, the breathtaking, the wild. The generic and the extraordinary. The weird and the wonderful.

or; this week on Weird and/or Wonderful World, Shane and Ryan visit a record shop.

Hold Your Breath, It Gets Better - beethechange | E, 10k, Complete

Ryan stops short in the doorway of his bedroom, banging his shoulder against the doorframe in his haste, because he’s too late. Shane’s kneeling in front of the bottom drawer of his bedside table, peering down at the contents, hand frozen in a hover like he’d been about to reach in. His face is a blank mask.

“Ah. I keep the batteries in the top drawer. Not. Not the bottom one.”

“Yes,” Shane says, cocking his head to the left in puzzlement, and then he pauses for a fraction of a second too long as he considers his words. “I can see that the batteries are not in the bottom drawer.”

darling it’s a faded notion - varnes | E, 28k, complete

The sun is too bright and Ryan’s whole body is alight with something that is eating him all the way up from the inside out, but he keeps his eyes open and he makes himself look, and he tells himself that once he finds Shane, he’ll think about it. Once he finds Shane, they’ll make a plan. Once he finds Shane, and only then, he’ll let himself have the thought he’s been swallowing down like bile since he came to: that they didn’t fall.

They were pushed.

OR: Ryan and Shane get cursed by a ghost, and now they can’t be not-touching. It’s … not great.

open all your doors - apologeticallybourgeois | E, 8k, Complete

Shane was almost sure that Ryan didn’t actually cast a spell for it to happen, if only because the price he’d have to pay would probably be counted in, like, human limbs instead of a couple of small animals.

The Leading Man - breathtaken | E, 95k, Complete

All things considered, he could definitely do a lot worse than this: a performer-owned and -operated, queer-positive, crossover film studio, promising creative input right from day one – directing, cinematography, [...] it’s everything he wants.

He just has to get his dick out for it.

Euneirophrenia - orphan_account | T, 4.7k, Complete

Euneirophrenia: The peace of mind that comes from having pleasant dreams

Maelstrom - liminalweirdo | E, 40k, Complete

Here’s the thing about driving halfway across the country to see someone. You can’t really deny, after that, that you’re pretty much head over heels for them.

The Denial Twist - beethechange | E, 35k, Complete

“This is kind of surreal,” Shane says, taking a sip of his tea. It’s piping hot and delicious, except it tastes like hot chocolate and not like tea at all. “Sort of—Wonka-esque, right? Or Alice in Wonderland.”

“If you’re aiming a shot over the bow about my height you can fucking forget about it,” Ryan says, watching with interest as Shane’s cup refills by itself. “But yeah, it’s surreal. Literally, because dreams aren’t real.”

Shane’s unsettled by the comment. It sets alarm bells ringing in his head but he doesn’t know why. He just wasn’t expecting Dream Ryan to be so, well—so on the nose.

Or, the one where Shane and Ryan have some really weird dreams and perhaps, eventually, some sex.

Collide - needywitch | E, 35k, Complete

Ryan is desperately in love with his best friend.

what's the point of this again? - touchinghearts | T, 9.3k, Complete

When Ryan invites Shane back for a holiday week to meet his family during a big reunion, it doesn’t even occur to Shane that it could be a big deal.

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cover me with stuff

happy happy birthday to @petrodobreva!!! also available on ao3.

“What just happened?”

Patrick’s breath is coming fast, eyes darting between the back door and where David’s standing in the kitchen. “Um,” he clears his throat. “Nothing. Not a thing. No things.”

“Ah,” David nods. “No things. Would you like to try for something more believable?” After an afternoon of organizing folding chairs in the yard behind the store for a watercolor class the next day, he doesn’t really have the patience for their usual thing, where Patrick talks around his problem until David can suss it out for himself. He might have saved the patience if Roland hadn’t insisted on helping him. David knows that Jocelyn didn’t have to loan him the chairs, but the presence of her husband still felt like too high a price.

Patrick goes to lean against the back door but overshoots and has to use his arm to brace himself. “There’s a snake in the hydrangeas.”

David wrinkles his nose. “This is one of your worst euphemisms.”

“Ew,” Patrick says with feeling. “That’s—I hate snakes.”

“Was it a big snake?” David turns to peek out the kitchen window; he can see a bucket half-filled with weeds and soil spread out where Patrick had abandoned the gardening to find cover. “Should we call someone? Ray was talking about animal control at Twyla’s last party, but I can honestly say that I lost the thread and don’t know if it’s a new business of his or not.”

Patrick shakes his head, cheeks still flushed from his run. David narrows his eyes and looks a little closer. “Garter snake.”

“And you are...allergic to garter snakes?”

“I hate snakes.” Patrick looks at David then, and the look in his eyes makes clear that it’s not exertion but embarrassment turning his cheeks red.

“Aw.” David frowns exaggeratedly. He can sympathize; there was a millipede in the store last week. “Gross. Well, hopefully the snake goes away soon.”

“You don’t have to—” Patrick’s voice goes sharp like it does when they fight. David’s pretty sure this shouldn’t be a fight, so it’s...off. Something’s off. But Patrick inhales and lets it out slowly. “I hate that I’m scared of those stupid things.”

“Um, have we met?” David turns toward the cabinets but keeps Patrick in his sight. “I’m scared of many things.”

“But yours make sense.” Patrick runs a hand over his eyes. “Like the parasailing thing. Who wouldn’t hate heights after that?”

David takes Patrick in without being too obvious. He’s doing that thing with his lower lip that’s adorable and infuriating in equal measure. It’s probably technically a pout, but neither of them want to admit that. David can only make fun of it when he’s being condescending, but Patrick normally doesn’t bring this particular expression out unless it’s something serious that David can’t be petty about. Infuriating, really, because he has so few things he can poke at Patrick about. “You know that a fear doesn’t have to be logical, right? Like, sometimes it is. But I was terrified of my mom’s eyelet lace clutch for a year after she told me it was poisonous. That’s not logical.”

Patrick’s lip stops doing the horrifying thing, which is progress. And the light of teasing is back in his eyes, so David counts it as a win. “Why did she say it was poisonous?”

“She knew I was plotting to steal it.” David waves a hand. “Not important. As long as you can still take care of any and all moths, we don’t have a problem here.”

“Where did the moth thing come from?”

David can play this game. “Where did the snake thing come from?”

Patrick makes a face that’s less horrifying and more funny. David loves his husband and always wants to see him happy, of course, but. It’s fun to see him squirm. “I give.”

But something still isn't quite right. About Patrick’s face. David shakes his head. No, he loves Patrick’s face and all the things it does. Especially—ahem. He’s getting off track. “What else is going on?” He reaches behind Patrick into the wine fridge and grabs a bottle Patrick likes. Or at least David’s pretty sure he likes it—he grabbed three bottles last time they went to the first vineyard that didn't sell banana wine within five hours. It’s not a huge leap he’s making.

“Nothing else is going on.” Patrick looks up at the ceiling, which is one of his more obvious tells.

A memory from their belated honeymoon to Toronto wakes up and kicks around David’s head. Patrick had gotten all worked up about getting a migraine, moaning into the dark hotel room that this wasn’t what David had signed up for, as though he wouldn’t want to be there for any part of Patrick. “Hey,” he says lightly as he reaches for the corkscrew in the drawer. He keeps Patrick trapped between the counter and his arms—he doesn’t want Patrick to slip away from this conversation, slithering away like—ew. Screw this day for making him think so much about snakes. “What else?”

“It’s—I just don’t want you to have to. To be with me when I’m—this isn’t—”

“My kingdom for a conclusion,” David says mostly to himself. But they’re pressed in close, so Patrick fixes him with a look. He winces and sets about being soothing. “You’re not making me do anything.”

Patrick rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. David thinks he can probably make fun of this move, but. He’ll wait to test the theory. “You didn’t sign up for—”

“I signed up for you,” David says. He tucks the you idiot back behind his teeth. He senses it will not aid his mission. “Warts and all. Or, um, some other non-amphibious reference.”

“Snakes and frogs are totally different.”

“And we’ll get right back to that deflection after we finish this,” David says sternly. “You didn’t know that I would break my arm in two places the week before our first anniversary, but you still saved me from Stevie’s attempts to deface my cast with doodles. And you didn’t know that my parents would basically move in with us for nearly a month after Sunrise Bay wrapped again.”

“That’s different.” Patrick’s being stubborn, which, water is wet, so it’s not exactly news.

“Because it’s me?” Patrick never minds soothing David’s worries, or talking him down from spirals, or letting him pluck at his shoulders while he works through distressing thoughts.

“No, David.” Patrick uncrosses his arms and pulls at David’s hips until David sways forward. “Because it’s—hard. It’s hard for me.”

“It’s hard for me too, you know.” David shakes his head. That’s not exactly right. “It is in the beginning. To trust that you’ve—got it. That you can handle the hard stuff, or the embarrassing stuff.” He resolutely does not think about wet sheets and aborted livestreams.

“But I can,” Patrick reminds him. Then he breathes out into the space that he’s made for himself against David’s neck. “And you can.”

David wiggles, but gently. He doesn’t want to dislodge Patrick. “I can.”

Patrick’s arms tighten around him, then loosen just enough for David to grab both bottle and corkscrew again. They’ve both earned a drink.

“You’re really good at this,” Patrick says, looking far too impressed. David’s done the corkscrew before. “I feel very supported.”

“I wish I could say I got that all the time.” David plays it up because he knows it will make Patrick smile. He straightens his back and pulls away from the cage of Patrick’s arms so he can watch the way his husband’s mouth turns down in fondness before the happiness takes hold.

Patrick clears his throat, then turns and reaches for the glasses. “A shame,” he agrees. “Especially since you’re so supportive that you won’t make me go back out there. Really kind that you’re going to weed the flower beds for me.”

“I support you,” David says. He thinks fast; doing one outdoor chore might open a door that he can’t close. And he’d rather die than mow a lawn, even if it’s his own. “And because I support you, I also support you facing your fears.”

“I’ll remember that when the next moth needs rehoming.”

“Fine.” David sets his wine glass down and crosses into the kitchen; he’ll get the weeds in the morning. Stevie’s coming over to crash between trips, so if he plays his cards right he’ll make it through the chore without getting any dirt on the knees of his jeans. “But we’re having spaghetti for dinner because now I’m thinking about noodles.”

Patrick chokes on his wine. “Why would you ruin pasta for me while I’m in this fragile state?”

The Perks Of Your Boyfriend Being A Ghost

HTTYD -- Hiccstrid -- Rated E -- Ghost boyfriend AU -- so I guess Hiccup must have died at some point -- Modern AU -- I Guess...?

Summary: As a single mother of three children, Astrid's life is stressful and barely ever about her at all. Just good that her undead ghost boyfriend Hiccup makes sure that she gets some stress relief from time to time.

AN: As it says in the tags, this is 200% self-indulgent projecting. The only/main difference is that I'm not a single mother, and in fact have a loving and caring husband who helps as best he can. But still, let me keep my fantasies. ;P

. o O o .

With an exhausted sigh, Astrid leaned against the closed door and sank to the ground. Finally, Brianna was asleep, too. Zephyr and Nuffink had been restless as well after being locked inside on a bad weather day, had only calmed down two hours after their usual bedtime, but the eighteen months old toddler had taken even longer. But then, she was teething, so that wasn't surprising. Astrid just hoped that she would have a couple of hours now before either of her children needed her again. Not like last night where Nuffink had sneaked into her bed after a bad dream and Brianna hadn't wanted to sleep longer than six in the morning at all…

Astrid loved her children with all her heart, she really did. After she'd left her now-ex-husband when she'd learned about his constant cheating – and had inherited his fortune when he'd driven himself off a cliff soon after – Zephyr, Nuffink, and little Brianna were the most important and precious parts of her life. Under no circumstance at all would she ever give them up, and after they'd all moved into her great-grandaunt’s old mansion, their life was slowly settling into something more normal again. Something good even. They were happy.

But still, sometimes being a single mother was just exhausting and brought her to her limits. As much as she enjoyed taking care of her toddler or playing games with the older ones, sometimes she wished she could get just half an hour for herself. There was an archery range behind the house and she was dying to give her old hobby a try. But so far, she hasn't gotten the chance.

Even now, there were still so many other things to do. Like cleaning up, at least the most important parts of the house, sorting clothes so Zephyr wouldn't need to rummage through her brother's socks again to find a shirt, and the kitchen was in dire need of a thorough clean up as well. Maybe, if she put in an effort, she could get at least some of those tasks done…

However, when she tried to stand up, she found that she couldn't. Her legs gave way midway and she slumped back onto the hard ground with low outcry.

For a second or three, she just sat there in silence. Then some incoherent noises bubbled up from deep within her chest, and not even she could say whether she was laughing or crying.

Now she was even too exhausted and weak to simply stand up? That was ridiculous!

She tried again but this time, she didn't even manage to position her feet correctly; they just slid across the floor the moment she straightened her legs. And when she lifted her hands, just holding them before her eyes, they were shaking.

Defeated, she let her head fall against the door behind her. She was sobbing now, low but unrestrained. What was she supposed to do? She couldn't just sit here all night. There was so much left to do, so many tasks and duties, and failing her children just wasn't an option. They were all she had left and they depended on her.

She couldn't say for how long she sat there, crying from exhaustion, when she felt it. The brush of something cool against her wet cheek and along her neck. It could have been mistaken as a draft, nothing uncommon in an old house like this one – but Astrid knew better. The sensation returned, cool fingers caressing her skin, and without her help, her lips twitched into a weak smile.

Come…

She let out a heavy sigh. Right. Exhausted as she was, trying to get even one of her tasks done tonight was futile. It was far more sensible to get as much rest as she could so that, hopefully, she would function better in the morning.

This time, it worked when she tried to get on her feet. Her knees were shaking and she kept one hand firmly on the wall for stabilisation, but at least she could walk. Luckily, she didn't have to go far though, only to the other end of the corridor to where her own bedroom was. With her last strength, she stripped off her clothes and put on her comfortable flannel pyjama before she slipped beneath the sheets with a relieved sigh, revelling in the softness of her bed with her eyes closed.

Yes, that’s it.

There it was again, that featherlike touch, light as a breeze as it caressed her forehead and along her temple. As if brushing away a strand of hair.

That’s better, isn’t it?

Humming, she leaned into the touch, another soft smile playing around her lips. “Yes, it is,” she murmured into the darkness around her. “Thank you.”

Anytime.

There was a hint of humour in the voice, even as it was nothing but a faint echo inside her head, as always. Astrid opened her eyes, wanted to see whether there was a matching smile to go with that tone.

The other side of her bed wasn’t empty anymore, as it had been only moments before. Now, the outline of a figure was visible, a man lying next to her. Except that it wasn’t really a man, just his memory. He was pale, translucent, and aside from his face and the hand hovering near her face, he even seemed a little blurry. As if he was nothing but mist and the next draft would blow him away.

There was indeed an amused smile playing around his lips, but his eyes were full of concern. From the painting that hung downstairs in the entry hall, she knew that these eyes once had been vibrantly green, like the forest on a summer day, and that the unruly hair on his head used to be a beautiful shade of reddish-brown. Now, however, all colours were washed away by time and death, even as he was glowing slightly in the darkness of the night.

You’re working too hard.

She chuckled weakly at his word. “Well, there’s little I can do about that. They need me so I have no choice. Not as if I can take a day off from being a mum.”

He frowned but nodded. True. They’re lucky to have you, though. Not all parents care this much.

Astrid shrugged. To her, it was no question. Her children came first, always.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was still stunned at how easily she could talk to the ghost of a man that had lived long before her in this house. But it felt so natural, so easy. Aside from the very first seconds, she hadn’t even been afraid of him.

Maybe that was because he wasn’t really here and she was just going insane. But Astrid didn’t want to think about that. Hiccup felt so real. Besides, she never could have come up with such a ridiculous name on her own anyway.

Astrid was bone-tired, but watching him was still something she didn’t want to miss out on. And as they gazed at each other, his features changed; the frown and worries from before melted away and got replaced by a surprising warmth and only a small hint of underlying sadness.

You’re amazing…

His words were nothing but a whisper in her mind as he leaned closer and cool lips brushed against her own. It made her heart flutter in joy, her eyes falling close.

Her instincts told her to lift her arms, to wrap them around her lover, to hold him close. She wanted to run her fingers through his soft hair, wanted to explore the wiry strength of his shoulder, his back. But with Hiccup, that wasn't possible. It already took all his will power to let her feel him at all, to garner enough solidity for his lips and tongue to not pass right through her. At least, that’s what he’d told her all those weeks ago when this wonderful craziness had started.

So instead, she just enjoyed what she could, the cool pressure of his mouth against her own, his presence, grabbing at her soft blanket instead of firm flesh. But if that was the price she had to pay for loving a ghost then she would pay it. Because Hiccup was worth it.

I think you deserve some stress relief.

Astrid hummed when his lips wandered along her jaw and down her neck. It tickled but in the most wonderful way, the way that made her shiver in anticipation and tiny sparks of electricity run through her entire body. He always knew what she needed, be it someone to talk to, a shoulder to cry on – or this. And he was so good at this, too. A soft kiss here, a gentle bite there, and she was putty in his incorporate hands.

A soft moan slipped from her mouth when he suckled on her neck, directly above her pulse point, and her mind went blissfully blank. This was just what she needed. She luxuriated in the sensations he elicited in her body, the chance to just let go of everything. But then, she gasped when she felt something new. At first, she thought he'd brought a hand to her breast, to caress and squeeze at flesh and let cool fingers play with sensitive nipples. Except that it felt different, not like fingers but teeth gently nipping, lips and a tongue sucking on the hardening bud. Her eyes widened when she felt the same at her other breast too, three ghostly mouthed now working to drive her insane.

"I-is that all you?" she asked, shifting a little until she could look at him.

Hiccup had a look of high concentration on his face, his eyebrows furrowed. Yes. He seemed to hesitate for a moment. Is it okay for you?

Humming, Astrid laid back down into her cushion and nodded. "It is. I was just surprised, is all."

In her mind, she heard him chuckle, a little embarrassed. It's got to have at least one perk that I don't have a solid form…

That was something she couldn't really argue with. She wished she could feel more of him, his body, his warmth, his breath on her skin or his beating heart beneath her hand on his chest. But since none of that was possible, multiple mouths and hands to pleasure her… well, she at least wouldn't say no to this.

Although… it was so surreal. She was still wearing her warm pyjama and lay beneath the heavy blanket, safe from the cool night air. And yet, she could feel his phantom touches on her skin as if she was entirely bare to him – which in a way she was. Neither walls nor fabric meant anything to him.

After kissing her once more on her lips, so soft and sweet that she nearly melted, Hiccup returned his attention to the rest of her body. Before long, she could feel him everywhere. Phantom mouths were suckling on her breasts, her clit, and even her toes, tongues teasing and lapping eagerly as phantom hands ran over her entire body, caressing over delicate skin or squeezing to heighten her sensitivity.

The onslaught of sensations left her writhing and twisting between her sheets, gasping and moaning. But no matter how much she moved, his phantom touch always followed. She couldn’t escape, couldn’t get even the smallest reprieve. All she could do was press her forearm to her mouth to muffle the endless stream of moans and little screams that left her throat. It could have been scary, feeling so helpless and being at someone else’s mercy like this. But this was Hiccup and she trusted him completely. She couldn’t even say why, she just knew that she had nothing to fear when she was with him.

And it was wonderful. All her worries and the stress of the day melted off her as her body and mind got submerged in this endless ocean of sensations. Chasing only one feeling was impossible, so she quickly gave up to even try and instead gave herself over to him, to his care.

Astrid had no idea for how long he kept her in this wonderfully-mindless state of need and longing; it was just an endless rollercoaster of building pleasure. Everything inside her was tense, coiled so tightly like never before until he finally showed mercy. Her orgasm washed through her like a crashing wave, so powerful that it made her entire body shake violently, her back arching off the bed and her lips were parted in a silent scream. Her mind empty of every thought.

When it was over, she only slowly drifted down from her height, didn’t want it to end. She felt better than in a long while, safe, secure, cared for.

“Thank you,” she sighed into the darkness, her voice so weak that it nearly broke. “I… I think I needed this.”

Again, she heard him chuckle inside her head. I think you’re right there. And I also think you deserved it. You’re doing so much and–

He broke off when another sound echoed through the old house, a crying child. Brianna must have woken up. But before Astrid could react, could even do so much as let out a tired groan, it had stopped again. Surprised and a little confused, she blinked to clear her mind of its blissful haze, then jumped when Hiccup appeared next to her again. She hadn’t even registered that he’d left.

It’s okay. She’d just lost Mr Carrot, but once he was back in her arms, she fell asleep again.

Smiling, Astrid relaxed back into her cushions. Mr Carrot was Brianna’s cuddly rabbit. He was old, a hand-me-down from Astrid’s own grandmother, and rather ugly to be honest. But Brianna loved the beast.

“And thank you again,” she murmured, exhaustion taking her quickly now. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The same you’re doing now. Be the best mum a child could ask for.

Her lips twitched into a sad smile. Hiccup's own mother had left him when he'd been younger than Brianna was now, so his bar of what counted as a good mother was bound to be rather low. All she did was struggling not to fail, really.

"How did you do that?" she asked to change the topic. "Didn't you say it costs all your concentration and energy to let me feel you at all?

He nodded, his eyes flickering away as if he was embarrassed. It did in the beginning. But the more time I spend with you, the stronger I feel. I barely have to think about simple touches at all anymore. To prove his point, he reached for her face and brushed a few sweats strands of hair out of her face. So I thought I could try something more… advanced.

“Mmmh, a good idea.”

Once more, she heard him chuckle in her mind. Now, rest. You’re going to need your strength tomorrow.

Sighing, Astrid complied. She curled up in her bed, feeling more relaxed than she had in days, and hummed in surprise and delight when she somewhat felt Hiccup curl around her back. He even wrapped an arm around her waist without it passing right through her. Hopefully, they would soon get the chance to further explore Hiccup’s newfound strength.

After a good night’s sleep!

. o O o .

"I just want to write a quick one-shot. Nothing difficult. Just something short to get back into writing. It won't get any sequels."

That's what I told myself the entire time, even when I was plotting out several more chapters for this verse. Ah, well... This does work well on it's own for now. And I can always add more when I feel like it and have the time.

* - . - * - . o O o . - * - . - *

If you want to support me you can buy me a coffee. I love coffee 😊 (Ko-Fi)

lonely are the brave

wc : almost 3k

a/n : @exolssecretsanta​  here it is, my present for @mmmhs​, as a part of the #exolssecretsanta2020 it’s me ! your secret santa ! hopefully you’ll have a good time reading this ! Also The plot is entirely based on the movie The Spy, which is about the life of Sonja Wigert, and I strongly encourage you to read about her after you read this fic (so you won’t get spoiled) because it is incredible and she deserves to be remembered. And the title is from the 1962 Kirk Douglas movie, based on Edward Abbey’s The Brave Cowboy. It’s an excellent movie, and probably a very, very good book. The settings are very different but the title fitted too well. Merry Christmas, I wish you the very best. More importantly I think I wish for 2021 to be exactly what you need it to be.

As the entire theater bursts into applaudes, Kyungsoo thinks you might just be what he needs. Even in shades of gray on the big screen, your magnetism is undeniable. He claps a few times as you deserve it, and since his every move are being watched, it’s a quick way of expressing his satisfaction. He leaves the movie room before anyone else has stopped cheering.

***

You can’t keep your eyes off the newspaper. The head of the new Governor occupies two thirds of the front page. You sigh. It is still hard to believe the Empire has won, once again, and this war they won in two days. It’s humiliating even for you, and they haven’t reached your country yet. They didn’t defeat you. You are no soldier, you are not general. You’re not even in the war force, and the kingdom isn’t yet at war. But there is something excrutiatingly mortifying to read the news every morning, nails painted of red, and contemplating the fall of this world as a bystander. You wonder how fast they’ll take the kingdom next. Of course, it has to be their next move. Maybe they won’t even pretend to wage a war. Maybe the Queen will just bend the knee. Your hear a soft pshh when the ash of your cigar falls into your cup of tea. You hear your name, and a croissant is thrown your way.  

« So ? What do you think ? He looks weird, right ? I mean, weird for the job ? Chanyeol gently taps the face of the Governor with his own croissant. I mean, he looks all… He gesture vaguely, throwing crumbles your way. It’s always harder for him to find his words in the morning. You guess it’s because it takes him some time to be properly awake.

Intellectual ?

Yes ! He smiles but his eyes are cold and mocking. They usually come all… He tries to sit straighter and extand his shoulders to show you what he means.

Bulked up and ready to kill you with their bare hands ? His mouth full, he nods and claps his hands once in agreement. You look back at the photography. Governor Do has a stern face. Eyebrows heavy, black hair cut short, thick glasses. He does not seem very large, even in his uniform. This one, you begin, as Chanyeol stands up to empty your ruined cup of tea and fix you a new one, this one is going to make fool of us all. You drink one to that. That’s why they didn’t send an obvious brute. They think he’s going to seduce us, and win us without a kill. You put your cup down a little too hard. Fuck him.

So, what’s your plan for today ? He properly buttons up his shirt, and you eye the disappearing skin all the way. The look you send him is full of fire and decadent promises. Ah, don’t look at me like that now, I must go ! You avert you gaze, back to your newspaper. He catches your smile as he puts his jacket on.

I know, I know, so do I. I have an appointment with Junmyeon, I’m assuming a new movie, the musical is really exhausting, at least with movies I can have normal workdays, you dramatically sigh, the back of your hand on your forehand, as if about to die.

That’s the price of success, my dear. He bends over to kiss you as you stand up to kiss him, leaning against him. I’ll give you a reward of my own tonight if you will, he adds, and payfully smacks your butt before heading out. I love you, good luck !

***

Luck is indeed what you need when you read the invitation Junmyeon hands you. Handwritten, neat, efficient. Both personal and artificial as can be, like any good performance. The twist your stomach makes is almost enough for you to throw up. You remain silent while he scans your face. It has always been clear where Junmyeon stands : where the money lies.

So ?

What ?

Will you go ? You weigh your words carefully. When your eyes meet his, you realize Junmyeon hasn’t set his mind himself.

Why would I ? It’s just an invitation to dinner. I have no reason to go.

***

It’s exactly why you have to go. We might be at war soon, milady. It is an opportunity for us to find out more about their plans. We need you to go to Governor Do.

You keep your eyes on your reflection as you wipe your make-up off. It is only the two of you in the changing room. Most of the lights are off, except for the fairy lights. You like it better that way. It’s more intimate and peaceful. You like how the little glitters in the Christmas tinsels reflect the light, like fireflies of many colors. But what the minister is telling you is shattering you from inside, like a very slow explosion – or maybe you are about to implode and collapse on yourself. He leaves you no choice but to become a huntress in the shadows.

***

You don’t tell Chanyeol about it. You don’t know where Chanyeol stands. Him, who sleeps in your sheets, who praises you like it would save his life, who loves making romantic gestures in a most bombastic way. You don’t know where Secretary Park, from a little ambassy stands. After all, the country he comes from has already signed a pact with the Empire. They pledged immediately and before any other nation. You assume, from the way he talks about them, that he is not fond of his leaders. But what do you know. You lie awake on your bed for hours, letting your body cool down, staring at the ceiling like it might hold all the answers. You shiver, and don’t even bother to sit up to smoke. You don’t need answers, you just wish for peace of mind – it is a luxury of the past now. When Chanyeol enters, a few hours before sunset, he thinks you look worse than he does, and he joins you wordlessly, looking for the comfort in the touch of your tender skin. He doesn’t tell you about his problems, and lets the both of you zone out, bodies intertwined as one. Later, when you both wake up, he smoothers you with kisses, and the fire in your head blinds your worries away.

You don’t talk about it.

***

Chanyeol doesn’t ask you anything when you come back from your work trip. He just wonders if it went well. When you shrug and sigh in answer, he takes it upon himself to make you feel better, and his kisses have never been more delicate on your skin, and he feels like a sun, radiating warmth and life and feeding it to your tired skin. When he nibs lightly on your ribs and you ruffle his hair, you feel his smile against you. Eyes closed, you feel him moving up to your face. His voice his only a whisper, but it deep and stable when he calls your name and asks what is wrong. You keep your eyes closed but he watches your face from the side, how harshly you bite your lower lip before licking it.

I don’t think I should say it. You feel too bad to notice the restrained sigh against your ear. He pulls you closer to him, until you lie on top of him, forehead against his chest, determined to avoid his gaze. His right hand finds its way through your hair to cup the back of your head, and he assures you he understands.

I just wish I could fix it for you. He feels the shadow of your smile against his skin.

You’re doing all right, Chan.

You don’t tell him about the dinner. You don’t tell him about the indecent dress you wore, about the most light fabric it was made of. How it looked like you were naked under a waterfall. How all eyes were on you the minute you walked in, except those of the new Governor. You keep to yourself the way they pierced right through you, and how enthousiastic he was to talk with you. You don’t tell him about the evening you spent discussing movie and literature with a war lord, and you try to forget his lingering hand on the small of your back when you left, and his offer to do this again, since having you among the company was a delight. You push down the half hidden threats whispered in your ear during the dance and pretend it was all a dream.

It doesn’t work.

You stop dreaming.

***

It becomes regular. Every few weeks you’re invited west of the border. First for evenings. Then for several days. Kyungsoo, as he insists you call him, lets you an entire wing of his mansion, to use as you please. You have no use to it. You don’t dare to ask him who were the previous owners of the place. Or where they are now.

It is lovely though. Decorated with a keen eye, even if it is a bit old fashioned. Lots of floral patterns on the walls, as to reflect the exuberance of the gardens around the residence. He offers you all sorts of pretty things, dresses and night gowns and shawls of the finest fabric. You spend hours discussing every matter that catches your attention. He inquires your opinion about everything, and sometimes you believe it is genuine interest and not a test anymore. He takes you to walks in the woods and teaches you how to shoot – just in case. When you ask him who might threaten you,  he puts his hand on you cashmere-covered waist and through it you feel his warmth. His eyes are on the same level as yours when he confesses, as he’d believe you might be his equal. You let him kiss you, a whole in the chest and your heart in the throat.

The minister of home intelligence is satisfied when you tell him the news. A sympathetic look in the eyes, he pats you on the shoulder, thanking you for your sacrifice, and urging you to keep up the good work.

***

Chanyeol watches you decrepit. He wonders why you don’t ask him about his absences. He tries to bring life back into you. He dances with you and reads with you. He makes love to you like he’s offering you his soul – he is. Since you don’t want to talk about what’s troubling you, he shares everything instead. Almost. He tells you about his childhood, about his home. About his college years and about his first love stories. He tells you about some of his colleagues, and how he hates the war. He tells you he wants to go away, when all of this will be over. To where there is music and joy. He lies naked before you, exposing himself more than ever before. Everything is yours to see, every last bit of his soul. Only one secret he keeps for himself.

***

Shades of grey don’t do you any justice, Kyungsoo decides. He dreams of glitter and colours to project, to have a more accurate image of you when you’re leagues away. For a few weeks, he toys with the idea of making you the face of Hope. You could be the Empire’s most glamorous face. When he mentions it to minister Byun, the response is thrilled, and Baekhyun assures him he’ll find the crème de la crème to work on this most ambitious project. What Kyungsoo doesn’t expect is your reluctant answer. He watches it all happen silently on your face. Conversations between the two of you often take time. You don’t think in the same langage. You rarely talk in either of your mother tongues. And you’re both quite cautious around each other. He really doesn’t want to mess this up. There is a fire in you he wants to stir up, not to put it out. There is not taming you in his mind.

When you tell him you’re not sure about meddling you’re career and your personal life, he knows he has to put a ring on it.

***

Every night you sleep at the mansion, you allow yourself one hour of rummaging in Kyungsoo’s office. The rest of it is spent imagining the face of the traitors. Or you think about the wonders of self control you’ve unfolded the day he proposed. You are a terrific actress indeed.

***

When the newspapers of both countries announce you are engaged, you understand what sacrifice you have made. You never see Chanyeol again.

***

The night you find the pictures is a relief. Even you know they’re dangerous. Every little rock on the shores of your country is there, carefully spotted. The map stored with them identifies them all. You know the next time you leave Kyungsoo will be the last.

When you give them to the Minister, you ask for a new passport. And a way out. He asks if you have any idea of who the contact might be. You say it’s someone in an ambassy. You say there’s not just one person. You say they’re everywhere. You say it’s over. You don’t mention the fact that everyone has turn their back on you. Because you’re the face of national complacency.

Maybe that’s why they come to you directly. For the first time, they come knocking to your door. You recognize them as Chanyeol’s coworkers. Jongin, Minseok. They say Kyungsoo asked them to drop by – see if you were all right. You know that’s not what he said. If there is one thing Kyungsoo values about you, and takes pride in, it’s precisely the fact that you don’t need nor want to be babied. When they see your smile, and the absence of light your eyes, they both shift their balance. Your face remain unreadable when they ask you about your former lover, and Jongin realizes why Governor Do has set his mind on you. You’re stronger than most of the people he has met – including the governor. There is no point trying to fool you, so he goes straight to the point.

Where’s Chanyeol ? So he was a traitor. Good riddance – your heart climbs his way up your throat – it’s been a long time.

I don’t know.

Are you sure, presses Minseok. Jongin’s glad the disgusted twist on your lips isn’t adressed to him. It is humilating, even in second-hand.

In case you haven’t noticed, I got engaged. I don’t know to who’s shoulder Chanyeol went crying. Jongin wonders if his past lovers speak as lowly of him as you do now. Chanyeol might be a deceiving bastard, but he was a nice guy to be around otherwise. He clears his throat.

Is there any place he might have told you of ? Where he could be now ? You hum slowly.

The lonely islands. He has a cabin there. Likes to be alone to meditate or whatever.

Could you take us there. One, two, three, you have nothing left to loose.

All right.

***

Nothing has changed. The island is still exactly the same. Every rock, every sprig of lichen. The gentle howling of the wind, caressing your cold ears, caressing your eyelids, caressing your lips as if saying, just this one more time. You bit the inside of your lower lip hard and don’t let go. You have no word to tell them. You watch them climb their way out the small boat, and head toward the wood cabin. You don’t mention there is no other boat tied up to the rocks – their time is worthless.

You come inside right after them. The amount of dust on every surface is the same as the last time you came here, only weeks ago. It feels like years and years have passed by, but it is merely an illusion of your stretched heart. You let your gaze brush over the scarce furniture, trying to put your attention on attention itself, blocking any harmful thoughts. You feel the cracks in your armour. Of what could have been. Of what you let go. Of what you gave up.

You notice the guitar, and a rush of adrenaline blows away your attemps at meditation.

He’s here.

You leave the room, aiming for the water closet. You close the door, sit down and bite your fist as hard as you can.

***

It’s you. It can only be you. Chanyeol watches you enter the room through the floor slits. You’re having a mental break down, he can tell. But he cannot make it to why you are here in the first place. You’ve never tried to talk to him since he stopped coming to you. The Governor’s fiancee. His jaw tenses. No wonder you couldn’t tell him what was wrong. How could you hide it from him he understands. How you were probably used for it by your own government tears his heart apart. If only he had told you what his business was. What he was working for – the very same thing you were fighting for. The wooden floor is only a couple centimeters’ thick, but it is far enough to keep him from touching you. How he wished he could console you know. Tell you everything will be repaired. Take you to dance and fireworks. Oh, to hesitate between the prettiest of flowers at the shop and settle for all of them. To fix you cups of tea and quick meals.

***

In the kitchen, Minseok abruptly opens a drawer.

***

For miles around, every submarine reports the explosion.

Hi! Uh so Billy aka Dwayne and I have the same birthday (June 23). I don't really like my birthday because I've never gotten to celebrate. I haven't had a party since I was a kid and now I just always spend the day sad and with no friends. If you wanna write something with the lost boys celebrating Dwayne and reader's birthday together, I'd really love it. (No pressure tho. I really love your blog and hope you'll have a great day ✨)

Aw, I’m sorry to hear you’ve not been able to celebrate your birthday for such a long time. Hopefully I can give you a little taste of a great birthday with the boys, and a very special (belated) birthday to you from myself and all of my readers, you are an honorary Fang Babe which makes you a part of a community that’s there for each other! If you ever feel sad, I got my DMs open 24/7 if you ever need to just vent up a storm! All are welcome. 

Happy Birthday to You Both

Dwayne x Fem!S/O

Today was supposed to be special, yet the entire day everyone was so preoccupied with their own little lives that no one had even bothered to remember it was your birthday today. It was absolutely miserable. All the while your boyfriend Dwayne was currently tucked away at the abandoned hotel hiding away from the sunlight. Bursting into flames was certainly an occupational hazard. By this point the whole vampirism thing had come and gone, and while it did frighten you, nothing was more frightening than being without your dark crow.   

Rather than stay at home to be ignored you opted to go out for the afternoon, browsing shops for a special occasion. No, not yourself. See, as luck would have it, June 23rd also held significance to Dwayne. Marko, one of the younger members of the coven, had told you two weeks prior it would be Dwayne’s birthday as well. You had to keep your own secret. Not at their request, but your own. Overshadowing his birthday would be dreadful, you hated the idea of taking it from him. Besides, no one remembered anyways. 

Weaving through brightly lit shops, you pondered each piece wondering what would suit him best. Clothes were out, maybe a new skateboard? Just looking at the little white tags stuck to the back of them made you cringe. Okay, so that was out. You weren’t made of money. 

There was an old mystic shop selling a handful of oddities, somewhere called Madame Medusa’s Mystical Boutique. A few interesting necklaces caught your eye, but one seemed to be directly calling you. It was a crow skull attached to a leather cord, bordered by two carved red beads on either side. Two thick black feathers were wedged between the beads. Gently you slipped it off the hook, running your thumb over the chilled, smooth surface. 

“It’s a lovely item, isn’t it,” an elderly woman asked. Truthfully she startled you from behind the counter, almost making you jump a few good inches. 

“O-Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t see-”

“Don’t worry dear, hardly anyone does,” she chuckled, tenderly plucking the skull from your hand. “Shall I wrap this up for you?”

“Oh- Well I wasn’t, I mean it’s nice but-,” you stuttered, but already she was shuffling towards the counter again. Boy pushy woman. You didn’t even know how much it cost, you weren’t exactly on a budget but you couldn’t be going on any big spending sprees.

“Hush now. He’s going to be waiting for you, somewhere nearby. I can guarantee that this is the one you’re meant to give him,” she insisted, wrapping the necklace under aged brown paper. 

“Yeah, I’m sure he’d like it but-,” you couldn’t help but trail off. How- How did she know?

The woman pushed the little baggie your way, giving a tender smile before she began to hobble towards a curtained room behind the counter.

“W-Wait, I didn’t even pay for it!”

She waved off your concern, looking behind her shoulder while she parted the curtains in her path. 

“Consider it a present from those who neglected you. Take it to him, you’ll see..” And with that she vanished behind them, leaving you stunned where you stood. Silently you glanced down at the small plastic bag, almost jumping in place when a dusty old grandfather clock began to ring through the store. One, two, three, four, five, six. Oh! It was already six o’clock. Crap the boys would be up any minute!

It didn’t take too long to spot the gang of vampires sitting on the worn, wooden banisters talking amongst themselves. Dwayne was just as eager to spot you, sweeping between the boys and lifting you up in his arms. “Happy birthday, princess,” He gushed, planting tender kisses all over your cheeks.

“How did you know? I didn’t-”

“My bad,” Marko spoke up. He leaned back from behind Paul to wave your way, as if he were waving a flag of defeat. Damn. You weren’t even sure how Marko figured out your birthday in the first place, there was just no keeping secrets from that guy! 

Dwayne set you down, although he carried a much more concerned expression this time. “Why keep it a secret in the first place, Y/N?”

You fiddled with the bag still clutched in your hand with eyes cast downward towards your feet hoping a good excuse could get you out of just admitting you’d rather play backseat. But, you didn’t. Not that you couldn’t come up with any excuses. Rather, you didn’t want to be sidelined even for your boyfriend’s birthday. It was yours too, and for the past several years it seemed like you were constantly being set aside so that other things could happen. Your sister’s wedding, that trip to Colorado your parents took, grandma and grandpa visiting, your brother’s soccer games- everything seemed to take precedence over the celebration of the day you were born. And worst of all is you never got your Sixteen Candles happy ending. No one would really recognize they screwed up. You wouldn’t be apologized to with tearful shock when your parents realized they forgot your birthday, your friends- if you could even call them that at this point- wouldn’t try to cheer you up, and there was no handsome crush ready with a birthday cake to make it all go away. It’s like Dwayne already knew your feelings because before you could get a word in he pulled you into a crushing hug. Your head pressed against his chest. Sometimes you forgot he had no heartbeat and instead only listened to him rumble when he spoke to you.

“Just because today is for me, doesn’t mean it isn’t for you too, princess.” 

Those words hit you harder than you anticipated. Your throat felt as if it were swelling, dry with each labored swallow, and a tight pressure squeezed the bridge of your nose. Inevitable tears eagerly rushed down your while burnt cheeks. 

Dwayne only held you in place. He never let go until you were the one ready to release him, wiping away those pesky droplets of emotion staining you. “Now, I was saving this for when we took you to the hotel…,” he began with his hand jammed into his jacket pocket, rustling around for whatever it was he needed. “But, I figure maybe you need it now.”

A thick banded ring of aged silver sat in his calloused palm, an oval cut of turquoise clasped in place by a weaving border. Veins of black and copper split through chunks of blue-green paths. Rather hold it out to you, Dwayne tenderly took your hand into his own to slip the hefty piece over your ring finger. It nestled perfectly in place and you couldn’t help but let out a breathless laugh, slinging your arms over his neck. He already knew what to expect. Iron arms engulfed your waist and lifted you up. His stubble scratched the edges of your mouth when you crashed your lips into his. The sensation was overwhelming. It wasn’t just that he got you this, it was what he had gotten you. 

Dwayne had often told you myths and lore on lazy nights when the hunting grew slow and the hours were long. Once you found yourself admiring a very similar cut of jewelry decadently adorned with many fine cuts of turquoise, finding your curiosity piqued when asking him what the significance was to all these pieces. Why was it such a commonly used stone in so much jewelry, especially with Native American tribes.

“From what I can remember,” Dwayne thought back at the time, leaning over you to admire the pricey baubles kept protected under a thick sheet of glass “, my grandmother told me that every tribe has always valued it. I mean, they all have their reasons. It’s a powerful gem that carries protection, life and strength. I’ve even seen it change colors depending on where you find it. I hardly ever saw it though when I was alive, even back then it cost a fortune.”

But now, through one way or another he’d remembered how you admired them from afar, yearning to have a ring like that of your very own. The one to five hundred dollar price tags always scared you off whenever you’d come to find them in stores- at least, the real ones. For once you didn’t care how Dwayne had acquired your gift. Gift! Oh!

“Oh, hold on,” You interjected between kisses with the little bag presented before him. “I um, got you something too. From that crazy lady in the mystic items shop!”

A warmth spread through your chest watching him lay the necklace over, the skull placing perfectly atop his many others. It suited him perfectly. 

The whole night was just perfect. You spent the entire time going on rides with the boys after they spoiled you for dinner, later dragging you to the hotel where you realized what Dwayne meant earlier. There were streams of colored paper hanging off the rafters and old piping, red balloons tied to the furniture, and a banner of paper reading out “Happy Birthday Dwayne and Y/N” written in big, red marker letters. You couldn’t even make a wish when they brought out a cake for the both of you. After all, what more could be asked? They had already given you the most perfect birthday you could have ever hoped for. 

adore you

fine line series 3/12

you don’t have to say you love me

you don’t have to say nothing

you don’t have to say you’re mine

If Piper could go back in time, crash the wedding reception, grab her past self by the nape of her neck and drag herself out of the venue to give herself a good kick in the ass, she would.

Okay, maybe she wouldn’t crash her best friend’s wedding purely for the sake of not having sex, but in retrospect, she was being dumb. Completely and utterly idiotic. When it came to Jason, she seemed to lack the proper amount of brain cells to think Piper, maybe it’s a good idea not to sleep with your best friend again!

But it happened, time travel didn’t exist, so while she’s spending more time with Jason than ever, she’s also unable to fight the inkling that maybe after all this time, she is still in love with him, even after years of being apart.

How can she do this to herself? She spent years alone, maintaining a comfortable (yes, comfortable even though sometimes it was hard) distance between her and Jason. Sometimes there was a lapse of judgment, a night where the tensions got too high and they found themselves beneath the sheets, limbs intertwined and lips pressed to each other’s skin. They always manage to brush it off—an awkward laugh, averted eye contact, the walk of shame. It doesn’t stay awkward for long because by the next day, they’re texting and chatting like usual. It’s fine. It always ends up fine. Piper can still mash down her feelings and pretend it’s all okay.

Ever since Annabeth and Percy’s wedding, it isn’t just a one-time thing. It’s part of her daily routine. Wake up, coffee, work, dinner, she sees Jason, repeat. Maybe deciding on doing her last year of med school in San Francisco wasn’t her brightest idea, given that now she’s less than thirty minutes away from Jason at all times, but it’s too late to backtrack. She’s here now and he’s very obviously apart of her daily life, just as she’s apart of his.

It’s like their souls are intertwined. The Fates were probably having a field day with this. They tangled their strings of yarn together, tied several knots into them just for fun before seeing how well they can thrive. Even with the breakup, the several near-death experiences, Piper is sure their lives are even more connected. If she wanted to leave—which of course she doesn’t—she doesn’t think she’d have the ability to. It’s like there’s a bungee cord attached to them; if one ventures too far, the cord will restrict and pull them back together.

The wedding slip-up is a result of the cord being pulled too far. They spent too much time apart and when they were pulled back together, it lasted longer than it should have.

So now Piper is completely and utterly wrapped around Jason’s finger. She can’t even deny it at this point. So much for being just friends. The years of running away from her feelings finally caught up to her.

How can she not still have feelings for him? He’s her best friend, her shoulder to cry on, the person she trusts the most in the world.

Plus, he’s stupid pretty. Stupid pretty.

She’s never been fooled—it’s not like he was ever unattractive. He’s always been unfairly attractive. He’s just grown into himself now. His hair, which used to be cut short (Roman military style), has grown out, infuriatingly perfect. It’s hard to not run her fingers through it and pull him close and kiss him.

After sneaking away from the wedding reception a few months back, she finds herself doing that often. When they’re alone and they’ve run out of things to talk about, she tangles her fingers in his hair as she puts her lips to his, losing herself in the taste of his mouth.

It’s almost too easy to pretend that he’s hers when her tongue is in his mouth. She can delude herself for the time being—no one else is making him moan and flush and cause his eyelids to flutter. As much as she’s wrapped around his finger, she’s got him wrapped around hers, too. It’s the endless cycle of their relationship. Maybe if they weren’t so broken, they can take the final jump and say fuck it, let’s just try to date again.

But they’ve stared death in the eyes and they’ve figured out years ago that just because they’re broken, their pieces don’t necessarily fit into each other. They’re not a puzzle waiting to be finished. They’re broken glass, just random unfixable shards that have spent years trying to be reassembled.

That doesn’t stop Piper from hoping and praying to any god that is willing to listen to somehow bring them back together.

She’s selfish. She just wants him for herself.

But Jason Grace isn’t one to be owned. He’s the son of the king of the gods, pontifex, warrior through and through. He’s caused armies to fall, kingdoms to crumble. He wants domestic life—marriage, kids, a house with a big backyard. Even then, she can’t imagine her to be the one to be his wife in a suburban area. Their time has passed.

It still doesn’t stop her from wanting him to be hers. She doesn’t like sharing.

Right now, staring at his freckled back as he sleeps, playing connect the dots with the sunspots, she wants to be the only one to ever see him like this. Messy hair, skin pink against the white sheets, his back rising and falling with each breath. Who wouldn’t want this angel of a man to be theirs and only theirs?

For now, she’s the only one to be lucky to be in such a vulnerable position like this with him. That causes an almost painful, empty hollow feeling in her chest. This won’t be forever. This is just a temporary fix, a little fun before he goes off and settles down with a less broken person, someone who hasn’t flirted with death and almost paid the price for it. He’s worthy of someone who won’t scream in her sleep and push him away when things get hard.

Still. She doesn’t need him to love her. She just really wants him to.

The early morning sunlight is creeping through his blinds, turning his hair gold. Usually, he’s the one who wakes up around this time while she sleeps, but he’s had a long week. His breathing is slow, steady, clearly still asleep. She closes her eyes, listening to the sound of his heart against her cheek as she presses herself closer to his back, her arm hanging loosely off his torso. Maybe their broken pieces don’t fit perfectly, but for just a moment, she can pretend.

Several minutes pass and Jason’s breathing picks up, a clear indication that he’s waking up. Piper keeps her eyes closed, not daring to move, feigning sleep. She doesn’t want him to know she’s been awake this entire time.

With a low groan, Jason shifts in her arms, the sheets bunched up around them as he turns over. Her eyes remain shut as she feels his chest where his back once was, almost dropping the façade when she feels his hand cup her cheek. It isn’t until he presses his lips to her forehead is when she decides to ‘wake up’—her eyelids flutter and she forces a yawn as she gives an appropriate stretch.

Pretending to be asleep, she decides, is totally worth it. His cheeks are flushed a delicious shade of pink, a stark contrast to his sky blue eyes. She wants to lean forward and kiss every freckle on his cheekbone, but that feels a little less platonic than she feels comfortable with despite the fact he just kissed her forehead.

“Did I wake you?” Jason asks, voice wonderfully husky and heavy with sleepiness.

“Mhm, it’s okay.” Piper settles her hand on a shoulder, a place she deems as safe. “How’d you sleep?”

“Well,” he admits. “I needed that. Work this week was so tiring.”

There are still dark circles under his eyes. Piper runs her thumb just below his left eye and she says, “You seemed tired. We can go back to sleep if you want.”

Jason shakes his head and leans into her touch. She tries to ignore how her heart is beating in her throat when he murmurs, “No, you’re probably hungry. What host am I if I don’t make you breakfast?”

Piper almost wants to point out they’re hardly ever considered guests in each other’s apartments anymore—this is a routine event that occurs multiple times a week, but the thought of Jason cooking her breakfast makes her cheeks go warm. “Breakfast sounds nice.”

“Mhm.” Jason nods and sits up. Piper has to force herself to look away as the sheets fall and hang loosely around his hips. “Breakfast and maybe a shower after that?”

A shower sounds nicer than she wants to admit. She nods and slowly sits up, holding the sheets to her chest. “Can you make pancakes?” she asks hopefully.

He smiles and nods. “Of course,” he answers. He pushes away the sheets and Piper averts her eyes. She’s acting like she hasn’t seen him naked before because she knows if she looks, she’ll do something stupid, like blurt out her feelings for him, which is the last thing they need on such an uneventful morning. “Okay, I’ll start breakfast after I brush my teeth.” As if it’s the most casual thing in the world, he ruffles her hair before shuffling out of the bedroom in just his boxers.

Maybe there’s a part of her that does need his love, as pathetic as that sounds. A daughter of love who can’t even find the love for herself, someone who needs to love of another. It sounds so selfish; she’s already broken his heart once, he doesn’t need her to do it again.

Although now, she’s sure she wouldn’t break his heart again. She isn’t as hurt as she was when she was sixteen. She’s long accepted the demigod life and she wants to do it with him. 

Not that she’d ever say it. She bites back her feelings, again, settling for being the best friend who occasionally gets sex. It’s more than she deserves out of him, anyway.

It takes another few minutes of self-deprecating for Piper to haul herself out of bed. It’s hard to leave because Jason’s sheets are so soft, but she makes her way to the bathroom, grabs the toothbrush he keeps for her, and brushes her teeth. She tries to forget about the way Jason kissed her last night, how he kissed her forehead just this morning.

Is it so bad to want to be loved? Is it so awful to crave that? Maybe not, but this is her best friend, her first love. She wants to be adored but right now… Piper has to settle for this—the sex and nothing else. She can survive without the I love you and claiming each other as their own.

With a dramatic sigh, Piper forces Jason’s discarded shirt from the previous night on her body, choosing to put on panties and not her leggings as she makes her way to the kitchen, which smells heavenly of pancakes. By the time she slides into the stool at the counter, Jason’s sliding over a plate of pancakes, complimented with the perfect amount of syrup (he knows how much she likes) and strawberries and scrambled eggs. Her mouth waters and she digs right in.

“Hungry?” Jason teases, looking infuriatingly like a domestic husband cooking his wife breakfast after a long week of work.

What I would give to be the wife he’s cooking breakfast for.

Piper almost chokes on her pancakes at the thought. “Um, yeah. You wore me out,” she reminds him, having to force back a smile as his face turns a wonderful shade of red. “Are you telling me you’re not hungry from last night?”

Jason leaves over the other side of the counter, biting into his own stack of pancakes. “Starving,” he corrects as he chews. “Pancakes were a good idea, Pipes.”

She has to bite back her snarky remark, instead shoving her face full of strawberries. Making fun of him this morning isn’t on her agenda. At least not yet.

Staring is also not on her agenda, but it’s hard to do so when Jason’s hair is golden in the midmorning sun, freckles like constellations on his pale skin, lips so pink she wonders if they taste like bubblegum. (She’s kissed him enough to confirm his lips somehow taste better than bubblegum.) She wonders how sweet the kiss will taste as he eats his own breakfast. Will they taste like the coffee he drinks, or syrup, or the strawberries?

Maybe looking at him and focusing on his physical features will help her get her mind off the fact that her feelings are eating her insides away. So she continues to stare.

It isn’t until after Jason finishes his breakfast that he realizes she’s staring. “What? Is there something on my face?” he asks, instinctively reaching up to touch his cheek.

Piper shakes her head, pushing aside her empty plate as she props her elbows up on the counter. “Nope. I’m just…” She struggles for the right innuendo, hoping he’ll catch on, but knowing he’s too dense to do so. “I’m still hungry.”

“Oh.” Jason blinks. “I could make you more pancakes if you want. Don’t even worry about it.”

“No, Jason.” Piper leans even further over the counter. “I’m not hungry for food.”

It takes Jason a few moments to realize what she’s getting at. He flushes crimson, the color reaching to the tips of his ears. “Oh. Oh.” He laughs breathily and he reaches across the counter to twine his fingers in her hair. “Really? After last night?”

“Especially after last night.” Piper bites down on her bottom lip. She was right—being horny is easier than grappling the feelings that threaten to bubble over the surface. She can’t ruin the friendship purely because she’s still hopelessly head over heels for him years after their breakup. “Are you…”

Jason doesn’t answer. His lips do the talking instead as he closes the distance between them to give her an eager kiss. She’s right, his lips do taste like a sweet mixture of maple syrup and fresh strawberries.

“I said I was starving earlier, didn’t I?” Jason murmurs as he pulls away. He pushes himself away from the counter, holding out a hand to her. “Come on. We can shower after this.”

His hand is extended towards her and she wishes this was a different situation. She wishes he was asking for her love instead, asking her to be his. Asking her to adore him.

But he’s not. He doesn’t have those feelings anymore. All she’s capable of doing is pining and cursing her past mistakes because now she’s stuck in this zone, only able to kiss him but unable to love him the way she wants to.

This is all she can get, so she grabs his hand to at least feel like she’s adored. Even if it’s only for a little bit. Even if it’s only for a moment.

three way call — part 9

Summary: Tommy Lee and Nikki Sixx find themselves in the frustrating predicament of being infatuated with the same woman. This calls for a competition.

Author’s note: What’s up fuckers, it’s been a minute! Sorry for the long hiatus, but shit’s been fucked! But now I’m back and will hopefully be writing more. This will probably be the last chapter of three way call, but I’ll totally write an epilogue if y’all would like one. Also sorry if I forgot anyone on the tag list, I haven’t been keeping up with requests very well. Sincerest apologies. Enjoy.

Warnings: Language, alcohol, mild violence, the usual.

Over the following weeks, Tommy, Y/N, and Nikki became inseparable and the Terror Twins became the Terror Triplets. The trio would constantly be touching, kissing, cuddling, sitting on top of each other, or excusing themselves to go have sex. They knew how each other member of the throuple liked their coffee and what kind of cigarettes they smoked, how they tossed and turned in bed, their preferred brands of beer, and what toppings they liked on their pizza. Y/N knew that Nikki didn’t think Crown Royal was worth the money as far as whiskeys went and that Tommy preferred sativa over indica because it didn’t make him feel as hazy. Nikki knew that Tommy didn’t like cheap vodka when doing shots because he’d thrown it up so many times before and he knew that when Y/N made the coffee, it somehow tasted better despite being made the exact same way by everybody. Tommy knew that Y/N only used Sally Hansen nail polish and owned every shade of red ever made, or so it seemed, and that Nikki only burned dragon’s blood incense, only from this weird little hole in the wall shop downtown.

To Vince and Mick, the closeness was nauseating. Vince was tired of fourth wheeling in his own home and tired of being kept up all night and some of the morning by “Oh Tommy, oh Nikki, oh Y/N,” and the pounding of the headboard on the wall. The most blissful times were when Y/N was at work or the trio decided to spend the night at her apartment instead. However, when Y/N was away, the boys had begun to play, testing boundaries romantically and in the bedroom at all hours of the day. Even band practice has changed; Nikki with his perfectionist tendencies harped on Vince and Mick as usual but suddenly everything Tommy did was perfect. In Tommy’s eyes everything should be dialed back a bit, unless it was his drumming or Nikki’s bass.

“I’m so sick to death of those three,” Mick said one day while the Twins were visiting their third at work.

“Oh, shut up, you don’t even live with them! They’re so far up each other’s asses, you can’t even tell where one ends and the others begin at this point,” Vince bitched.

“Don’t get me wrong, Y/N is great, and I’m glad they’re all happy, but when it affects the band is when I draw the line.”

“I know! Nikki and Tommy have been skipping practices and they’re god damned lucky all of our gigs have gone smoothly. I mean, hell; Sixx is supposed to be the leader of this band and who was it that had to call back that Zutaut guy about scheduling a meeting with those record exec guys? Fucking me! I mean, we call Nikki the leader, we call Y/N our manager, and Tommy’s the second in command, so they need to start fucking acting like it if we’re gonna score this record deal.”

“Should we break them up?” Mick asked, a devious sparkle in his eye.

“Absolutely not. Good material has been flowing from Nikki like fucking water; have you read the lyrics for new piece? ‘Looks That Kill’, or whatever? It’s bitchin’, and I don’t even care that it’s about Y/N. He told me what he wants for the instrumentals and it’s gonna be awesome, the whole next album will be.” Vince gushed.

“They’ll tire themselves out eventually,” Mick sighed, “Until then, we suffer, and also tell them to get their shit together.”

Meanwhile at the record store, Y/N swore she was about to throw her lovers out of the store.

“When’s your lunch break?”

“When does your shift end?”

“We miss you!”

“Just close the store for a little while, we won’t tell...”

“Yeah, come on, baby, live a little!”

She loved Tommy and Nikki— really she did— but today they were making her want to tear her fucking hair out. The Twins were especially needy today and it seemed like their whining and pleading wouldn’t ever stop.

“Guys, you’re gonna get me fired, stop it!” She hissed, slapping Tommy’s hand off of her ass.

“Your boss is never even here! Nine times out of ten, you’re the only one working in here,” Nikki reminded, taking another cherry sucker from the bowl on the counter, and watching as Tommy slid behind her again.

“Yeah, but there’s customers here and sometimes the owner’s son comes by to check in and... and...” Her eyelids fluttered and her train of thought went off the tracks as Tommy began kissing her neck and nibbling her earlobe to distract her, “Tommy! I’m gonna slap you in the face if you don’t stop it!”

“But don’t you like it?” He whispered.

“I love it, that’s the problem. You two go home and I’ll see you in an hour for lunch, yeah? I’ll even call in sick for the rest of the day and have what’s-her-name cover for me.”

“Fine,” Nikki pouted, “You promise?”

“I promise, lover,” She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him gently, “But I promise nothing if you two don’t get out and let me get some work done.”

“C’mon, Sixx,” Tommy huffed and leaned down to give Y/N a kiss on the cheek, “See ya later, sweet thing.”

“Later, babes,” She smiled and waved goodbye as they left at last.

She sighed a sigh of deep relief and sank into her chair that sat behind the register. Finally she could take a breather and get some work done. Then the phone rang.

“Mötley residence, Mick speaking, can I please speak to Y/N?”

“Black Cat Records, Y/N speaking, what’s up, man?” She greeted.

“Are the boys still there?”

“Nope, just left. Why, did you need something?”

“No, no. They’ll be home soon enough, I’m sure. We’re having a band meeting later, though, and you need to be there, too.”

“Yeah, got it. Good news or bad news?”

“Little of both. Well, little bad, lot of good.”

“Okay, I’ll be off in a little under two hours and I told the boys I’d call in for the rest of the afternoon. See ya later, Mars man.”

“See ya later, Terror Triplet.”

She chuckled at the name and hung up. As she stuck price labels on a new shipment of records, she wondered what the news could be. The rest of the morning drug on slowly with few customers and boring music on the radio. No Mötley Crüe, that’s for sure. Finally, it was time for the lunch break. Y/N made a quick call before she left.

“Hey, Sylvia? Can you cover me this afternoon? Yeah, yeah, band stuff, you know. Yeah, I’ll tell the boys you said hello. Thanks, hun, I owe you one.”

She was lucky her coworker picked up and was even luckier she agreed to cover her. Even though her boys annoyed her, she still couldn’t wait to go home to them. Y/N was also anxious about Mick’s news. There was so much on her mind that she couldn’t even pay attention to the Blondie song that was on the radio as she drove to the Mötley residence. She climbed through the window of the apartment to find all of the boys laying around the living room in various states of undress.

“Why are you all half naked?” She snickered.

“It’s hot as balls, babe. Our AC broke, I think,” Tommy whined.

“Did you hit it?”

“A little,” Vince sighed, “It didn’t help.”

Y/N hummed to herself and went to the other window, kicking the air conditioning unit as hard as she could, to no avail.

“Damn, that usually works. Oh well, is there cold drinks in the fridge?”

“Yeah, Vinnie went grocery shopping today. We got beer, Diet Coke, bitchy wine cooler things, and some other shit,” Nikki replied, fanning himself with a random piece of sheet music.

She kicked off her shoes and shirt and grabbed a Coke from the fridge, sitting on the floor between Nikki’s legs and leaning her head on his thigh.

“Why are you wearing these leather pants, babe? Aren’t they hot?”

“Fashion before function, sweetheart,” The bassist shrugged.

“So Mick,” Tommy piped up, “What’s your big news?”

The guitarist sat up in his chair, and cleared his throat.

“Good news first. Do you guys remember that Zutaut kid?”

“Dorky rugby shirt?” Tommy asked.

“Yeah, that’s the one. He talked it over with Electra and called today saying they want to sign us as soon as possible.”

The boys and Y/N erupted in a chorus of whoops and hell-yeahs.

“So what’s the bad news? I don’t think anything can sting after that,” Nikki grinned.

Vince shifted uncomfortably before addressing the rhythm section and their lady love.

“Nikki, Tommy, Y/N, let me start by saying we love that you guys are happy together. But me and Mick feel that you’re letting this relationship consume you a little too much. Nikki, you’ve been letting Tommy get away with murder during practices. Tommy, you’re going soft with Sixx and Y/N, man. And Y/N, you’re our manager, but you’ve been devoting more of your time to the guys than the band as a whole. You should have been the one to talk to Electra and tell us we’re getting signed, you know? But we’ve been having to pick up the slack and that sucks.”

The trio nodded guiltily. They knew their priorities were a bit skewed as of late. Y/N had been meaning to call Electra for days, Tommy had been slacking and not taking his position as second in command seriously, and Nikki was too in love to whip Tommy into shape again. It wasn’t fair to Mick and Vince, and they knew that.

“Yeah, I mean us being together makes us happy, but maybe we should’ve considered if it would be good for the band,” Tommy sighed.

“Maybe taking a break would be the best thing for the band,” Y/N mused, words soaked in sorrow.

“Hey, no! You don’t have to take a break from each other, just even out your priorities a little more, you know?” Mick offered, “Tommy still acts like a ten year old but has more grown up moments since you guys started this. Nikki broods less and the creative juices really seem to be flowing. And you seem really content, and me and Vince don’t want to take that from you. You just needed to be straightened out. It’s cool, just focus on the band more, okay?”

The three nodded and sighed in relief. Y/N excused herself to go lie down because it had been a long day, and Nikki followed. Tommy would have, but insisted that Nikki’s bedroom was too stuffy for the Los Angeles heat with no air conditioner. The bassist opened the window in his bedroom to allow for some air flow as the manager removed her shirt and pants to lie down on the dark sheets.

“Were you serious when you talked about us taking a break?” Nikki asked, sitting on the floor beside the bed.

“Only half. If it would be better for the band, I think we could all agree on it. But it would kill me not to be with you and T-Bone anymore,” She whispered.

“Yeah, I get it. I don’t think I could go back to not being with you two dumbasses,” He cracked a smirk, “The bed’s too big without a couple extra warm bodies next to me.”

“I bet you’d write some killer breakup songs, though. Everybody loves a heartbreak,” She joked, fanning herself with a magazine from the table.

“I wouldn’t love this heartbreak,” Nikki sighed, leaning his head on the mattress, inches away from hers.

She took the memo and kissed him deeply before the sounds of chaos erupted from the living room.

“Damn it, Tommy! Don’t drink all the beer!” Vince whined, “Grab another one and I’ll... I’ll shoot you with a staple gun!”

“Did you leave your bag out there?” Nikki whispered.

“Mhm,” Y/N hummed.

“Is your staple gun from the store in it?”

“Mhm, wh—“

There was a metallic pop, followed by shouting.

“FUCK, BLONDIE! YOU MISSED MY EYE BY AN INCH!” Tommy shrieked.

“HALF AN INCH!” Vince yelled back.

“Oh, fuck,” The couple in the bedroom sighed in unison, before going out to join back in the chaos.

Tag list: @jayprettymuchomw @kayladurin @crazysaladchopshop @iamtiber-andtiberismusic @loveofmyloif @saints-of-the-universe @tommyfuckinlee @oh-well1 @cranberribread @princesadeltoro @prostidudes-for-justice @miriampraez @tarahell @n-osebleed @valentines-in-london @bohemian-war @cuntlord0606 @holding-on-to-my-youth @abbysdogcollar @deacontaylormercurymay @fuckyeah-motleycrue

Meant To Be (In Any Form)-4

So how about that 'Trolls Just Wanna Have Fun' clip huh?!?!?! God I died and went to feels heaven, lol! It made me want to do something so bad! So here's a new chapter for you all! It's even sort of Valentine's Day themed! Because that's what the muses wanted, lol! Also a (hopefully) fluffy sick fic between out favorite couple.

Chapter Summary: Poppy's sick on Valentine's Day, luckily she's got a loving husband to take care of her. (Human AU)

Previous Chapter/Next Chapter; AO3/FF.net

@writerofberk-I’ll probably still tag you cause I’m used to it even if tumblr’s stupid lo! Enjoy the fluff!

~*~*~*~*~*~

Valentine's Day, a day for everyone to express their love and affection for the people closest to them. It was a day for couples to spoil each other, for kids to give homemade cards to their parents, for teens to gather their courage to admit their crushes and for friends to exchange gifts for the fun of it. It was a day of bouquets, large and small, to be given and of copious amounts of chocolate to be consumed. It was a fun and love filled day that always, always excited Poppy Hawthorn when it was approaching, as she spent weeks planning and making cards and treats for her beloved friends. It was the day she looked forward to every February since she was small and understood the most basic concept of it. It could possibly be her favorite holiday, next to...well all the other holidays really. And it was on this particular Valentine's Day, one she'd been extra excited for as it was going to be her first Valentine's as a married woman, that she was sick in bed with a terrible cold.

Poppy sneezed hard as she laid tucked in bed before groaning as the jarring movement caused her whole self to hurt. Reaching for the tissues beside her on the bedside table, she blew her nose before attempting to find that right comfy position where she could rest her head and not get suffocated by the junk clogging her sinuses. This was not the sort of fun she had been wishing for on this special day, honestly it wasn't fun at all, and the pinkette couldn't help but sulk. She had plans for today! Not only her usual of delivering all the handmade treats and cards she did for her friends every year but also she had been going to romance the heck out of her husband. She even had some new sexy lingerie she had been eagerly waiting to show him! But now she was sick and couldn't do any of that! Whimpering, Poppy felt tears prickling in her eyes before a coughing fit started. Once it calmed down, she once again slumped back against her pillows with a groan.

Sighing and wishing she felt better, Poppy heard the bedroom door open and watched as her blue haired hottie of a husband came in. His hands were full of a tray that had a steaming bowl of what was most likely soup and one of her mugs, alongside a small vase with five roses in full bloom. She couldn't help but pout at the reminded that today was the most romantic of the year and instead of making the romantic dinner he had been hinting at all week, Branch was stuck taking care of her. Poppy had been looking so forward to whatever it was her poet had been planning for them.

Branch smiled softly at her when he noticed her watching him as he brought the tray over to their bed. Sitting it carefully on beside the bed, he sat next to his sick wife and gently brushed a strand of pink hair out of her face, “Hey, Sunshine. How you feeling?” Congested and achy was the most probable of answers considering how ill she looked and by the heat coming off her skin, she was still running that fever too. He had warned her not to go out without a sweater of some sort last week but Poppy had insisted it would be fine as it hadn't been that cold despite it still being early February. Now his poor girl was paying the price and on the holiday she'd been so looking forward to.

“Awful.” She croaked before another coughing fit hit her. Whining pitifully, she slumped backwards and pouted at Branch, “Make it go away.”

Shaking his head at her request, he was far too use to her asking for the impossible while she was sick, Branch carefully reached over and brushed her hair back again, “I wish I could but you just have to rest and take medicine.” Poppy wrinkled her nose up at the mention of medicine and Branch couldn't help quietly chuckling at the reaction, she always got this way whenever she was sick. Gesturing toward the tray, he asked, “You want to try to eat something?”

Poppy scrunched her face up again and shook her head, the thought of eating something made her stomach feel queasy, “Not really...”

“Not even a few spoonfuls of broth?” He doubted her answer would be different but he hoped maybe she'd be willing to sip a little bit of the warm liquid. When she shook head again, Branch sighed before standing up, “Alright...” Carefully grabbing the tray, he took the mug, vase and a plate of toast off and placed them beside the tissues, “That's some peppermint tea with a bit of honey, please drink a little while it's still warm. I'll be right back, okay?”

“Okay,” She said softly before attempting to snuggle into her blankets again.

Poppy watched him leave sadly and sighed, she was so disappointed this was how their day was going. She wanted to be out spending it with her friends and Branch, singing love songs and eating all the chocolate she could before dragging her husband back home for a romantic evening. Instead she was stuck in bed coughing and sneezing with a fever and unable to do anything but lay here, aching all over. Poppy crossed her arms before a violent sneeze tore through her and she had to blow her nose again. Slumping down she groaned as tears leaked from her eyes, this day officially stunk.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Branch came back after storing away the uneaten soup with a cold cloth in hand to find Poppy laying with her eyes closed. Assuming she had managed to fall asleep, he approached quietly and draped the wet cloth over her forehead, hoping it would help cool her fever down. He was only mildly surprised when she cracked her eyes open to look at him as he pulled away. Staring into her amber eyes, which were usually so bright but today were dull and red, he felt sorry for her. Poppy never liked being sick, especially when it was a holiday. Smiling softly, he gently brushed his thumb over her pink cheek, “Hey, did I wake you up?” He hoped not, she needed all the rest she could get.

Poppy shook her head carefully, not wanting to make her headache worse, before coughing again. Wincing at the painful scratchy feeling in her throat, coughing that hard hurt, she reached out for Branch's hand. She really had the best husband ever, he always took such great care of her whenever she did get sick. “Will you stay? Keep me company?” She asked quietly, not wanting to just sit here alone with nothing to do but cough and sneeze.

Branch chuckled softly, “Was already planning on it, Precious.” He'd already done a few chores before bringing up her food and he'd wait until she managed to fall asleep to finish the laundry. Hopefully she'd feel well enough to get up later so he could change the sheets so she wasn't laying in her own germs all night.

Gently letting go of Poppy's hand, Branch went to sit on his side of the bed before grabbing the book from his nightstand. Sitting up against the headboard, he let Poppy shuffle over and drape an arm over his lap before carding his fingers through her hair as she buried her face by his hip and sighed. Branch frowned when another cough racked her poor body before humming a soothing melody, hoping to lull his poor wife into some semblance of sleep for a little while. There had to be something he could do to help cheer her up, even for a moment, but his attempts so far hadn't been too successful. Turning to his book, the blue haired poet hoped an idea would come to him soon.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Poppy shuffled down the stairs of their cozy house sometime in the early evening after a fitful nap. She felt only marginally better at the moment but was still feeling overall crummy and gross and was wondering where her attentive husband had gone. Wandering into the kitchen, she found their table holding a large vase full of roses and carnations alongside a small pile of gifts. Blinking, she was fairly sure those hadn't been around before, she went to investigate before hearing Branch come in from their garage. Poppy turned and watched him enter the kitchen and notice her.

“Hey,” He said softly, smiling as he set the basket of laundry he held down, “You're up.” He held his arms open for her to shuffle into and hugged her back as she wrapped her arms around his torso. “How are you feeling?”

Poppy's answer was going to be actual words before a cough came out her throat. She groaned slightly and buried her face in Branch's shoulder, “...I was gonna say a little better but...” She felt him chuckled slightly before kissing the top of her head.

Branch rubbed her back as he gently rocked them side to side. He was glad to see her up but knew he would need to get back into bed soon as she still wasn't feeling one hundred percent. Nuzzling his nose against her head, he spoke gently, “You feel like eating anything?” He hoped so, a little bit of food might help perk her up enough to stay awake while he changed the sheets and fluffed up her pillows.

Poppy thought for a moment before nodding, head still tucked under his chin, “Yeah...I think I do. Just some broth.”

Branch smiled down at her, happy to hear she at least wanted something, “That's fine, I don't want you to push yourself.” He carefully maneuvered her over to sit in a chair before grabbing the soup he'd made out of the fridge. “By the way, the Pack and your dad popped by while you were asleep.” He nodded toward the table, “That's all for you. They also said to get better soon.”

“Oh...” Poppy wanted to feel excited and happy that her friends and dad had shown up but instead she just felt bad that she'd missed them. Sighing before sneezing into her robe's sleeve, she took out a tissue to blow her nose, “I think I'll wait till I feel better. Did you give them their stuff from me?”

“You sure?” He asked, placing a bowl of now warm soup in front of her. It was highly unusual for his pinkette to pass on opening any sort of gift given by one her friends. Branch then smiled carefully at her before answering her question, “And no. I tried but they said they wanted to wait till you felt better. They know how much you love giving gifts.”

Poppy nodded, frowning before sniffing and hugging Branch around the waist as she started to cry softly. Why did she have to be sick today?! She just wanted to be able to enjoy it and not feel as bad as she did! “I hate being sick!” She sniffled into Branch's shirt.

Branch gently patted her head and brushed through her hair, “I know, Sunshine, I know.” Carefully leaning down, he held Poppy's face as he brushed away her tears, “But it'll be alright. Everyone said they were fine waiting and you know I don't need a day into order to show you I love you. We'll just have our own special Valentine's celebration when you're better.”

Poppy sniffed before blowing her nose and nodding. She knew Branch was right, he'd gotten amazingly good at being more positive since they had gotten together and she knew he'd do whatever he could to help cheer her up. She really did appreciate his attempts too, the young woman just wished she felt well enough so she could kiss him without him putting up a fuss about getting sick himself. Not that she wanted that in the first place, Poppy just like being able to kiss her husband whenever she could and being ill really put a damper on that.

Sighing forlornly, the pinkette turned to sip at her soup slowly as Branch stood up to get himself some. Poppy didn't say much as they ate, her throat still scratchy and achy but the warm salty broth did help to sooth that. She'd hum or shake her head to answer Branch when he did say something but otherwise it was an unusually silent dinner for the couple. Once Poppy had decided she'd had enough, not wanting to overwhelm her stomach, she pushed her bowl away. After Branch took it away to the sink, he came back and carefully pulled her into his arms where she laid her head on his shoulder and enjoyed being hugged.

“So...I had an idea that might help perk you up for a moment,” He said, rubbing her back as they rocked side to side, “If you're up for it.”

“Hmm?” Sick she may be but she was still curious as there wasn't a lot she had much energy to do.

Branch smiled, happy to hear she at least wanted to hear his idea, “ Well, I was thinking, and I know it won't really be the same cause you're sick but, I was thinking if you felt like it we could try for a bubble bath. Or a nice cool shower? It might help break your fever a little and help you feel freshened up.”

“You'd risk getting sick just to take a bubble bath with me?”

He'd do anything just to see some form of her usually bright and lovely smile, “Yeah, I know, I'm crazy but if it helps you feel better... We can even light a few candles to make it...romantic~”

Poppy giggled as Branch stressed the word romantic, she had such a wonderful dork of a husband. If only she felt well enough to properly seduce him. Sighing quietly, she looked up at him with a soft look, “Maybe a shower would be better. As much as I love bubble baths, I donno if I could stay awake through one.”

“You sure?” When she nodded against his chest, Branch kissed her softly on her forehead, “Alright. You can even wear one of your ridiculous shower caps if you don't want to get your hair wet.” As she giggled again, the action weaker than usual, he carefully nuzzled against her hair, “Just let me change the bed real quick so you'll have a nice fresh bed to rest in, okay?”

“M'kay.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Poppy sighed contently as she snuggled into bed, Branch wrapped around her despite her ill state. He had been right that a shower had been just what she'd needed to feel slightly more human than she had since yesterday. He had held her to him as he had gently helped wash the sweat off her body. Then at her insistence, they had just stood under the warm spray as Poppy had enjoyed being able to breath out of her nose for a short while. Disappointed as she was when Branch suggested they get out, Poppy did thank him for the help as he helped her get ready for bed. After that, Poppy had felt up to watching a movie before the medicine she took started to knock her out. Now, she was fairly comfortable despite the coughs that still came and went.

She felt Branch nuzzle the back of her head and had to smile, “I'm surprised you're still willing to snuggle even though I'm sick.” She then sniffed as she felt a clog returning to her nose, so much for the vapor rub lasting a little longer.

Branch chuckled and rubbed soothing circles on her belly where his hand rested, “Hey, it's a worthy risk when you've been so miserable all day. The last think I want to do is make you upset while you're still sick.”

“Mmm...Thank you.” She said softly, “I do feel a little better. Though I'm still disappointed you had to spend Valentine's taking care of me.”

Branch shifted so he could rise up and look at her over her shoulder, “Hey, there's no other place I'd rather be. So what that I spent another Valentine's not doing anything? It's not like I really care,” He smirked down at her, “ And like I said I don't need a special day to show you how much I love you.” He placed a careful and gentle kiss on the side of her head, “I just want you to feel better.”

Poppy smiled up at him and would have leaned up for an ill advised kiss before she had to quickly turn away and sneeze. Wiggling out of Branch's arms, she reached up for a tissue and blew her nose before he helped tuck her in again, “I just want to feel better too....” She turned her head to look at him and smiled, “And thank you. I love you~”

Branch smiled and kissed her forehead sweetly, “I love you too. Now get some sleep please.”

“Okay,” Poppy hummed before snuggling back into his arms. While this day hadn't gone the way she had been hoping, she had at least still been able to spend it with the person she loved the most and she supposed as she drifted off to sleep, that's what the holiday was all about.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Ending things can be so hard somedays so I hope it's not too awkward. Anyway, there you have it! Some more Married!Broppy fluff instead of once again one the many different AU's I want to write lol. Hope you enjoyed and stay tuned for next time!

A Pirate’s Life For Me

Chapter Three.  Pirate!BTS Maid!Reader 

Warnings: tiny bit of blood, talk of scamming, little flirting  Summary:  You had always wondered about pirates, about a life outside of these walls. On your 23rd birthday, you would finally find out what both were really like.  Word Count: 2.5k

You had been on the ship for just over a month, and you were settling in fairly well. So far, they had taken you to an island, letting you shop until you dropped.

‘So, I can buy whatever I want?’ You made sure, holding the bag of gold in your hand. Feeling the weight literally and metaphorically. This was a lot of cash you held, more than what the Palace allowed you. Yoongi just nodded, following you into the small, family run stores. You didn’t buy much, realising this gold wasn’t all for you, you all needed this to survive. Picking out a couple items matching the style of what Yoongi already gave you, you were happy enough. Although, the boys made you pick out some dresses, insisting they would work for raids they had planned. You didn’t argue, happily taking the dresses, the soft silk and pretty cottons making you forget the prices momentarily. Although, feeling the difference in the money bag weight after kind of brought you back to reality.

You insisted they shop some for themselves too, forcing them to buy new sheets and shirts. Not knowing the last time, they shopped for themselves, they agreed, grabbing necessary items before deciding that was good enough. Yoongi eyed up a blanket for a while, in two minds about buying it.

‘I like it, it’s pretty.’ You hinted, hopefully helping him to reach a decision. He just smiled at you, grabbing your chin between his long fingers.

‘If you like it, then we shall have it. No questions asked.’ Really, Yoongi hadn’t bought a new blanket since she betrayed him. Rather fester in the pain than move on, but something about you made him ready to move on.

They ate good that night, Jin making a feast fit for royalty, the rum splashed about between them all.

‘Remember that time, Jungkook got kicked in the nuts by that whore?’ Jimin reminisced, causing Jungkook to physically wince. You looked between them for an explanation, getting nothing bar laughter and dirty looks thrown this way and that way.

‘Please explain, I need to hear these stories!’ you whined, pout on your lips as no one told you anything. Jungkook thought you looked adorable, momentarily having a brain fart.

‘Basically, we took some one-night stands onto the ship when we docked, taking them to different areas of the ship for privacy. Anyways, when Jungkook was finished, he basically went up onto deck, leaving the girl alone. He came back to Namjoon balls deep in her, he wasn’t phased not until-‘

‘Not until, my girl came over sour faced because she was neglected. Jungkook tried to put on the moves then he-‘ He stopped in a fit of laughter, unable to contain himself anymore. Jungkook just groaned, realising he had to finish the story.

‘I wasn’t all that used to the sea yet, I went up onto deck to throw up. I thought I was done but turns out I wasn’t. I was hitting on her and spewed, then she kicked me in the balls... Haven’t been with anyone since.’ You felt sorry for him, wondering how long he had been here without getting his dick wet. You also, couldn’t help the snort of a laugh that slipped from you, setting all the other boys off. Slightly tipsy by this point, you put an offer on the table for him knowing it would make him blush further.

‘You know, if you ever need anything, like that. You know where I am.’ He knew you expected him to blush, to fold in on himself, but he was far too tipsy and far too ready to take you up on that. Leaning into your body, face inches from yours, he whispered against your lips, causing a blush to creep up your face and arousal to pool in your stomach.

‘I might take you up on that sometime, I can’t tell you how painfully hard you make me already.’ If Taehyung hadn’t cleared his throat, you would have jumped the younger boy’s bones. Right there and then. Jungkook dragged his eyes slowly off you, slipping casually back into conversation.

‘So, wait two questions, you are happy sharing women? And Jungkook how long has it been since you got laid?’

‘We don’t mind sharing unless she’s strictly off limits. Yoongi had a girl, she was off limits. Otherwise we don’t mind, as long as she doesn’t.’ Hoseok spoke, answering one of your questions. You nodded, averting your gaze to Jungkook, he just blushed avoiding your eye.

‘Poor Kookie here hasn’t had any in three years, isn’t that right? Poor lad is scared for life!’ Jimin chortled, Jungkook whining in protest.

‘As if you haven’t had your fair share of bad fucks. What about that time...’ And so, the conversation continued, naming and shaming the escapades of these experienced men.

About a week later, the captain proposed the first raid since you joined, all of the men agreeing instantly. Apparently, you were short on food, Jungkook running out of supplies too. You nodded along, Yoongi pulling you into his office again. The boys seemed to already know the plan, Taehyung briefing them as you walked away.

‘You’re a main part of our plan, I need to make sure you are okay with this before we continue.’ He began, letting you sit before he continued. You perched yourself on the edge of the shared bed, crossing your legs waiting for him to continue. He smiled, shaking his head, walking to sit beside you.

‘The pretty dress we bought you? I need you to wear it, go in crying. Make a scene, he’s a sucker for a damsel in distress. He will put his guard down while we grab our things, I don’t want things to get messy, but they might. I’ve assigned Jungkook to you though, he’s a fighter. If anything goes wrong near you, he will be by your side instantly. I promise.’ You fell into his every word, listening intently at every instruction he gave you. Nerves bubbled in your stomach, regardless of having a protector for the raid.

He pulled out the dress, handing it towards you. Smiling, he turned around, giving you minimal privacy again, not like you minded really. Slipping the old clothes off, you folded them on the bed. Old habits die hard. Slipping the dress over your head, you struggled doing the lace on the back up. Now you knew why the princess insisted on being dressed, this shit was hard. Although where she had around six maids to dress her and make her beautiful, you had seven male pirates.

‘Yoongi, could you-‘ Before you could finish the sentence, his fingers were already on your back, gently pulling the fabric for you. You could feel his breath on your skin, his fingertips lightly scraping your back. You hoped he couldn’t see the chills forming on your back, and he hoped you couldn’t feel the clamminess of his hands.

‘There, that should be it, is it okay? It’s been a while since I laced up a dress...’ He mumbled, letting you move about, to test he had done it right. You smiled at his handy work seeing the little bow in the foggy mirror.

‘You did good captain, mighty good.’

‘The boys have docked the ship; we are just waiting on you.’ He had such a soft voice, something you were slowly growing fond of. He wasn’t a pirate in your eyes, the crew never striking you as violent in the slightest. You nod, walking out of the office, to gather with the other boys. Their eyes trailed your form, almost forgetting the shape of your body under the baggy male clothes you usually adorned.

‘Okay, you know the drill. Grab what you can, don’t take anyone back with you, don’t hurt anyone unless absolutely necessary. Jungkook, keep an eye on our damsel here. Get going.’ You chanted in unison with the others a clear ‘YES CAPTAIN!’ before heading to the rowing boat. The boys kept quite most of the time, until Jungkook spied your feet.

‘You don’t have shoes on...’ You smiled at his observation, wiggling your toes for him.

‘Sells the whole distress thing more, no?’ He just sighed, rolling his eyes at you. Namjoon being the one to speak up.

‘Please be careful where you step, we need you, okay?’ You just nodded; a warm smile sent his way. They rowed the boat away from the docks, onto a remote little beach so you weren’t all caught together.

‘I’ll stay with the boat so we can make a quick get away, everyone please be careful.’ Namjoon spoke, everyone splitting direction. You wandered into town, gathering up the courage for your big display. Stepping into the store, you trip on your foot, setting the crocodile tears off.

‘Miss, are you okay?!’ The man yelled, rushing to your side. He grabbed you under your arms, lifting you off the ground. He got you half way before you forced your knees to crumble under you. Letting out another choked sob, you crumpled into the floor, sobbing into your hands. The man just holds you for a moment, letting you sob into his chest. You would feel bad, you could feel bad, but you didn’t let yourself. Instead, pulling the sobs back until they were quiet whimpers.

‘There was someone chasing me, I’m so sorry to have caused you such bother sir.’ You whined, peaking behind the man to see Jungkook, his eagle eyes glaring at the man’s hands on you. The man just rubbed your arm comfortingly, pulling you up from the ground. You watched Hoseok tap Jungkook on the shoulder, the latter giving you the signal to wrap the show up and get to the boat.

‘Why don’t you come inside? I can call the officer over?’ He questioned, genuinely wishing to help. You shook your head, dusting the dress off and wiping your face with the back of your hand.

‘I think he might have gone sir, thank you so much for your comfort, here take this!’ you pulled the gold coin Yoongi gave you for this out of your breasts, handing it to the man. He gulped, hooded eyes looking you over. Planting a chaste kiss against his cheek you ran off, quickly towards the boat.

‘That was some performance angel, impressive.’ Jimin praised, helping you into the boat. You giggled as he patted your ass, climbing in behind you.

‘Why thank you kind sir!’ Your knee hurt a little though, from the dramatic fall through the door. Jungkook noticed you rubbing it, lifting your dress up to look. It was scraped slightly, a bead of blood trickling down your leg. He shook his head at you.

‘But hey, my feet are okay, also this could have been so much worse!’ You chide, much to his disappointment. You were like a child he had to protect, despite you being a year older than him.

‘Not the point babe, I’ll deal with it when we get back on the ship.’ He let you pull your dress back down, covering your legs once again. Realistically he knew you were right. This could have gone bad quickly. You thought about that the whole ride back, how anything could have happened. If something were to happen, would Jungkook be fast enough? Would you be okay if something happened? You decided to voice your concerns later, maybe get one of them to teach you some basic self-defence.

Clambering back on the ship, everyone went straight to Yoongi, handing over the gold and telling them the happenings. Jimin instantly pulled the anchor, sailing away as fast as possible.

‘Where is Jungkook and Y/N? She’s not hurt, is she?’ He worried as soon as he didn’t see you, Taehyung just smiled.

‘She’s not super hurt, she skinned her knee.’ He replied, making the captain roll his eyes. Jungkook would really tend to anything when it came to you, he was slowly starting to realise. He could almost bet gold on the fact you would come back up with a bandage, wrapped tenderly around your knee.

‘How does that feel?’ He questioned, tightening the bandage around your kneecap.

‘Kookie, I’m fine really, don’t you think this is slight overkill?’ you mumbled, leaning closer to his face. He just looked up at you, brushing fallen hair out of your face. Why did he like it so much when you used that nickname? The one he hated so much from everyone else. They made it sound like a childish nickname, with you, it sounded warm, like you were fond of him.

‘I don’t want to see you hurt or uncomfortable. Even if it is a little scrape, even if it’s me making you uncomfortable. I want to make sure I do everything I can, to make sure you are okay.’ You blushed at his words, the weight that they held. Honestly you wondered a lot of things about these boys. They were far too nice to be considered pirates. Just what happened? You leaned in closer to his face, him moving closer himself.

‘I’ll remember that, when my leg is falling off and you can’t do anything about it.’ You whisper, taunting him.

‘I may not be able to do anything right now, but I’ll learn. For you, I’ll learn anything.’ Inches away from attaching your lips to his, you leaned down, lips brushing lips.

‘Guys how’s it going down here?’ Your lips had just puckered, the shortest and softest kiss in history due to your interruption. You both pulled back, him tucking his things away as you pulled down the skirt of your dress.

‘If you’re done, meet us for dinner up top, Jimin says its smooth sailing from here, pardon the pun.’ Jin spoke, giving you a cue to get changed.

‘I have a question for you.’ Taehyung spoke, everyone tipsy from the rum going around. You motioned for him to continue, curious as to what he could ask.

‘Why did you choose to stay? You could have been dropped off, gone back to your normal life. You could be normal. Why not run?’ You pondered it for a moment, not really needing to think. More wondering how much to divulge to them.

‘I had no reason to go home. No love interest, no family, no friends. Why go back to nothing but a job and a room in a Palace?’ They let your answer sink for a moment before you spoke up again. You did have a nice room, with a private bathroom and a big bed. It mirrored the princess’s room, but why wouldn’t it when you were in the room beside hers?

‘What about you? How did you all end up here? Let’s start with Captain, shall we?’

Price to be Paid - Chapter 8

Friends in Low Places

Words: 3,826

The next day was the livestock con that John had been planning for weeks. He and Arthur rode off into the hills to steal the flock and bring it back into town to sell as their own. 

Dutch watched his boys ride off while he smoked a cigar, and Hosea walked up to join him. “What a time we’ve had, eh Dutch?” Dutch claspsed Hosea on the shoulder, hanging on and reminiscing on their past adventures. “What a wild ride we have been through.” 

“Hopefully, my friend, our running days will soon be over. Just one more big one with good money and we are free. Then we can get our people to a safe home, like they deserve.” 

Lenny called you over to Pearson’s workstation. “YN! Teach me how to skin this rabbit, I know Arthur taught you so you oughta be good.” You laughed and rolled your sleeves up, “Thanks, Lenny. Alright. Let’s get to work. You want to know the first thing Arthur asked me when I wanted to learn how to do this?”

“What’s that?”

Acting grumpy with hunched shoulders you replied, “You sure you wanna get blood all over your dress?” Lenny bust up laughing while you impersonated the rugged man. “Damn fool didn’t see I was holding a knife five feet from him but still had the nerve to say it! Right after I shot a deer clean through the heart, too." 

Lenny laughed again while you began to teach him the Arthur Morgan way of skinning a rabbit. Every once in awhile he would ask you a question by impersonating Arthur and the two of you fell apart on the wooden table. He was a bright kid, and really nineteen was a kid, with a good heart and an infectious laugh. 

Jack came up just as the two of you were finishing and asked to pet your horse. Lenny ruffled the kids hair and left you to babysit, heading over to his tent to organize a few things. Jack grabbed your hand and dragged you to your mare.

“She’s pretty, YN! And tall. Not as tall as Uncle Arthur’s horsie, though. I wish I could have one, too.” His mind was everywhere, bouncing from place to place with no time to take a breath in between. Poor kid, four years old and stuck living the outlaw life. No wonder Abigail was so hellbent on getting out before something happened. 

He bent down and grabbed a flower to pick, his sights on dainty yellow petals with a white center when Eclipse moved too close. You swung down and grabbed Jack before she could get spooked, and you saw Dutch and Strauss walking up. 

They were deep in conversation and almost didn’t notice you. 

“Now, Herr Strauss, we are to meet Arthur and John at the saloon after. There’s talk of some big man in town and I intent to get on his good side before we show him a reason to be on his bad, so maybe you just stay quiet then?”

“But Dutch, I still have three loans that need to be collected! That money -”

Dutch interrupted him, yelling in his face, “That money is the only thing keeping us alive! Now why in the hell have you not gone to collect it?”

Her Strauss replied meekly, “I asked Arthur but he never had the time.”

Dutch ran his hand down his face and noticed you there. “YN, it’s time to learn another skill, my dear. When Arthur gets back from town, go with him to collect those debts so generously given by Herr Strauss. The two of you should get on just fine.”

You nodded and moved Jack closer to your hip, afraid the loud voices would frighten the child. Herr Strauss handed you three loan sheets which you tucked away in your satchel for later. Jack simply continued to play with the colorful flower in his hands until he held it out to the approaching Abigail as a present for simply being there. 

The tent you called home had built up a small collection of outfits, guns, and various other objects during your months at Horseshoe Creek. It was small but cozy. You even had a proper blanket now made from the skin of a cougar you hunted not too long ago. 

After you flopped down to the small bedroll, you grabbed the book you had been devouring most recently after swapping with Hosea. He had gotten you invested in a crime series and had given you the latest last night after finishing it himself, of course, and was bursting to discuss it so you promised to be quick. The sunlight was still filtering in warmly and you left the flaps of the tent open for fresh air to accompany you on your journey to another life. Precious few things brought you the pleasure like reading did. 

Later in the day, Hosea himself stuck his head in your tent. “How are you getting on, YN? Hiding from Grimshaw so you can get through more of that book?”

You jumped as the voice ripped you from the pages, but quickly laughed at how eager Hosea was for you to read. “I’m trying! Doesn’t help I can hear her scream every few minutes. But this book, Hosea...it’s so -”

The end of that sentence was never finished as Grimshaw had finally found you. “I should have known you would have something to do with this, Hosea! YN! Get that lazy Blackwater ass out here to help with the laundry."

Hosea looked sheepish at having given you away but you smiled and promised to read again later, then followed Grimshaw while she continued to chew you out. 

Sadie Adler was finally cleaned up and dressed with the other girls who were doing the laundry in the middle of camp. Buckets of sudsy water sloshed around as item after item were dunked, scrubbed, and passed to the next. You joined in after Mary-Beth and before Sadie. 

“Nice to see you out and about, Mrs. Adler! Feelin’ better?” She smiled back and her eyes were clear for the first time since you’d met her. “A bit, miss. Working to see what livin’ is about now. You fine people took me in, time to do my share. Although I ain’t choppin’ no vegetables no more with that man, about ready to chop him up too.” 

The girls chattered as the laundry eventually finished up, and everything was hung up to dry. You grabbed the last few pieces to hang on the line when a hand snaked out to grab yours. 

“You got anything special in there to show me, YN?"

Michah had found you again and hid behind the colorful array so no one could see him. 

“Jesus, Michah. You got nothin’ better to do than stalk me doin’ laundry? Leave me alone, I ain’t got nothing to entertain with you.”

He smirked and moved closer, “Oh girly, I got some entertaining you could do. Just give me a few hours.” His hand rubbed the back of yours, mocking the memory you had of Arthur comforting you and you shook him off violently. Irritation and rage began to pump from your heart and spread across your chest. 

“I don’t want anymore time with you than necessary, thank you.” He didn’t seem to mind the constant rejection, and in fact it seemed to make him pursue you more. 

“‘Thank you?’ Always so kind,” he sneered at you. “YN. One of these days you’re gonna have to learn how to be a real outlaw and toughen up.”

“Only a damn fool mistakes kindness for weakness, Mr. Bell. Strength don’t come from the lack of love or compassion in a heart,” you snapped back. 

He was unimpressed with your outburst. You were just hoping he had lost interest when he said, “You book folk are so boring. Always full of words. I prefer action. You know where to find me once you wisen up. And girl, I sure hope you do.” The clothing on the drying line parted as Michah smacked them out of his path. You rolled your eyes and picked up the empty basket to bring back to Grimshaw and prove your chores were done. 

That afternoon was when true chaos began. The sound of horses thundering into camp made everyone stand to attention as Dutch, Arthur, John, and Strauss rode in looking extremely shaken from Valentine. All of them were dishevelled and covered in dirt. Abigail rushed over as John jumped from his horse and said something to her. She nodded and left for their shared tent to begin throwing things in their tent. Dutch grabbed Hosea and moved to his tent, retelling everyone what happened. 

“Our time in Valentine has come to an untimely end! Leviticus Cornwall and his band of thugs met us outside the saloon and things did not end well for them. It’s time for us to pack up and leave this area, what with Pinkerton’s breathing down our necks and Cornwall comin’ to find us. Ms. Grimshaw, Mr. Pearson, if you please! Get this place packed up while we look for a new spot.” Everyone began to move, you rushed to your tent and began throwing everything into the few bags you had bought and rolled the bedding up to make it easier to carry. 

Hosea sat with Dutch as Arthur approached, and was none too happy about the current situation. “So, we keep heading east. Is that the plan?”

“For now.”

“And when do we stop? When we reach Paris?” Hosea exclaimed sarcastically. 

“Oh that’d be nice, and join the Commune? We stop when we find someplace sensible, shake them that’s following us and lie low.” Dutch countered. It felt like an age old argument, with Hosea thinking legit scams were the way to go, and Dutch wanting one last big score to blow the others out of the water. 

Hosea put his face into his hands, “And this is lying low? We’ve turned into a bunch of killers, I mean it.”

Dutch sat up straighter. “Sometimes, survival means having only one choice. We have to take it, or lose everything we’ve worked towards.” 

Hosea threw his hands up, fed up with not feeling safe in his own home and stormed out of Dutch’s tend. Arthur moved closer to the older man to get a better look at the map he was studying. 

“Michah told me of a place we can lie low. Dewberry Creek, he said. Maybe you and Charles can go take a look, clear off anyone you find before the whole lot of us move in.” Dutch pointed at the spot and Arthur nodded. 

“Looks like I’ve turned into the Goddamned errand boy,” while walking away. 

Dutch stood as tall as you’ve seen him, chest puffed with pride. “You have turned into my son, you worry because I worry. We are just the same!” Before Arthur got too far, Dutch yelled again, “Arthur! And when you return you and Miss Moore have some debts to collect on behalf of Herr Strauss. We’ll see how things are when you’re back from scouting.” 

Arthur and Charles left shortly after that, not expecting to be gone more than a few hours. While they were out riding free, Ms. Grimshaw saw that every single one of the girls was sweating away, cleaning and packing and washing and sorting. All these damn men and not a single one could pack the knives away correctly. 

Abigail and John were struggling to get everything done with Jack running around, so you offered after your tent was packed to take care of him. The fighting didn’t stop, but at least the kid was out of the way and not there to see it. 

Jack took your hand and wanted to go see the river one last time. You wondered if he really understood why you were moving so constantly, and the past few months you had two camps. To a four year old that’s a lot of life changes. 

He found a blue flower and tried to braid it into your hair, making you both giggle. It matched the shirt that Mary-Beth finally got around to make for you. A light blue that played with your dark features beautifully, and she even made some lace designs to fancy it up. You loved that shirt and were ecstatic when she gave it to you a week ago. 

“I want a flower too, YN,” Jack whined when you sat down for a moment. “Of course, Jack, what color you reckon?” He contemplated it, then decided on yellow. The two of you set off to wander the small field for a yellow flower. 

“Here! Help me put it in my hair.” Jack loved flowers in hair and his own was no exception. This fascination with flowers was interesting to you, but when you asked he only shrugged and said something about Abigail loving them too. 

A few hours later, Charles came riding down the slope. “YN! Arthur is waiting for you back at camp, or what’s left of it. Want me to give you two a ride up?” 

Jack shook his head, so the two of you walked next to Tamia while Charles chatted about the new campsite he had found. 

“The site Michah told us about already had people there, a dried up old creek bed. Would have been fine, but it’s hard to settle so many folks on uneven ground. Poor German lady and her two kids were there, hiding out under a wagon. While we went out riding to find her missing husband we found this perfect spot by a lake. Huge, even field hidden by trees. I can see us hiding there a long while.”

He looked calm about the whole ordeal and happy about the new site. 

“What happened to him?” You asked suddenly. 

“Who? Oh, the husband. Arthur took him back to his wife and we met up as we was coming back near Valentine. The family is alright,” he smiled down at you, the worry leaving your face. 

“Just like to know they were safe is all!” You said a bit too defensively, but laughed at yourself. 

Arthur was leaning against the last wagon as it was being packed up. Charles waved to you and carried Jack up to meet Abigail and John leading the wagon, then left to lead the caravan off to the new campsite. 

“Guess it’s just you and me then, huh?” He took the last puff of a cigarette, then threw it out into the grass. “Guess so, Mr. Morgan.”

“How many damn times you gonna keep calling me that?” he growled. 

“Sorry. Arthur,” he waved his hand, signalling his indifference. “Now, Her Strauss gave us three people to collect from, are we gonna be able to do that all in one afternoon?”

“Hope so. All locals, just need to get them talking quickly. Need be we can camp and head to the new site tomorrow.”

“With what? Most of my supplies just left,” you motioned to your things now rolling away in the last caravan and out of sight. The few supplies attached to Eclipse were nothing compared to what had just left you. Arthur swore and moved to get on his horse, “Then we best get this done fast. It’s already late and the first one’s an hour ride.”

Eclipse kept up with Zeus, Arthur’s dark bay stallion, well during the journey. She was a little headstrong and sometimes didn’t respond to you right away, causing Arthur to take the lead in case she decided to jump off a bridge or something like that. 

Talking was infrequent. Arthur turned out to be more of a focused and quiet rider. You found out he also liked to read, though not like Hosea. He shared many qualities with the older man but was still inexplicably drawn more to Dutch. They were both hot headed with a sense of leadership, and Hosea was more about playing things safe. Arthur had a healthy dose of each and the influence was easy to see in just about everything he did. 

The first stop was a man named Chick Matthews. As you rode up, one of the hands told you Chick was out around the barn tending to his horse. The moment he spotted the two of you riding up he jumped on and galloped away, which was a shocking sight. 

“Arthur! I’ll head up over the ridge to his right, I think I see a bridge up ahead. You go right after him and let’s see who can get there first. Heya!” Without waiting for him to respond you kicked Eclipse into a full gallop after the little man. She ran fast and strong, but Chick had a good head start and it took a bit of corralling to catch up. In the distance you could hear him taunting Arthur for being too slow and old, and you can only imagine the rage boiling on his face. They came up to a train that you had bypassed by going up above when Arthur managed to lasso that fool straight to the ground. 

Once knocked down he coughed and sputtered like an idiot. 

“Look, look, I got the money...but it’s hidden. Untie me and I’ll tell you where it’s at.” 

You rode up just as Arthur finished hog tying the man, throwing a punch or two for making you both chase him so far. This may be your fist debt collecting but you wouldn’t let him abuse the man. As he pulled back to hit him again you grabbed his arm.

“Arthur! Let the man talk, for heaven’s sake. He’s got the money.” Arthur looked at your concerned face incredulously. “Miss Moore, this country round here is full of idiots. Look at this one here,” he kicked his boot against Chicks lightly. “Now see, he doesn’t think we know about what’s in his pockets so why don’t you empty them out for me?”

Pick pocketing was better than beating, so you leaned down to see what he was hiding. An old carrot, a cigarette card, and a map leading you right to the money were all you found. 

The map was incredibly simple. One bridge and a tree were all that were on it, and you looked down at Chick. “I may now want to hit you sir, for this is surely the dumbest map I have ever seen. Where the hell does it even start?” 

He smiled a gap toothed grin up at you. “See Miss! That’s the best part. No one knows it but me.” At that Arthur delivered another kick to his stomach, hard and fast. “Tell me where the damn money is!” 

“Fine! Okay, Jesus. Head north and turn left at the Old Creek Bridge, it’s the tree closest there.”

Arthur nodded and moved towards Zeus. “YN, you take that sack of shit back to the ranch and I’ll meet you once I have collected Mr. Matthews’ debt. You try any funny business with her, and you’ll wish all I’d done was break some ribs of yours,” and took off. 

Chick starred up at Eclipse. “Gee, Miss, I ain’t never ridden behind on a horse before. And never with a woman!” You rolled your eyes and loaded him up behind you. 

True to his word Chick Matthews put up no fuss heading back. He pointed out some of his favorite land features and asked you to walk into town more than once. You politely declined, but you knew he didn’t mean any harm.  Arthur finally rode up with a bag, showing you the cash then tucking it safely away in his satchel. The two of you were off to victim number two, Mr. Wrobel.

The Polish man lived at a farm called Painted Sky, and didn’t speak a lick of English. You tried to be soft and comforting but that didn’t seem to go anywhere, so Arthur lumbered in and demanded the return of cash. Wrobel seemed to have nothing, but sadly motioned around his home and let the two of you take enough possessions to equal the amount of the debt. It broke your heart to watch his face, and leaving you could see it troubled Arthur too. 

“Why do you do jobs like this if they don’t feel right?” You asked quietly as the two of you mounted your horses for the third and final destination. 

Arthur scratched the back of his neck, thinking. “I honestly prefer when they try to run or put up a fight. Don’t feel so bad robbin’ folks who make a point to take advantage of the loan. But those like him? Who need it? Makes me think I’m only out here to grease the wheel so it keeps turning. Folks need money, we lend it, then take it back with interest.” 

Finally arriving past dark at Emerald Ridge, the third debtor gave Arthur no hesitation in his approach of getting the money back. Lilly Millet’s boyfriend jumped up and attacked him with a swift uppercut to his jaw and the man drew no pity from you after you heard the way he was berating Lilly. 

Lilly grabbed your arm while the two men brawled and made a fuss of it all. Truth be told, it was quite the sight. Both me tall and muscular in build it was an evenly matched fight. After a few quick hits the other man went down, and Arthur stood huffing above him. You definitely understood why he liked the ones who fought him, he looked damn fine doing it. 

“Alright, alright! That’s enough. He has everything I gave him, please, just take what he has and go,” Lilly called out to Arthur. To you, she whispered, “You’re a lucky girl to be running with a man like that. Makes mine look like an old rag.” You both looked down to where her man lay unconscious, in the mud. She rolled her eyes and made her way over to get him cleaned up. 

Chuckling, you walked over to Arthur. “What’s so funny now?” he asked while stuffing the last of the cash in his satchel.

“Lilly had more on her mind that just debts, I think,” you looked at him suggestively but were met with a blank stare. “Oh, come on Arthur don’t be dense. I think she likes you!” After a beat it clicked and he looked away embarrassed. “Want me to ask if she’s free Friday?” you moved slowly backwards but he grabbed your upper arm lightly. “No! Come on, woman. We best be moving. Probably have to camp halfway back now.” He started Zeus into a slow walk as you jumped up to Eclipse.

“Besides, she ain’t my type anyways. I like brunettes,” and with that he took off galloping, leaving you to watch and race after him.

Day 2 - Summer

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! Arc V

Ship: Sayaka/Ruri

Alternate Universe: Into the Forest of Fireflies

Warnings: Fluff with a Sad Ending

Word Count: 2.4k

  The countryside appealed greatly to Sayaka. Always had and, as she planned ahead towards her future now that she was nearing the end of her high school career, always will. Though, there was a specific place, her aunt and uncle’s residence out way, way into the countryside where the grass was more gold than green and where the air was fresh. The lack of people appealed to her greatly; she felt like she could breathe, especially compared to the pollution-clogged streets of Heartland.

  But, Sayaka would admit with a blush in her cheeks, there was one person who did exist in the countryside: someone all for her.

  She had met this person – this girl – when she had been a child. Her name was Ruri and she didn’t exist. She was neither human nor a ghost. A willowy waif in between, wearing a yellow sundress and with feathers attached to her mask which was bird-like, specifically in the shape of a robin. She had been an adolescent when Sayaka had met her in the summer about a decade ago; or more accurately, twelve years ago now.

  Even though she was so much older than Sayaka, she had adored Sayaka’s presence in her life, as fleeting as it was. After all, Ruri had all the time in the world, in her own special way, but Sayaka’s time upon this Earth was even far more finite. After all, she was only human, even when she was teeny-tiny but in a different sense, she was finite in that she only had the summer. She would arrive at the end of the first week of June and then leave before the last week of August. It was pitiful but Sayaka didn’t mind. Nor did Ruri.

  The days of Sayaka’s childhood were halcyon. Breezy afternoons by the stream, watching birds and watching the clouds. Ruri knew how to do fortune telling using both of them; a spirit, a proper spirit, of the forest had taught her. Ruri was a child of the forest, she said. After all, she had been human once, but she never died. She simply transcended because the forest wanted to keep her, this tiny abandoned baby with a bottle milk and a jewelled ring to play with in a woven cane basket plied with stained white sheets. So, the spirits of the forest kept her, turned her into something else, and gave her that white mask she wore to signify that though she may look human, she wasn’t quite.

  Over the years, Sayaka would visit every summer. Summer quickly became her favourite season. She spent the autumns, springs, and winters yearning for the summer to return so that she may return to the wonderful side of the quiet and nearly enigmatic Ruri. At first, she wasn’t sure though but later, Sayaka became certain of it.

   She wasn’t solely in love with the summer, she was in love with Ruri too. After all, they had spent so many summers together, Sayaka was nearly as tall as Ruri now. Her age too, visibly but Sayaka feared that one day, she may surpass Ruri, grow older. It was a melancholic yearning which was why Sayaka resolved that not only would she spend the summers with Ruri, she would spend the other seasons together, as well. After all, she thought of this girl and this girl alone throughout it all.

  Sayaka thought – dreamed – of touching Ruri.

  Again, Ruri was only human in shape. She was like the moon: beautiful, luminescent, smiling, but completely and utterly untouchable. It was the price for her existence, transient yet seemingly endless. The spell placed upon her, to keep her in the forest filled with spirits who adored her was that she was forbidden to touch a human. If she should, she would disappear.

  But, Sayaka wanted to touch her anyway.

  There had been a close call in the past. When Sayaka was about eight, she was walking along the pier with Ruri, near the shallows, when she slipped. Ruri had gone to catch her hand and pull her back but then her heart stopped. She remembered that if her hand met Sayaka’s, she would disappear so, she let the young girl fall. Sayaka was drenched but she would rather be drenched than alone, but it was that moment, Sayaka realised, that she wanted to officiate her connection because to be touched and to touch others, she felt, was to be human. But to be Ruri, she had to forsake such a simple pleasure despite her deceptively human shape.

  To hold Ruri’s hand, to kiss her, those were the sweet, melancholic yearnings that Sayaka had in her quiet heart but for now, Sayaka cherished the time that she could spent with Ruri, side by side. For now, and hopefully, for as long as possible. As long as there were summers to be had, Sayaka would remember Ruri and love her.

  When summer came this year, Ruri seemed strange. Stranger than usual. Sayaka spieled about all her plans for after school. Ruri listened, saintly, and nodded her head. Yet, she sounded uncertain from behind her beaked mask. That made Sayaka a little nervous, right up until Ruri spun around, dress twirling, and breaking out into a flippant promise: tonight, would be the best night of any summer that they had ever had. And ever could have.

   “Let’s go to the summer festival tonight, Sayaka.” Ruri said.

  “Huh? Why? Isn’t it dangerous?” Sayaka replied, quivering.

  “What? No, not at all. It’s not different to the festivals that humans hold. In fact, we were inspired by them. In fact, sometimes, humans slip in anyway… You’ll be fine, dear. I’ll pick you up tonight so wear your best. We’ll meet here, like we always do.” Ruri said.

  “Alright…” Sayaka mumbled.

  She and Ruri parted thereafter. They had been hanging around the temple but once Ruri turned her back on Sayaka, she seemed to disappear completely before even moving off the temple’s threshold. The forest welcomed her back and somewhere, a wild bird sang sweetly. Sayaka’s heart trembled. Her heart swelled with elation: her first date with Ruri but her soul trembled; something about it bode ill.

  Regardless, Sayaka was able to produce her best clothes. Her aunt permitted her to wear her yukata; it was supposed to be saved for only the most special occasions as it was that precious to her and their family. It had belonged to her grandmother originally and was still in as stunning of a condition as when it had first been sewn. Sayaka felt almost unbecoming wearing it due to its legacy but at the same time, she felt beautiful in it. It was pale pink with a dual motif of feathers and flowers. With a smile, Sayaka’s aunt did up her hair in a high bun.

  Ruri had been waiting for Sayaka for some time when Sayaka returned to the nearly abandoned temple where they liked to play and hang out. Twilight had completely descended into the Earth by the time Sayaka arrived but Ruri thought she looked magnificent. She smiled girlishly, though her expression hidden by her mask, and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear then extended a hand to Sayaka.

  Sayaka flailed her hands about, “You mustn’t, Ruri!” she murmured.

  Ruri giggled and she jerked her hand about. The ribbon she had tied around it began to loosen.

  “Here,” she said, “tie it around your wrist.”

  “O-Oh.” Sayaka murmured.

  She drew in closer and took the ribbon. It was of a soft, white material. With ease, Sayaka was able to tie it around her wrist similar to how Ruri wore it. She smiled up at Ruri and blushed.

  “Let’s go.” Ruri said.

  She tugged on the ribbon and like a child’s toy, Sayaka was tugged along with it. She was once more caught up in Ruri’s aura and she adored it. Together, they stowed away in the darkness and into the forest. Ruri led her through the woods where the grass crinkled pleasantly underfoot. The woods were dense but orange lights flickered just beyond them and soon enough, Sayaka felt as though she had set foot in a very familiar yet simultaneously alien town.

  The paths were stony underfoot and the bunting flapped above overhead. She looked around whilst Ruri gently led her through the crowds. Sayaka couldn’t help but look at everything at once in some vain attempt to absorb all the sights. Some of the people here looked just like her: completely human. Others had animal ears and others again had limbs in all the wrong proportions. Yet, everyone in this crowd meant peace and joy. Sayaka didn’t sense a malignant force amongst them. Everyone just wanted to enjoy the festival. Ruri must have been feeling similarly as she skewed her mask, allowing her face to feel the night air and allowing Sayaka to bask in the presence of her unbidden smile.

  The festival was loud and noisy. People crowded and clustered. Amongst them, musicians played their instruments and others sang. Vendors lined the streets, lit with orangey lamps and selling all sorts of things: food, games, costumes and more. Sayaka and Ruri drifted through, purchasing a bit of this and a bit of that. Mostly talking to one another, clinging onto the ribbon which bound them together no differently than the act of holding hands.

  It was a wonderful way to spend their time. Every moment had Sayaka’s heart racing. At the end of the night, she and Ruri watched the fireworks. They shot up and exploded into beautiful jets of gold and crimson. They whistled and spat, hissed and fizzled. The sparks bloomed ephemerally in no particular shapes or patterns, but they were still beautiful to watch as they drifted down against the inky black of the night sky speckled with silver stars.

  But even such beautiful and exciting things paled in comparison to the grace of Ruri. Her eyes looked gorgeous, lit up with awe and with the vanishing lights of the fireworks. Her lips were parted slightly in a wondrous smile and Sayaka watched Ruri watching the fireworks; a tentative observation. She wished, desperately, that she could kiss Ruri.

  Ruri must have noticed Sayaka staring. The fireworks were finished. Ruri pulled on the ribbon; Sayaka’s fingers quirked.

  “Let’s go visit the lake, it’s the right season for fireflies, yeah?” Ruri said.

  “Mmhm.” Sayaka replied.

  So, Ruri took off again with the wind in her hair. Sayaka trailed along, smiling, and they disappeared further into the forest again. When they arrived by the lakeshore, it was likely about midnight. Here, the night was pleasantly cool and balmy. The lake was still and lively with the reflections of the night sky: slowly shimmering stars and illuminated by the moon. And in such serenity, green lights – the lit tail ends – of fireflies drifted through the air.

  Sayaka was awed by the sight. Ruri was awed by the sight of Sayaka’s smile. Her heart ached and yearned in equal measure, perhaps even more, unto Sayaka.

  “Sayaka,” Ruri murmured, “I love you.”

  Sayaka’s eyes widened behind her glasses. She gasped and Ruri drew closer. She carried a cool air with her. She unlatched her mask from the crown of her head, and she placed it on Sayaka’s face. The light, white wood it was carved from bumped against the frames of her glasses. Sayaka swallowed hard as she squinted through her new, all-encompassing darkness.

  Ruri kissed the mask. She kissed the protrusions of the mask’s lips, just beneath the beak which jutted out. Her cheek slid beneath the beak, a gentle nuzzle as she kissed as soft and as hard as she could. She poured all her feelings into that kiss and it could have made her cry. Instead, it filled her with a sweet and earnest joy.

  She hoped that Sayaka knew that she was kissing her. She hoped that Sayaka liked the kiss when she drew back. Sayaka shivered slightly and she removed the mask. She clutched onto it tenderly.

  “That was wonderful, Ruri.” she said, tears in her eyes. “I love you, Ruri.”

  “I know, Sayaka, I love you too.” Ruri murmured.

  The fireflies around them flitted and before their feelings unto one another could unravel any further, they heard the squeal and laugh of children. They smiled and turned their head. A boy and a girl, no older than eight from the looks of them, dashed through. The girl sprinted ahead whilst her companion was unable to keep pace.

  The boy tripped and Ruri, without thinking, raced to his aide. She helped him up and he had grass stains up and down his legs, but he was fine. He thanked her and his friend called to him. Ruri let the boy go and soon enough, the pair of children disappeared.

  Just like Ruri.

  Sayaka watched in horror as specks of green light, no different to the lights the fireflies wore, began to break off from Ruri’s body. Sayaka screamed. She dropped the mask. It landed in the grass at her feet and Ruri turned around. And she smiled because of course she smiled.

  “Sayaka, it’s okay…” Ruri murmured. “I don’t think I had much time left anyway. I wasn’t meant to live this long but I’m glad I did because I got to meet you.”

  Her words were soft as those specks of light billowed off her. She sparkled in the night, no different to a firework or a firefly. She drew in closer and opened her arms.

  “Please? Sayaka?” Ruri said.

  “I understand.” Sayaka said.

  Her arms flung out and she embraced Ruri. She nuzzled in close and inhaled what was left of her scent. Sayaka buried her face in Ruri’s breast and held onto her tightly. Ruri reciprocated such a tight embrace. She finally felt contented; something she hadn’t truly felt in years as she had been plagued by her yearning.

  “Thank you, Sayaka. I love you. Please don’t forget me.”

  “I won’t. I promise.” Sayaka sobbed as she was slowly brought to her knees.

  The lights drifted upwards and soon, Sayaka was by herself. Her scrawny arms wrapped around her own body where Ruri had been. She was gone. Sayaka bawled. All that remained of her dearest Ruri was the mask and the white ribbon, still entwined around Sayaka’s wrist and the other half piled in a loose curl but now, Sayaka had no one left to hold onto.

A Little Bit of Something

Monday -  In the morning I’m talking to Joyce while she’s at the coffee machine, so I turn to Scott really quick to say hi because I have no choice while Joyce is watching me. I barely make eye contact with him. I don’t even wait long enough to see how he responds to me. When I look at him again, he is passing by me and he has no expression on his face. So before Scott came in, Steve and I were observing a snake caught on a sticky trap in the warehouse. We both want to help it. After Scott comes in, I go to my computer and look to see what helps get creatures unstuck, and cooking oil comes up. I go to their office to let Steve know, and he calls Linda, who says she has olive oil. At one point, I can tell Scott is looking at me. I turn to him and he’s beaming at me. I light up too and we look at each other for a few seconds. Not long after, Steve comes to my desk and asks if I’m ready. We open the warehouse door, put on gloves, and grab the snake. I look at Scott, who is facing his office door and was looking at me. He put his head down to look at his cellphone, which is in his hands. Steve takes the snake in to Scott and I follow. We talk for only a few moments and then Steve walks out. I follow. When I pass by Steve’s window to look in at Scott, he quickly puts his head down again. Steve and I successfully free the snake. It took us maybe 10 minutes or so. It was really cool cuz we got his tail loose first, but he kept swinging it so I was trying to stop his tail from getting stuck again. The snake wrapped his tail around my finger a few times. It was awesome and I very much enjoyed that. I’m going to ShopRite for lunch today and I message Scott at 11:47 if he wants anything. He doesn’t respond. I go to his doorway and ask if he wants anything and he tells me he just responded to my message, that he only just saw it, but he doesn’t want anything. I don’t know how he missed it since messages blink. Steve hasn’t gone to lunch yet, but I don’t know if I should ask if he wants anything, so I don’t. When I go in Scott’s office, I ask how his day is. He says it’s okay. I ask about his weekend and he tells me he finished painting his garage. He asks me about my weekend and I tell him I went over my dad’s Saturday night and we had dinner and then watched Black Panther and Thor: Ragnarok. The only Marvel movie Scott has seen is Deadpool, which he liked. I tell him about the snake this morning and how it wrapped around my finger. Once we freed it, it tried to bite Steve, and then it coiled as if ready to attack if we came closer. After about a minute or two, it slithered away. I say how I don’t think it was very grateful and Scott laughs and says “Of course not, it’s a snake.” Scott says he doesn’t feel like working and we joke about that. I see on the other side of his desk that he brought a water canteen today. I see the words “love you mom” and I can see a hand. Most likely it’s a picture of his daughter on there, and probably a gift Scott got his wife. I look away from it, and I don’t realize I am staring into a void, lost in thought. Scott asks me if I’m okay, which snaps me back to reality. I say I’m just tired. Scott says he could use a latte, but the ShopRite near our work doesn’t carry the one he likes. He asks me how ShopRite was and I tell him it wasn’t busy. I got aloe water but they only had grape flavor, which isn’t my first choice. Scott tried aloe water over the weekend, but he got a brand that has chunks in it. Chunks are gross. He couldn’t finish it. I mention how I really want to try oat milk and how I’m probably going to buy some this week. Scott says he bought almond milk yogurt but doesn’t like it, and he has one left. I tell him I don’t like it either. Then he offers it to me. “I just said I don’t like it,” I laugh. Scott says for me to take it anyway since he doesn’t just want to throw it out. He asks me if I have gum and I go and grab my pack. Steve comes in so I offer him a piece as well, trying to hopefully make up for not asking if he wants anything from ShopRite. He declines. I look back at Scott, who is smiling softly at me. When I leave, I look back at him through Steve’s window. He turns to look at me at the last second before I pass behind the wall.

I use the bathroom and come up the hall just as Scott comes out of his office. He asks me if I want anything and I decline. Some time a little later, I go to take an order out into the warehouse. As I reach the door, I see someone walking toward me on the right. It’s Scott walking back to his office. I give him a little smile, and he gives me a little smile back. When I talk to him at the end of the day and ask how his day was, he says he’s glad it’s over. I tell him that he always says that. I forgot to take my blue light glasses off and Scott asks me about them. I tell him I feel less tired since I’ve been using them, but I don’t know if it’s a placebo effect or not. It feels weird when I’m not looking at a screen though because the glasses have a yellow tint to them, so it feels good sometimes to take them off. I say how glasses are terrible all the time. If it rains, it’s annoying because then you can’t see and your glasses are wet. When it’s sunny, you can’t just put sunglasses over them. You could get the tinted ones, which look stupid, or have the clip ons, which also look stupid. Saturday is the first day of fall so I’m going to bake something and bring it in Friday. I would like to make some cool donuts, but I have no idea how to make donuts. Scott says I could just buy something, but I want to make it. I want to do these apples covered in black caramel, but Scott says that’s too Halloweeny. He’s leaving on time today. Scott passes my cubicle while I’m still getting my things together, but I hear him use the bathroom. I go outside and close my passenger door just as Scott comes walking out. He has a little crooked smile on his face. We look at each other and say bye.

Tuesday -  When I greet Scott in the morning, he seems happy. I like when it feels reciprocated.

During my lunch, Scott is working on a return, so I ask him questions about it. I’m just curious. He is kind of pissed because he’s fixing someone else’s mistake. He had an order that someone wanted sent overnight, but no one ever shipped it. So the person who ordered cancelled the order. Then, 2 days later, someone decided to ship the order out. So now Scott has to put everything together for a return. I don’t blame him for being mad. In between me asking him questions, I look at the map on his wall. Montana has a profile view of a face on the left side of it. I point this out to Scott. He never noticed it either. He asks me how my day is going and I say it’s okay. I was having really bad pain again last night and couldn’t really do much. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I hope I don’t have IBS or some other really shitty condition like that. Scott still has his stomach issues, and sometimes under his ribs hurt. His doctor keeps telling him that pain is unrelated, but Scott thinks it is. Scott says I look like I could fall asleep. I am sleepy. He takes off his glasses. Aside from my cat, Scott has my favorite face. I tell him he looks tired too. “Really? I don’t feel tired. I don’t know if that’s good that I look tired but don’t feel like I am.” I’m sure caffeine helps. He was up late watching football since players in his draft were playing. Scott’s hungry. I ask if he has snacks and he said he needs to stock his drawer. I tell him I have snacks if he ever needs anything. He thanks me. I tell him I have pistachios (Scott says he loves these, as do I), plantain chips, and those mini cheese rice cakes. My legs are draped over the side of his desk. I have my flats on, which Scott says look like slippers. I don’t think they do, but I say how they are really comfy. Scott is cleaning his glasses off, or trying to at least. We both agree that there is just no way to get glasses 100% clean. While he’s cleaning them, the song that is on starts playing sex noises. My body tightens. I look at Scott, then look away. He just focuses on cleaning his glasses. Scott looks at me a lot during the time I’m in there. He tends to look away when I look back at him though. At one point, I don’t know what I’m doing, but I’m playing with my tongue between my teeth and then up and over my top lip. Scott just watches me, then he smiles. Steve comes in and I turn to Scott to say I’ll talk to him later. He’s staring at me. Toward the end of day, I come out of Joyce’s cubicle and Scott goes into his office drinking water. He looks at me at the last second. My tongue is out over my top lip. I print an email then use the bathroom and hear the men’s room door close moments later. I see it’s Scott when I come back to my desk. I hear him grab a faxed paper but when I turn to look, he’s gone. At the end of the day, I tell Scott how Pete talked to me today about me being hired. He also went to HR because it’s ridiculous I’ve been waiting for so long. Scott had taken off his glasses and is giving me his full attention. I say how I had coffee so I feel better. Earlier in the day I was tired and in pain, and now I’m just in pain. Scott laughs and says that sucks.

I come out of my cubicle and hear Scott turn his office light out. I linger for a few seconds, but he doesn’t come out. I start walking. I hear him not too far behind me and when I reach the end of the hall, I turn. Scott says bye to me and that he has to pee. He doesn’t take long in the bathroom and when he comes outside, I wave. Wednesday -  I end up greeting Scott at the coffee machine in the morning, which doesn’t happen that often. I get an order in the early afternoon and notice a part is priced at one cent, which obviously isn’t right. Scott put the order together, so I go ask him about it. I printed the unfinished invoice, and he says “This isn’t my order.” The Sales Order sheets look different. I tell him to just ignore how it looks. He’s looking into why the part got changed from $75 to $.01. “How did this happen?” he asks me. I say I don’t know, and he says he wasn’t actually asking me, he was just talking out loud. He didn’t ask it like a rhetorical question though. He has to erase the picked order and create a new one. I watch him work the whole time and am in awe. He’s clicking from one thing to another and to another. I keep admiring how intelligent he is. I also take the opportunity to observe him while he works. I love doing this with Scott. I like all of the familiar things about him, plus noticing new things. I see some freckles on his tanned arm, under all of his dark hair. I also notice a very small chunk missing from the right side of his nose. I’m there about 10-15 minutes. Scott had also gotten a phone call during that time, so he had to pause working on my order. When he finishes, he hands me back my paper and we lock eyes. I thank him for his help. During my lunch, I ask if he’s busy and he says he always is. Scott gives me a little smile as he stops working to just stare at me. He does this several times during our conversation. And always when I’m not looking at him. I tell him I’m trying to decide what to bake for Friday. I’m scrolling through Pinterest and going over some ideas that I have. I mention making something black, like black cupcakes. Scott says he wouldn’t eat anything black, which I find strange. He asks me if I’m baking just because it’s autumn or for Halloween. I tell him for autumn, but that I may also bring in something for Halloween since it falls on a Wednesday. Scott asks me if I dress up, and I tell him not really. I was going to put a little outfit together last year, but wasn’t sure if anyone at work would be celebrating. I think all I have are bat socks though. Scott finds this funny. I may buy a shirt for this year though to wear to work. I tell him I love to decorate though. I got a bunch of decorations last year for Halloween. I didn’t even decorate for Christmas, though that was because I didn’t have money to, which I don’t tell Scott. I see Scott has blueberry gum, so I ask if I can try a piece. He holds a piece between his first 3 fingers and when I grab the gum, I also touch his fingers. Scott’s hand lingers for a moment after I grab the gum. Scott asks me how my stomach feels, and I think it’s almost back to normal. Scott’s neck is stiff today. I wish I could massage it for him :/ Our conversation continues with Scott asking me a lot of questions. I feel like I talked over him a few times, which I didn’t meant to do. I’m sitting at my desk and turn left to grab some papers just as Scott happens to come over to my cubicle. He asks me if I want anything from WaWa. I don’t, but it’s so sweet he always asks me. Toward the end of the day, I come out of the bathroom, and when I reach the end of the hall, I see Scott on my left. I look over my shoulder as I pass and we both say, “hey.” At the end of the day, Scott is still a little busy. I tell him how Ryan, Angelo’s replacement when he retires, talked to me today. He is really pushing for my company to take the hold off of hiring since I’ve been waiting for so long. At the very least, they will at least pay for me to have health insurance. Ryan also asked me if there’s a penalty for not being insured and I tell him there is a fine, which makes me believe my company is willing to pay that as well. I tell Scott I decided on pumpkin chocolate chip cookies and ask him if white chocolate chip or milk chocolate sounds better. He says milk, which is what I was thinking too. I want him to know I value his input. I ask if he’s leaving on time and he says he is in a minute. I go and grab my things, trying to take my time. After I say bye to Pete and Joyce, I go to Scott’s doorway and it looks like he’s still working, so I say bye and that I’ll see him tomorrow. His car starts right when I get to my passenger door. I look really good today, so I’m in the middle of taking a selfie when Scott comes out. I try to play it off, though I’m sure he caught me lol. I just wave. Selfies below :) The first one I took at work, and the second one I took when I pulled into my apartment complex.

Thursday -  Scott comes in late today. I get worried and consider asking Steve if Scott is okay. When I’m refilling my water bottle some time a little after 10, I hear the back door open and a plastic bag ruffling. Scott. It immediately clicks in my brain that he had his doctor appointment today. He told me about it earlier in the week. Sure enough, on the way back to my cubicle, I see Scott walk into his office. After about a minute, I grab documents I had printed and Scott comes out of his office. I turn and he puts his hand up in greeting right before he passes behind the wall. I say “Hey, Scott” and I hear him respond, “Hey, Dana.” Not long before my lunch, I go out into the warehouse to take out orders. When I come in, I see Scott walking toward his office door with his empty water cup. I give him a small smile, but he doesn’t exactly smile back. I don’t know how to describe his face, but it seemed like he was stuck somewhere between a frown and a smile, some sort of in-between. When I go in during my lunch, I ask him how his doctor appointment went. He says as he expected. He has to get an ultrasound done, and if they don’t find anything, there’s a few other things they might do as a next step, which includes sticking a tube through his nose down to his stomach for 24 hours. We talk for a bit about all of that. Scott says he hopes they find out what’s wrong with him before the new year, since the new insurance sucks. We get on the topic of insurance for a bit. Toward the end of that topic, we talk about how no matter what your salary is, we all have the same deductible. Scott says, “Yeah, pretty much we’re all gonna be making $3000 less.” Except we won’t. I don’t realize it until much later in the day, when I’m at home, in the shower, but we will not all make $3000 less. That deductible is for people who are insuring others in addition to themselves. Scott’s daughter…and his wife. At some point early in our conversation, Scott takes off his tinted reading glasses. I stare at his face, which appears bright and open. He tells me his friend’s funeral is tomorrow but that it’s in the middle of the day, and he doesn’t really want to take the whole day off. Plus, it’s in northeast Philly and he hasn’t seen the guy in 15-20 years. I get the impression he feels kind of bad for choosing not to go, so I support his decision and kind of talk him through it. I tell him how I bought all of my cookie stuff last night and how I’m determined to do this. I went to a different ShopRite, one a bit further from me, because they have oat milk, which I’ve wanted to try. Scott asks me if it lived up to my expectations, but I hadn’t tried it yet. (I have since tried it, and it doesn’t have much of a taste. It’s a bit watery like almond milk.) I tell him how they had other milks, like macadamia and plant based, both of which I also want to try. Scott asks me if I drink regular milk. He says he’s just curious. I say I don’t buy it anymore and go into a short, informative rant about how our bodies aren’t made to have dairy after we’re no longer babies, how the lactase in our bodies decreases, and that our body really only keeps making lactase because we keep consuming dairy. So being lactose intolerant is common because it’s actually natural, though we tend to think of it at unnatural. A lot of health people I follow and health podcasts I listen to promote being dairy free, even if they eat meat. I also talks about dairy’s affect on our bodies. I do still consume some dairy, but not much. Scott watches me the whole time I’m talking. I often wonder if I talk too much, but Scott never makes me feel like I do. He’s attentive. I talk a little about veggie “meat” as well. I tell Scott I have some avocado left if he wants it, but it won’t really go with his lunch and he doesn’t like to eat it plain. His daughter likes it plain though. Scott says it’s not flavorful enough and I say it is. He says no, flavorful would be like an apple, and I say how an apple only appears more flavorful because it’s juicy and refreshing. He thinks it over and then agrees with me. I tell him I’m considering getting Thai food for dinner, since I saw Paul’s container of food when I handed him an order. “I didn’t know what was in there, but my brain went ‘Mm Asian food’ and now that’s what I keep thinking about.” Scott laughs. He doesn’t really like too much Asian food aside from sushi. We talk about that for a bit. Scott had given me a sweet look a few times while I was in there. Once in particular, was when I was draping my legs over the edge of his desk. I remember looking at his lips at one point, wondering what they’d feel like against mine. I ask him how his neck is feeling and he says it feels better, but it would be nice to crack it. He jokingly asks me to crack it for him and I say I wouldn’t trust myself to. I heat my afternoon coffee in the microwave and walk back down the hall. Right as I’m about to turn and pass Scott’s office, he turns and looks at me. I have a small smile on my face, but he just keeps his neutral stare. At the end of the day, when I turn around from the paper bin and walk toward Scott’s office, he actually turns toward the door and watches me walk in. It’s a nice change. He’s giving me a sweet little smile. I ask him how the rest of his day has been and he says not bad. His whole body is turned toward me and as I walk closer, I can see his eyes are on my breasts. He has his tinted glasses on, but I can see where his eyes are looking. I watch as his eyes flick up to my face. I sit down. His chair has been in the same position all day, facing his wall. I ask if he’s sat at all today and he says he doesn’t think he has. I tell him I’m tired today and that I don’t know how people wake up and go to bed at the same times daily. I woke up at 6:40 yesterday and 7:20 today. Scott says I’m lucky that I live so close and that he wishes he could wake up at 7:20. I tell him I hate waking up late because then I’m rushing and don’t have time to do some stuff. Scott says he never rushes to get anywhere. I noticed. We both laugh. It’s time to go. Scott is leaving on time. Scott walks out of his office right before I walk out of my cubicle. He gives me a crooked little smile. As we walk down the hall, he asks me if I want to race today. I tell him I always win. "That’s because we’re never racing.” I agree, and say I’m going to win anyway. Scott keeps smiling a toothy smile and I feel warm inside. His smile is my favorite. He tells me not to get caught. “Get caught?” “Yeah. Speeding.” We say bye. I win.

Friday -  I’m changing one of the ink cartridges when Scott comes in. He’s wearing his dark gray shirt, my favorite on him. I’m wearing the light gray company t-shirt I always wear on Fridays. Our jeans are also pretty much the same color, his a bit darker than mine. I turn to him and say, “Hey, Scott” and he replies, “Hey, Dana.” I turn away for a second then turn back to him and say, “Good morning,” which he says back to me. He asks me how I’m doing and then looks at the cookies as he passes. He gets to his doorway, turns, and asks me how the cookies turned out. I say “pretty good.” He goes into his office but comes back out 30 seconds later to go down the hall. I don’t think he looked at me. Since the printer needs to calibrate after the ink is changed, I make my coffee. Scott had already gone back into his office. I go to the mini fridge to put my creamer in my coffee and when I start walking back down the hall, I see Scott had been looking at me while he was talking to Steve. He looks back at Steve and as I get closer he turns to face his computer. I print stuff and I hear someone come in from the warehouse and walk by to use the bathroom. I have a feeling it’s Scott, and I see he’s been away 5 minutes. I continue to print what I need without any urgency. I know our chance encounters will happen when they’re meant to. I go over to the printer and then hear the men’s room door open. After I sift through the papers to make sure everything is mine, I turn around. A guy, Billy, is right there, and behind him is Scott. I beam at Scott who gives me a cute little crooked grin. During my lunch, I ask Scott how his day has been. He says it’s pretty good, but his back hurts him a little bit. I ask him if he’s got any plans for the weekend, and he says probably just working on his garage. He might paint the floor, but he’s not sure yet, and he has to put everything back together in there. His eye is bothering him, and he’s not sure if something is in there. We stare into each other eyes and then I focus on just the one. I tell him it’s not red or anything. I ask him if he tried my cookies and he says he hasn’t yet, but he heard they were good. I say how Steve liked them, and of course that’s who told Scott they were good. I was up late making them since I only had one baking sheet and didn’t think ahead of time to buy a second one. I say how this is the first time I’ve made something from scratch without it being disastrous and Scott says, “So you’re a baker now, huh?” I reply pompously, “Yeah, I guess you could call me that.” Scott laughs. I say how I might decorate tomorrow since it’s the first day of fall. I have some new decorations but don’t know where I’m going to put some of them. I have these lantern things, and I could probably tack them to the ceiling, but I’m not tall enough to reach. Scott comments how I’m pretty tall and I say how I’m only 5'4". Scott thought I was taller, but I say maybe because I wear my boots a lot. Scott jokes how with those on I look 6 feet tall. Even so, Scott should be aware that I’m not really tall. Scott asks if I have stools and I say I do, but it’s only one step up, not 2 steps, so I still can’t reach my ceiling. He keeps rubbing his eye. We stare again. I say how its starting to look a little watery. I just want to staring into his eyes. I sit back and put my legs up on the corner of his desk. Scott smirks down at me. I ask if it’s supposed to rain this weekend and he says only Sunday. I tell him I don’t care about Sunday because I hate looking out the window at how nice it is and how I’m stuck inside working. The restaurant is supposed to close for a week, most likely in October. I hope it’s my birthday weekend. Scott asks me when my birthday is, which he should already know since I’ve mentioned it before. Plus it’s the same day as his, just a different month. I tell him the 15th. I say I could use another coffee and Scott says he’s going to WaWa if I want something. I decline, saying I will just make coffee here. I tell him I won racing yesterday and he says he kept getting stuck behind other people, which is true. His eye won’t stop bothering him so I ask if he wants to take a look at it in my compact. I go and get it for him, then he asks me for contact solution. He goes into the men’s room. Steve comes in, and he asks me about my aloe water. We start talking about different drinks. Scott comes back in. When Steve and I finish talking, I look back up at Scott, who is sweetly looking down at me with a little smile. It’s unexpected. I feel my body flood with warmth and affection. I tell him I’ll talk to him later. When Scott goes on lunch, he still asks me, “Are you sure you don’t want anything?” I say, “No, I’m alright. Thanks, Scott.”  I do kinda want something, but I only have $2 and I’m not sure that will cover any canned drinks. I am walking toward the bathroom when I hear the back door sound. I’m sure it’s Scott, and sure enough, I hear the second door start to open. When I open the women’s room door, I look over my shoulder and see him start to come into view. When I come out of the bathroom, Scott is walking over to the cookies. He sees me and grins. He has his back to me as he grabs a cookie, so I take the opportunity to get a good look at the butt. When I get closer, he asks me what the bread is for. I stand right next to him, very closely, though he never turns to me. I stare at his his lips as I speak. “It soaks up the moisture so that the cookies stay soft. The bread will usually harden.” I feel the bread and add, “It hasn’t gotten there yet though. There’s your baking tip…if you ever bake.” Scott laughs and says he doesn’t bake. He can’t get the lid closed. “How do you close this thing?” “I got it.” He laughs as he walks away and my heart lights up. A little later, I come out of my cubicle and Scott is right there, turning down the hall to use the bathroom. I have a little smile on my face and he says, “hey.” I cannot explain how I always happen to run into him. It just happens. I go out into the warehouse not long after, and when I come in, Scott is sitting down and has his cell in his hands, but he turns to look at me. When I turn to look at him, he looks away. I hear Scott later in the day say hey to someone he passes by. I turn and see a part of him come into view. When he comes out of the bathroom, he grabs another cookie. “Grabbing another one?” I ask. He says something but I don’t hear him, and he walks away before I can say “What?”. Within minutes of Scott grabbing a cookie, a few other people do too. They’re a big hit :) Joe had grabbed one and walked away with it in the direction of Scott’s office. Scott comes in through the warehouse and I hear him ask, “They’re good, aren’t they?”  Joe replies, “mm-hmm” as he eats the cookie. I feel myself light up. When I go in to talk to Scott at the end of the day, I ask him if he liked my cookies and he says he did. I tell him I think him and Steve are the only ones who went back for seconds, but not many people went to the printer today like they usually do. Scott says he saw Joey eating some and I say how Joey asked me first if he could have one and laugh. I tell him Steve asked me about the bread too. “You guys are like 2 peas in a pod.” Scott smiles. I ask him why he only ever has one paper on his desk to write notes on instead of grabbing a notepad, and he says he uses scrap paper so it doesn’t go to waste. He says Steve will get mad of he wastes paper. I laugh and ask why, and Scott says he doesn’t know. He asks me what people like that are called and I say I don’t know, maybe an environmentalist. I point out how Steve has paper all over his desk and Scott says he knows, it makes no sense. I ask if Steve still uses plastic and stuff and Scott says he does. “What? You have to be consistent.” Scott agrees with me. He calls Steve a tree hugger. It’s probably not that funny, but we laugh anyway. A weird song comes on and I ask Scott why he’s listening to Latino music. He says it isn’t Latino, but I say it is. We go back and forth for a minute or so. Scott laughs and it’s magic. It’s time to go. As I grab my stuff, Scott just turns down the hall. Pete is at the printer and starts talking to me, so I end up talking to him for a few minutes. Scott had used the bathroom, and when he comes out, he doesn’t wait for me. After another minute, I go outside. Scott is sitting in his seat but has the door open still. I wave and he waves back. I look down as I go down the steps, and when I reach the bottom, I look back at Scott, who is still looking at me. We wave again and I say, “Bye, Scott.” I get hit with a feeling in this moment, something that I think was the cumulative result of many different interactions this week: Scott looking at me a lot, his asking me a lot of questions, stopping and staring into each other eye’s pretty much daily. As much as I keep stuff held in on my end, I have at least let some of it out. Scott on the other hand, has not. I can’t possibly know for sure what’s in Scott’s heart or what he’s feeling, but it’s something. There’s something there. For me. And I am beginning to wonder if I may soon find out just what exactly it is.

BitMEX Syndicate – The Silent Technicals

BitMEX Syndicate Review

~BitMEX Signals | BitMEX Auto Trader | For Signal Connaisseurs only ~

%

Average Accuracy Rate

 Measured Accuracy Rate on Average since September '18

If BitMEX Syndicate would have been a love story, it would have been the classical on/off relationship. BitMEX Syndicate has been listed in our BEST BITMEX SIGNALS post for quite some time, and we have been in close contact with their head trader Dan Brown. The canuck is also running barstoolbitcoin.io, a pretty interesting and crypto podcast, worth listening (we have been interviewed by them while ago) and also the Crypto10x YouTube channel. To say the least, it was confusing – On one hand, we saw great signals. On the other hand, there have been accusations there shall be copied stuff from other channels. This didn’t match our impression from the straight-up guy we learned to know and left us clueless. So we decided to place a spy into the group – a signal customer, who is in many Discords and well-connected. If there’d be anything copied left, he’d surely find it. You can find his conclusion about the current at the end of this review. But now back to the channel itself and what they can provide to their customers.

We found Dan to be a legit and a pretty serious trader. You won’t find any funny memes in his channel, as he treats trading as a real business, where a loss is a business expense and a win is a revenue. With a very in-depth technical view on the markets, he is keeping a mature view of what is happening over there. We never saw Dan rushing into a trade – like really never! He will not give a single signal, which he is not 100% comfortable with, and he will never let his customers pressure more signals out of him than the market gives to him.

We didn’t get daily signals here, but we definitely got true quality. With the BitMEX Syndicate, we did not recognize the slightest gambling attitude and is meant only for traders that mean it serious. Quality over quantity – this is the motto here and if one feels a craving for constant trades,  there will be a disappointment, in the end, I’m afraid. What these people are missing out tho, is a hit rate of 93.55% (at the time of December, signals tracked which might not yet be visible in the sheet). Geezus, I almost feel like a scammer just writing about such high figures, but I verified the signals and it is insane but true.  To be fair, I have to say there have been months with just three signals, but also 12 in August on the other hand – with an unbelievable hit rate of 100%). Sometimes no trade is the best trade to protect your capital, Dan knows this for sure and his unique way of market interpretation works best with traders that can sit on their hands – again, this is not for gamblers, who want a permanent flow of better guesses. If you are OK with a smaller than usual amount of signals, but therefore a crazy hit rate – BitMEX Syndicate is your way to go!

Priorly the signals have been delivered by texts/email but due to the high demand, they deliver on Telegram now. On top of that they started a journey channel “from 0.1BTC to 1BTC” – and you can follow their steps with your account! This is an amazing, fully transparent challenge, one of its kind. After each trade, he posts proof screenshots where this challenge account stands now.

A fresh and pragmatical approach, which enables you to see how traders act, how they de-risk their trading by hedging their positions, how they do their money management to grow the account slow and steady. Important: They start the account very small, this is an important detail. Great project, which is included in your membership and provided on top to the regular signals channel.

The Auto Trader

The Auto Trader is a proprietary solution for BitMEX Syndicate and you have nothing to do, but handing over the API keys and let them do their job. They will replicate their signals, as well as the 1 BTC challenge to your account.

The Signals

Frankly, this is professional as it can be. The free channel on Telegram proves this day by day. Here BitMEX Syndicate does not give out signals but makes the stalking process for the signals transparent. He shares his elaborate technical view on the market, which assets he is eyeing and gives clues what he might be trading. The exact entries and exits will be shared with his clients alone, which also receive all signals. BitMEX Syndicate does not offer a Premium Telegram channel for his clients, he prefers to deliver the signals by e-mail or by text to a mobile device (might change in the future). I asked for the trades, which can be found in the results sheet, as I found his accuracy scary and can’t believe it in the first place – but hell, they are true. Reviewing this service was very enjoyable, as it was very easy to follow the few signals, which gave a return where others would need multiple trades to achieve the same results. The beauty with such a high accuracy is that it dramatically reduces the risk. Every trade contains a risk for an account. Many signals = higher risk. Fewer signals + high accuracy = lowest risk, though we still stick with our money management rules, of course. Once signed up, they are issuing a nice package of material which teaches the following stuff:

How to turn 0.1 bitcoin into 1 bitcoin with one simple formula, and we will challenge you to do this

The seven easy steps which practically guarantee your trades are profitable and you can deploy them every week without risking your whole budget

The six types of trade setups you absolutely must use to maximize profitability (and I’m not talking about layering your close positions here)

How to get higher quality sniper targeted positions than regular traders… without ever having to make charts

How to create ultra-targeted SETUPS primed and ready to profit even if you’re sleeping so you can set it and forget it

How to trade and not be chained to your desk all day doing market research

As a free add-on they recently started to offer Altcoin signals, which are also pretty solid and successful.

Signal Example

And here is how the trade looks on the chart:

The Results

In one line, constant, steady and compounding growth. I mean, please take a look at the results sheet – there is not much else to say. However, it is not the fast pace from rags to riches, but since it is a flat rate price and not a subscription price, it is all good. We can just slowly build up more and more on the sidelines – soon even without lifting a finger, once the API trader is ready, they are currently working on. A true quality service, which delivers great results. In the example above I took a nice scalp which hit all targets within a few hours. Target 4 was spot on hit at top of the wick, and this is not rare with BitMEX Syndicate – they are true precision traders and you can observe this quite often.

The Support

BitMEX Syndicate provides very decent and personal support. Sometimes one has to wait a bit for a reply, but therefore they offer a detailed, passionate reply. They guide their clients to make them achieve the best possible outcome with their signals. However, we didn’t get instant replies – you need to have some patience. Your question should be answered within the same day, but mostly not on the spot. Still, the support of BitMEX Syndicate is actually the lifeblood of this group as they take it very seriously and take their time to reply to every customer to provide helpful replies. I saw private messages by clients, which I want to show you below:

The Critique

Well, yes – our contact Dan has a Partner that has done some bullshit with the channel in the past. Apparently, some of the market updates have been taken by another group and we cannot and do not want to beautify this fact. It is a bad habit. Period. Dan, our contact with the group is still highly reputable stand up guy and we trust him to watch the work of his partner closely. Whilst the signals always have been unique, the market updates should be so as well. His partner understands this now hopefully, there are better possibilities to save some time. To make sure that this has been stopped we asked a regular Signals customer to check the group. He is active on Discord and Twitter and checked BitMEX Syndicate against the other groups and investigated deeply with the help of his contacts. Thank you, MAX! His conclusion follows next.

Customer Insights Review

Alright this is what I found out:

Apparently they used to use analysis from an old group from a twitter handle under crypto trooper but not the trades themselves.

A couple of people told me that trooper now does mostly forex so might have been one of the reasons they stopped or moved on.

From the looks of it they stopped or are either using their own or another analysis groups. No one recognize the most recent content so it can be legit.

Second; the trades are impressive. I talked with rob who is the trader briefly and he seems like a quality guy. The time I was in the channel we didn’t get spammed with non sense but actual stuff that was relevant. I had a lot of questions regarding his trading style and he was kind enough to forward me with a bunch of solid learning material.

They have a solid record in trades but recently seem to have been getting back on track.

Third: they have a legit api.

Every group I’ve been in has charged you for use of the api. This group is free and they only require 20% at the end of the week of profit share. If they didn’t profit then it’s at no cost to you.

Joined the API and they profited me 10% in less than a few days which is amazing for my small account.

Results of the BitMEX Syndicate API for MAX

Overall the group now is a chill non-spam group. They don’t post ads, they have reasoning for their trades, they have an API and seem to want you to learn at the same time while making money.

This Customer Insights Review has been provided by our Telegram subscriber MAX. If you want to verify it is real, you can confirm it with him here.

THE JUDGEMENT

BitMEX Syndicate is somehow a stubborn channel, as they love to do their own thing. Customers can’t squeeze signals out of them (which is very good) and they trade like Robots or even Robot Zombies – always moving forward, straight after their plan and their money management. How they handle the API accounts by their customers shows that they are no gamblers, but follow strict rules. The analysis and the signals they provide are quality – a quality which is hard to find. They don’t offer many extras with bells and whistles but a straight service.

We gave a bad rating on Price/Performance for one reason: There is only a lifetime plan available and we don’t fancy that, as we think one should be able to test a service. At least we can offer some of you a 50% coupon. I talked with Dan about the Pricing Model, and he sees it as a flat rate pricing for an incredible investment opportunity. You pay once, hand over your API keys and let them do their work – LONG-TERM. I understand his reasoning as with this pricing model it becomes a fixed cost factor, not a recurring one, which makes it hard to stay profitable. Furthermore, they don’t have to stress how many signals they shall bring each month and have the ease to trade only what they are really confident in. The thought behind it makes sense to me. Still, we would love to see a trial or something in this direction.

What has been really annoying, is that they inserted copied/rehashed stuff from other channels for their free channel content, instead of providing 100% of their own work. This cuts of their legitimacy and it must not be like that – the short ways are sometimes the worst. Happily, this problem seems to be solved, according to Dan, our independent reviewer, and our own analysis and conclusion. As the channel is finally clean from copied stuff, we can recommend it again.

Note: The 50% discount we got from them is unfortunately only available for the next 20 subscribers.

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FACT SHEET for BITMEX SYNDICATE

Website: https://synnit.com

Telegram Contact: @whoisdanbrown

Discount Code: smartoptions (50% discount) - only for the next 20 clients

Plan features: Lifetime access to analysis and signals (20 spots with discount left)

Included: Analysis, Preset signals, Real-time signals

Pricing: regular $888, with our discount $444 (limited to the next 20 Seats; Crypto payment option available)

Special Features: Top bitmex accuracy channel with 97% success rate (till December)

Auto Trader: Yes, fully managed

Chat Room: No

Further Information: Interview with BitMEX Signals

Exchanges: Bitmex only (signals work on Deribit but are made for bitmex)

Results Tracking: Constantly updated tracking sheet on Google Docs

Signals with technical analysis: Yes

Trading Timezones: EST

Free Signals Channel: @bitmexsyndicate

How the signals look like:

Bitmex Syndicate is a TRUSTED SIGNAL PROVIDER

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How to Pick the Best Chicken Feeders and Waterers

Feeding backyard chickens should hypothetically be a simple thing to do. You know what can chickens eat, but when the chicken feeders and waterers we buy fail to live up to expectations, it complicates things. There are many different styles of chicken feeders and waterers available today; some perform well, some fail quickly, and more still just don’t deliver the value we think they will. Over the years, I’ve used all sorts of off-the-shelf, commercial-grade and even some home brew systems, all with mixed results. Hopefully, my years of expensive trial and error can help you pick the right chicken feeders and waterers for your flock.

Plastics Make It Possible

I’ve noticed a trend in the poultry equipment retail market; it lags the commercial sector by about 10 years. I remember a time when all you could find on the local feed store shelves was metal equipment, with exception to those terrible little screw base water founts. The commercial poultry sector had long since scrapped their metal feeder and water equipment in favor of non-porous, non-rusting, chemical-resistant plastics, but the retail world of poultry supplies took awhile to catch up.

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Plastics have become the new standard for poultry equipment, both in the commercial sector and retail stores, but for different reasons. Professional farmers adopted plastic and stainless steel devices because of their non-porous characteristics, which deny bacteria and viruses a place to hide and entrench themselves. In addition, with the advent of modern disinfectants, the new acidic cleaning agents proved to be far too corrosive for old galvanized sheet metal. Plastic offers a cost-effective material that resists caustic solutions, can be as durable as their sheet metal predecessors, and offers a better longevity since they never rust.

Chicks eating from a 35lb Kuhl feeder

The retail poultry sector finally changed over to plastic construction simply because it’s cheap. It’s far cheaper to produce thousands of injection-molded feeders and much cheaper to ship plastic feeders that weigh a fraction of the old sheet steel designs. Cheaper products offer better profit margins, and cheap prices make consumers buy more, one way or another. The problems we as consumers see more often now is that these cheap fixtures are not as durable because, well, they’re cheap in every sense of the word. From a hygiene point of view, they’re still better than our old rusty feeders, but most plastics used in retail products are of a lesser quality and thickness compared to commercial equipment.

Buying Steel

Retail locations will sell you anything you want, for the most part. Even if your local shop still sells steel feeders for backyard chickens, I don’t suggest them. Retail galvanized steel is not the same as the old commercial grade galvanized steel, and these feeders will rust sooner rather than later. Rusty feeders are impossible to clean, look terrible and make you look like a bad poultry keeper, so don’t bother buying steel.

This goes double for today’s metal double wall water founts. Back in the day, they were your only option for a heated chicken waterer, but now they offer heated plastic water founts. I always suggest buying plastic now, since the new galvanized double wall founts rust quickly and break at the welds, causing a vacuum leak and consequently a big water leak. Nipple drinker systems are far superior to water founts of any design, so if you haven’t done so already, consider building a nipple bucket to make your life easier.

Products You Don’t Need

At the risk of sounding like a ranting snob, I’d like to air my biggest gripe with the retail poultry world. You don’t need half the stuff they’re trying to sell you for your backyard chickens! Chick growing equipment is the biggest offender in my eyes. Most first-time chicken buyers will purchase chicks at a retail location that wants to sell you a whole bunch of chick-specific equipment. Your $12 chick purchase quickly becomes $50 or $60 bucks before you can bat an eye. You need a special chick feeder, a special chick water fount, that handy little thermometer meant especially for raising chicks and oh, don’t forget our super-duper plastic draft guard thing, you definitely need that! Right, I have a bridge to sell you too.

I’ve never found these trough style feeders to be effective or useful.

What makes this feel like such a scam is this; you’ll be back in eight weeks to buy the full size chicken feeders and waterers your backyard chickens actually need, since your chickens now empty that little chick water fount in under two minutes, if they can drink from it at all. All that equipment you bought is now useless to you, and I hope they didn’t already eat you out of house and home, since you’ll be in need of more expendable cash to buy the equipment you really need.

Not all retailers are crooks, instead it’s my experience that they simply don’t know any better. These products are on the shelf, they make sense to them, and everyone else is buying it, so that’s what they need to sell you, right? Not really.

Adapting Full-Size Equipment For Chicks

If you’re brooding birds in a small box, the upright chicken feeders and waterers do make your life easier. But when you’re brooding on the barn floor, your birds can use adult equipment just as easily as chick specific equipment, with some adaptations. Full-size feeders are just as effective at delivering feed to chicks as they are for mature birds, but chicks are vertically challenged, so be sure to place full-size feeders at ground level and ramp up your bedding to meet the lip of the feeder. If you’re still using water founts; stop! I highly recommend building nipple drinkers (it’s cheap, easy, safer and far healthier). If you’re stuck with a water fount for now, filling the trough with marbles will stop chicks from drowning. The quail bases for those small quart water founts are great for preventing chicks from drowning, but marbles in the trough can work just as well.

Chickens can use a nipple system from day 1. No worries about contaminated water or drowning.

Speaking of troughs, those old-school metal or plastic trough feeders with the flip top are another one of those things you think you need, but all they do is serve dirty feed to your backyard chickens. Today’s tube and trough gravity feeders are far superior to the old style chick trough design. I have an old trough feeder hiding in my tool shed somewhere, and when I see it next, I’ll be sure to toss it.

Commercial vs. Retail

Today’s retail-grade plastic chicken feeders and waterers can be serviceable, as long as they are not abused. You will notice that the plastic is thin and it won’t like the sun all that much, but the price is likely right and they’re readily available. Big name brands in the retail world are Miller Manufacturing (AKA: Little Giant) and Harris Farms. When deciding what to feed chickens with, some people may figure these will suffice, but there are better quality feeders available.

Commercial feeders are built to withstand the abuse you can expect to see on a working farm, which can be rough sometimes. Good commercial plastic feeders feature thick, well-designed plastic parts as well as metal reinforcements when needed. Unlike many inexpensive retail feeders, modern commercial feeders usually include spill shields or grates (either as a separate part or integrated into the pan), which helps to stop your birds from pulling feed out of the feeder without eating it. Especially if your feeders are not set at the correct height, or you have different height birds in your flock, a spill shield or grate will help keep the feed in the pan and off the floor of your coop where it will go to waste. When looking for top-shelf commercial equipment, look for names like Kuhl, Brower and Big Dutchman.

Specialty Feeders for Backyard Chickens

My favorite feeder by far is my Kuhl 250 lb. range feeder because it has made feeding my backyard chickens so much easier. Range feeders are built to live outdoors and come in many sizes, rated by the pounds of feed it can hold. If I wanted to fill my feeder, I could put five 50lb bags of feed in the hopper, but I don’t usually need that much. Since it sits outside, it does have special design features, such as a rain fly that keeps the feed dry and clean for my birds. This feeder sits outside of my coop, which helps keep raccoons and other predators out of my barn. The local wildlife prefers to gorge themselves at the buffet of layer feed I have in my range feeder rather than work at breaking into my coop, which means my chickens are less of a target than when I used to feed inside the coop. I have some seriously fat raccoons and opossums these days, but now I also have chickens that are more likely to die of old age than being taken by a predator.

Home Brew Equipment

For those of us who are handy, there are so many ideas and how-to’s out there on the Internet that I couldn’t possibly cover them all here. One word of caution, or perhaps one major design consideration you should take into account is; how are you going to clean this thing? Designs that don’t disassemble for cleaning, or include porous materials like wood, are a real challenge to clean properly. Plan on using plastics, PVC tubes, stainless steel, or at least well painted or sealed wood to deny bacteria or other disease-causing organisms a place to hide and thrive.

I’m quite partial to my commercial equipment for chicken feeders and waterers, which might make me look snobbish, but I’ve thrown so much broken equipment away over the years, I’ve come to appreciate the quality they offer.

Do you have a favorite chicken feeder and waterer for your backyard chickens? Let me know in the comments below!

  How to Pick the Best Chicken Feeders and Waterers was originally posted by All About Chickens

Holiday Sleep Disasters — How to Avoid Sleep Problems on the Road

The following blog article e0a9e1e9e6412908cf53cee25f32209b62d23d03e119cd2df63e6855e8fc22eee0a9e1e9e6412908cf53cee25f32209b62d23d03e119cd2df63e6855e8fc22eepostlinke0a9e1e9e6412908cf53cee25f32209b62d23d03e119cd2df63e6855e8fc22eee0a9e1e9e6412908cf53cee25f32209b62d23d03e119cd2df63e6855e8fc22ee Find more on: Marc Le Francois

No matter how hard you try to keep your child on a predictable and comforting routine, the holidays sometimes make sleep disruptions unavoidable. Some children are more adaptable than others, and get back into their normal routine without missing a beat. Parents also handle change differently. Some moms and dads really strive to keep that schedule in place at all costs. Others consciously decide that the circumstances warrant breaking the sleep rules temporarily, knowing they may have to pay a price in terms of sleep.

The better they sleep at home, the less likely a holiday sleep disaster

Even if he does get out of kilter while you are away, if he’s a good sleeper, he’ll probably return to good patterns when he gets home. Conversely, if your child has only recently started sleeping through the night or going to bed without a great deal of fussing, try to postpone any discretionary travel for at least three weeks- if you can!

Dare I even suggest having the holidays at your house this year? If that is not an option and you must travel with your newly sleep-coached child then be prepared for a little necessary backsliding. Try not to throw out all your gains and try not to rely on whatever sleep crutch you’ve just eliminated. For instance, if you stopped nursing during the night, don’t start again. Go ahead and do lots more soothing and comforting on the road than you would at home, but find some way of soothing that won’t lead you back to where you started. Don’t get caught in the intermittent reinforcement trap. You don’t want him thinking, “You got me up to nurse when we were in that strange place, maybe you will still get me up to nurse now that we are home!” You can’t blame a guy for trying!

Consider regressing your chair position

For example, if you have progressed to no longer sitting in the room at bedtime, you may want to sit by the door or closer to her crib the first couple of nights in a new place. You could also do more frequent checks instead of regressing completely back to your original sleep crutch. Don’t worry — you can resume The Shuffle when you return home at a quicker pace, perhaps moving your chair every 1-2 days because you are reminding them of a learned skill, not introducing it from scratch.

Remind them of sleep rules even when bending them

“You are sleeping in the same room as Mommy and Daddy while we are at Grandma’s but as soon as we get home, you and Teddy Bear will be back in your princess bed and Mommy and Daddy will be in our bed. We’ll still come check on you every night.” Or, “I’m going to pick you up and hold you until you fall back asleep to make you feel better, but as soon as your tummy ache goes away and you don’t need mommy to do this, you are going to sleep great again. I’ll give you so many stars and stickers because I will be so proud!”

Even very young toddlers understand some of this, and older ones get it quite well. It helps to make the rule-breaking less confusing to them, makes the intermittent reinforcement less powerful. They may have an easier time re-adapting to their old routine and understanding your expectations once the holidays and traveling have passed.

Always bring along the lovey and pack a night light

There’s no such thing as traveling light with a small child anyway, go ahead and take along favorite books and toys. Many families bring crib sheets or blankets too. (Some hotels don’t even provide much in the way of bedding with the crib or port-a-crib so check in advance or pack linens protectively). You want the child to have items that feel and smell comforting and familiar. If you are one of those moms who always keeps a small bag stocked with first aid supplies, travel sized medications, and baby toiletries, stick the spare nightlight and bulb in there as well so you don’t have to worry about forgetting it.

Before you go, talk to the hotel about portable cribs

If you are visiting relatives, think about whether there will be enough grandchildren visiting over the years to make it worth investing in an inexpensive crib, even one of the smaller fold-up varieties. Some babies don’t really like sleeping in those portable cribs with thin mattresses. You’ll learn quickly what your child can adjust to, and you’ll then be able to pack and plan accordingly on subsequent travel.

With older children who are no longer in a crib, you may request a roll-away bed, or if the child will be in a regular hotel bed in your room, you may see if you can move it closer to the wall for safety. Put an extra pillow on the floor in case he falls out, or place the bed or cot mattress on the floor so it doesn’t matter if he rolls off. You may want to place the mattress right next to your bed, or between your bed and another bed holding older siblings, so that the little one is reassured by being close to you. There’s a good chance he will get out of his bed and sneak into yours. Some parents return the child to his own bed, others figure it’s a losing battle in the hotel. If he does end up with you, carefully explain that he can sleep with you in the hotel — or at granny’s house — but will have to go right back into his own bed when you get home.

If you are visiting several relatives, it may be worth sleeping in one home for the entire trip, and visit with other family members during the day or over early dinners

Try to have your child sleep in one place the entire trip

If you are visiting several relatives, it may be worth sleeping in one home for the entire trip, and visit with other family members during the day or over early dinners. For instance, one couple with a nine-month-old originally planned a five day vacation — two nights with one set of grandparents, two with the other, and one night at an aunt’s. I gently suggested they might want to reconsider, so they chose one set of grandparents as a “base camp” and arranged to have relatives come there to visit them or to spend part of the day at other family members’ homes. They carefully explained to all concerned why their baby needed this, and to avoid bruised feelings or rivalries they immediately let all concerned know that the other grandparents would be the “base” for the next visit.

Try very hard to get them the sleep they need

With all the change and stimulation, they may not nap while traveling. It’s up to you how hard you press the nap, you may get a sense that if you insist and make the effort, he will nap. Alternatively, you may figure that you can spend the whole afternoon in your hotel room and or in grandma’s guestroom and he still won’t sleep a wink! You might as well go out and enjoy yourself, maybe he’ll doze in the stroller or in the car.

It depends on how old the child is, and how long you are away. An infant absolutely still needs naps, a three year old can probably skip naps for a few days as long as you get him to bed at night earlier than usual. You might also want to plan some of your travel to overlap with nap time. As you know, I normally want children to sleep in their beds, not in cars, but on vacation, a car nap might be the best you can do. Plus, if you are going to be in the car for a few hours anyway, it may be easier on everyone if she sleeps through it. Try to get back to your hotel — or relatives’ home — on the early side, to have an early bedtime. Remember, a well-rested child is better behaved and more adaptable to all the changes and new people they will meet while away.

Immediately put them on their regular schedule, even with a time change

If your child wakes up at 7:00 a.m. at home in Miami, wake him up at 7:00 a.m. local time in Seattle. When you get back home to Miami, wake him at 7:00 a.m. EST. Do this the day you arrive, or if you need to recover from a long trip or a red- eye, do it the next day. Switch naps and sleep times to local time the first full day after your arrival. So if you got in late and everyone goes to bed later than usual and then sleeps in, naps will obviously be off that first day. But don’t let him nap late. Wake him from his last nap — or his only nap — early enough so you can get him to bed at his regular bedtime.

For example, if you arrived in Seattle at midnight, everyone will sleep late in the morning — hopefully. Then instead of napping from 1:00 to 3:00 p.m., he might not begin his nap until 4:00. Don’t let him nap too late, though, even if he’s a little cranky when you rouse him, so you can get him to bed that night at his regular bedtime, at 7:00 or 8:00 p.m. Seattle time. Don’t fret if you don’t follow this exactly. A few car or stroller naps aren’t a big deal over the holidays — you’ll get everyone back to normal when you get home.

Return to your normal routine as quickly as possible

Some families keep their activities very light for a day or two when returning home to really focus on getting napping and bedtime back in place. These days will also help you recuperate and become familiar again with your household’s routines. Please remember these are just guidelines to follow, and each family member’s individual personalities should be considered when traveling and adjusting to their routines. I hope these suggestions help you and your family have a well- rested, enjoyable holiday!

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The post Holiday Sleep Disasters — How to Avoid Sleep Problems on the Road appeared first on Baby Sleep Coaching by the Sleep Lady.

from Blog – Baby Sleep Coaching by the Sleep Lady https://sleeplady.com/baby-sleep-problems/tips-for-avoiding-holiday-sleep-disasters/

from https://www.marclefrancois.net/2018/11/21/holiday-sleep-disasters-how-to-avoid-sleep-problems-on-the-road/