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mickey-millagher · 3 years

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Mickey stepped out onto the Gallagher front porch, his current search for his husband had been so far been fruitless but the ladder leaned up against the porch roof was starting to shed some light on his whereabouts.

Making his way down the front steps and looking up, Mickey was greeted by the shock of red hair belonging to the one and only Ian Gallagher.

“Ian the fuck are you doing up there?”

Ian looked down, seemingly unsurprised by Mickey’s presence, which really in itself wasn’t shocking, the two of them had hardly spent any time apart since they got married.

“Liam and Franny’s frisbee got stuck up here, said I’d get it back for them.”

Mickey rolled his eyes at his do-gooder husband. “Ain’t you meant to have someone holding those things?”

“Worried about my safety Mick?” Ian grinned down at him.

Mickey was about to reply that no, he absolutely was not, and fuck you for thinking so, when a gunshot rang out from around the corner. Ian with his soft centre that no years of hardship seemed to ever quite have stamped out of him, jumped at the noise, the motion causing him to lose his footing and go falling to the ground, ladder right after him.

“Fuck, Ian.” Mickey yelled, rushing to the younger mans side, pushing the ladder off of him where it had landed on his face, a cut to start swelling up in its wake.

“Hey, hey you okay?”

No response.

“Fuck.”

Mickey, quickly checked for breathing, letting out a sign of relief when he felt his husbands steady breath still coming through. Pulling Ian’s head onto his lap he then got out his phone to call for an ambulance.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“I need an ambulance, my husband hit his head and he’s not waking up.”

“Okay sir, can you tell me your location?”

“Err shit um.” He quickly looked up at the house number. “2119 South Wallace.”

“Okay an ambulance is coming. I need you to answer a few questions for me. Is your husband still breathing?”

“Yeah, he’s breathing fine.”

“Good, that’s a really good sign. And his pulse?”

“Fuck, I don’t know, he’s the one who knows all the medical shit.”

“Take his wrist and place your thumb on the outside corner.” The voice guided him through.

Mickey placed the phone on the grass to follow the woman’s instructions. Clumsily attempting to pinpoint Ian’s pulse, a nurse of sheer panic flew through him when he couldn’t immediately find it, his breath coming out in quick, jagged pants when he did locate Ian’s, thankfully, steady pulse.

“Yeah, his pulse is good.” Mickey breathed down the phone.

“Okay, these are all good signs. The ambulance should be with you soon but your husband should be okay in the mean time.”

“Should be?” But the phone line was already dead.

“Shit, c’mon Gallagher, get up you stubborn son of a bitch.”

Maybe he heard him or maybe it was coincidence but at that moment Ian let out a groan.

“Ian?”

“Mickey?” Ian blinked, confused, back up at him. Unsteadily pulling himself up from the shorter mans lap.

“Woah, easy, you took a fucking nose dive off the roof.”

Ian stared back at him, drawing in on himself slightly.

“What?” The younger man asked.

“You don’t remember?”

Ian shook his head, immediately wincing and bringing a hand up to his head.

“What are you still doing here?” Ian asked after a second.

The question took Mickey aback.

“Where the fuck else would I be?”

Ian shrugged, crawling back to lean against the chainlink fence.

“Most people don’t stick around after a breakup.”

It was Mickeys turn to stare, not understanding a word that was coming out of his husbands mouth.

“What the fuck are you talking about? That fall knock a few screws loose? We just got married, that was the end of our breakups.” Mickey said, wiggling his ring finger in front of Ian to prove his point.

Ian stared at the ring wrapped around Mickeys finger before lifting up his own left hand to examine his finger ring. He touched the ring with such a mixture of emotions, Mickey couldn’t even pinpoint them all. Confusion, disbelief, shock, fear, and awe, being among them.

Ian’s eyes flickered back up to Mickey’s, mouth open no doubt to ask another strange and confusing question when the sirens sound came blearing down the street.

“We got a call that a man had suffered a head wound at this address?” The first paramedic out of the ambulance asked.

Mickey pointed them over towards Ian.

“My husband. He just woke up and he’s been acting fucking weird since.”

The paramedics came over to where Ian was hunched by the fence.

“Hello, sir. We heard you had an accident.”

Ian shrugged, not paying much attention to the people in front of him, his focus still on the ring on his finger.

“Sir, could you tell us your name?”

“Ian Gallagher.” He replied softly, having yet to look up at the paramedics.

“Hi, Ian. Would you mind if I looked at your head?” The male paramedic asked.

Again Ian shrugged, moving slightly away from the fence to allow better access.

While the male paramedic examined Ian, the female one crouched within his eyesight.

“Hey Ian, could you answer just a couple of questions for me?”

“Okay.”

“Great.” The woman replied, way too brightly for someone who was meant to be making sure Ian was okay, at least in Mickey’s opinion. “What do you remember prior to the impact?”

Ian’s eyes flickered up to meet Mickey’s before looking back at the paramedic.

“Umm, I’d just gotten back from a trip with my mom.”

Mickey stilled, Ian’s answers earlier had been strange but not thinking he’d been hanging out with his dead mother strange.

“Do you remember what lead to you hitting your head?” The paramedic asked, this time using a light to shine into Ian’s eyes while she waited for his answer.

“No.” Ian replied, wincing slightly as the other paramedic continued his check of Ian’s skull.

“Okay that’s perfectly normal. Can you tell me what year it is?”

“2014.” Ian’s answer came with no hesitation but the simple date brought Mickey’s world grounding to a halt.

2014, that was the year Ian had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder. The year Mickey had been sentenced to fifteen years behind bars. And the year Ian had torn his heart to shreds in this very front yard.

No wonder Ian had been confused by his presence, why he thought they were broken up, why he didn’t know they were married.

The paramedic however seemed to just take this answer in her stride. “Do you know where we are?”

“This is my house.”

“Do you know who the president is?”

“Obama?” Ian asked, getting confused by the random questions.

“okay, and finally, can you tell me the days of the week backwards?”

“Umm, Sunday, Saturday, Friday— fuck it’s um.” Ian’s eyes flickered back to Mickey in a panic.

“Hey, it’s okay, there’s no wrong answers here, we just need to access how best to help you.” This came from the male paramedic, who had apparently finished his head assessment.

“It’s um— Thursdays, Wednesday, Tuesday, Monday.”

“That’s great Ian.”

“So I’m okay?”

“Ian, have you heard of the condition amnesia?”

“Yeah?” Ian replied, a slight questioning lilt to his voice, not yet understanding what Mickey was just starting to piece together.

“During my questions you said you believe it’s 2014 and that Obama is President. Do you still believe that?”

“Yes?” Ian replied, nerves now clouding his voice.

“Ian, the year is 2020.” The paramedic informed him gently.

Ian looked between the two health workers before looking up to Mickey, as if to ask for confirmation.

Mickey nodded and Ian let out a shuddering breath, closing his eyes while leaning back against the fence while he took it all in.

“We’d like for you to come down to the hospital so we can run some routine tests to make sure you’re okay. Amnesia is common after head wounds and usually goes away on its own but it’s important we check nothing else is going on.”

Ian nodded, getting up slowly from his position to follow them to the ambulance.

Mickey made to go after him.

“You don’t have to come, you don’t owe me anything.” Ian said when he heard the footsteps following him.

Mickey was glad Ian was facing away from him so he couldn’t see how much those words broke his heart.

“Fuck off Gallagher, I know I don’t owe you shit, still gonna make sure you’re okay.”

“I don’t need a nurse.” Ian complained, now turning to face the older man.

“Think the doc said the opposite.”

Ian huffed at his answer but made no more moves to stop Mickey from following him into the ambulance.

~page break-

The L ride back to the house had been spent in silence, the walk from the L didn’t seem to be faring any better. The doctors at the hospital had cleared Ian of any major damage, just a slight concussion and told them to come back in a week if his memory still hadn’t improved. Stupid doctors go to all their fancy medical schools but still couldn’t help Ian when he was hurt.

“You don’t have to come back to the house you know.” It was the first thing Ian had said since they left the hospital.

“Considering I live there I kinda fucking do.”

“Right.” Ian started fiddling with his wedding ring, going back to looking between Mickey and the ring like he still couldn’t quite believe it.

They fell back into silence for a couple more minutes.

“Why did you want to marry me?” The voice came out small, the words so vividly reminiscent of Ian’s fears before their wedding. Words and worries that they’d moved past, but only Mickey remembered that now.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Mickey laughed, there was no joy in it but once he started he found it incredibly hard to stop.

Ian stood there in alarm, watching Mickey have his, breakdown? Was this a breakdown? It felt like a breakdown. All there years of life constantly pulling them apart was meant to be over and now Ian couldn’t even remember it. He should’ve known not to get too settled.

“Have you gone fucking crazy too?”

That just made him laugh more. Mickey shook his head at his husband, taking a couple of minutes to calm himself down.

“You’re not fucking crazy.”

“Yes I am. There’s too much wrong with me, why would you choose to tie yourself down to me? I have nothing to offer you.”

“We got married cause we fucking love each other.” Mickey replied, Ian’s words from the diner proposal ringing in his ears.

“What so we really did go down to the courthouse in some tuxes like a couple of old queens?” Ian asked with a small joyless laugh.

“Polish Doll actually.”

“Aren’t they homophobes?”

“Worked around it.” Mickey replied, lips twitching upwards just at the memory of that day. “C’mon man, let’s not do this here.”

Ian sighed but seemed slightly more accepting of Mickey coming home with him now, or at least he wasn’t outwardly fighting it as they continued the short trudge back to the South Wallace house.

“I’m tired, think I’m gonna go to bed early.”

“You sure that’s okay? They said you had a concussion.”

“A mild concussion. And it’s fine, as long as I can walk straight and keep a conversation I can sleep.”

Mickey’s heart leapt up in his chest at those words, was he starting to remember?

“You remember all that medical shit?”

“What medical shit? Carl’s always getting concussions so I remember that stuff.”

Mickey tried to hide his disappointment but probably not well enough as Ian gave him a weird look before shaking his head and climbing up the stairs.

Mickey sighed as he watched the retreating form of his husband, tears prickling in the corners of his eyes that he refused to let fall as he headed to get a beer from the fridge. The first of likely many this evening.

Mickey was halfway through his second one when the front door opened, Carl, Debbie and Franny coming into the house, with the two siblings arguing about some dumb shit or other. The noise soon bringing Liam down from his room.

Not for the first time Mickey was grateful for how self obsessed the majority of the Gallaghers were. Liam had acknowledged him before being dragged into whatever drama his siblings had going on, while Franny was too invested in her cartoons to notice much. Meaning Mickey got away with mostly staying out of it while he finished his beer before deciding it was time to check on his husband.

Slowly pulling the accordion door open, Mickey swore his beat stopped when he saw that the room was empty, remembering teenaged Ian’s tendency to run when things got hard. Pulling back quickly, Mickey scanned the first floor of the house before landing on the slightly ajar door to the old boys room.

Rushing down the hall, Mickey only felt like he could breathe again once the rickety old door was open and he could see Ian curled up on his old bed, having forgotten he ever moved rooms.

Mickey went back to their bedroom, digging around under the bed to find the wedding album he’d created with Franny not that long ago. His young niece insisting she’d be a big help. The overall look ended up being slightly childish but it would still hopefully have the desired effect today, to get Ian to realised what he hadn’t been able to six years ago. That he loved him and wasn’t going anywhere.

Back in the boys room, Mickey carefully placed the album down on the side table. Leaning over he ran his fingers through Ian’s hair, the younger man nuzzling into his hand even in his sleep, looking so peaceful all the while.

Mickey couldn’t bring himself to wake him up, if he didn’t have his memories back, all being awake would bring him was pain and misery. At least in his sleep he he could be happy.

Mickey grabbed a pillow from the abandoned third bed and lay down on the floor to wait, he didn’t want to be too far away from Ian, not right now but the days events had been too exhausting. He just needed to close his eyes for a few seconds

~page break-

When Ian woke up the room was lit only by the moonlight streaming in through the window. He could hear snores coming from the other occupants of the room, Carl up in the bunk bed and— Mickey sleeping on the floor? Ian remembered the events of the day, the doctors who told him he’d forgotten six years of his life, and Mickey who had stayed by his side throughout all of it, not caring about the breakup. Although, he supposed, to Mickey that must seem like ancient history by now.

Leaning over to properly look at his now husband, Ian’s eye caught something resting beside the bed that hadn’t been there before.

Picking it up he couldn’t help the small gasp that left him once he realised what was in his hands. The photo on the front was of Mickey and himself, dressed up in fancy tuxes, flipping the camera off with their other arms wrapped around each other.

Ian brushed his finger against the photo Mickey softly before slowly turning the page. The album was filled with photos upon photos of them, dancing, laughing, kissing. The ones that must have been taken while they exchanged their vows made him pause the most. The serious looks on their faces, followed by the utter joy in their grins from the pictures of them walking down the aisle together.

They fucking loved each other. After everything, they really fucking loved each other.

Ian pulled the album to his chest, tears leaking from the corner of his eyes. He wanted to keep looking but his head was hurting now more than ever and it helped to close his eyes.Still it wasn’t long before he fell asleep, soothed by the images of his wedding to the love of his life.

~page break~

Waking up groggy hours later, Ian sat up with a groan, looking around his old room and the down at the album still in his arms confused.

“Hey you’re awake, how are you feeling?” Mickey asked, sitting up from his place on the ground.

Looking at Mickey, Ian suddenly remembered everything that had happened yesterday. It was strange to remember a time that he didn’t remember so much of his life.

Ian quickly moved off the bed to wrap his arms around his husband, not being able to go without holding Mickey any longer, they’d lost enough time and yesterday only proved that.

“I’m so sorry Mick.”

Mickey tensed in his arms.

“What you sorry about?”

“Yesterday, fuck, I’m sorry. I don’t know how I’d manage if all you remembered was from one of our breakups.” Ian breathed into his neck.

“You remember?” Mickey asked, not quite ready to let his guard down after the hell that had been the day before.

“I remember everything Mick.”

Ian couldn’t be sure but thought he heard a slight sob before Mickey’s arms tightened around him, bringing him as close to his body as possible.

“Don’t fucking do that again Gallagher.”

“I promise Mick.” Ian replied, kissing Mickey’s neck where his head was buried. “I’m not going anywhere.”

#amnesia fic #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #gallavich #shameless #shameless fanfic #shameless fanfiction #gallavich fanfic #gallavich fanfiction #it’s set some time between 10x12 and 11x10 I dunno when tho #this is 100% full of medical inaccuracies but I wrote it across two bad days of long Covid symptoms #and like my dissertation is due in a week so I’ve got no time or energy to properly research #I might edit this in the future and make it more realistic to post on ao3 or something #Freya’s fics

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imaginesandinserts · 3 years

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Irreverent Pt. 60 - Epilogue

Title: Irreverent Pt. 60 - Epilogue

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: ~2K

Status: Complete

A/N: That’s all folks. Chapters 59 and 60 coming out together today.

For J - For being the reason I finish this.

Irreverent Series Masterlist

Aaron's been seated in his new office for the past hour, going over the new certification and training requirements for the BAU with Dave. Technically, it should've been Prentiss he was meeting with, but she'd happily passed along that piece of her new responsibilities, stating that the grouchy old men would do a much better job at it than she ever could.

From across the way, he can see through the glass walls into his old office which Prentiss now occupies. Both Garcia and JJ are sat across from her, no doubt convening there before they all fly out for your bachelorette party. It was a bit unbelievable to think he was only a week away from officially marrying you.

That is, if you survived this weekend, as you'd commented apprehensively earlier that morning. You've been terrified about what Emily had planned, especially given how his bachelor party had gone a few weeks prior. Dave had lured him away with the promise of good steaks and cigars, and then ambushed him with private dancers. He'd even gone out of his way to find one that held an uncanny resemblance to you. John had been sure to give that one a wide berth, making a beeline for the other corner of the room and staunchly avoiding any sort of eye contact with Aaron, much to his amusement. The night had culminated in a panicked text from Aaron to you, begging to be rescued. You'd arrived – his knight in shining armor – and taken him, a terrified Reid who'd been on the phone texting his girlfriend half the night, and a reluctant John who had finally relaxed enough to enjoy the company of the other dancer when you'd arrived and fixed him with an unamused regard that had the poor guy following the rest of you out with quick goodbyes to Dave and Morgan.

"You talk to Morgan recently?" Dave asks idly, sifting through the files in search of the old requirements documentation.

"Yes, he seems to be liking the transition to the academy," Aaron remarks, flipping through the file in front of him in search of the same. "We grabbed lunch last week when I did the Profiling and Prosecution seminar."

Dave smiles with a contemplative nod, and Aaron can only imagine what was going through his friend's head. Things were changing around them slowly – you'd left the team and had built your own, Prentiss was running the BAU, Morgan had retired to spend more time with his wife and soon to arrive son. Aaron himself had taken on the mantle of Section Chief, a role to which he was taking to far better than previously anticipated. Though, he supposed it helped that this time, he was only doing the Section Chief job and not also running the BAU.

It had been the right decision – for him, for you, for Jack. Both of you were home for dinner more nights than not. The three of you had settled into a routine that felt comfortable, and while he missed being directly in the field, he could see the change in him, his body. At his last doctor's visit, Dr. Robbins had commented that his stress levels appeared to be lowered and having a job that wasn't quite so hard on his body was a great help in that.

John was over every few weekends, very much a part of that routine you'd created, and the three of you had flown to New York a handful of times as well, taking Jack to a Yankees game (which he enjoyed thoroughly) and taking him on the subway (which he didn't care for). Dave had asked him half a dozen times, how he felt about John's presence in your lives. Aaron was incredibly alright with it – he hadn't been the only one who thought he'd lost you.

If he was being truly honest with himself, he was far more comfortable with John than he'd ever allowed himself to be around anyone that wasn't you or Haley. He's had time to think about it, about why that was the case. He figures it's because John is possibly the only other person in the world who understands the importance of you, the impact of you. For Aaron, in many ways, John also felt like an extension of you. The same biting humor, the forced humbleness – the way neither one of you could see anything wrong with spoiling Jack entirely.

Aaron could still easily recall the day he'd made an offhand remark about him not wanting Jack to grow up with a silver spoon in his mouth. John had grown quiet, eyes fixed towards where you were finishing making lunch. Jack was sat on the countertop, mixing together a bowl of cookie dough for you, to be baked for after lunch. Aaron had followed his gaze, his heart warming gently at the sight. It was so familiar, Jack always loved helping you in the kitchen. Aaron's mouth involuntarily turns into a smile as you laugh at something Jack had said, your head falling back easily, the musical notes of your laughter making the room feel brighter.

When John had turned back, he had a far away look in his eyes. "You're right," he'd said, clearing his throat, his voice a little heavier than before. "At the end of the day you want to be sure of only one thing – that he feels immensely loved. Because kids who aren't fed love by a silver spoon, they tend to lick it off of knives."

Aaron knew, without being told, that John was referring to Julian. He found himself incredibly grateful that his son got to be fed by you, wielding a platinum spoon. With John in your lives, that love in Jack's life only increased.

*------------*

You stood at the door of Aaron's office, having walked down from your own, on the way to Emily's so that you and the girls could fly off to a weekend of controlled (hopefully) fun. Who were you kidding? Emily Prentiss was in charge of your bachelorette party. You'd be lucky if you made it back in time to meet Aaron at the altar.

It takes a few seconds for them to notice your presence. A few seconds during which you get to admire the late afternoon sun hitting Aaron's frame just right, the golden hues turning his hair a lighter brown – it made him seem younger than his age, and the white flecks (which he blamed almost entirely on you and your disappearance) would suggest. The pronounced furrowed brow that seemed to be a permanent fixture for him while he was in the office, the warm eyes turned seriously down towards the papers in front of him, the pink lips that had spent a fair amount of time between your legs the night prior, causing you to shatter around him. That had resulted in John making a few crude remarks at breakfast that morning, which thankfully flew over Jack's head. Your son was far too excited to have an entire weekend with just his dad and favorite Uncle for a "Boys Only Weekend" to make up for you missing his soccer game on Saturday.

Aaron shifts, noticing your presence, head tilting up and eyes meeting your own. At the sight of you, they imbue warmth and familiarity, sparkling against the reflected sunlight. You're struck for a moment. Your husband-to-be was remarkably beautiful.

"Hey, how's it going?" You smile at both Aaron and Dave, entering quickly to meet Aaron on his side of the desk. Both of them turn to look at you.

"You still have no idea where Emily is taking you?" Rossi's face betrays his glee at your misfortune. He's been cross with you ever since you kidnapped Aaron from his own bachelor party. In your defense, the man had practically begged you to.

"No, she won't tell me." You sigh, your voice coming out almost in a whine.

Rossi's lip twitches, though he does a good enough job at not laughing outright.

You perched on the arm of Aaron's chair, placing a quick kiss to his cheek. "Harvey sent these over," you tell him, placing the envelope you had been carrying on his desk, your hand returning to play with the ring on your finger around as you were prone to do nowadays. "Would you please sign them and make sure they get to his office before Monday? He wants them finalized before the wedding."

Aaron nods, noting how your delicate fingers caress the stone of the ring that's sat on your hand and made him – quite literally – the luckiest man alive.

He's been expecting some paperwork coming his way in light of your upcoming ceremony. He'd lightly brought up the idea of a pre-nuptial agreement with you early on – for your sake – and had been laughed out of the room. You did however, feel it necessary to make him aware of exactly what assets he'd have access to, and thus your lawyer had been busy creating a summary for him to look over and acknowledge. Apparently, it had taken a full staff to do the entire work up, over the course of a month. If the thud the envelope had made when you'd set on his desk was any indication, he was in for a long night of reading.

"Alright, I should go." You heave off of his chair and the two of you look at each other and then Rossi, who takes a hint and looks away, leaving you to bend down and capture his lips against yours. You feel his arm winding around your waist and tightening into your side briefly, before you withdraw, your tongue peaking out to lick your lips. Aaron looks just barely flushed as Rossi turns back, his lips twitching in amusement as you fix yourself and take your leave.

*------------*

The door closes behind you, Aaron's eyes following your walk across the floor towards Emily's office.

"Is that what I think it is?" Dave asks, drawing his attention back to the envelope you'd dropped off for him. There's something oddly familiar about this – the two of them in his office, an envelope related to you dropped off at his desk. Though this time, under far less confusing and much happier conditions.

Aaron nods, doing his best to hide the smile threatening to break through at his friend's curiosity. Ever since New York, Dave had been very interested in learning exactly how much richer than him you were.

Reaching for the envelope, Aaron opens it up and withdraws the large stack of papers, and flips to the first page. Disclosure of Assets – the name of the document hardly did justice to the summary that followed. Properties across the U.S., Europe, South America, and the Caymans. A plethora of divided up Swiss bank accounts, each with a balance more staggering than the last. A stock portfolio rivaling Buffets. The number at the bottom of the page takes his breath away entirely.

Aaron turns once more to look towards his old office – he can see you gathered there with the rest of the girls, laughing about something. Given the piece of paper in his hand, he has to hand it to you in that moment. You lived far below your means. To think that someone your age had access to that kind of money – that kind of freedom – and still chose to do what you did. He didn't think there were many others who would.

Before Aaron can react, Dave has reached across the table and yanked the piece of paper right out of his hands.

The noise of complete shock that leaves his friend's body was not one that Aaron was likely to forget anytime soon. He watches as Dave reads the same summary he just had, his eyebrows moving further and further into his hairline as he goes down the page.

When he finally looks back at Aaron it's with a look that couldn't quite be described – surprise, awe, a hint of envy. Aaron can viscerally see the same thought he had moments ago regarding you and your work at the Bureau flit through Dave's head as he too turns to assess you across the floor.

Quietly, he hands the documents back to Aaron. Shifting in his chair, Dave clears his throat. "You do know that you're going to be picking up the tab every time now, right?"

Aaron chuckles, nodding. He'd assumed as much.

He turns back to you, only to catch you looking towards him as well through the glass walls. Your mouth turns up into a smile as your eyes meet his. Eyes like the sunrise colliding with his, causing his stomach to flip in that torturously delicious manner that only you seem to invoke. Eyes that meet his and stay. Eyes that have followed him, mirrored his, since the moment the two of you met. Eyes that betrayed you both when you looked at one another, the sheer intensity of the emotion behind them giving you away entirely. It didn't matter what distance, what time, what circumstance separated you from one another – somehow his eyes knew to always find their companion in yours.

Aaron might have fallen first, but he is forever grateful that you'd followed.

#irreverentseries #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds reader insert #hotch x you #hotch x reader

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twolonesomestars · 4 years

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BJYX III

Japan Trip

This is a compilation post explaining the Japan trip and related theories (along with my own thoughts). Most of the theories in here are well-known. If you know the general gist of the Japan trip, you probably won’t see anything new.

Warning: This is all fake. Don’t take what I say to heart. These are just my random thoughts.

Extremely long post. Please beware.

All my explanations and thoughts will be bracketed and italicized: [like this]. If you would like to just read about the theories, ignore the bracketed and italicized bits.

I suggest reading all of the theories first and creating your own opinion on the trip before reading my commentary, especially if you’re a new fan. (AKA ignore the bracketed & italicized parts for now).

[One last thing before I start (and a test for those who want to read the theories first… ignore this for now): I believe this Japan trip changed their relationship… In that, I believe they began their romantic relationship after this trip. A quick timeline mention: truthfully, their relationship before and during CQL filming isn’t too important for this theory. However, I do believe that there was some sort of confession from WYB at the end of filming, which may have played a role in XZ’s decision to take the trip to Japan. I’ll provide my reasoning later in the post. All my explanations and thoughts are going to be based on these particular assumptions; although, I will try to include rebuttals & explanations based on countering arguments.]

OUTLINE

DATES

PRE-JAPAN TRIP

Character Bleed Changed Phone Number

MID-JAPAN TRIP

XZ’s 180911 Post + Story

POST-JAPAN TRIP

XZ’s 180913 Post & Story XZ’s 181119 Post WYB’s 181119 Post Time Gap WYB’s 190322 Post

FINAL THOUGHTS

Let’s get into it!

DATES:

180416 - 180823 Filming for CQL

180908 - 180912 XZ’s Japan trip

180913 - XZ posted his 521st Weibo post & 18th Weibo story

181005 - XZ’s Birthday

181119 @ 17:42 - XZ’s Japan trip post

181119 @ 18:47 - WYB’s response post

190322 - WYB’s Rome trip post

PRE-JAPAN TRIP:

Character Bleed

XZ’s reasoning behind his Japan trip in this interview @ 9:31

XZ explicitly says, “I told myself I had to walk out of it.” His reasoning being, “[I had to] leave him there. [I had to] return him to the one he loves.”

You can unpack a lot from that. I got two main things from it:

(“I had to walk out of it”): you can assume that XZ took everything from WWX and made it his own, including, and specifically, WWX’s love for LWJ. Essentially, by the end of filming, XZ himself was in love with LWJ.

(“return him to the one he loves”): XZ separates himself very clearly from WWX. He points out his reasoning to walk it off is him wanting to return WWX to the one he loves… the implication is that he figured out he doesn’t love the one WWX loves.

[The reason I think there was some sort of confession at the end of filming that pushed XZ to take this trip and figure himself out is because he already knew he loved LWJ. I think he may have attributed any romantic feelings he felt towards WYB to the fact that he plays the character he loves. So, if WYB confessed to wanting to pursue a romantic relationship with him, it makes sense that XZ would hesitate. I doubt he’d want to lead WYB on just to later realize all of his feelings were for LWJ and not him. I’m sure XZ would’ve walked off WWX eventually, but I think he did it as quickly as he could to give a certain person (and himself) answers.

Obviously, I don’t know how XZ goes about with his acting, so these are all just random assumptions.]

Changed Phone Number

I’ve gotten a few asks wanting me to clarify and give my opinion on the rumor about XZ changing his number and WYB asking around for it. I’ve heard two versions of this:

The first version has two variations:

XZ changed his number sometime after his DDU appearance in 2017 and before CQL began shooting, and WYB was asking the CQL crew for it.

XZ changed his number during CQL filming sometime, and WYB was asking the CQL crew for it.

The second version is that XZ changed his number before he left to Japan and WYB was asking around for it for months (who he was asking was undefined).

A related rumor I want to note: a fan who was at the airport when XZ was waiting for his flight to Japan supposedly saw him not answering his phone.

Let me clarify the relationship between WeChat & phone numbers:

In WeChat, every registered user gets a WeChat ID. There are three main ways people can add someone: (1) have the person’s WeChat ID (2) have the person’s phone number (3) have access to the person’s QR code. For (1) and (2), the other person must enable the option to be found via WeChat ID or phone number in order for you to find them. You can also choose to not show your phone number at all, so even if someone adds you via (1) or (3), they may still not have access to your number depending on your settings. To sum it up, you do NOT need to know another person’s phone number to message them on WeChat. Practically everyone in China uses WeChat as their main social messaging application… you can send messages (text & voice) and you can call (voice-only & video). People don’t use their actual given numbers to message or call too much (ex. iPhone messaging/ Facetime); phone numbers are typically used when making accounts on various social media apps, online payment, etc.

There’s a pretty well-backed up theory that WYB asked one of his DDU co-hosts (specifically DZW) if he could get XZ’s WeChat ID for him during/ after filming the episode with XNINE. If this theory is true, we can only be sure that he got XZ’s WeChat ID, not that he got his phone number.

If you do want to change your number or WeChat ID (prior to 2020, you could only change your WeChat ID once per account), you can simply go into the WeChat settings and update; this process won’t change your WeChat account and it won’t affect any of your contacts or chat history. If you want to stop receiving messages & calls from someone, you can either block or delete them from your contacts on the app.

I’m pointing all of this out because I’m pretty sure most of XZ’s & WYB’s communication takes place in WeChat. WYB has said in several interviews that he now prefers his phone and wifi access; he’s also said that he can’t go without WeChat now.

[I honestly don’t think this rumor is real. But, out of the two versions, I’d say the first version (either variation) makes more sense than the second version.

I have three reasons for thinking the second version is the most unlikely:

It’d be easier to block the other person for however long you need (and then unblock them or delete them depending on your choice later) rather than going through the hassle of changing your number. Remember when WYB’s phone number got leaked and he had to change it (August 2019)? He asked people to not use his number to log into accounts; he even mentioned that he would need to change all of them, which would be a large hassle. Sure, there could be circumstances where you’d want to change your phone number… but I don’t think this situation is that extreme, especially since it was supposedly at the airport before his trip and before he decided.

I don’t think XZ’s the type of person to leave someone hanging, no matter how much internal turmoil he may be dealing with, and especially not when that someone is close to him. I believe he’d at least inform others that he’ll be out of range and to not message or call him. Not to mention, if he told WYB to not contact him for the next couple of days, I’d like to believe WYB would respect that wish, whether he knew the reason or not. Since I do think that WYB confessed prior to the Japan trip, I believe he knew. But, even if he didn’t, he has integrity and self-respect. He’s going to respect others’ wishes, and even more so if he respects the other person… and he does respect XZ.

The theory specifically points out “months” … WYB literally celebrated XZ’s birthday with him about three weeks after this trip.

As for the first version:

Variation #1 implies that this happened at the start of filming/ bootcamp; it also implies that WYB got XZ’s number after he contacted him on WeChat. One assumption I have is: I don’t think celebrities/ people in the industry exchange phone numbers much, just their WeChat IDs. This is why I don’t think XZ & WYB exchanged numbers when they first met, only their WeChat IDs. As for WYB asking the crew for XZ’s number… if he already had XZ’s previous number, I kinda doubt he’d go around asking others when he could just ask XZ himself.

Variation #2 probably makes the most sense out of all three, and even then it’s a bit of a stretch. This variation implies that it’s a few months into filming, at which point XZ & WYB were extremely close. I doubt he’d be too nervous to ask XZ directly for his new number. The only rebuttal I could think of for this is that perhaps WYB asking around instead of asking XZ himself was him being coquettish.

In the end, this rumor doesn’t make too much sense to me. But take it as you will.]

MID-JAPAN TRIP:

XZ’s 180911 Post + Story

We know that he kept deleting his Weibo posts before the number could reach *520. (*520 & 521 are both kadian for “I love you” even though 520 is more widely used.)

XZ posted his 520th post on 180911 (right in the middle of his trip). It was an ad for AHC. AHC is the first brand both WYB & XZ shared and spoke for; I believe WYB stopped his spokesperson duties on 180829 & XZ began his on 180907.

XZ posted his 17th story, also on 180911, of him on a ferry during the trip.

[I burst out laughing when I realized he posted an ad for his 520th post. He kept deleting posts to make sure he stayed away from #520; he could’ve easily deleted another post to make the ad his 519th. A lot of solo fans were looking forward to his 520th post being dedicated to them (exhibit 1), and then he did that. Sly as per usual. And the 17th story... leading up to the 18th. I think XZ pretty much knew/ made his choice/ accepted his feelings by this point, which is why he posted like this.]

POST-JAPAN TRIP:

XZ’s 180913 Post & Story

XZ posted this video on Weibo on 180913. It was his *521th post & *18th story. (*52118 = “wo ai ni yi bo” A BXG posted about counting XZ’s posts to find these numbers.)

His caption was:

以为在拍照的找🤣... (夏天的风结束了，假期也结束了🌿🌿🎋)

which roughly translates to:

“I thought I was posing for a photo🤣... (The summer wind is over, the holiday is also over 🌿🌿🎋)”

There are several theories about the caption.

the emojis:

The bamboo emoji refers to WYB. In this behind the scenes footage, XZ compares WYB’s face to a bamboo stick.

the words:

XZ is referring to the season ending and the weather in the video where the wind is blowing across his face.

When XZ states that both the summer wind and his holiday are over, he is implying that he has left the character he became that summer (WWX) behind and moving forward.

XZ is referring to the song Summer Wind (夏天的风) by Liu Rui Qi (刘瑞琦). I’m not going to go too deep into this; the lyrics in question are:

夏天的风我永远记得清清楚楚地说你爱我我看见你酷酷的笑容也有腼腆的时候

roughly translates to

The summer wind, I will always remember [you] saying clearly that you love me. I saw your cool smile [yet] there are times when you are shy.

Interpretations are: (line 1) “summer wind” & “always remember” - XZ is reminiscing on the things that have happened that summer when CQL was filmed. (line 2) “saying clearly… you love me” - a confession from a certain someone… we know of one on camera: “zhan-ge didi ai ni.” (lines 3-4) “cool smile” & “shy” - these adjectives fit a person we know.

[I didn't find out about half of these caption theories until way later, and once I had already formed my opinion on this trip. A lot of it seems like a stretch, but all the theories make some sort of sense. Meh, there’s a lot you can do with a caption, so just take it all in.

Personally, I didn’t pay attention to the caption too much. I knew about the lyrics, but I purposely avoided them precisely because they were lyrics; you can do a lot with them. I finally explored it for this post, and I actually like it a lot; it’s very sweet. I’m still leaning towards the reference being unlikely; however, XZ is very sneaky, so I wouldn’t put it past him. I also knew about the bamboo reference, but I never gave it much thought. I didn’t think that one scene of them joking around was enough to say that he used the emoji to refer to WYB. Though, if it was actually a reference, there’s definitely more to it that we don’t know about. Ultimately, for this one, my decision was based on the basics: the kadian (and later reinforced by the whole AHC ad post).]

XZ’s 181119 Post @ 17:42

A major theory for this post comes from his caption:

“一些存货... 现代人即将拥有姓名 [’silent giggling’ emoji]... ”

roughly translates to

“some stock [photos]... modern man will soon be named...”

The main focus here is the “modern man.”

Once the behind the scenes footage and interviews began releasing, BXG started noticing how WYB got whenever XZ mentioned LWJ. His facial expressions always changed… immediate frowns. BXG speculated that WYB was trying to show himself as separate from his character, but XZ didn’t take notice. The character LWJ is figuratively and literally from the past; the actor on the other hand is from modern society. Thus, XZ mentioning modern man was taken to be a reference to XZ’s love for the actor alone, not the character.

[To those who have sent asks about the “modern man” quote, I hope this clears it up. My interpretation of it is the same. At the end of the day, XZ most definitely separated the two.]

Another theory for this one is that the horizontal middle row pictures spell out “王一博” going from left to right.

王 (“wáng”)

The lines on the building look like the character

He could’ve meant “look towards,” which is what he’s doing in the picture. It is a different character (“望”), and has a slightly different pronunciation (“wàng”)

He could’ve meant “going in one direction,” referring to the arrow on the sign, which is a different character (“往”), and has a slightly different pronunciation (“wǎng”)

一 (yī)

The image looks like the character

博 (bó)

Another meaning for “博” is “extensive” or “rich” which you can take the design on the outside of the to be

The building is a museum, whose word (“博物馆”) begins with “博”

[For the spelling, my interpretations were all of the #1s. (I’ll explain a little bit more when we get to WYB’s 190322 post.)]

One last theory about this post: BXG then witnessed XZ editing his post in real time to change the position of the first two pictures. There’s a theory that he saw this post (below) from the previous day and changed the positions to match.

OP talking about the switch here and below.

[I was so enamored by this theory until I actually went looking for it. The post of WYB’s pictures is from a fan, and while I don’t doubt that they saw more of fans’ posts back then, this one wasn’t tagged or anything. It could easily have been XZ’s artist side popping up. But, maybe XZ was lurking on his private account. Even though it’s one of the more iffy ones, it’s such a cute theory that I actually don’t mind believing it.]

This is a side note and not part of the actual theory: On my search for all things related to this trip, I noticed one of WYB’s posts where he did a similar thing.

This was in June 2018, so before XZ’s post. Mayhaps inspiration.

WYB’s 181119 Post @ 18:47

WYB posted exactly *1:05 hours after XZ posted. (*105 = 10/5, XZ’s birthday)

His caption was “冒个泡”

He was using internet slang; it can be vaguely translated to “I am here.” In context, he’s using the slang to refer to him not posting for a long time; he’s ‘showing his presence.’

Notable Things:

He posted the day prior on 181118; it wasn’t an ad, but it wasn’t exactly personal either.

He posted a picture of himself with his DDU brothers during a trip on 181104.

He had not posted a selfie since 181004. (Back then, he updated personal posts once or twice a week, whether it was a selfie or something about his life, such as what show he was watching. The month & a half time gap between personal posts would’ve been unusual.)

The caption & selfie work as a response to XZ’s “modern man will soon be named.”

Another thing fans were intrigued about was the time stamp on the photo, 180525.

WYB never really posts throwbacks, especially with selfies, yet he did one here to a date in the middle of CQL filming. He also usually never adds the date to his photos.

Isn’t it interesting that he captions the post with slang that tells people he’s back from a break, but uses an old photo instead of a new one? If someone’s announcing that they’re coming back from a break (especially a celebrity), wouldn’t it make more sense to post a recent photo rather than an old one (in this case, one from 6 months ago)? And, why even bother including the date in the first place?

[I can’t believe I barely noticed that WYB posted 1:05 hours after XZ. What in the world WYB? I’m losing my mind. It’s down to the damn minute, and their minutes weren’t a “0” or “5” multiple either. I usually try to pass off a lot of things regarding YiZhan (especially kadian) as coincidences, but what even is this? If it wasn’t intentional… What kind of connection do these two share?

Yes, I do think this was WYB’s response. The throwback picture was probably the most telling for me; him including the date he took the photo was like a flashing sign saying: ‘hey look at this date. it’s important.’ And when you add the caption into the mix, it’s taken to another level. I feel the combination of hints in and related to the post is too much and too telling to be coincidental.]

Time Gap

There’s an interesting time gap between the two XZ’s posts (180913 & 181119). There are a few theories about what could’ve happened in those two months. Some of the ones I’ve seen and heard are:

XZ & WYB could’ve been taking that time to tell their parents and settle things with their agencies

XZ & WYB could’ve begun dating exclusively after XZ’s return

Both of these theories imply that everything got settled or made official around 181119.

[I never really thought about the time gap between the posts… mostly because I kept forgetting there even was one. They’re both ridiculously romantic so I don’t doubt that 181119 is something of importance to them. I think it’s especially proving that both of them did a throwback to the same seemingly important time period.]

WYB’s 190322 Post

This post is pretty similar to XZ’s 181119 throwback post to the Japan trip. The theory for this one is that WYB spelled out “肖战” using the vertical middle row, going from top to bottom.

肖 - The tree looks like the top part of the “肖” character; the branches look like the bottom part of it.

战 - Since WYB placed an image of the entire Roman colosseum (where gladiator battles took place) in the last spot, he may have been alluding to how “战” means “battle” or “fight” (similar to how XZ may have been alluding to the meaning of “博” instead of getting a picture of the character).

WYB filmed the DDU episode on 3/22; I don’t believe there’s another significance to the date.

[WYB spelling out the “肖” using the first two pictures backs up my thinking that XZ spelled out the “王” and “一” characters in his first two pictures. This also leads me to think that both of them alluded to each other’s last character rather than spelling it out in their third pictures.]

FINAL THOUGHTS:

[The reason I like this overall theory a lot is because I think the happenings really fit with the things they’ve told us in interviews and suit their personalities. It makes sense to me that XZ would want to take some time to think about it; it makes sense to me that WYB was probably the one who took the first step.

As for the theories about the details… some of them are really out there, but all of them are fun to consider. As usual, take everything with a grain of salt.]

Some of these posts & events have several theories (i.e. XZ’s summer wind caption); they aren’t mutually exclusive… more than one can be true at the same time.

I tried to be as neutral as I could when explaining these theories. I tried to include counters and other possibilities, but I’m sure some bias came out. Just take it all in and take it for what it is.

My intention with this post was to put everything into perspective and give a good timeline. (As well as get everything in one place.) If you’re interested in my thoughts, feel free to go back and read the italicized & bracketed parts (if you hadn’t already).

The following is something I want to say about these theories and the BXG community in general:

Every theory has inconsistencies and exaggerations… that’s what makes it a theory. As long as we discuss things knowing this fact, that’s all that matters. We’re here to have fun, not to prove what’s right or wrong.

I love seeing the various theories everyone in this community puts out, no matter how different or similar they are to the ones I like/ believe in. It’s fun to look into these things with different perspectives. Don’t feel burdened if you believe in a less popular theory. Besides, we will never know anything for sure.

Be kind. And, have a good time.

Once again, this is all fake. I do not personally know XZ & WYB, and I will never know anything about them; this includes the intricacies of whatever relationship they share. So, CPN.

#don't ask me why it took so long lol #japan trip #yizhan #bjyx

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imaginingsoftly · 4 years

Text

Surprise! We Got Married - Travis Konecny

Type: eloping, established relationship, Y/N insert shorts

Requested: No

Warnings: none? I don’t think? Other than a Seattle expansion, so there are players who are obviously moved.

(Y/N = Your name)

AN: There’s a POV shift from Y/N to Travis at the end, but it’s marked

“Babe, I think today’s the day,” Travis whispered at you, not wanting to break the peaceful silence you stood in. His arm was wrapped around your shoulders as you both stood in front of your bedroom window, taking in the street below you and the bustle of Pike Place Market. You smiled up at him, nodding. “Yeah, Trav, I think it’s time.” You took a sip of your coffee, leaning into Travis with a contented sigh. It was the perfect day to get married, the rain coming down in a steady drizzle and the clouds that perfect shade of blue-gray that looked so much like Travis’ eyes.

When he had signed with Seattle the summer before, the two of you had agreed that the weather would be a fun change from what you were both used to as East Coast-ers. You had always loved the rain, and claimed that your most productive days came when the sky was gray and you could open all of the windows in the apartment to smell the rain. It took Travis a little while longer to adjust, though you thought that he had finally come around. Travis pulled you in closer, pressing a kiss to the top of your hair. “Mrs. Y/N Konecny,” he whispered, and you could feel him smile against the side of your head. The plan had been to get married the week before, when the guys had an off-day and your brother and Nolan were both going to be in town, but Travis had blocked a Johnny Boychuck slapshot the night before and you’d spent hours in the hospital waiting to see how bad the fracture in his foot was. As suspected, Travis had a minor fracture and a walking boot, and he was going to be out for at least four weeks.

The guys had a game that night, but Travis didn’t have to be at the rink until right before game time. Really, it was perfect. You could get to the courthouse right when it opened and go out to breakfast at that little bakery you both loved so much right afterwards. Your favorite part of living basically above Pike Place was the easy access to so many small businesses and local food producers, and part what helped you convince Travis the apartment was so perfect, despite being smaller and a little less expensive than what a typical professional athlete’s home would look like.

Travis squeezed your shoulders one more time before turning around and heading into your bathroom. You stood there for a second longer, taking another sip of your coffee and smiling down at the street below you. “Mrs. Y/N Konecny,” you whispered to yourself. It definitely had a nice ring to it.

Other than the location and abundant windows, your favorite part of yours and Travis’ apartment was the gigantic floor-ceiling mirror in the bathroom. It was the location of countless photos of the two of you, ranging from more formal photos before your nights out to pictures of a frowning Travis next to you smirking in matching face masks. When you and Travis had gotten the place, he had sworn he would take more photos with you in front of the mirror, and he had (sometimes reluctantly) held up to that promise. “One last photo as fiancees?” Travis asked. You nodded, shocked that he was the one suggesting a photo, before telling him “smile!” before snapping a photo before he changed his mind. It was by far one of your favorites taken in that mirror.

Travis had put on the soft gray sweater you had bought him for Christmas the first year after you started dating, his nicest jeans, and the black hat you had knit him that one winter you decided to take up knitting (your interest in the hobby ended as quickly as it began). It was your favorite version of Travis, soft and casual and completely yours. You had gone in a similar route, in a gray sweater-dress and your black tights, a matching gray knit hat on your own head. You looked down at Travis’ feet and laughed. “Seriously, dude?” He looked at your feet, encased in short black rainboots, and back at his own, in the exact same pair, and began to laugh. “Great minds think alike, eh Y/N?”. They were the rainboots Travis had bought as a joke when he told you he’d chosen to sign with Seattle. With the rainy climate, they had quickly become a staple of your wardrobe. Travis grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the door before you could try to take any more photos. “Last one to the elevator loses!” he exclaimed before taking off for the front door, and you had to laugh at the sight of him trying to run in a walking boot. It was more of a shuffle than a true run, and if you let him beat you to the elevator, well, that was a secret you’d never share.

*******************************************************************************************

The ceremony was fast, and Mrs. Grabney down the hall had been ecstatic when you’d asked her to be your witness. She had taken some impressively nice photos for an 87 year-old woman, and had appeared to enjoy ordering you and Travis into the positions she thought would be perfect outside the courthouse afterwards. You and Travis sat together outside Three Girls Bakery after bringing Mrs. Grabney back to the apartment building, sharing croissants and coffee like you had done on so many off days prior. It was your favorite place at Pike Place, both for the history and for the croissants. Three Girls had been the first business licensed to a woman in Seattle, way back in 1912, and it was still going strong over 110 years later.

As you and Travis scrolled through the photos on his phone, you stopped Travis’ scrolling to smile at the photo Mrs. Grabney had captured of Travis’ face when you said “I do”. He spoke with his face more than anyone else you knew, once you understood what his microexpressions meant, and the look on his face was one he reserved just for you. “I love this picture,” you announced, smiling up at Travis. He nodded and pressed a kiss onto your forehead. “Me too,” Travis murmured. “That’s when it became official that I could call you Mrs. Konecny forever.” You laughed. “Mrs. Konecny is your mother, Trav. Don’t age me so fast.” Travis laughed and bumped your shoulder with his own. “Okay, then I get to call you Y/N Konecny for the rest of my life then.”

“Whatever, Konecny.”

You giggled when Travis repeated the sentiment, standing with a sigh. “Come on, dude. You’ve gotta get ready for the game.” Travis sighed and did as you asked, though you could hear him mumbling something along the lines of “screw the game” as he stood.

_____________________________________________________________

(POV Change to Travis)

The guys won that night, and I couldn’t have been happier for them, though they needed to hurry their asses up and get into the room so we could do our postgame chat and I could get home to Y/N. Barzy finally made it inside, flopping down into his stall beside mine with a groan. He’d been hit hard during the game, targeted pretty heavily by his former team. I guess that answered the question of if they were still pissed at him for leaving. I slapped his shoulder, smirking when he swore at me. He stopped when he saw the ring on the hand I still had sitting on his shoulder.

“What the fuck is that?” I smiled for real, shrugging my shoulders. “Surprise? Y/N and I went to the courthouse this morning.” Barzy stood and punched my shoulder with an impressive amount of force. “Shut the fuck up. Why the fuck weren’t we invited?” He yelled out way too loudly, and several of the guys looked in our direction. “Why weren’t we invited to what,” Hanifan asked. I smiled sheepishly at the small crowd of guys looking at me for an answer. “Y/N got married this morning.” The room erupted as most of the team tried to jump on me at once. One set of friends and family down, way too many more to go, I thought to myself. It was gonna be a long couple of days.

#Travis Konecny imagine #nhl imagines #nhl imagine

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johnnydoe69 · 4 years

Text

Old Wars, New Faces Part 4

It had been several weeks since Odysseus/Kevin had started working on the farm. Kevin for his part had never felt more relaxed, his insecurities melted away by the day as confidence and strength coursed through him. Things were changing so drastically and so fast, he was quickly losing sight of who he was. At one point, he had called his parents and told them that he was gay and never coming back to Boston and right as they started screaming, he just hung up the phone. The old Kevin never would have been able to tell his parents off, let alone be in a relationship with another man, but he had done both.

A few days after they got together, Dryas offered to let Odysseus stay with him until he got back on his feet. Odysseus at first was content with finding a solitary cave or a canopy of trees to sleep under, rather than intrude too far into Dryas’s life but Dryas quickly convinced him out of it. It was during this time that Odysseus learned of the primary way Dryas made his money and kept his job on the farm, sex. Dryas was fucking one of the overseer’s sons and in return, if he didn’t piss Markos off too much, he was forgiven for mistakes that would have gotten others fired. Odysseus was fine with this; on his voyages across the Mediterranean his crew would sleep with a prostitute or two if they were in port and Odysseus would have gladly joined in if not for his devotion to his wife. Yet, there was still jealousy in Odysseus’s heart. He didn’t understand why he kept getting rejected by other men and sought Dryas’s insight.

He decided to ask Dryas this, after a passionate night of cuddling and making out. They were both sweaty and satisfied, their naked bodies curled up around each other, as the cool sea air licked their skin.

“Dryas, you always tell me that I’m more attractive than you and yet, you are the one who has men waiting for you. Whenever I flirt with a man they ignore me or threaten to kill me. I know things are different on Kefalonia compared to Ithaki, but I never expected so much hatred and disgust.”

Dryas rested his chin on Odysseus’s shoulder and sighed, “I don’t know what kind of crazy shit they do on Ithaki, but the rest of Greece is simply like this. With how open you’ve been, it’s a miracle you’re not dead. Granted these big muscles are probably a big help.” Dryas gave one of Odysseus’s biceps a tight squeeze.

“A lot of the men I sleep with are closeted. They only meet me through group chats or word of mouth. Most of my business takes place during the Spring and Summer months, when businessmen from the mainland come to escape their wives and gay tourists arrive after not being able to afford the big parties on Mykonos and Santorini. It helps that tourist season is when all the gay bars are open, but for the rest of the year nothing is.”

“Surely, there are other gay meeting spots on Kefalonia than what’s open for tourists?” Odysseus asked.

“Well, there is one place, but its kind of pricey and seedy. I’d probably just stick to online hookups instead,” Dryas said with a yawn.

“No. That’s too much of a risk. I would rather meet the man in-person first,” Odysseus said firmly. Despite, the time of bliss he spent with Dryas he couldn’t risk being caught off guard by a servant of Paris.

“Alright old man,” Dryas said, rolling his eyes. “There's a small hotel called Odysseus’s Palace, its right off the beach, you can’t miss it. Inside the main lounge is a bar where some of the more well off and older gay Kefalonians like to meet up. I only go when I’m desperate for cash, they tend to be douchebags.” Dryas furrowed his brow and bit his lip, “On second thought, maybe you shouldn’t go to a place like that, Arsenios.

Odysseus moved his meaty arm behind his head to use as a headrest, “I’ve handled far more dangerous places in my lifetime, I’ll be fine.”

Several nights later, Odysseus decided to make his move. He left work late in the evening, took a shower, dressed casually, and texted Dryas letting him know he’d be out.

There were only a few men at the bar. All of them much older and less attractive than Odysseus hoped. They gawked at his presence like dogs to a piece of meat. Odysseus ordered a round of tequila and was quickly joined by the other men at the bar.

Dryas had been right, the men were wealthy professional types, mostly lawyers and doctors with a handful of retired landowners thrown in. They laughed warmly at Odysseus’s stories of prior hookup attempts and admired both his physical beauty and youth, but then one man asked what he did for a living. When he answered honestly, saying he was a farmhand, the mood in the room suddenly shifted.

They started asking him if he would suck their cocks in the bathroom for 50 euros, or bark like a dog for 70. They asked if he had a pimp or if he was freelance. In another time Odysseus would have stomped their bodies into dust for badgering him about his sex life, but Odysseus feared that the control over his body was only temporary and a massive fist fight could awaken Kevin to the truth.

So instead, he took to ignoring them and slowly they melted away to their own separate corners, grumbling to themselves about how he was being a tease before Odysseus was left alone again.

It was then that Odysseus noticed another young man come to the bar. He was as big as he was, yet far more agile and light on his feet. The man drifted in and out of conversations with ease, his voice shifting so quickly to appeal to a different audience he sounded like a brand new person with every man he interacted with.

As the night wore on and most of the men had drifted home the stranger sat next to Odysseus at the bar. “How about a cup of Ouzo for this generous man and a cup for me as well,” the man said to the bartender. A minute later the bartender poured out two cups of white wine.

They both thanked the bartender and the stranger took a sip from his drink.

The man’s twinkling brown eyes glanced into Odysseus's, “From what I’ve heard from the regulars you are quite an interesting man Arsenios. A strongman who can’t get laid, a farm worker who spends his earnings on men who wouldn’t put a euro in a beggar’s cup. Just when I thought I’d be stuck with dull pretentious bastards until the day I died,” the man said with a laugh.

“Funny, I thought the same about you. Coming in two hours before closing, you moved like Hermes himself from one man to another, and despite seeming to not like the men you drink with they seem to trust you very well” Odysseus said, sipping his ouzo. “Though I still don’t have a name to your face.”

The stranger smiled warmly, “My name is Diomedes of Argolis. I'm here on business, not pleasure. This hotel has water damage and I was brought in to access the situation. I came to the bar out of boredom. Not much to do here, but fish and drink is there?

Odysseus cracked a smile, “You’re not completely wrong in that. I’m not from this island either. I’m actually from an island next door, Ithaki.”

“Hmm, I once knew a man who lived on Ithaki. Looked a lot like you actually,” Diomedes said curiously.

“What do you know of this man from Ithaki,” Odysseus asked leaning forward.

“He was a stubborn, arrogant, pain in the ass. Loyal to his friends, cruel to his enemies. He had a massive muscular body just like yours, though I usually remember that egomaniac smeared with olive oil to show off his figure.” Diomedes took a swig of his wine, savoring the taste before continuing.

“He was a good friend, even when I wanted to kick the fucker’s teeth in. I only wished I did more with him when he was still alive.” Diomedes said with a sigh.

Odysseus nodded. “I’m sorry for your loss. He sounded like a good man.”

Diomedes smiled sadly, “Would you like to come up with me to my room? The neon lights of the bar are starting to give me a splitting headache and my place is only the floor above us.”

Odysseus nodded and they both got up from their stools. Odysseus tried to pay off the combined tab from everyone at the bar, but Diomedes wouldn’t hear a word of it. He simply plopped down his credit card and paid it off before Odysseus could refuse.

Afterwards they walked down the twisting corridors of the hotel to Diomedes’s room. It was a simple hotel room, similar to the motel room Odysseus had been living in with less filth. It was pristine, no swarms of cockroaches or lingering black mold anywhere in sight. When they crossed the threshold, they started making out.

They peeled off their clothes like second skins and embraced on Diomedes’s bed. As Odysseus felt Diomedes's warm tongue down his throat, he recognized the similar buzz of energy that ricocheted from Diomedes’s muscular frame, a buzz very similar to his own. Odysseus didn’t mind this and kept going, pushing Diomedes flat on the bed, and squatting on Diomedes' hard dick. He wheezed at the pain, they hadn’t used lube and there was no substitute in sight, but Odysseus made do.

It was Kevin, who was nearly pushed to the edge of oblivion by Odysseus, who was truly becoming aware of what was happening. His eyes widened at the warm glow that emitted from Diomedes' skin and became aware of the glow that came from his own. When Diomedes opened his eyes, it was full of an ancient knowledge Kevin couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Fear gripped him, sending waves of adrenaline up and down his spine, and yet this only made him grind deeper and faster on Diomedes’s dick, moaning harder and louder with every panicked thought.

Eventually, Diomedes came hard inside Odysseus/Kevin coating their insides with cum. Odysseus slowly raised himself off Diomedes’s dick, while furiously pulling at his own. Diomedes after taking a short breath, took Odysseus’s hand off his dick and massaged himself, using his thick fingers to coax the semen out of Odysseus’s hard dick and onto Diomedes’s flat stomach.

Then Odysseus collapsed onto the bed, both men panting heavily. After a few minutes of rest, they wiped themselves off and fell asleep. Both slept well into the night, even as Kevin’s brain raced at the possibilities at what was happening. Had the glowing been an illusion? A trick of the light? Did this man have something to do with the drastic changes to his body and attitude?

When Odysseus finally woke up the next morning, Diomedes was already out of bed and in the bathroom. Still exhausted from the night before, Odysseus staid in bed and stared out at Diomedes. If it was one of his enemies, Odysseus would have been dead already, but the stranger hadn’t revealed his identity divine to him earlier.

Diomedes caught him staring from his reflection in the mirror, “Before we had sex, did you really think I was some silly young twunk working a simple insurance claim?”

Odysseus laughed. “I suspected, but I wasn’t sure. Now who are you really?”

“I wasn’t lying when I told you I was Diomedes of Argolis,” Diomedes said turning on the faucet and washing his face.

“And that friend of yours that you spent all night insulting was supposed to me, right?” Odysseus asked, rolling his eyes. Diomedes didn’t answer so Odysseus continued, “Everyone in this country names their children after heroes and gods. Is Diomedes the name of the body you inhabit or was that by choice?”

Kevin squirmed internally, confused and terrified at the strange words leaving his lips. He tried to exert control over his own body, only to find he had none. Odysseus sighed.

“This is my own form, Odysseus. Purely immortal. Though, not enough to enjoy on Mt. Olympus it seems.” He said, taking out a toothbrush and cleaning his teeth.

“Your worship did fade out when the Romans lost interest in you” Odysseus said, trying to ignore Kevin twisting against his will.

“And my name was never as venerated as yours, hero of the Odyssey,” Diomedes said spitefully.

Diomedes was the wisest of the men fighting Troy and yet strangely to Odysseus one of the heroes least mentioned in the mortal world. It was strange that such a hero could be largely forgotten.

“Why didn’t you reveal yourself earlier to me at the bar?” Odysseus asked, sitting upright in the bed, arms crossed over his powerful chest.

“You were never as sly as people seemed to think you were. Or have you picked up the manners of your American body?” Diomedes asked.

“Honestly, I don’t know. It's strange being in another man’s body like this. It feels like mine and yet, completely alien to me.” Odysseus said looking at his hands. They were big, but nowhere as large as the mitts he had used to string a bow with.

“But you didn’t answer my question.” Odysseus said. Diomedes gave his arms a casual flex in the mirror before returning to his bed and sitting next to Odysseus.

“Well, since you were honest, I have to say that as blissful as the Isle of Pleasure was, I was bored. My worship never recovered when my hero cult fell into obscurity and who knew how much time was left before my soul faded as well. Might as well come back and make a name for myself.” Diomedes got back off the bed and went to a dresser, pulling on a long-sleeved shirt and undoing the wrapped towel, letting it fall to his ankles.

“Besides, where would you lot be without me? Probably pissing yourselves outside the walls of Paris’s villa,” Diomedes said, pulling out a jock strap and a pair of jeans.

“Lot? There are more of us coming?” Odysseus asked, leaning on his side.

“Yep. Not much of a war with only 2 people, is it?” Diomedes asked, putting on his jock strap.

“You know where Paris is?” Odysseus asked.

“Yeah, that guy does not keep a low profile. Here’s his Instagram account,” Diomedes said, tossing Odysseus his phone. Odysseus caught it with one hand and had a look.

“He’s utterly defenseless,” Odysseus said, getting up from the bed.

“What you don't see is all the security cameras, bulletproof windows, and the fact that he is constantly surrounded by people who would die to defend him. You don't need to wear armor as obviously as we dod in the old days,” Diomedes said, pulling a tight pair of jeans over his legs and ass.

Odysseus paced around Diomedes' bedroom; his dick stuck hard to his thigh. “You’re right, we need allies and weapons. It would help if we could locate some of the other heroes back from the Underworld to aid us. Then we’d have a chance.”

“Well, I found you dumbass. It shouldn’t be hard to find some of the others. Not that I’ve been looking very hard,” Diomedes said, sitting back on the bed.

“Hey,” Odysseus said, dropping his phone back in Diomedes’s lap.

“Oh what? Don’t act like you haven’t been enjoying your time with mortals either,” Diomedes said. Kevin continue to struggle against Odysseus’s power, exhausting him to the point that after a few minutes of pacing Odysseus had to already sit back down.

“Yeah, I think the mortal whose body I picked up is becoming aware of my presence,” Odysseus said, panting.

Diomedes nodded. “Give yourself time to readjust. If you haven’t already, try giving the man whose body you inhabit a different personality to enjoy.”

“What does that mean?” Odysseus asked.

“You already call yourself, Arsenios. I’m guessing different than the body’s original name, try creating a persona for that. In that way you can cross into autopilot when you need, without worrying about internal resistance. It will be hard, but I know you can manage it.” Diomedes said, “Now get up, I have work in a few hours and I’m sure you have other places to be as well.”

Odysseus nodded and got out of bed, giving Kevin an internal kick, quieting him enough so Odysseus would have enough strength to get home. Things would be hard, Odysseus grimaced, but he could manage. A thought that made Kevin internally scream with rage.

#Possession #male transformation

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orangeoctopi7 · 4 years

Text

Champions

I know I already posted something for the last week of @stanuary but that was sort of a place-holder for this. I’ve been sick on-and-off for the last month or so, so I wasn’t sure if I’d finish this in time. I did get time to work on it the other day while I was at work.

This is a crossover with Atop the Fourth Wall’s Contest of Champions, but you don’t need any prior knowledge of AT4W to understand what’s happening. I’m just borrowing a concept, really. (Although I do want to do a second chapter where Stan interacts with those characters)

***

Stan was awoken in the middle of the night by one of Ford’s alarms going off. He groggily sat up as his brother jumped out of his own hammock and dashed to the controls, muttering curses under his breath the whole way.

“Wazzat?” Stan groaned.

“An extradimensional portal just opened up aboard the Stan'o'war! But my sensors aren’t picking up any foreign lifeforms. Whatever it was must also have access to time travel. It must have paused time, entered our dimension, done whatever it was trying to do, and then left before restoring the flow of time.”

“Y'sure your nerd gadgets aren’t just broken?” Stan asked, reaching sleepily for his glasses on the bedside cabinet. He felt around, but instead of the thin plastic frames, he felt a heavy sheet of parchment.

“Yes, I’m sure! Now keep a close eye out for anything out of place! Just because I don’t detect any lifeforms doesn’t mean they couldn’t have left a robot or a bug.”

“Uh, Ford? I think I found what they left.”

Stan finally put his glasses on and looked down at the parchment he’d found. It was the same size as a normal 8.5" by 11" printer paper, but the parchment felt much fancier, like something the Northwests would use for an invitation. Which was exactly what it was.

STANLEY PINES

YOU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED TO THE 1049th INTERDIMENSIONAL

CONTEST OF CHAMPIONS

SPEAK ALOUD YOUR ACCEPTANCE AND DETAILS WILL FOLLOW

CONGRATULATIONS, CHAMPION.

“What the…?” Stan muttered, turning the page over to look for more info, but it was blank. “Ford, are you tryin’ to pull some sorta prank? If so, I don’t get your humor at all.”

Ford silently read the invitation over his brother’s shoulder, before snatching it away. “This has to be counterfeit. I know you destroyed Bill, but that’s not… that doesn’t make you… does it?”

“Seriously, Ford, what is this?” Stan asked impatiently.

Ford took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts, before answering. “To put it in your terms, Stan, the Contest of Champions is like an interdimensional boxing tournament, only instead of just boxing, the Champions can choose any kind of contest they want.”

“Champions?”

Ford pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know, I bet this thing will do a much better job of explaining.” He held up the invitation like it was a phone and he was having a video-chat. “We’d like the Terms and Conditions, please.”

Nothing happened.

“Of course, I wasn’t invited.” Ford rolled his eyes and handed the paper back to Stan. “You have to ask it.”

Stan held the paper out like he’d seen Ford doing. “Uh… can you explain this whole thing to me?” He awkwardly addressed the invitation.

With nothing more than a bright flash of light, a figure in dark robes appeared. They looked like they might be human, but every part of them was covered, from their closed hood to their gloved hands.

“Sweet Moses!” Stan shouted in surprise, winding up to punch the intruder.

“Relax, it’s just a hologram recording.” Ford reassured him with a gentle hand on the shoulder.

“The interdimensional Contest of Champions is a tournament.” The hologram began, “Within every parallel reality, there are figures best suited to defend those realities. These individuals are referred to as Champions. The hosts for this contest, the Temlins, have elected to hold a tournament to judge their respective skills against one another. Participants are randomly selected across all realities and invitations are sent. You are under no obligation to join this great tournament, but should you enter, you will be granted the opportunity to test your abilities against other powerful individuals and make an attempt at a great prize. All battles are non-lethal and participation is voluntary. Should you remain victorious through all of your battles, you will be awarded this great prize. Defeat brings only as much dishonor as you allow yourself. If you have any further questions, you may ask now.”

“Wow, that’s quite the schpiel you got there.” Stan grunted. He turned to his brother. “So, let me get this straight. I can’t die, and I get to fight a buncha space dorks for some fancy prize? Sounds like a good time to me!”

“It’s a lot more complex than that.”

“What, you been in one of these things?”

“No, but I watched the coverage of one during my interdimensional travels. I should warn you, they take forever. Since it covers multiple dimensions and timelines, it can be really stretched out. I saw the beginning of the 1018th tournament while I was in the Bubble Dimension, by the time it finally finished, I was in the Flying Whale Dimension, six years later.”

“Well, do I haffta wait on their planet, or somethin’ or can I just go about life as normal?”

Ford shrugged.

“Between rounds, Champions are allowed to prepare as they see fit.” The hologram answered. “The Temlins are aware of the great temporal differences between participating dimensions. Champions are encouraged to continue their normal lives if at all possible while waiting for the next round.”

“Ok. And how do these battles work?”

“From what I remember, one of the contestants gets to choose the contest.”

“For each round, one of the two Champions is selected at random. They must set a battle that is fair to both parties, with a reasonable chance that either could win. The conditions of the battle must be agreed upon by both parties, and approved by the Temlins.”

“So, I just gotta bribe the right people, and make sure I get to pick the challenge. Dirty boxing, or, I dunno, a The Dutchess Approves trivia quiz.”

“Stanley, I’d advise against mentioning bribery in front of the recording device.” Ford scolded him. “And besides, the Temlins are all-powerful beings. I very much doubt you have anything that would interest them.”

“Well, what’ve I got to lose, right? I’ll give it a shot.”

“Stanley, wait, let’s think about this first! I don’t trust the Temlins. That much power, and they use it to host a tournament!? Why couldn’t they have done something about Bill, why couldn’t they use that power to stop injustice across the multiverse?”

Stan gasped in mock surprise. “What!? You don’t trust somebody? That’s never happened before! Whatever will I do with this new, vital information?”

“Stanley, I’m serious!”

“C'mon Ford, the man says it’s voluntary. If things get sketchy, I’ll quit! ‘Snot like I expect to win this thing. Think of it this way, I get to fight crazy space guys. You get to study whatever crazy space guys they send our way, and maybe if I get really lucky, I win some fancy sci-fi prize.”

Ford sighed. “I’ll admit, that does sound tempting.”

“Great, cuz I’m doin’ it!” Stan turned back to the hologram. “I, uh, speak aloud my acceptance, or however this works.”

“Welcome, Stanley Pines, to the Contest of Champions.”

“Great. So now what?”

“Preliminary round begins now.”

“Wait, what?”

“Your opponent is Ace Corgi, Attorney at Paw. Battlefield has been selected as Stanley Pines’”

“Ford, you said these things take forever!”

“Well I never saw anything about a preliminary round on the broadcast!”

Another brilliant flash filled the cabin. The hologram had disappeared, and in its place was a stout dog with pointy ears and a steel-gray coat. It looked just as surprised as they were. Ford’s alarms started again.

“Oh, are we starting now?” It asked in a deep voice that belied its small size.

“Aw, lookit the cute talking dog!” Stan cooed.

“That must be the Champion from the Corgi Dimension!”

“There’s a Corgi Dimension!?”

“Yes, but last I heard, the Champion of the Corgi Dimension was Atticus.”

“Oh, He retired just last year.” The small dog explained. “Now, which one of you humans is my opponent?”

Stan raised his hand.

“Thank you. Now have at thee!”

The dog lunged without warning, going straight for Stan’s knees.

“What the H!?” Stan shouted as he nearly toppled to the ground. His first instinct was to dropkick the animal, but he knew Mabel would never forgive him for doing such a thing to a cute dog, even if it was in self defense. Luckily, he knew a thing or two about dealing with rowdy dogs from his time pug trafficking. He grabbed it by the scruff of the neck, doing his best to avoid the snapping jaws, and forced the dog onto its back.

“A little help here?” He yelled to Ford as he struggled to keep the wiggling dog still.

The old scientist held his hands up. “I’m not allowed to interfere.”

The dog took advantage of Stan’s split attention and squirmed out of his grasp.

“You’re a jerk, you know that?” Stan shouted as the corgi chased him up onto the deck.

“I’m not being a jerk, it’s the rules!” Ford called after him.

Stan at least had the presence of mind to grab his boots and his coat as he dashed for the stairs. Luckily, the steps slowed his stubby-legged pursuer down, and he was able to actually put them on.

“You cur! Your giant ledges won’t be enough to stop me!"

"What the heck, I thought we had to both agree on the battle first!?”

“That’s what I thought too, but it seems the Temlins get to decide the battle for the preliminary round. I suppose it saves time.” The dog replied as it hopped up the last step.

What the heck am I supposed to do!? Stan wondered to himself. I’m not gonna punch a little dog!

He ran around the deck a couple of times, trying to tire the little guy out, but the dog had boundless energy, and it’s fur coat was obviously better at keeping the cold out than Stan’s cotton one. Finally, his eyes caught sight of the net he and Ford used to catch specimens for his brother’s research. Perfect!

Out-maneuvering a herding dog was a challenge, but in the end he managed. After all, corgis were bred to herd large groups of sheep, not one cunning old man. Once Stan grabbed the net, he tossed it over his opponent, tangling up its little legs almost instantly. The dog continued to squirm, attempting to wiggle its way out once again. When this proved futile, it started to gnaw on the cables of the net.

“Yeah, good luck, Bucko.” Stan chuckled. “That net’s meant for things way bigger and more magical than you.”

“Preliminary round has ended. The victor is Stanley Pines.” The hologram appeared again in a flash of light. “You are both Champions worthy of being in this great tournament. Now you must await your summoning for the first true round. Information and dossiers about the other participants will be made available to you soon, relative to your own universe’s timescale. Welcome, once again, to the Contest of Champions.”

With that, the hologram disappeared again.

“Good show, human!” The dog barked happily. “Will you please let me out now?”

“Oh, right.” Stan pulled the net away. “Not that it’s any of my business, but if I can beat you, ya might not last many rounds in this tournament.”

“Oh, this dog still has a few tricks. I don’t want to show all my best moves before we’ve even begun!”

“Good point. Hey, before ya go, would it be too much to ask for a picture? My niece would really love you.”

“But of course!”

“Hey Ford, get up here!” Stan called down the stairs to the cabin.

“I told you, I can’t help during the match!”

“It’s already over, genius! We’re takin’ a commemorative photo! Bring up the camera!”

#Gravity Falls #Fanfiction #atop the fourth wall #Stanley Pines #Stanuary 2020 #Fight #my writing

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holdyourbreathuntilyouseelight · 5 years

Text

The Bodyguard - Chapter 2

Summary: Magnus is a dancing popstar sensation whose popularity continues to climb. Alec, an ex-Secret Service agent, is hired on as a professional bodyguard in charge of Mr. Bane’s personal security by insistence of Magnus’ manager. Despite their initial differences, Magnus finds himself falling for Alec the more time they spend getting to know each other and relies on him for more than physical security as his safety gets threatened. Loosely based on the 1992 film The Bodyguard.

Rating: M

Genre: AU, Everyone is Human AU, Celebrity!Magnus, Bodyguard!Alec, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Friendship, Romance, Eventual Smut, Mutual Pining

Author: holdyourbreathuntilyouseelight

A/N: Thanks for reading and the feedback so far! For this chapter - mild trigger warning for a forced-on kiss - female to male. It does not last long, but please be mindful if you are sensitive to this type of situation.

Read on AO3.

Previous chapters on tumblr: Prologue // Chapter 1

"Is this really necessary, Alexander?"

Alec grumbled under his breath at the use of his full name, not bothering to correct the star anymore. He clearly enjoyed pushing his buttons, so giving in and showing how much it annoyed him was only fueling the fire.

It was only two weeks into the tour, and Alec's prediction that he'd be met with resistance on his plans to keep Magnus safe from the one in question was proving true.

He liked to do a full sweep of every venue prior to letting Magnus roam free. Especially since it was clear Magnus had no regard for personal safety.

Alec continued his patrol, withholding the sigh he longed to release. "Yes, Mr. Bane. I take my job seriously."

"Is there anything you don't take seriously?" Magnus drawled, examining his nails. "I need to get started on my pre-show prep so I'll be ready in time for dress rehearsal. Are you almost done deactivating the bombs at least?"

Alec rolled his eyes. "You know, just because you think you're invincible and everyone worships you, doesn't mean you're right."

"Whatever. Can we hurry this up? I'm starving."

Alec chose not to respond, instead speaking into his wire. "Are we clear?"

"All set. Set him free." Raj chuckled, knowing the impatience of the pop star.

He turned to Magnus. "We're clear."

"Finally." Magnus complained, heading towards his assigned dressing room with his prep team in tow.

Alec followed and leaned against the wall outside of his room, pulling out the mini tablet he had. He opened up the venue map and checked each of his staff's positioning.

Magnus may not outwardly appreciate his efforts, but Alec wasn't going to let that weaken his meticulous professionalism. He had been hired to keep the man safe, and that was exactly what he was going to do.

Magnus let his team do their work, trying not to think about the tall man outside of his dressing room acting like he was going to be tackled at any moment.

He knew Raphael had his reasons for hiring Alec, but he had mostly been a giant pain in his ass. Magnus had not taken well to the modifications done to his home or that the Lightwood man seemed to be the bossiest person on the planet.

He remembered when he came home from a day of shopping to find his house transformed from when he last left it.

"Why are there bars on my windows?! What is this, Alcatraz?!"

Alec inhaled slowly. "Mr. Bane, we will be taking every precaution to keep you safe. That means your home needed some changes."

"This is ridiculous! RAPH!"

Raphael came back into the room, hanging up the phone. "Listen to Mr. Lightwood, Magnus. He knows what he's doing."

"I don't care! I should not need a damn retina scan to enter the front door!"

Alec didn't speak to his over-exaggeration, instead forcing his voice into a steady calm. "Mr. Bane… we've added extra security measures for a reason. The fact that you haven't had more issues with break-ins and over-enthused fans is shocking. Your social media is littered with ways for your fans to track you to this address. You had no security or surveillance system in place, your windows were a completely accessible entry point, and you had so many people running around, anyone could slip in, especially without any proper screening process at your front door."

Magnus had pitched a celebrity-level temper tantrum but Alec didn't budge. It was clear Magnus wasn't getting through to him, so he reluctantly let him continue to run the show and got used to not having his way. Even though he didn't usually keep his mouth shut about it.

After that, Magnus gave up on arguing about it, since even Raphael wasn't sympathetic to him. He made sure to be home for the next set of changes, and that he pushed Alec's buttons at every opportunity during the process.

Still, despite Alec's irritating ways, he knew his heart was in the right place. He may be a hired gun of sorts but the changes did make Magnus start to think about what he was doing. Sometimes, when he was about to post something to social media, he'd now review it. Even going so far to crop certain parts out or blur them to make it a little more secure.

He'd never tell Alec that, of course. He could just picture the smug look on the tall man's face.

Still, annoying though he may be, he at least was easy on the eyes. And Magnus very much enjoyed riling him up at every opportunity. His buttons were so very easy to push. Flirting openly with him was especially rewarding, as it usually caused his porcelain skin to change to a lovely pink hue.

A knock on the door made Magnus look up from watching Meliorn work on his make-up.

Alec's voice came through the closed door. "Mr. Bane, there's a Camille Belcourt here to see you. She says you're old friends. Do you have time to see her or should I get Raphael to set up a time tomorrow?"

Magnus swallowed, the few of his team members who knew his past well looking awkward, and he forced a smile. "I'll be all right. You guys go take a break. Get some nourishment. I'll handle Camille."

"One of us can stay…?"

He shook his head, waving them off. "Go. I'll find out what she wants and then send her on her way."

The group of them left, and Magnus turned in his chair. "Let her in, Alec."

The door opened and the tall brunette entered, a wicked smirk on her lips.

"Magnus. It's been too long."

Alec met Magnus' eyes, and Magnus gave a subtle nod, confirming that she was who she said she was. Alec closed the door behind the pair.

"Camille. What brings you to my dressing room?"

She waltzed over to him in what she probably assumed was a seductive manner, but Magnus wasn't buying it. "Aww, can't I stop by? Or was that privilege revoked when we broke up?"

"You mean when you cheated on me with your agent for nearly a year and then got caught?" Magnus replied coldly.

She pouted. "Still holding a grudge I see."

Magnus crossed his arms, huffing out a breath. "Yeah, I'm stubborn like that, I guess."

"Oh, Magnus. I know we both made mistakes…"

"Some more than others." he interjected bitterly.

"… but I was hoping we could catch up. Reconnect. It's been too long."

"Is this because I got invited to that big award show next week? Are you thinking I'll take you and get you some spotlight time?"

"Now that is a wonderful idea! I could make myself available…"

Magnus sighed. "Camille, just because your modelling career has hit a plateau, it isn't a reason for you to try to manipulate me into letting you back into my life."

Camille stepped closer, looping her arms around his neck, her eyelashes fluttering over her green eyes in an attempt to be sultry. "Magnus, I miss you. We had something good for so long. And your fans love us together. Please? Just think about it. What me and you together could mean… How much fun we had… I know you remember that." she taunted, leaning into him further.

Before he could reply, Camille had backed him against the vanity table and grabbed his face in her hands to kiss him eagerly.

Magnus lost his balance, arms flailing as he fell backwards, before he grabbed her shoulders and shoved her off of him, hard.

"Camille! Don't—!"

But she was forcing herself on him again, her tongue invading his mouth, and before he could do something like bite down on it to get her off, she was wrenched away.

"I believe Mr. Bane told you no." a low voice growled, and Magnus looked up as he wiped his mouth to see Alec with a tight grip around Camille's wrist.

She was dead silent, eyes wide at the dangerous tone, and Alec dragged her by the arm to the door with little to no remorse.

"You've overstayed your welcome, Miss Belcourt. Mr. Garroway will escort you out. And you will not be welcomed back on my watch."

Camille shot a glare back at Magnus before letting an angry Luke direct her outside.

Magnus was speechless, chest rising and falling. He didn't know what to say. Alec looked furious, like he was ready to punch a hole in the wall, and Magnus hadn't seen him in such a state before. He was normally quite pulled together.

"Are you all right?" Alec finally asked.

Magnus managed to find words, hugging his middle and watching the floor instead of meeting his bodyguard's eyes. "Fine. Um… thanks."

Alec nodded. "I apologize for barging in. I promise I wasn't eavesdropping, but I heard you cry out and well…"

Magnus nodded, not lifting his gaze. He felt mortified, not really sure how to talk to him now. He was always giving Alec a hard time about his extensive measures, and, still, at the first sign of Magnus' lack of safety, he was swooping in to his rescue. It was his job, he supposed, but Magnus could've handled it himself too.

Alec took a step closer, eyes roaming over Magnus' form. "She didn't hurt you, did she?"

Magnus shook his head. "No, no, I'm okay. Just… humiliated." he muttered under his breath.

Alec crossed the distance between them then, reaching a hand out to cup Magnus' face so he'd look at him. He lowered himself slightly so he was at eye-level.

"Hey. You have nothing to be embarrassed about, okay?"

"Well, for starters, I let her in here despite my better judgment."

"You just have a good, trusting heart. Sometimes, those that know it, take advantage of it. Especially when they're a person like Camille. But that isn't your fault, okay? I know I've preached taking more precautions about your safety since the second we met—"

"And you were right! I mean, even my hair and make-up team know Camille is bad news, and yet I still let her in this room alone with me."

Alec smiled softly at him, and Magnus found himself mesmerized by the sight.

"You want to see the best in people. That's not something to be ashamed of. But you also mean a lot to a lot of people, and your personal safety is important to honour too."

"I know. I'll try to be less… difficult about it."

Alec laughed, and Magnus couldn't help but break into a grin at the sound. That was new.

"It hasn't hindered me doing my job yet, has it?"

"True."

Alec rolled his eyes amusedly. "All right. I'll send your team back in. Dress rehearsal is in fifteen minutes and you still need a lot of work…"

"Hey!"

Alec grinned over his shoulder at him, and Magnus chewed his tongue as he tried not to laugh, unable to believe that Alec Lightwood had just made a joke.

But then his hair and make-up team returned with snacks and drinks for him, and Magnus was distracted with soothing their concerns that Camille was long gone.

He didn't share what had gone down during their absence, but they didn't look too worried. He figured that was because of the oddly giddy look on his face that Alec had imprinted on him before he left.

The show was a great success, as always. Magnus shone as bright as he always did in front of a huge crowd, every move he made followed by thousands of eyes and screaming cheers.

Alec directed the security that lined the stage as well as those that kept things clear backstage. He himself watched Magnus from the sidelines, always scanning the crowd for any signs of potential danger.

Thankfully, it was another uneventful night for danger and Magnus quickly cleaned himself up to go do the usual meet-and-greet outside for those lingering around.

Alec dutifully followed, the fan interaction always his most dreaded part of the evening. It was much harder to keep track of everyone and everything when they all were in such close quarters, desperate to get a handful of the star.

But he knew it was extremely important to Magnus and the fans and that it wasn't going anywhere any time soon, so he sucked it up and stayed tight to Magnus' side.

It was much harder to keep things organized when there were people leaping at Magnus and excitedly hugging him and reaching in their coats for their phones. These days, autographs were a thing of the past, so bulky phones came out for the two hundred selfies Magnus would take with his idolizers.

Still, it was hard not to smile seeing the way people would light up like all their dreams came true when Magnus gave them his undivided attention.

Magnus had a way with his fans—he maintained total eye contact, smiled so wide his eyes sparkled, and he listened to every word they said like they were telling him the most important thing he'd ever hear. He joined them in retelling of stories of his, became completely animated in his responses, and generally charmed them even more than they were already.

Each fan would leave, giggling with their companions and sifting through the many selfies he took with them to find the first one they'd post, and Magnus would embrace the next just as whole-heartedly and full of love as the last.

Even Alec couldn't help his entertainment watching the interactions, but he stayed watchful, making sure not to miss a beat.

Finally, things wrapped up and they headed back inside the venue to gather Magnus' things before heading to the local hotel. They'd leave for the next city in the morning.

"Well, tonight was a definite win for the books. I can't wait to lounge in a ridiculous-sized tub and then sleep with eighteen pillows." Magnus was babbling as they headed through the halls.

Alec tried to keep the amusement off his face but it was a hard feat. Working for Magnus was definitely a change of pace from his previous work.

Magnus led the way down the hall, rambling on about all the perks of getting the best suites at hotels and where his best stays were. It wasn't until he opened the door to his dressing room so he could gather the last of his belongings that he went silent.

Alec saw the blood drain from his face, his posture suddenly rigid, and he instinctively cut in front of him to barricade him from whatever horror he was facing.

The vanity mirror was covered in a series of polaroids, all taped in an arrangement. Alec stepped in the room further to get a closer look, but it was clear what the pattern was spelling out.

YOU'RE MINE

His eyes narrowed as he looked over the pictures. Most seemed to be candid shots—captured moments of Magnus walking down the street, stopping at cafes, even some from him around the house through what had to be his windows. Him rehearsing, eating dinner, even a couple where he was asleep on the couch.

"What the FUCK is THIS?!" Magnus finally said. Although he obviously meant to sound more malicious, it mostly came out hoarse from fear.

Alec pulled out his phone and started taking pictures immediately. He was trying to control the growing anger in the pit of his stomach. He had security staff everywhere. How had this person gotten in here?

Raphael had come by to see what the hold up was, as the car was waiting outside for them to go, and the smile melted right off of his face like candle wax.

"Do you want to tell him or should I?" Alec asked the silent man, his irritation not masked in the slightest.

"YOU knew about… about…. Whatever the hell THIS is?!" Magnus demanded, rounding on him now that he had a target.

Alec raised a hand in surrender and kept his cool. "Let's talk at the hotel. I'm going to get the police here to do a sweep in case there are any answers. And I'll need to speak to the director of this place to see if there is any surveillance near this room that might help us narrow this person down." He gestured at Luke. "Luke, please escort Mr. Bane outside and do not leave his side for a moment. Do a sweep of the car before getting in it too."

Magnus huffed and stormed away, looking hurt and betrayed, and Alec tried not to let it bother him. He knew his response was entirely valid. Alec had urged Raphael on multiple occasions to tell Magnus, to warn him so things wouldn't come as such a shock and so he could be more wary, but Raphael feared making Magnus paranoid for no reason.

After all, until tonight, they had only received a couple of ransom-like letters in the mail. It could've been a prank. And once Alec was hired on, nothing else came. Obviously the manager had hoped it was over and he wouldn't have to worry the star, but Alec knew obsessions like these rarely faded on their own.

Alec hoped that one good thing would come out of the display left for them tonight—there would be something useful found to track the person down and end things before they got worse.

Of course, luck would have it that things wouldn't be that easy.

The police came and went, promising to call if any evidence lead to something, but Alec could tell by the looks in their eyes they weren't too hopeful. After all, so many people had been in and out of that room that night. And if, god forbid, it was someone on Magnus' team doing such things, it would be virtually impossible to pin it on them from their DNA being at the scene alone.

Naturally, the surveillance stopped shortly before reaching Magnus' dressing room, so they didn't have much to go on there. It was designed to capture where regular guests frequented, rather than more of the backstage situations, due to privacy. Many stars ended up undressing and redressing backstage or in the hallways—to avoid lawsuits or uncodely conduct, they limited the survaillence in those areas during show nights.

Defeated, Alec headed to the hotel to meet with a furious Magnus and hopefully smooth things over.

By the time he arrived, it looked as though Raphael had explained everything—how long ago things started, the few notes they received and what they looked like, and how, despite taking things to the police, nothing had really come of it yet. It was why Raphael had wanted better security during the tour, hence his hiring of Alec.

Alec entered the room quietly, standing with his hands behind his back in a soldier's stance as Magnus paced back and forth in front of a forlorn Raphael.

"So this has been going on for months and you just decided it was better I didn't know?!"

"I worried about making you paranoid, affecting your comfort on stage and with fans… If it was just a harmless prank or something to rattle you with no real intention of going further, it seemed cruel to burden you with it…" Raphael explained, looking at the shag rug with his head hung.

"And what about you? What's your excuse?" Magnus snapped at Alec.

He exhaled slowly. "I would've told you myself, but I figured you'd assume I was making it up in order to make you more compliant with the changes I implemented. I wanted you to trust me as your head of security and was worried you'd rebel even further against the new things in place if I gave you a reason to."

Magnus grumbled under his breath. "Damn."

Alec raised one eyebrow in question.

"You're probably right. I wouldn't have believed you. I guess I needed to see it for myself."

Magnus straightened up from his moping position and crossed his arms.

"So… now that everything is in the open, what comes next? Should we… should we be cancelling the tour?"

Alec noticed he was looking at him now; normally he'd go through Raphael first, but he supposed he could understand why he was a little less forgiving of the man he'd known for many years keeping secrets.

"Well, truth be told, no. I think, with stalkers of this nature, the more you keep moving the better. Now, of course, with a music tour such as yours, all of your dates and venues are posted. But if those pictures tonight are anything to go by, they know where you live. I'd feel better knowing they don't know where you're sleeping each night, as your hotel stays are private. And I will continue to make sure we have maximum security at each venue. In fact, I may double it if the police don't give us anything substantial from their findings tonight."

Magnus nodded. He seemed to accept Alec's input on the subject.

"Also, the last thing we want to give this person is the attention from you they're craving. So not a word of this to anyone, okay? All we need is the media getting wind of it and it'll explode. Not even anything cryptic on social media that could allude to the situation we're dealing with. Attention and the spotlight on them is exactly what this person wants. We don't want them to know they've gotten to you."

"But they have." Magnus muttered.

"I signed on to be your personal bodyguard, Mr. Bane. I'm good at what I do. You don't have anything to worry about as long as I'm nearby."

"Good." Magnus said, nodding. "In that case, Raphael… I want you to call our next series of hotels. Make sure I am booked in a suite with a double bedroom. I want Alexander staying in the next room for the rest of the tour."

Alec's eyes widened but he didn't say anything.

Raphael nodded quickly, pulling out his phone to get started. Alec figured he'd do anything to get back into Magnus' good graces.

"For tonight, Alexander, you have your own room and I'll stick to just having a hired gun outside my door. You better enjoy it while it lasts because I'll warn you… I'm a bathroom hog." Magnus said, a sly smile on the corner of his lips before he headed into his en-suite.

Alec swallowed, not really sure what to make of the new arrangements, but unable to deny that his job was continuing to get more interesting.

Continue to Chapter 3

#malec fic #malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #shadowhunters #shadowhunters fic #the bodyguard fic #celebrity!magnus #bodyguard!alec #malec au

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magic-and-moonlit-wings · 5 years

Text

Chapter 33: Amulet of Deceit

Becoming The Mask

In addition to their permanent collections, the Museum of Arcadia played host to a rotation of touring exhibits and collections throughout the year. Geology collections were especially common, since Arcadia Oaks had begun as a mining town during the California gold rush, and humans loved interesting rocks.

One of these shows was opening the weekend after the weekend where the world had been supposed to end. Since the world had not ended, Jim and Toby were there, metaphorically drooling over the mineral samples.

"I bet I could eat that," said Jim, about a chunk of torbernite. The interfolding swirls of green crystals resembled a head of cabbage. "If it wasn't radioactive." Torbernite contained uranium. Probably not enough to actually kill someone, since it was on public display, but eating it would be an entirely different degree of exposure than simply standing by the case.

Jim took a selfie, angling his phone so the glass case wasn't creating too much glare, and opening his mouth like he was about to nom the rock. Toby, in the background, pointed at Jim, his other hand on his cheek, mouth and eyes wide in comically exaggerated shock.

"Remember the April Fools' jawbreakers?" said Toby. In elementary school, Steve Palchuck had given a jawbreaker to everyone in class and claimed they were gumballs. Jim had crunched right through his. "They might have some stone orbs in the gift shop if you wanted to recreate that."

"Or I could just get some marbles from the dollar store. You know, cheaper."

It was a safe conversation for a public space. Two teenagers, talking about stupidly eating things they shouldn't, possibly to film for the internet, possibly as hypothetical boasting they would never follow through on. Nothing suspicious there.

"Whoa, check out that chrysocolla formation!" Toby moved on to some blue-green spikes. "The nodes don't usually get this long before something happens to break them off. This probably has a higher ratio of silicates; that would make it harder. Or maybe it's mostly quartz, with chrysocolla inclusions for colour."

The chrysocolla made Jim think of Draal, except for the rounded points. Maybe Draal once he reached Vendel's age? Did trolls' facets lose sharpness as they got older, the way humans got wrinkly?

Toby was examining an emerald in pyrite from various angles when Jim started to feel watched.

Had the museum gotten its security cameras back up and running now that Bular was out of the picture? … No; well, maybe; but Nomura was on the other side of the room. When she saw Jim look her way, she titled her head in a 'meet me outside' gesture.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom. I'll be right back."

"I really am just here for the rock show."

"Of course you are." Nomura rolled her eyes. "If you were here to check up on me, it would be as a distraction while someone with actual subtlety searched my office."

A plan which would have already failed, since Jim and Nomura were in her office now.

"… Okay, feeling like I should be offended by that, but I really can't argue."

"And because you have no subtlety, I thought I'd help you out, in case the next agent to catch you isn't as merciful as I am." Nomura got something small and shiny out of her desk and tossed it to Jim.

Jim fumbled his catch and blinked. He flicked one of the device's watch-like hands. It was a nearly perfect replica of the Amulet of Daylight. It didn't glow and it wasn't warm, but for a second he almost thought she'd gotten the real amulet from him somehow and this was a lesson on how not to be pickpocketed.

"Two questions," he said.

"Stricklander made it," Nomura answered pre-emptively. "Decades ago. He thought a fake amulet might be able to trick Killahead Bridge into reopening."

Like using a lockpick instead of a key. There was some logic to that.

"He gave it to me when I was … infiltrating Trollmarket. If I could get close enough to Kanjigar to switch them, it would muddy the waters as to when and how it was stolen. After that mission failed, the first idea remained a possibility – at least before it was rendered moot when we gained access to the real thing – and I kept the fake out of sight so Bular wouldn't destroy it in a fit of temper at the implication we doubted he could defeat the Trollhunter."

"Still one question."

"If someone sees you with the Amulet, but not in armour, you can now pretend Stricklander gave you the fake one for safekeeping. Everyone knows you're his favourite."

"I … wouldn't say 'favourite'. Favoured, maybe –"

"You're his favourite," she repeated flatly.

Jim rotated the false amulet. It was remarkably similar to the real one. How many snippets of reports and distant glimpses had Stricklander had to piece together for this imitation?

This would also come in handy if Jim was ever in a 'surrender your weapon' situation.

"You really like having me in your debt, don't you?" the Trollhunter asked the Changeling.

She smiled. "I believe I'm owed four favours, now."

"Three," he countered – just on principle. A quick mental tally confirmed she was right, assuming they were counting the same things, but some of Nomura's favours could be argued as self-serving beyond putting Jim in her debt.

Toby was waiting for Jim down the hall.

"You know, they have public bathrooms here," he said casually. "You don't have to break into the Employees Only areas."

"Did you follow me?"

"I had to go, too. You weren't back at the rock show when I came out, so I figured you were still here."

"… Toby, I –"

"Don't. Just – just tell me it was because of your volunteer work, because otherwise I really am going to freak out."

"Yeah. Yeah, it was."

"And next time maybe just say that's why you're leaving. It's not fun to think 'is he lying?' every time you tell me something."

Jim had been avoiding Trollmarket for the past week. Blinky and AAARRRGGHH were getting worried – worried enough that, just a few days ago, they'd taken the tunnels to Jim's house to check in with Draal.

Jim had not been there. According to Draal, Jim had followed through on his plan to live with Toby after Barbara evicted him from her home.

Jim still visited the house in Barbara's absence, and Draal reported that the young Changeling did not appear particularly distressed – though Blinky was hardly inclined to trust Draal's assessment in matters of emotional sensitivity, nor did he think Jim was likely to confide in Draal regarding such things.

Perhaps Jim thought, falsely, that the need for a Trollhunter had been lessened after Bular's death. Perhaps he thought, also falsely, that Vendel would bar him entry now that his true species was known. Perhaps he thought, falsely, that it was now widely known that the Trollhunter was a Changeling, and therefore Trollmarket was no longer safe for him.

Blinky didn't know what Jim thought, because Blinky had not spoken to Jim in nearly a week. It was very frustrating.

Bular's severed head was still in the library. Jim had brought it back from the troll pub but hadn't taken it to the surface with him. Blinky, grimacing, had covered the head in cloth and put it on a low shelf, where it wouldn't be in the way or immediately draw the eye. He'd wanted to dispose of it somehow, rather than keep it in his space, but AAARRRGGHH had been adamant that Jim should be the one to decide what to do with it.

AAARRRGGHH had not been very clear on why, only enough to confirm that such gristly battle trophies were part of Gumm-Gumm culture and doing anything to Bular's head would now be an insult to Jim.

Blinky had made the mistake of pointing out Gumm-Gumms didn't count Changelings as members of their society. He'd been intending to follow up with the point that while Jim, like AAARRRGGHH, had once served the Gumm-Gumms, neither troll did so anymore, but before he could say as much, AAARRRGGHH roared at him, and growled for Blinky to stop saying Jim wasn't a troll.

(AAARRRGGHH had not been in the library when Blinkous made that grievously mistaken statement, but Blinky had given him a full run-down of the conversation prior to his arrival.)

AAARRRGGHH did not roar at Blinky. AAARRRGGHH seldom roared at all. Being roared at by AAARRRGGHH was nearly as shocking and upsetting and unthinkable for Blinky as the idea of AAARRRGGHH hitting him.

Blinky had covered and shelved Bular's head, and declared they could discuss the matter further once they were both calm.

AAARRRGGHH apologized later, of course, for losing his temper and for acting like Blinky wasn't sorry for hurting Jim's feelings and for not being able to explain battle trophies better. Blinky, too, had apologized, for pushing a subject that he knew AAARRRGGHH found rightfully upsetting instead of taking the information AAARRRGGHH volunteered and accepting that as launching point for future research that did not require AAARRRGGHH's direct input.

Blinky did not apologize to AAARRRGGHH for saying Jim wasn't a troll. That was an apology that needed to be made to Jim.

The head stayed covered and shelved, waiting for Jim to come back to Trollmarket and decide what to do with it.

Blinkous would prefer for this to happen soon.

"Tomorrow night," he announced, "we should go back up there and look for him. It's been a week, that's a respectable length of time as humans measure it; if Master Jim needs space, no one can say we refused to allow him that; but we cannot allow the Trollhunter to simply – shrug off his duties and vanish."

"Other Trollhunters did," AAARRRGGHH pointed out. "Sully-fairy quests."

"Solitary," Blinky corrected reflexively, "meaning 'alone' or 'independent'. Yes, but they also traditionally notified Trollmarket's elder that this was what they were doing before they went and did it."

"Blinky? AAARRRGGHH? Knock-knock – you guys here?"

That voice, that was one of Jim's human friends!

"Mary!" Blinky greeted warmly. "It's good to have you back. And Claire, as well! Are Tobias and Darci elsewhere in the market?"

"They dragged Jim right to the Forge," said Mary. "We said we'd get you. I come bearing gifts!"

She handed Blinky a rectangle. He almost popped it into his mouth.

"This is a prepaid cellphone. I programmed the number into ours and all our numbers into it so we can call and text each other."

Mary also gave Blinky a pen.

"I'm not sure how well a touchscreen will work with stone skin, but this pen's been specially designed to work on phone screens, just in case. Push this button here," Blinky followed her instructions and one face of the rectangle lit up, "and then drag your finger or the pen across the screen to unlock it. I didn't bother with setting up a password."

AAARRRGGHH leaned over Blinky's shoulder as Blinky experimented.

The device did seem to respond to Blinky's touch, but the phone screen proved too small for the pad of one of AAARRRGGHH's fingers when the larger troll gave it a curious, gentle tap. Blinky handed AAARRRGGHH the pen; AAARRRGGHH held it delicately, and tried again, successfully pushing one of the onscreen buttons.

"Now we don't have to depend on Jim to let us come down here," said Claire. She sounded … bitter? Had she resented her enforced week outside of Trollmarket while Jim avoided the place? "We can contact you directly."

"Claire …" said Mary.

"Did you know Jim's a Changeling?" Claire asked, apropos of nothing. "He said you knew but we don't know if he was lying."

"Claire," said Mary again, more sharply.

"This … did recently come to our knowledge, yes," said Blinky. "Considering the pains he took to keep it secret, I'm surprised and relieved to learn he's confided in you."

"He didn't. We found out he was one when we found out he replaced my little brother with one."

"Claire!"

Previous Chapter (Strickler and Barbara talk about Changelings)

Table of Contents

Next Chapter (Maybe finally starting to look for the Triumbric Stones)

The image isn't there anymore, but the Wikipedia page for chrysocolla used to have a photo of a spiky chrysocolla-and-quartz specimen which I thought was kind of Draal-esque. Luckily I saved it on my computer:

Look in my blog’s Becoming The Mask extras tag if you want to see the torbernite.

I do not have a specific emerald and pyrite formation in mind for the third stone described, but it’s relatively common for those minerals to form together so a quick Googling should show you how cool it is to see bars of emerald poking out of glittery gold rocks like the columns of some ancient ruin.

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craftyshipper · 6 years

Text

Bring Me Home, Chapter 1: Simple

For anyone that doesn’t have access to archive of our own or that prefers to read it on Tumblr, here’s the first chapter of Bring Me Home.

Rated M

__________

It was our last two weeks at UA before graduation. That much closer to becoming pros, to fulfilling our own dreams to be able to help and save people with the powers we had been given. During those three years, you'd think they'd prepare you for every possible situation you'd face as a pro hero.

But...as I stand here at the graveyard among my classmates, as Momo cried her heart out at the loss of her lover, the loss of our friend. I realized we weren't prepared for any of it...for the risks.

Todoroki's death drove that point home for all of us.

----------

1 week earlier

"Aw, they are so cute together." Uraraka gushed as she stared at Shouto and Momo.

The two students had started dating a little before their second year started at UA. The summer prior had been the stepping stone to the start of their relationship.

When summer had ended they had tried to keep it hush-hush. Unfortunately for them, Momo's best friend Jirou, had caught them kissing in the hallway as the rest of the students went to lunch.

Momo pleaded to Jirou to keep it quiet but Shouto stepped in and said that they shouldn't keep hiding from their friends. She knew he was right and eventually they told their classmates, much to Momo's embarrassment since all of the girls teased and prodded for details. Shouto on the other hand wasn't embarrassed in the least. He rarely was and she was jealous of her boyfriend in that regard, while she was easily flustered by a tiny bit of teasing

"Do you think Shouto will ask her to marry him after graduation?" Mina asked innocently.

Midoriya, Jirou and Uraraka shared a look, the alien queen missed the knowing smiles that appeared across her lips.

"Maybe someday." Midoriya chirped, grabbing a hold of Uraraka's hand.

The two of them had barely acknowledged their feelings for each other at the start of their third year. Uraraka grinned at the green haired boy next to her, although she had to look up now since he had grown a good twelve inches over the years.

"Yeah, some day." She nodded enthusiastically and watched as the duo began walking over to them.

Bakugo appeared and gave a disgusted face at Shouto. "Are you done being all lovey dovey yet?"

Shouto sighed. "Don't act like you don't do the same thing whenever Kirishima is around."

For once Bakugo looked baffled and stuttered out, "You icy hot bastard! You weren't supposed to say anything!"

"Apologies." Shouto shrugged as the others burst out laughing. "Maybe you'll keep your comments to yourself next time."

"Aw don't be embarrassed Bakugo." Uraraka patted his head like a puppy. "Its not like you two hid it very well, besides you guys are cute together."

"Shut up!" He yelled and stalked off just as Kirishima appeared with a confused brow raised.

"What happened now?"

"I may have outed your guys relationship." Shouto sighed. "Sorry."

Kirishima paused and smirked before he rubbed his hands together, letting out an evil chuckle as he did so. "Now I can finally shower him with PDA!” He sprinted to find his boyfriend, leaving his friends behind.

“Are you ready to go?” Shouto turned to Momo, the question directed at her. He made it a habit to walk her home on the weekends since she stayed at her parents home on those days.

After he took her home and gave her a chance to shower and change, he’d be back to pick her up later in the evening. He had something special planned for their date night, exactly one month from now, it would be their anniversary of two years together.

Shouto knew they weren’t going to be able to celebrate it by then, since they would be starting their hero careers as sidekicks, which would take up most of their time. So he opted to plan something in advance. Although he still had a surprise for her on that day, hopefully Jirou and Uraraka could keep quiet about it until then. The only other person who knew about it was Midoriya but he wasn’t worried about him spilling the secret.

Momo grabbed Shouto’s hand once she hugged her friends goodbye and they began their walk towards her parents estate.

----------

A sigh broke the silence of the room as the creation hero tried on the sixth dress that Jirou and Mina grabbed from her closet.

“Does it really matter what dress you wear?” Jirou asked as she handed another outfit for Momo to inspect.

“I just was to look amazing for him.” She blushed when Mina cooed at her words.

“Momo, I doubt he cared what you wear.” Mina stated with assurance, sprawling out on Momo’s bed, although she was sure that her friend was still skeptical. “He’s too much of a sweetheart.” She grinned. “Remember Valentine’s Day when he brought you that big bouquet of roses to your dorm room while you were sick and still in your pyjamas?

The onyx haired beauty smiled fondly at the memory, her hand reaching out to grab a red summer dress that flowed out around her thighs, the dress buttoning up from her waist to her chest.

“When we started dating, I didn’t think he’d be the romantic type.” Red blossomed across her cheeks as her memories flowed through her.

---------

“I’m sorry Shouto.” She apologized, her aching body sat at the end of her bed with the phone pressed tightly to her ear.

“Still sick?” Shouto’s soft voice came through the line with concern.

“Yes. I’m so sorry, I was really looking forward to spending the day with you.”

Valentine’s Day had landed on Saturday this year and she had been so excited to spend it with her red and white haired boyfriend since they didn’t have to worry about school. But she had ended up with a cold a few days ago and it only got progressively worse since then.

“It’s okay Momo, your health comes first.” He assured her, a smile lighting his voice. “I’ll come see you in awhile, okay?”

“B-but you’ll get sick!” She scolded.

“Hm, don’t worry.”

Frowning, she knew he was stubborn just as much as she is, but being sick made her relent in his decision. “Fine.” She mumbled when she heard a deep chuckle escape him.

“I love you.”

Another smile graced her lips at his words, knowing she would never get tired of hearing him say those words to her.

“I love you too.” With a blush on her face, they said their goodbyes and Momo lay back on her bed, a huge grin widening her cheeks.

It was an hour later that Momo realized her sickness wasn’t going to let her sleep. She was exhausted, but the headache and sore throat were killing her. A sigh escaped her when a knock sounded at her door. Reluctantly, she crawled out of her cozy bed and slowly hobbled over to let in whoever was on the other side.

Grasping the handle, she pulled it open only to see a huge bouquet f red roses flooding her field of vision. Standing on her tip toes, her eyes met a pair of gray and blue ones.

“Happy Valentine’s Day Momo.” Shouto greeted and she laughed, taking the flowers from him.

“Shouto, they’re beautiful.” The words left her lips as she admired the stunning red petals before she stepped back to allow him to enter the room.

She eyed him and noticed there was a plastic bag and his laptop bag gripped tightly in his hand.

“What’s that?” Curiosity forced her to ask.

“Fuyumi helped me make some soup for you.” He held up the bag gently so he wouldn’t spill the bowl.

“Aww, you didn’t have to do that.”

The fire and ice user gave a small smile. “I wanted to.”

“You’re too sweet.” Her face flushed, and she wasn’t sure if it was from her illness or the sweet actions of her boyfriend.

“Plus, I figured we could watch a few movies together on my computer.”

“She grinned. “Does that mean we can cuddle?”

“That was the plan.” He chuckled softly.

Grabbing the soup, she placed it on the small table beside her bed and watched as he placed his laptop bag onto her bed. She only now realized that he was in his pyjamas too.

“Shouto your clothes!”

“Can’t cuddle in my regular clothes now can I?”

Momo giggled as happy tears came to her eyes. She hugged him tightly. “You’re the best, you know that right?”

He pulled back slightly and kissed her forehead. “Because you bring out the best in me.”

----------

Momo blushed, remembering that despite her being sick, they ended up making love that night for the first time and it was a night she wouldn’t trade for anything.

“Ooh, what are you blushing about?” Mina teased. “Thinking about the sexy times?”

The creation hero was so at loss for words she didn’t even deny it.

“You are!” Jirou butted in a Momo waved her hands frantically.

“Details.” Mina and Jirou demanded in unison.

She was interrogated for the next hour before Momo booted them from her home. Shouto had texted her saying he was on his was to get her anyway so it was about time they took their leave.

Her boyfriend showed up about ten minutes later, driving his sister’s car who had let him borrow it for the night. She was staying at her boyfriends place for the weekend, so she allowed him to use it as long as he put gas in the tank. Having lived in the city, he and Momo hadn’t felt the need to invest in a car. They were both content with walking. Besides, as heroes, they probably wouldn’t need it. If they decided to have kids in the future, then they would need to acquire one, but most of class 3-A didn’t own a vehicle either.

“So where are we going?” Momo asked ass he grabbed her white coat.

Shouto dressed in a pair of black jeans and a black t-shirt with a blue button up over it that he left open. Even dressed casually, he looked amazing.

He only smiled in response to her question and she gave him an accusatory smile in return. “I know that smile, what did you do?”

Huffing out a laugh, he responded. “You’ll see.”

----------

Momo couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her lips as she glanced around the hill top he had brought her to. There on the ground was a large blanket and a decently sized basket.

“A picnic?” Momo asked, her eyes sparkling with awe.

“Something like that.” He gestured to the telescope that was at the hills peak.

“You said once before that you’d like to go stargazing.”

Her face lit up with a a millions watt smile ad it warmed Shouto’s heard. He’d give anything to keep that beautiful smile on her face.

“You’re amazing.” The red and white haired male felt his heart beat erratically at her words. She always brought out the best parts of him, of course it didn’t hurt that he was practically a hopeless romantic.

“Shall we?”

With a nod for his girlfriend, they enjoyed a delicious meal under the darkening sky, the stars slowly starting to appear above them. As soon as they were all visible, Shouto pulled her to her feet and led her over to the telescope. The moon itself was full making the sky look even more beautiful in her eyes. Suddenly a burst of excitement pierced through her and she immediately began pointing out the different constellations to him.

He could only watch in amazement as her eyes grew eager with the knowledge she shared. He loved it when she got excited about anything she was truly interested in, he wouldn’t trade that special look in her eye for anything.

Feeling bold, he cut off her rant with a kiss to her lips. Her eyes widened at his action. He rarely initiated their kisses but tonight he was full of surprises.

She loved this side of him, when he would be first to kiss her meant he was completely comfortable with her. After he told her about his past, she didn’t blame him for being hesitant to start the touching aspect of their relationship. She had cried when he shared his abusive childhood with her, something that only Midoriya had been told before.

Usually she began their make out sessions, but what he lacked in taking the lead, he made up in all of the romantic gestures. Bringing her flowers, writing her little notes and letters, he even improved on his cooking so he could make her dinner. Besides once she got him going, the control was all his.

Once Shouto pulled away from her lips, she grinned. “You sure are full of surprises today aren’t you?”

“Aren’t I always?”

She knew he was, he could surprise her any day with the smallest things, no matter what.

“Come on.” She grabbed his hand and led him to the blanket. “Lay down with me.”

When she forced him onto his back, she leaned back and she rested her head on his shoulder as she watched the night sky. A shooting star zipped across their vision and she couldn’t resist lifting a hand, pointing with excitement.

“Did you see that?!”

“Better make your wish.” Shouto teased.

“Way ahead of you.” Momo laughed before sitting up.

Shifting so she could stare down at him, his dual colored eyes watched her with curiosity, before she smiled mischievously.

“How secluded is this place?”

Shouto raised a brow at her question, finding it a little odd that she would ask. This area was like his own personal safe-haven when he was younger. As far as he knew, no one else knew about it, the foliage surrounding the area hid it away from any prying eyes. He only discovered it when he left home one day after a harsh training session with his old man. He needed a place he could calm himself, so he took the train to the edge of the city hoping to find peace with nature in the woods.

“Very secluded.” He assured her. “Why?”

“No reason.” She whispered huskily and leaned further into him to press her lips to his.

Shouto was dense sometimes when she tried sending him signals about what she wanted. This time however, he could read her loud and clear.

Gone was the blushing girl, not the bold woman took control.

“Make love to me Shouto.” The blunt statement caught him off guard when their lips parted.

“Here?” His question was full of hesitation. “Are you sure?”

Momo smiled at the look on his face. “Yes. I want you right now.” The warm hand that came to rest on her cheek made her sigh in content. “I want you to make love to me under the stars.”

The red and white haired male sat up and gazed into her eyes. Seeing the desire in her dark orbs, he moved in to press his lips to hers again. Pushing her back onto the blanket, he crawled in between her legs as he questioned his own boldness.

Momo’s tongue licked across his lips, begging for entrance which he granted willingly; their tongues dancing together in passion. Her hands glided up his chest, feeling each of the muscles that were hiding beneath the fabric of his shirt, before she pushed off the first layer of his clothing. Leaving only the black shirt the only barrier between her touch and his skin.

Leaving her lips, Shouto began trailing kisses down her jaw and then to the soft skin of her neck. The touch sent shivers racing down her spine, especially when his lips ghosted over her pulse and she loved it. She wanted him to bit and suck on that part of her, but she knew he didn’t want to leave visible marks on her skin. The last time he did, Mr. Aizawa had given them a talk about appearing appropriately at school. Plus their friends poked fun at them for months after.

“Hm, Shouto.” She moaned as his kisses trailed even further until he reached the center of her chest, just above her breasts.

He pulled back slightly, his hair dangling towards her from his position above her, making him look even more desirable.

“Please don’t stop.” Her voice pleaded shakily at the hesitant look in his eyes before they darkened with lust.

Shouto’s hand traveled down her thigh reaching the hem of her dress and caressing the skin sensually before sliding his hand back up under the material. Her breath hitched in her throat and her heart felt ready to burst from her chest.

“I love you.” Shouto murmured and moved to take her lips again.

With that, their clothes were shed, and the feeling of their skin pressing into each other drowned out everything else out around them.

And when Momo screamed his name, her moans filling his ears, Shouto knew he never wanted this night to end.

Next Chapter: Coming soon

#todomomo #todomomo fanfiction #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #craftyshipper fanfiction #bring me home fanfiction

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rosesisupposes · 5 years

Text

What I’ve Been Looking For

Part 4 of Breakin’ Free, a High School Musical Sanders Sides AU

Chapter Pairings: Prinxiety

Chapter Warnings: Roman Is A Disaster Gay (If Only He Was Out Enough to Know That)

Reader tags: @residentanchor @royally-anxious @bewarethegrammarpolice @jemthebookworm @arandompasserby @sparkly-rainbow-salt @astral-eclipse @thelowlysatsuma

<<3. Get’cha Head In The Game | 5. The Status Quo>>

read on ao3

SCENE: Homeroom and Hallways of East High

A particular air was flowing in the Ms. Darbus’ classroom the next morning. There was a humming undercurrent of excitement that didn’t quite spread to every occupant, but filled those it touched.

Dee Evans was in full form, glowing in gold accents, from the line on his sneakers to his eyeshadow and lip liner. His head was out of his phone for once as he smiled at every student he walked past on his way to homeroom. Cee was in an equally good mood, in complementary shades of silvery blue with a matching hat in navy. He carried a small gift bag with artfully arranged tissue paper. Cee handed the bag to Dee, who placed it on Ms. Darbus’ desk with a flourish. “Just a little something for you in honor of today!” he said with another bright smile.

As he returned to his desk, the rest of the class filtered in. Virgil and Roman made eye contact as they found their desks, sharing a small smile before Remy called Roman’s attention away. Patton Baylor chatted happily from his spot at the center of a small crowd of students, all of whom looked up at him with slightly starry eyes. Logan McKessie brushed past the crowd, his face buried in a book on theoretical physics. Murmurs of chatter slowly quieted as Ms. Darbus stepped on the stage at the front of the room.

“I expect we all learned our homeroom manners yesterday, correct? If not, we have some dressing rooms that need painting,” she said imperiously. Remy rolled his eyes at Roman as he leaned on his basketball as a pillow.

“Now, a few announcements,” she continued, brightening. “This morning during free period will be your chance for the musicale auditions, both singles and pairs.” Dee sat up even straighter in his seat, clapping in excitement. “I will be in the theater until noon for those of you bold enough to extend the wingspan of your creative spirit.”

Remy snorted. “When you’ve got auditions at 11 but have to be back on the mothership by noon,” he snarked under his breath. Roman had to cover his mouth with his hand to keep from catching the teacher’s attention with his laughter.

Unaware of her students’ commentary, Ms. Darbus began to instruct. “Today, we are going to discuss the importance of William Shakespeare and his works. Can anyone tell me of a phrase or word we use in everyday language that was originally coined by the Bard?”

Behind him, Roman could hear Remy sliding dark glasses over his eyes as he settled in to nap.

~~~

Later that day, Roman was sorting through the books in his locker when Remy came up, spinning his basketball on a finger.

“Sup, gurl.”

“Hey, what’s up?”

“So the whole team's hitting the gym during free period. What do you want to have us run?”

Roman looked directly at the books and binders in his locker as he answered. “Uh, my dude, you know what, I can't make it. I gotta catch up on some homework.”

Remy snorted. “Bitch, it's only the second day back. I'm not even behind on homework yet. And you know I've been behind on homework since preschool.”

Roman forced a laugh. “Oh, Rem, you’re so funny! I’ll catch up with you later, okay?” He closed his locker and walked off before his friend could offer another objection.

Remy pulled his sunglasses down his nose to stare at his friend’s retreating back. “Homework? Girl, nah.”

He followed Roman down the hallway as the team captain turned into a classroom to chat with another student. Remy slid up to the door as he tried to see where he was going, listening to their idle chatter. Then someone bumped him. He turned to see Patton and a small handful of admirers.

“Remy! How are you today?”

“Hi Pat - I’m good, thanks, just busy…”

“Not too busy to miss the GSA meeting this afternoon, right?”

“Never too busy for my little minions, you know that,” Remy said with a fond smile.

“Oh good,” Patton said, his bright teeth a contrast to his brown face and browner freckles. “See you later, gay-ter!”

He turned and walked off with his friends as they giggled and Remy rolled his eyes. Turning back to the classroom, he realized it was empty. Roman has escaped him. “Boo, you whore,” he muttered to himself. “What could possibly be more important than basketball?”

Roman slipped down the southern stairwell of the school, checking behind him to make sure Remy was off his tail. He wasn’t sure he say why he felt so compelled to at least watch the auditions, but he knew that for some reason, he needed to be there. That need wasn’t quite enough to admit to even his best friend in the whole world what he was doing, though. He strolled through one of the lower courtyards, alert for any team members who might see him and ask why he wasn’t heading to the gym. He turned a corner and immediately turned back. Here he’d been worried about teammates when Coach himself was in the next courtyard, clearly looking for him. Had he seen him? Were those his footsteps walking in his direction?

Crapcrapcrap gottahide gottahide

Roman ducked into the closest door, the auto body and mechanics shop. He put on an air of nonchalance as he leaned behind a car, seeing his dad glance into the shop from the corner of his eye. Coach didn’t spot him, though, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He turned his head to see the shop teacher staring at him oddly.

“Uhh, shortcut,” he said lamely. “I’m… late for class. Gotta go, thanks, bye!”

He walked quickly out, from the auto shop to the woodshop. He could hear snatches of a tune played on the piano from here, where the woodshop connected to the backstage and green room areas of the auditorium. He took a deep breath. This was it - the auditions. He could as least get up the courage to watch, right? He walked into the backstage, trying to summon more confidence. Then he heard another person walking towards him and immediately ducked behind a janitor’s cart, hunching over to hide his face behind the mop.

SCENE: Auditorium

The auditorium and backstage were buzzing with chatter as multiple auditioners filed into the audience seats. Ms. Darbus strode to the stage to welcome them all, a small person in her wake. They seemed to be trying to hide from the crowd behind their bright orange beanie and also behind Ms. Darbus herself. The drama teacher took center stage and addresses the crowd.

“This is where the true expression of the artist is realized. Where inner truth is revealed through the actor's journey…”

She was interrupted by a loud ringing, and immediately glared at the crowd in front of her. “Was that a cell phone?”

“That was the warning bell, Ms. Darbus,” the student at her elbow whispered.

“Ah, I see,” she said, clearing her throat. “Those wishing to audition must understand that time is of the essence. We have many roles to cast and final callbacks will be next week.”

Roman slowly made his way to the back of the auditorium, still hiding behind the janitor’s cart as he listened. Callbacks, next week? In the same week as the big game? Luckily, even if he somehow got the nerve to audition, there’s no way he’d get called back. That was a thing that only happened to real actors, right?

Ms. Darbus was still reviewing the audition process. “Please come to the stage on your turn. Once you’ve introduced yourself, you will sing a few bars and I will give you a sense of whether or not the theater is your calling. Better to hear it from me now than from your friends later.” From his hiding spot, Roman gulped. Maybe this whole ‘audition’ thing was a mistake. “Our composer, Joan Stokes, will accompany you and be available for rehearsals prior to callbacks. Shall we?”

Joan took their seat at the piano bench as the first singer came to the stage.

“Hi, I’m Derionna!” she said with enthusiasm. She dove into singing, with plenty of energy but perhaps not a lot of rhythm.

“It’s hard to believe that I couldn’t see that you were always right beside me. Thought I was alone, with no one to hold, but you were always right beside me”

Joan played well, trying to get her to match their beat, but she was snapping to her own beat and seemed unaware.

“Thing feeling’s like no other, I want you to know…” she paused, seeming to have forgotten the rest of the song. Ms. Darbus took the opportunity to jump in.

“Uh-huh, thank you, next!”

A nervous-looking, gangly boy came to the stage. He seemed to be speaking rhythmically more than singing, and kept checking his hand for the words he’d written there.

“It’s hard to believe that I couldn’t sneeze - see! That you were always right there next to beside me!”

“Camden, I admire your pluck. As to your singing... That's a wonderful tie you're wearing. Next!” Camden smiled and smoothed his tie as Ms. Darbus’ words sank in. His face fell as he shuffled off the stage.

Roman winced through the next singer. Even he could tell she was badly off-key and trying to conceal it by winking frequently, directly at Ms. Darbus. Joan mouthed the words along with her, trying to get her back on rhythm, but it was to no avail.

“Please, stop,” Ms. Darbus finally interjected. “Thank you, Brittney. Next!”

Another auditioner. She was clearly talented, but was also singing as if in an opera, not a musical.

“So lonely befooorrrre I finally fooooo-hooounnddd what I’d been lookiiiiing fooooooooooooooooooor!” She held her last ear-piercing note as Joan stopped playing in shock and audience members tried to subtly cover their ears.

“Ah... Valerie,” Ms. Darbus said with forced cheer. “What... courage to pursue a note that has not been accessed in the natural world. Bravo! Brava! Perhaps the... spring musicale?”

Valerie frowned and looked over at Joan. They forced a smile as Valerie hmphed in affront and left the stage. She was almost knocked over by the next auditioner, a tall, graceful man who leaped onto the stage to the opening bars of the audition song. Joan stopped playing once again, confused. The auditorium was silent as the dancer pirouetted and jetéd before elegantly leaving the stage. The effect might have been perfect, had not he crashed into an unseen obstacle backstage that was audible to everyone. Joan looked over in concern as Ms. Darbus coughed politely. “Thank you, Leo. Next!”

Up came a pair of auditioners, one very short student with brightly-colored hair, the other a man with a headband and bangs swept to one side. The shorter of the two started delivering a dramatic reading of the song as the other whispered echoes of their words.

“It’s hard to believe that I could not see”

“See”

“That you were always right beside me”

“Beside me”

The pair accompanied their words with strange motions that appeared to be attempting interpretive dance

“Thought I was alone!”

“Alone”

“With no one to hold!”

“Hold”

“But you were right beside me”

“Beside me”

They both began to roll and crawl on the floor as Joan backed up their piano bench as far away as possible.

Ms. Darbus had been stunned into silence, but finally found her voice again.

“Talyn, Dominic, that was… that was just... very disturbing, go see a counselor. Next!”

A hand suddenly tapped Roman on the shoulder, and he jumped so high he almost hit his head on the doorway. Virgil had come up behind him, smiling wryly.

“Hey there - did you decide to sign up for something?”

Roman ducked his head. “Uh, no. I was just… watching. Did you?”

Virgil shook his head, his purple bangs falling into his face. “So, uh, do you often hide behind mops, or do your friends just not know you’re here?”

Roman flushed lightly and shook his head in response as another auditioner came to the stage. She stood tall and adjusted her glasses as Joan began the opening bars. She took a breath to sing as she looked out at the audience, and froze.

“Thank you, Dahlia. NEXT!”

Roman winced. “Ms. Darbus seems a little… harsh,” he observed quietly to Virgil.

Virgil smirked. “Roman Bolton, Wildcat superstar, afraid?”

“Not afraid,” he protested. “Just… a little, uh… scared.”

“Me too, usually,” Virgil said, rubbing his neck. “But, um. I was thinking of actually auditioning, if someone could sing onstage next to me?”

Roman blanched with fright. “Um, uh, I could-- I mean, possibly, uh--”

“And for the lead roles of Arnold and Minnie we only have one couple signed up,” Ms. Darbus said happily. Virgil pushed Roman slightly as he hurried to hide behind the janitor’s cart with him. “Diego and Cedric, I think it might be useful for you to give us a sense of why we gather in this hallowed hall.”

Cee and Dee walked from the audience to the stage, flashing smiles at the remaining audience. As Cee started up the stairs, Dee stopped him so that he could go first.

Joan caught Cee as the twins picked up their microphones. “What key did you want?”

“Don’t worry about it, we had our rehearsal pianist do an arrangement,” Cee said with a smile.

Joan deflated. “Oh. Okay.”

The curtain closed as Dee & Cee prepared to sing. Virgil tugged on Roman’s arm to follow him as he found a seat in the last row of the auditorium.

The music started, jazzy and far more upbeat than the previous auditions. Two pairs of hands stuck through the curtain and snapped to the beat, before the curtain opened to reveal Cee & Dee with matching bedazzled microphones in silver and gold, respectively.

“It’s hard to believe that I couldn’t see,” Cee sang. He had an unarguably nice voice, and his perpetual smile matched the bouncy drumbeat the accompanied them.

“That you were always there beside me” Dee joined in, singing in harmony with his twin. Virgil wrinkled his nose as he watched. The pair were both excellent singers, but they kept adding in a lot of over acting, pretending to be surprised by each other on “beside me.” Even for a musical, this felt corny. But Ms. Darbus was clearly enjoying it, bopping along from her spot in the audience.

Roman physically recoiled as Dee handed off his mic to perform a peppy tapdance solo in the middle. “Is this normal?” he whispered to Virgil, who grimaced.

“I don’t think so,” he responded, nodding a head at Joan. The pianist watched from their bench, looking vaguely horrified at the spectacle in front of him.

The pair continued on through the song, adding full choreography. Cee even broke in the middle to do a highly energetic jazz square with accompanying jazz hands before accidentally bumping into Dee. His twin scowled and pushed him, but both recovered and smiled as they continued to sing.

They finally came to a close, Ms. Darbus and the sprinkling of audience members applauding enthusiastically. Dee shot Joan a glare until they clapped too.

Holding their final pose, Dee hissed in Cee’s ear. “I told you not to do the jazz squares.”

“It's a crowd favorite. Everybody loves a good jazz square,” his twin shot back, grinning hugely.

As the applause quieted, Ms. Darbus stood. “Are there any last minute sign-ups?”

Roman stood and tried to edge out of the theater without being spotted as Cee appealed to the dispersing crowd. “Don't be discouraged. The theater club needs more than just singers. It needs fans, too! Buy tickets!”

Joan caught Dee’s attention as he strode backstage. “Oh, actually, if you do the part with that particular song, I imagined it much slower…”

“If we do the part? Joan, Joan, my sawed-off Sondheim, I have been in 17 school productions. And how many times have your compositions been selected?”

“This would be the first,” Joan admitted.

“Which tells us what?” Dee asked with a tight smile.

Joan flinched and offered, “That I need to write you more solos?”

“No,” Dee snapped, his smile dropping. “It tells us that you do not offer direction, suggestion, or commentary.” He advanced on Joan, who backed up nervously into their piano. “And you should be thankful that Cee and I are here to lift your music out of its current obscurity. Are we clear?”

“Yessir! I mean, Diego.”

Dee backed down, then smiled brightly, lifting his mic closer to his mouth again. “Nice talking to you!” He followed his twin backstage with a tiny wave.

“Any last minute sign-ups?” Ms. Darbus called again.

“We should go,” Roman whispered at Virgil, reaching out to grab his hand.

“No?” The theater teacher said, looking around. “Good. Done.”

Suddenly, Virgil was pulling away from Roman’s hold and speaking up. “I'd like to audition, Ms. Darbus!”

Roman’s mind went into overdrive. What is he doing? What? How!? Why?! He gestured wildly at the smaller man, willing him to somehow take back his words and for them both to disappear.

Ms. Darbus looked up, surprised, but her surprise quickly morphed to disapproval. “Timeliness means something in the world of theater, Mr. Montez. The individual auditions are long, long over and there are simply no other pairs.”

Roman stuffed his fear into a tiny corner and emerged from his hiding place behind the theater door. “I’ll sing with him.”

The drama teacher pursed her lips. “Mr. Bolton? Where is your sports posse or whatever it's called?”

Roman stared. “Team”

“Ah.”

“But I’m, uh. I’m here alone,” Roman stuttered out. He felt as nervous as he ever did right before a game. “I’m actually here to sing with him.”

Ms. Darbus was unimpressed. “Yes, well, we take these shows very seriously here at East High. I called for the pairs audition, and you didn't respond. Free period is now over.”

“He has an amazing voice,” Roman protested, gesturing towards Virgil. Virgil looked vaguely queasy over the confrontation, and appeared to be attempting to will himself out of sight or out of existence, whichever came first.

“Perhaps the next musicale, then,” Ms. Darbus said, and left the auditorium.

Just then, Joan tripped as they turned away from the piano, spilling sheet music in every direction. Roman and Virgil hurried to the stage to help them.

“So, you’re a composer?” Roman asked, smiling at the piano player. “You wrote the song Dee and Cee just sang? And the entire show?”

Joan seemed unable to speak, but nodded weakly, staring at Roman like an alien had just landed in the middle of theater.

“Well, that's really cool. I, uh, can't wait to hear the rest of the show,” he offered, helping them up. “So, uh, why are you so afraid of Cee and Dee? Or, Dee, at least. It’s your show, isn’t it?”

“Um, it is?” Joan asked, confused.

“Isn't the composer of a show kinda like the playmaker in basketball?” Roman asked with a smile. Both Virgil and Joan stared at him in incomprehension.

“Playmaker?”

“You know, the one who makes everyone else look good. I mean, without you there is no show. You're the playmaker here, Joan.”

“I am?” they responded, smiling tentatively. “Do… do you want to hear how the duet’s supposed to sound?”

Virgil nodded, and tossed a small grin Roman’s way. The taller man covered his face with a hand to hide what felt like another blush and followed the composer back to the piano, standing behind them to read the sheet music over their shoulder.

Joan tapped a foot to the proper timing, a much slower, sweeter tune than the one the twins had performed, and prompted Roman to begin at the right moment.

It was like New Year’s Eve all over again, and yet nothing like it. The fluttery nervousness was still there, but without the surprise or fear of the crowd. And this time, he wasn’t standing with a mysterious stranger who might run away. It was Virgil, smiling up at him as he came in for the second line. He no longer felt the same electrifying urge to grab the other boy’s attention at any cost - he just wanted that smile to keep being directed his way.

“I've never had someone that knows me like you do,” they sang in harmony, eyes meeting. Was Virgil blushing? Roman couldn’t be sure, especially as the shorter man turned back to the sheet music.

They finished in harmony and paused, all three appreciating the sweetness of the tune.

“Wow,” Roman finally said. “That’s really nice, Joan.”

Suddenly, a voice sounded from the rear of the theater. “Bolton, Montez, you have a callback.” Ms. Darbus stood at the entrance, looking less severe with her glasses removed. “Joan, give them the duet from the second act. Work on it with them.”

Joan gasped in delight, then started bubbling over with plans. “All right. If you guys wanna rehearse, I'm usually here during free period and after school, and even sometimes during biology class. You can come and rehearse anytime. Or you can come to my house for breakfast. I have a piano, we can rehearse there. After school, before school - whatever works. After basketball class… do you have basketball class? Is that a thing?”

Virgil listened to the pianist, smiling a bit bemusedly, as Roman stared after Ms. Darbus’ retreating back in shock.

“We- she- what?”

a/n: Look who's able to write fluff again! Trust me, no one's as surprised as I am

(I know all of Thomas' friends are incredibly talented and would never be awkward/bad auditioners, but I feel like they'd have fun acting it out anyway :])

#breakin' free #hsm au #high school musical au #sanders sides fanfic #sandes sides fanfiction #hey look it's fluff #dcom #i love this movie #i also love dee & cee so much #//deceit #ts deceit #ts roman #ts virgil #ts remy #ts patton #my smol drama son #my smol dark son #prinxiety #roman is so far in the closet he came out onstage

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agentotero-blog · 5 years

Text

..//application prompts

If you could steal anything, what would it be?

Zo had long since lost track of the time, despite it being a work night. ‘Just stay for one beer,’ Kit had urged, shoving the opened bottle into his hand before he had a chance to respond at all. That one beer had turned into two, then three, then four. The laughter had become cacophonous, meddling with whatever had been playing over the speakers at the time. He met Monty's eyes whenever his gaze was hidden by the tilt of glass bottle. The look alone was more than enough to keep him in his seat while they were still there.

The discussion had transformed from reminiscing over old jobs to what ifs. None of which he could participate in, of course, but he didn't mind listening in. It was a rarity that he actually felt like one of the group, a truly integrated member, so he was content to be a fly on that wall. Watching the others and how they interacted when they weren't all business was interesting. They actually seemed like normal people. Like friends.

“What about you, boy scout? What would you steal?” It took a few heartbeats of silence and everyone looking at him for Zo to realize the question had been addressed to him. He had been so engrossed on just being there he hadn't even noticed who’d asked it. He was certain it was a loaded question, it was no secret his association with them was the only thing he did that was even remotely illegal. He took a long draw from his near-empty drink, scanning the circle they'd formed and met each one's eyes.

“I know you all expect me to say nothing since you all think I'm a boring asshole.” He said, a bemused smirk tugging at the side of his mouth. “Can it be anything? At all?” A few nods and shrugs answered the question. “Logistically, this makes no sense but bear with me--” He held up both hands in a moment of suspense. “Dogs. I'd steal all the abused dogs that I could house. I'd be Crazy Dog Dude, and it would be awesome.”

Tell us about a time you nearly got caught.

It had taken a long time to get used to lying. As a child, it'd been a sinful thing, something that had earned him knuckle raps from the nuns at school. As a teenager, it'd simply just been a near impossible task with his sisters around; they saw through every attempt with snarky comments and loud announcements around the dinner table.

As a cop, it started feeling more natural. Zo still obtained the same doubtful looks now and then, but they were hardly as persistent or dissecting as his sisters’ had been. The duality of his actions were a simple thing, white lies Cliff had called them. Seemed valid coming from someone like him. Still, the more Zo told them, the more confident and fluid he became.

Then there was the Bureau, who expected him to lie. It was a course all in its own. Beating lie detectors, stifling your tells, reading everyone else's, it was a complete reversal to everything he had learned back home. For once he was grateful for his time on the force. If nothing else, it had hardened him for the life of deception he had apparently chosen to adopt.

When a suspect USB stick was found in a Bureau computer, it was easy for Zo to say it wasn't his. If he really broke down the semantics of the question, he was telling the truth about that. It was The Hacker’s, he simply plugged it in. It was only the second time he had asked to do it, but he was determined not to fail. If he was going to begin a life a crime he wasn't going to fuck it up on the second week.

So when his turn for interrogation came, he followed all the rules as he so often did. He kept his eyes straight ahead, focusing on the interrogator but not so much he looked fake. He flooded his thoughts with a calming memory to keep his heart rate down. He didn't fidget. He was calm, relaxed and seemingly honest, as though he had nothing to hide.

He'd even managed to swipe the stick from lock up after it was all said and done. He had swiped the access card for the poor sap who had taken the fall, an intern who was already on thin ice. There was a voice that scraped at the back of his brain, it was either Sister Tomlinson or his mother, he wasn't quite sure. This is what you do now, mijo? This is how you live? How the mighty have fallen.

“That's what the confessional is for.” He muttered to the unspoken voice as he climbed into his car.

What’s the hardest part of being in a heist group?

The group was gathered around a large table in the apartment dining room. It was odd to Zo that they called it that since in his time with the group he’d never seen them eat there. In his head, he always referred to it as the crime room, but he’d never utter it out loud. If he did, perhaps some would laugh, but others would likely not see it as a joke. Which, in truth, it wasn’t. To him what they did seemed intense, forbidden and highly illegal. But to them, it was their job, their livelihood, just as much as the Bureau was for him. How would he react to someone being so flippant and dismissive of his job?

It’s part of why he felt like such an outsider at times like this. The planning stage, arguably the most important, was when he felt most useless. Zo was perched in the corner of the room, his back leaned against a wall with crossed arms and ankles. He was listening, but he was too far away to see. His role was always secondary, supportive, or in the very least, protective. Most of the time he wasn’t even there when things went down, he was covering them in an ancillary role. Yet Dante had always insisted he was around for conversations like this one.

It was hardly the first time he’d felt like he was on the outside looking in, but for some reason now it hit him far harder than it ever had in the past. Roman and Dante spoke the most, but others chimed in with inside jokes that send a ripple of smirks and laughter down the table. The fact that he was one of the newest additions to the group was probably the real reason the comments went over his head, yet somehow there was still a bemused grin on Mirasol’s face.

He knew he’d probably never be one of them, but part of him couldn’t help but wish he could.

What’s the best part about it?

After everything he’d done on the force, Zo never thought he would be able to repent. Somehow he’d moved on to a better job. Somehow he’d moved into a nicer apartment. Somehow he managed to find serenity again. The peaceful familiar quiet of suburbia certainly helped with the latter two, as did the lengthy phone calls with his Mother. But the guilt of it all still nagged at him. He said as much, during a confession with the new parish Father he’d joined since his move upstate.

“Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap. For he that soweth to his flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption; but he that soweth to the Spirit shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting.” The Father’s voice drifted quietly through the distorting window of the confessional booth, his voice calm and firm. “Karma is not a Catholic belief, my son, but the Lord God does see fit to punish those who act against his teachings.” Zo didn’t need him to tell him that, he’d figured that much out on his own when he’d been assigned to the RICO division. An argument arose inside his chest, but he stifled it. Once upon a time, he’d had no issues spilling all his secrets and apprehensions to his Priests, but now, since he’d become a part of this group, the secrets weren’t just his own.

He’d left the booth the predicted prescription of prayer and Hail Mary’s but he also left with a new thing to contemplate. Why hadn’t he told the Father about the heist he’d only a few days prior? Or the infiltration goggles prototype he’d stolen from work yesterday? Both sins-- both worthy of a confession. He’d confessed plenty of sins he and his fellow officers had committed when he was on the force, so why was he so hesitant now?

Zo crossed himself as he left, stepping out into the harsh morning sunlight, a huge contrast from the pinkish weak pre-dawn glow that’d been there when he’d gone inside. It hadn’t been his intention to detour to the church on his run, but that’s where his feet had led him, and he let them take over once more after he plugged his headphones back in. Sneakers stomping on the pavement and a hard-pumping heart were his two favorite feelings in the world. He let himself get lost in the feel of it, the beat of his music, the rush of adrenaline.

He finally drifted to a walk on a too-familiar street. It wasn’t his own, he hadn’t run home. He’d run to the group’s apartment. Breathing heavy, he halted in front of the stoop, squinting up at the white building that almost glowed in the morning haze. Like a revelation, it hit him. A smile broke across his face despite himself. What had baffled him not moments and miles ago, was suddenly as clear as the crystalline windows glinting the reflection of the tree that lined the street. He couldn’t confess against them for the same reason he’d never been able to against his sisters: because they’d become family. Against all better judgment, against all better reason, against all better logic, they were his family.

Were they criminals? Sure. Were they sinners? Absolutely. But they were his, and that’s all that mattered.

#about;;

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yoongiandchiminie · 6 years

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Distance [Jungkook x Reader] Part 1

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 3,468

Genre: Romance, Angst

Warnings: Cursing,

Summary: After being friends with Jungkook for years, you’re finally coming to terms with your on and off feelings about him or so you think. He was a complex man and had been since you were younger. Everyone knew it, but did you know him the way everyone else did?

Dear Google Docs,

I think I've loved Jungkook since I was fifteen. Over the last five years, I've fallen in and out if love with him, but I've always loved him nonetheless. Maybe I don't really know what being in love is. Maybe it was because of his admiration of me and feeling appreciated made me care for him more than I truly did. I guess I'll never really know.

I'm here because I didn't really know what else to do. I've always enjoyed writing and that's even how I met him. Through a writing outlet on Facebook back then. He was beautiful. One of the most gorgeous men I've ever seen and maybe that's where the initial lust came into play, but was that all it was? I hope not. He made me happy then. He made me confident in a way I'd never admit. Never to him. He had to have known about one of my crushes on him to a point. I wasn't exactly subtle at my young age.

Jungkook had this terrible habit of disappearing and playing it off as if nothing had ever happened. Acting as if he wasn't gone for three months as we were getting older. I've always had this terrible and irrational fear that everything would be over sooner than expected. Wasting days wasn't something I enjoy and it rather irritated me.

He told me he was lonely today and wanted to feel love. So I told him I loved him. I really did, but he didn't know how I meant it I guess. It went like this; “I think I'm lonely.” “I love you.” “I know you do, but it's not the love I need.” “What?” “You love me in a friend way, I need something more.” I was silent.

When he was telling me about his feelings today, it was the first time in years. Jungkook was a private guy and he always liked to keep it that way. After we spoke about the love thing, he told my friend Maeve and I why his ex-girlfriend broke up with him. They’d always been on and off because I’d heard she was a little bit crazy. Kook said that she approached him about a week ago and said that she knew nothing about him. So he told her to come over one night and they could sit up and talk about his life. His feelings. Then after he told her everything, she broke up with him on that spot. She said he was depressed and she didn’t need to be around that.

He claimed that he wasn’t depressed and she was spitting shit, but who was I to know? As much as I knew about him, it was really not too much. He was a private person. I only knew what he wanted me to know. When I was younger my mouth ran a lot and thus he knew- everything. I was open when it came to him and just couldn’t hide shit. He was always there for my whether it be through skype, xbox, or a phone call.

I've been thinking about that moment all day and that's why I'm here. I cracked and needed somewhere to vent to. As much as I enjoy a paper and pen, Google docs was more accessible to my venting needs. How do I explain to a pen and paper that I love a boy I've only met once in person? I guess the same way I do it here, but a little less pathetic. Nobody could ever find this unless I sent it to them, so I'm safe.

After writing down how I felt, I felt even stupider than I had without doing it. I sighed as I closed my laptop, pushing it off to the side of my bed. I grabbed my Xbox controller and it looked like Jungkook was still online playing Sea of Thieves. We’d been playing earlier all together, but I’d gotten off because I hit a point where I couldn’t contain myself around him. I had this constant fear that I’d say something stupid that would scare him off and the thing that sucked was that he had the same fear. Any form of feelings he could spit out, he kept bottled up.

I grabbed my controller and then my headset, plugging the wire into the prior. I hovered his gamertag for a moment. “JEONKOOKIE” and hit X, inviting him. It took a moment but he joined into the silence. He never said anything when he joined party, always waiting for the other to say it.

“Hey.” I lead, coughing after I spoke.

“You hoppin’ on? I’ll invite you.” He had this slight excitement in his voice that made saying no so hard, but I didn’t want to sit here sitting in my own feelings with his voice telling me to raise the sails.

“No, no. I just-” I cleared my throat and he made a small eh noise. I was starting to get flustered just by speaking to him. “I just wanted to tell you that you deserve the world. Even if you have to give it to yourself, you know? Unless you-”

“I know.” he was monotone, but I knew he wasn’t annoyed with me. “Thank you, Y/N.”

“Unless yo-”

“I love you, you know that? You’re important to me.” he let out a small chuckled after he spoke and my face burned hot. “What were you saying? Sorry to cut you off.”

“Nothing.” I responded. All I wanted to say was unless you wanted me to give it to you, but that was it. My momentary confidence was gone. Ah fuck. “I’m gonna go.” Without listening for his response, I left the party and threw my controller across the room. All I did was fuck up when it came to him, but it didn’t really matter. Soon we’d go back to not talking constantly and I’d be sad for a week or so, then the feelings would fade away. I knew this for a fact, so why did I constantly fall in love with him? Fuck if I knew.

“We should meet up again sometime soon.” He’d said a few days later. The party was silent as it was just the two of us and sometimes it got like that. I didn't particularly like it, but I sat through it in hopes that I could say something to spark a conversation. “I had fun with you guys last time.”

I was on a road trip with Maeve and our other friend Jin, going to see our friend Yoongi for the weekend. We stopped at a rest stop and as we pulled in, I recognized it as the town Jungkook lived in. Naturally, we went to his job to surprise him. Imagine your internet friends showing up during your shitty work day? We thought it would be nice too. Jin had called out his name and we couldn't find him, so we left and decided to call his phone this time.

He didn't pick up, so Jin wrote in the group chat and it turned out he called out of work. Jungkook always had this habit of pushing people off if they came near him, but not this time. He came and met up with us. We waited in Maeve car and I was anxious. I really was. What if he wasn't as excited as me? What if our awkward silences transitioned to real life? My heart stopped as I looked around the parking lot and spotted him. As my obnoxious self would, I honked the moment he stepped into his car and I never thought a smile could make my heart drop.

Jin ran out of the car and the two hugged for a good while, as you do. Other than Maeve, our whole friend group lived around the country from each other. We only got to see each other if we traveled and it was nice to say the least. After Jin had picked him up and spun him with a laugh, Jungkook pulled away and turned his attention towards me. He had this big goofy smile on as his arms snaked around my frame and held me tight. I’d had dreams about this moment and for it to be coming true was eye opening.

I'd always figured Jungkook was someone that took good selfies and was kind of cute in person. He was the most attractive guy that I’d ever had the pleasure of meeting. As we sat around eating lunch, Maeve couldn't stop herself from texting me about how fucking hot he was and I just nodded.

“Yeah, that'd be fun. It's just a little far.” I played it off as if him wanting to see me wasn't music to my ears.

“We can meet halfway if you wanna. Six Flags is between us.” I could hear hear him smiling as he dropped anchor in our game. “We could have a fun day there.”

“Are you going on the vacation this Summer? Everyone is going to Namjoon’s to meet his daughter.”

“It's a bit of a stretch, but we could drive down together.”

“It's a twelve hour drive.”

“I like driving.”

“I like- driving. I like driving.” Real smooth. “So you're going to drive here and then we can drive there?”

“Looks like that's the plan, lovely.”

Dear Google Docs,

I really think I love him this time. We're driving together to the dumb squad vacation I didn't really want to go on. Being the only girl with them gets to be a little much. Yes, Emma was gonna be there and Claire as well, but ones a baby and the other doesn't like me too much. Emma was always uneasy with me, even if I haven't even met Namjoon in person. She seems sweet, I'll never hold her to the jealousy she felt for me.

So far out of the seven of them, I’d met Jin, Yoongi, Jungkook, and Jimin in person. I'd taken vacations with Jin and Yoongi. I had lunch with Jungkook and I’d spent five minutes with Jimin. It turned out the two of us were at the same anime convention and neither of us knew all weekend until the last day. He’d found the hall I was in and came to give me a big hug and took a selfie with me. It was a little awkward, but it was cute.

Back to the problem at hand. I think I'm going to need to get a second job up until we go away in two months. I need new everything to wear there, especially since we were going to be at a beach. I had to work out and shop, which means more money than I’m making for a little bit. I guess I'll to job hunting tomorrow before I go to my job now. I hope it's worth it.

“Where have you been, Y/N?” Jungkook asked about two weeks later when we finally caught each other on Xbox. He worked the hours of my normal job, so we used to be able to play together right when we got home. Now, after that job I went straight to the night job and didn't get home until his Overwatch team started their nightly skrims. It meant absolutely no time to play with him, but that was alright. It was bound to happen anyways.

“Working a lot, you know me.” I laughed it off and opened up my game. “You ready?”

“Oh, I’ve been ready, baby.”

Dear Google Docs,

Today when I opened my group chat I saw a message from Jimin that said I was all talk. I wasn't too sure what I meant, but I knew the group chat with seven tight knit guys and myself wasn't the place to ask. So, when I got on Xbox with Jungkook I did and he said it was because I was a flirt. He went on to say that I've always been like this and mentioned I'd been flirting with him lately. Was I obvious?

We started the conversation as we both set Sea of Thieves to update, but it’s a big patch. He came back for a moment after getting a phone call and said he was going to take a shower. On one hand I hope he forgets about this conversation, but on the other I want to know where this talk could go. So, I’m writing this while waiting to come back.

I also realized I have another fear. What if when we get bored of this game, we go back to not talking as much? I guess I’d really have to wait to find out.

I closed google docs and instead of my laptop, I ended up scrolling through all of my social media as I waited. My anxiety wasn’t as bad as I expected, but I was still a little bit nervous. Also angry. And cold. Fuck. I heard his headset unmute and a quick breath. Luckily, he forgot.

“You know,” he cleared his throat a few minutes later as we sat on the ship, waiting out a storm that would definitely destroy our small ship. “I kinda like the attention you've been giving to me.” I knew he'd been lonely, especially since his ex. “It feels nice.”

“I wish I spoke to you more.” I admitted. “I just always feel like I'm annoying you.”

“You don't annoy me- Just your choices sometimes do.” he muttered, “You never annoy me.”

“The last really annoying thing I did was two years ago.” I responded, dwelling on my poor boy choices. The boys had introduced me to this boy named Kihyun who definitely admired them. In the Facebook writing community they were basically idolized and I just kind of faded along. I'd fallen quickly for Kihyun. He liked me a lot too, I thought. He lived fairly close to me and we even met up twice. He was my first kiss.

It turned out he'd been using me to get to my friends, or so we figured. He had this big thing where he didn't want to date me and played it off. The guys constantly asked if he was talking to other girls and he denied it, but we later found out he was. I see his name pop up sometimes and this little part of me wants to message him and apologize even though I probably didn't do anything wrong. It was a filler arc that went on for too long. Sometimes I still got upset about it and confided in Jin for some reason. Everytime he kind of made me feel bad about it and I got over it quick enough. “He was in my dream last night.” I finished.

“Ew, ugh, don't mention him.” Jungkook scoffed, a disgusted tone to his voice.

“Don't you talk to him? He fucking sucks your d-”

“Just drop it.”

Dear Google Docs,

Today I realized how different Jungkook had become after her. He gets angry easier. She texted him while we were talking yesterday and I could hear his attitude sinking. She wanted him to look for a makeup brush she thought she left there and he asked to know what it looked like. She got mad that he “never can do anything she asks” and he just got angry. He swore every minute and just bitched and bitched. I felt bad, but what could I do? He got off right after that.

I'm worried.

I woke up at a good morning text today from Jungkook. It had a heart next to it and I couldn’t help but to find myself blushing at the thought that he thought of me. I’d gotten messages like this from him before, but it almost felt different. Whenever we went through our periods of talking he as like this. Maybe it was because he knew I thought that I annoyed him all of the time and he did this to ease me.

Dear Google Docs,

I think this document is so important to me because it's mine. Normally I'll vent on my private social medias, but my friends still can see my posts along with people I've never spoken to that may follow me. I was always fine with that, but I've felt kind of embarrassed about this Jungkook issue. Was it just in my head? Any friend I've spoken about this with thinks he has feelings to me but they don't- well, know him.

Kookie likes to fuck around. He was one of the sweetest guys I knew but he loved attention and loved being able to say he had someone wrapped around his fingertips. Kinda fucked up. It seems he was a little different now after her. To my knowledge, he wasn't truly about that anymore, but what did I know?

We haven't truly spoke in days at this point. Between us both working and whatever was going on with him it was rare that we even exchanged messages. It wasn't exactly hurting me, but more so leaving me in a state of confusion. Did he care the way I did or were they pity messages? All I knew was that I needed my anxiety to stop fucking around with me and let me continue normally. I didn't need this cloud surrounding me and bringing me down. I just had to work and focus.

I’d woken up to a message from him this morning that read, “Summer is only a month away.” It was sent at 4:33 in the morning. Why was he thinking about that so early? I went to work and the message didn't leave my head. I’d forgotten to respond to him in my rush and got another message an hour later that read, “I’ll plan everything, don’t worry. I’ll pick you up and it’ll be smooth sailing, baby.” Yeah. Real smooth.

Dear Google Docs,

He messaged me “You know what man. You haven't asked me to be a pirate in a while. I'm starting to feel some type of way.” What the fuck is that supposed to mean? I asked 2 days ago and his replies have been scarce so I decided I shouldn't ask anymore. I didn't want to be annoying and I told him that. His response was “Never. I always want you to annoy me about being a pirate.” My heart fluttered, but I couldn't bring myself to respond with something cute so instead I said “Are you sure?” What a fucking idiot.

“I'm glad we have this game.” Jungkook sounded like he was smiling a week before we went away at 1 am. “I always wanna play with you but-”

“But?” I could feel my voice slipping as my eye drooped. I was exhausted, but I couldn't turn down an invite from him.

“You just play shitty games, Y/N.” he laughed hearing my breath stop for a second. I was so tired I couldn't even think of a retort in the moment. “Turn a little more west.”

I listened as I steered the ship while he basically did everything else. “I can't believe I have to drive for 12 hours in a week.” I sighed, dreading the journey. The longest car ride I'd been on was 9 hours and I hadn't even been the one driving.

“But you'll have me.” he basically sang. I was caught off guard by the cuteness of it and cleared my throat. “Back and forth, you'll have me.”

“Are you gonna talk to me though?” I joked with him. “You can't leave me on read or unopened if we're both in the car.”

“Well, we won't be texting, first off.” he almost sounded offended but, I think it was fake. “Maybe I'll be breathless if I stare at you for too long, gorgeous, but that's it. The only thing keeping us from talking.”

“Shut up.”

I'm leaving tomorrow for this vacation. I quit my second job, I bought clothes, and I'm excited. Being with all of my close friends for a week sounds like the break I deserve. So, I decided the best way to spend my night was to play some good ole Xbox. Jungkook happened to be on, but his attitude was different. He was normal Kook, but he just kinda kept yelling and was getting frustrated easier than normal. Nothing too serious, but he was being an ass.

“Why are you so mean today?”

“She came over yesterday and slept over and had sex with me so I'm kinda heartbroken.”

“Ah.”

“You know, even though I'm not enjoying my day, I'm enjoying my time with you.”

“Heart heart.”

Dear Google Docs,

I don't think I can love him the way I want to.

A/N - hello and welcome to my sadness!! I hope you enjoyed & please let me know what you think in replies or messages! I’m super nervous about this story bc it’s very personal and i highkey need to know what everyone thinks before i continue writing. it’s gonna get a lot worse from here, boys. i can tell you that. heart heart xx

#jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkookxreader #bts #bts self insert #bts x reader #btsxreader #bts jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook romance #bts angst #bts romance #bts fic #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook angst #jeon jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook fic

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missgoalie75 · 7 years

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a gilmore christmas | fic: instead of cursing the darkness, light a candle

title: instead of cursing the darkness, light a candle word count: ~3,000 disclaimer: title is from ‘light a candle’ by neil young. summary: post-revival | in which paris invites jess over for hanukkah for reasons not limited to doyle screwing up his flight and paris cutting out everyone due to election day reactions. note: this was written for a gilmore christmas, so please make sure to check out all the works! thank you @alspancakeworld for hosting this again.

Jess only has Paris Geller's cell phone number because he babysat her two kids as a one-time thing: he happened to be in the city on the same night that her babysitter fell through and she had to go to a gala. It wasn't a bad night – he ordered pizza for the kids, they watched some animated movies that he missed when he was their age; he occasionally texted Paris, who checked in every hour. The kids were supposed to go to bed at eight, but he let them stay up and they tired themselves out by nine. Paris came home at one in the morning, tired and a little tipsy and she thanked him with a kiss on the cheek, which he doesn't think she would've ever done if she were sober. The next morning, he made breakfast for the family and then left.

That was about a month ago and he didn't expect to hear from her so soon, let alone a week before Christmas:

From Paris Geller: I’m assuming you’re not doing anything for the holidays this year because I’m told you rarely see your family during that time, so if that’s the case, you can come to my Hanukkah gathering on the 24th.

From Paris Geller: I’ve had to cut out 80% of my social circle due to the election and Doyle isn’t going to make it until Boxing Day because he’s a self-centered writer and screwed up booking a simple red eye.

From Paris Geller: And my kids actually like you, so please.

Jess stares at the series of texts, completely flabbergasted.

From Jess Mariano: I figured since you were in the medical field you would be in better company.

From Paris Geller: You’d think, but they’re either too wealthy and want to keep their $$$, they’re self-hating Jews, and/or they voted for Jill Stein.

From Jess Mariano: Yikes.

From Paris Geller: It’s been a rough 6 weeks.

He knows. After the gala, after she kissed his cheek in thanks, she proceeded to hiss about an asshole donor who loves his hunting rifles and money too much and how he's confident about the upcoming administration, tears of rage in her eyes. He couldn't judge her for that since Rory was incapacitated for days and can only imagine Paris just functioning for her kids' wellbeing.

(And he himself punched a hole in the wall at Truncheon at two in the morning on election night, drunker than he'd been in years, but nobody knows that.)

From Jess Mariano: Yep.

From Paris Geller: So, can you come? Incentives: you sleep in the guest room, you have access to my PRIVATE gym, state of the art kitchen, books.

From Jess Mariano: You think you have me all figured it out don’t you.

From Paris Geller: Private. Gym.

Jess sighs and rubs his eye before cupping his jaw in thought. It’s true, he hasn’t gone out of his way to come to Stars Hollow for the holidays for a variety of reasons, most of which revolve around bad memories with Liz, and recently he’s enjoyed spending the time either by himself or with a few other misfits watching Reservoir Dogs (his choice) and Die Hard (definitely not his choice).

From Paris Geller: AND I’m buying good rugelach. I’m going to Park Slope for them.

He does have an appreciation for good rugelach. Besides, with Chris attempting to mend his relationship with his brother and going out of town and Matthew going to his grandmother’s house, he thinks he can close up shop for a few days.

From Jess Mariano: Do I need to bring anything?

From Paris Geller: No, just respectable clothes.

From Jess Mariano: Do you still picture me like I’m seventeen wearing camo and baggy pants?

From Paris Geller: Obviously. I bet it shocks you every time to see my short hair.

From Jess Mariano: Fair point. I’ll come after lunch.

From Paris Geller: No, you come FOR lunch. You’re a guest. I will feed you.

From Jess Mariano: I have a hard time imagining your cooking…

From Paris Geller: I’m going to take you out to lunch in a damn restaurant. Unless you have made up important work to get done on Christmas Eve.

From Jess Mariano: Okay…I’ll come for lunch.

From Paris Geller: Great. See you then.

Jess reads over the exchange and shakes his head.

"So, what are you doing for Christmas this year? Staying at Truncheon?" Luke asks a few days before Christmas Eve.

"No, I'll be in New York," Jess answers as he's doing sit ups on his bedroom floor.

"Who's there?"

Jess sighs, does two more sit ups, and picks up the phone by his hip on the ground. "Are the Gilmores around?"

"What, why?"

"Because I don't want to deal with a reaction right now."

"Okay, weirdo, no, I'm in the storage room. Why is this a secret?"

Jess runs his teeth over his bottom lip. "Paris."

"What?"

"Paris Geller. I'm doing Hanukkah with her and her kids."

"…But why?"

"Because she asked and I figured why the hell not." He puts the phone back down and does another set of sit ups.

He does a few before Luke asks, "Is this about Rory?"

Jess clenches his jaw as he propels himself forward. "Not everything is about her."

"You know you're always welcome –"

"Thanks, Luke, but I'm good."

"Okay, if you say so…but Paris? Really?"

"You know, she's not terrible."

"She's terrifying."

She's a force of nature, but Jess just thinks at the end of the day, Paris Geller is someone who takes what she wants by sheer will and has always had a hard time finding – and keeping – people in her life who respect it. There's nothing terrifying about it. (Although the glint in her eyes when she talks about certain things like politics and women in television is a little bit concerning.)

"You know Rory and Lorelai are going to find out about it."

Obviously, but Jess doesn't want to have a conversation about it with Rory, who will probably be territorial about it. "Whatever, at least it's not right now."

"What are you doing?"

Jess finishes his last sit up. "Sit ups. Now pushups."

"You still have to tell me how the hell –"

"Bye, Luke, speak to you later." Jess hangs up on him, flips over, and begins his first rep of pushups.

(Look, Rory being pregnant is…whatever. None of his business.)

Even though Paris told Jess not to bring anything, he buys bagels because that's typically his go-to 'thank you for hosting me' gift since everyone loves a New York bagel. And he buys jelly doughnuts since he wasn't sure if she just bought rugelach and also, he was hungry on his way in and wanted a quick snack. And going by the way her collarbones are sticking out and her face appearing a little gaunter than the last time he saw her, he's glad he brought both.

Gabriela and Timothy hug him and make him promise to draw and play games and do other kid things that will end up exhausting him. But he likes them – they're surprisingly warm children, especially considering who gave birth to them.

"Alright, let's get moving, we have a reservation!" Paris says over their excited squeals. "Coats on! Hats too!"

"Where are we going, exactly?" Jess asks.

Paris rolls her eyes. "Don't worry, I picked American food."

"I wouldn't have minded diversity," he says with an amused smile. "I grew up with six different types of cuisine in the same block."

"There's Chinese tomorrow night."

"Wow, really? Something tells me you didn't adhere to that Jewish tradition growing up," he laughs.

Paris smiles. "Definitely not, but my mom ate a handful of almonds and coffee on a daily basis, so that was out of the question."

"You're going to have to buy a vat of lo mein," he warns her as he gets down on a knee to help Gabriela zip her coat.

"Don't worry, you won't starve," Paris scoffs, ushering her kids out the front door. "And, obviously," she adds, as if he were crazy to suggest not ordering enough lo mein to feed a family for a week.

"Just making sure," Jess sighs, shutting the door behind him.

Jess didn't know much about Hanukkah prior to living with Matthew. Before, his knowledge stemmed from "The Hanukkah Song" and living in some predominantly Jewish neighborhoods. Now, he has a better understanding – he even knows the blessings recited when lighting the menorah, but he butchers the pronunciation, according to Matthew, so he was never expected to do the honors.

"Who remembers the blessings of the first night?" Paris asks.

Jess raises his hand.

"Who out of the practicing Jews in the room remembers the blessing of the first night?" Paris clarifies dryly as her children giggle.

"Can't I be an honorary Jew?" he asks. "I bet if we put it to a vote, I'd win." He grins at her children, who beam back at him.

"Be quiet, James Taggart. Gabriela? Your Hebrew School teacher said you were doing well," Paris says, running her thumb over the apple of her daughter's cheek.

"Who's James?" Timothy asks.

"A character from a bad writer," Jess answers.

"You can't judge a writer by one book," Paris argues.

"Ayn Rand writes the same s…garbage every time. One is enough. Let Gabriela recite the blessings."

Paris scowls and shakes her head.

Jess technically only knows the first two blessings which are said every night of Hanukkah, so when Gabriela stumbles over a word, he whispers the correct one in her ear. He lights the middle candle with a Bic lighter from his pocket when Paris gives him a nod. Gabriela and Timothy both keep a hand on Jess' when he lights the rightmost candle after the third blessing is recited.

"You did beautifully," Paris says.

"Couldn't have done it better myself," Jess adds, putting the candle back in the menorah.

"Tomorrow, you can light the second candle," Paris tells Timothy, who nods.

"I'm going to be perfect," Timothy announces, very much an echo of his mother.

Jess will be very interested in how Timothy will grow up.

Jess got Timothy a stack of coloring books and a nice set of colored pencils since he seemed to have the bigger passion for art the last time he saw him. He gave Gabriela a large set of multicolored beads and different kinds of strings to make her own jewelry.

"What the fuck, Mariano, what is this gift giving genius?" Paris says quietly through her teeth.

"Nice alliteration. I thought about getting them the likes of The Phantom Tollbooth and Jacob Have I Loved but I figured you should do the honors in a couple of years."

She looks away innocently, eyes falling toward the closet where he's sure she's keeping her children's gifts. He feels such a strange sort of fondness for her.

After the kids are tucked in, Paris opens a fresh bottle of wine and Jess places a gift for her on the kitchen counter.

She stares at it blankly for a second. "Really?"

"You really have a horrible preconception of me," he jokes. "It's not much."

She finishes pouring the glasses and puts the wine back in the cooler before opening the box, which has an Amazon gift card and a nice, expensive pen.

She smiles – a soft, genuine one that probably hasn't been seen by many.

"Okay, I got you something too," she says, going over to the closet outside of the kitchen.

He opens the neatly wrapped gift and laughs, finding an Amazon gift card on top of a pile of different sized Moleskin journals, all black.

"I'm a cliché, aren't I?"

"Yeah, but it's fine. We all have our faults."

He snorts and sticks the card into the topmost journal. "Got any more latkes?"

So they're sitting on the couch with a plate of reheated latkes, a bowl of leftover blue and white jellybeans, and full glasses wine.

"This upcoming year is going to suck," Paris whines.

He nods in agreement.

"I swear to God, if I knew this was going to happen, I wouldn't have had kids. I'm devastated that my children will be exposed to this bullshit and will probably have to fix it their entire lives."

Jess frowns. "Not that I'm Mr. Optimistic, but I'm hoping we won't totally fuck ourselves over irreparably."

"Yeah, yeah."

"I have a hard time imagining this future fucked up administration will turn your kids into assholes. I'm sure you're instilling good feminist values."

"Honestly, Timothy I think will bully his peers into believing the right things. He reminds me of me so much, it's scary."

"He glowers like you, it's unnerving," he agrees.

"Gabriela has her moments when it's like I'm looking in a mirror, but she's definitely got Doyle's demeanor."

"How's that going?"

Paris sighs. "I can't imagine getting back with him. He's not the same. And neither am I in some respects, but –"

"You feel like you've pretty much stayed the same," he assumes.

She stares at him. "Is that bad?"

He shrugs. "I don't think so."

They drink and eat in silence for a few moments.

"I can't believe she's pregnant," Paris says flatly before bringing the glass to her mouth. She takes a long drink. "I know she was going through…I don't know. A rough patch. But…pregnant?"

He vividly recalls sitting across from a desk, sipping half-terrible whiskey as Rory talks about having no underwear. He doesn't bring that up, but he hums in agreement and drinks.

"Is it weird to be disappointed in a friend? Because I feel that way."

He shrugs. "Don't know. Probably not."

She stares at him over her glass. "You were a dark horse."

"What?"

"I mean, I never would've guessed this scenario happening in a million years."

"Is it the hair?" he jokes.

"The success, the lack of attitude, the rippling pectorals."

He just stops himself from laughing out loud. "Please don't ever say that again."

"Oh, come on, you're jacked, it's ridiculous, who are you." She finishes her wine. "What are you even doing with your abs, because I can't for the fucking life of me get rid of this pouch of fat right below my belly button."

"Are we going to work out together tomorrow morning?" he half-jests, but judging by the way her eyes flash with determination, he knows she takes the suggestion seriously.

"I'm up at seven and I think the kids will be in a food coma."

He shakes his head and finishes his wine.

As much as Jess enjoys doing plenty of things on his own, it's actually not bad exercising with Paris. They keep headphones in for most of the time and they somehow motivate each other, mostly by Paris staring holes into his face while either of them are completing sets.

While they're finishing up, both of her kids come in and exclaim "Happy Chrismukkah!" which Jess didn't realize was still a thing people outside of his friend group – still stuck in the mid-2000s – said to one another.

"Can you make pancakes again, Jess? Please?" Timothy asks.

"Yeah, please!" Gabriela echoes.

"Depends if your mother –" Jess starts.

"Oh, don't worry, I have everything you'll need, I was prepared for this request" Paris interrupts him.

Jess laughs. "Of course."

He makes chocolate chip pancakes for the kids and omelets for himself and Paris, even though they end up eating a pancake or two.

Paris gives her kids a few gifts to open in the spirit of Christmas, taking pictures and sending them to Doyle. They change into new winter-themed pajamas and watch holiday-themed movies.

At one point, Paris orders a disgusting amount of Chinese food to have delivered, but Jess offers to pick up.

On his walk, he calls Luke.

"He lives."

Jess rolls his eyes. "Merry Christmas to you, Uncle Luke."

"Merry Christmas. How's it going over there?"

"Very nice."

"Seriously?"

"If I didn't want to be here, I wouldn't be here. Have you seen Liz yet?"

"We're having dinner later. She didn't call you yet?"

"I'm sure it's coming."

"It's Jess, want to say hello?" Luke asks distractedly.

Jess bites back a sigh.

"Hi, Jess, Merry Christmas!" Lorelai says. "Remember, if you need help, just text the SOS emoji and we'll send a brigade."

"Pretty sure the brigade has the day off along with the post office – I think I'll survive in the meantime."

"Wish Paris and her kids a Happy Hanukkah."

"I will."

There a few seconds of silence until: "Merry Christmas, Jess."

He wets his bottom lip. "Merry Christmas, Rory."

"I have another chapter done – at this rate, maybe by spring, the first draft will be done."

"Your rate is definitely better than mine at the moment. I hope when you're done you'll consider submitting a draft to a smaller publishing company."

"Truncheon is number one on the list."

He smiles. He reaches the restaurant and comes to a stop. "I gotta go, but I'm sure I'll see you around."

"Bye, Jess."

He hangs up and for a moment, he considers the fact that next year, she'll have a few-months-old baby, and desperately wishes for a strong drink.

(There's a point when Liz calls and while the conversation is brief – he speaks at length with Doula of all the gifts she received and thanking him for his gifts that he sent in the mail – Paris at one point slides him a beer and they cheer to being better than their shitty mothers. When the kids go to sleep, they watch Reservoir Dogs and Miracle on 34th Street and eat more Chinese food. Jess considers making more of an effort to hang out with Paris and her kids with the new year.)

Doyle arrives early in the morning and there's a weird moment when he sizes Jess up, which Jess doesn't want to think about or consider.

But Jess leaves soon after, letting the Geller-McMaster family have their time alone. Paris sends Jess home with leftover latkes and Chinese food and a box of rugelach. He's not one for hugs still, but he's okay with hugging Gabriela and Timothy and Paris.

On his drive home, he sneaks a rugelach or two, considers where he's going to hang up the drawings Timothy gave him, his new beaded bracelets made by Gabriela rolling up and down his wrist.

(He's also very excited to hole himself in his room and read, but that's just because some things just won't change.)

#agilmorechristmas #gilmore girls #jess mariano #paris geller #gg fic #missgoalie writes things

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jennymanrique · 4 years

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Air COVID-19

Medical and military personnel wait at a base near Bogota for the arrival of almost two dozen Colombian migrants who were deported by US immigration officials and came home infected with the coronavirus. Photo: Aristóbulo Varón

Deportation flights seed Coronavirus in Latin America

In early March, Carlos, a 24-year-old merchant, boarded a flight from Bogota, Colombia, headed to Indianapolis and a shopping and tourism spree with his aunt. There were toys and new clothes to buy for his newborn son, his first child.

But what Carlos said was designed as a short and fun getaway instead became a nightmare stay in the United States. It ended with him spending three weeks in a Florida detention center run by the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement agency, before being put on a chartered passenger jet on March 30 and sent back to Colombia.

A few hours later Carlos and dozens of fellow Colombian deportees landed in Bogota, where he learned he’d become infected with the COVID-19 virus that has paralyzed the world.

The jet was one in a fleet used in a sped-up deportation program run by ICE Air Operations (IAO). The number of flights increased just as the pandemic had started spreading like wildfire across the U.S. By mid-May, more than 300 flights had arrived in 19 Latin American countries with more than 70,000 deportees during 2020, according to ICE data.

The vast majority of those deportees were not tested for COVID-19 infection before being loaded onto planes and shipped home.

On the March 30 Bogota flight, several deportees interviewed by palabra. said the passengers were chained to their seats for most of the time in the air, and no one -- not even the crew -- wore masks or gloves. The ICE flights have drawn the ire of officials in Latin America now dealing with some of the world’s highest COVID-19 infection rates, ill-prepared health systems and, in some cases, unsupportive governments.

ICE has since shifted its policy and is now testing more and more deportees, but the moves were too late for deportees like Carlos, who complain the U.S. government negligently exposed them to a lethal virus.

“I traveled with a tourist visa, but during the stop in Miami the immigration officers interrogated me for several hours and then (claimed) that my intention was asking for political asylum, which was not,” said Carlos, speaking via telephone from Bogota, where he was being quarantined. “I don't speak English, I didn’t understand what was going on, but soon after I was detained, I was wearing a blue uniform, with no access to my cell phone or a jar of vitamins I travel with for health reasons,” he said.

(Carlos asked palabra. to use only his first name. He fears stigmatization and reprisal.)

Trapped in a hot spot

Carlos was held in the Krome Detention Center in Florida -- a facility that gained national attention this spring for becoming a COVID-19 hot spot, with at least 15 detainees and staff infected.

Carlos is convinced that the stay in Krome is likely when he picked up the virus that would make him something like a “Patient Zero” -- possibly a source of infection for at least 22 others who flew with him from Alexandria, La., on the repatriation flight.

“I signed up for voluntary deportation because I wasn’t fighting for any asylum case,” Carlos said, recalling the option presented to him by ICE officials as a fast way to get back home and avoid uncertain time in detention. “I just wanted to leave that prison where I was sharing space with more than 100 people … . Many of them showed cold and flu symptoms and nobody did nothing.”

On April 30th, U.S. District Court Judge Marcia Cooke ordered ICE to lower the number of detainees from 1,400 to about 350 in three detention centers in Florida, including Krome. By the time Carlos was detained, seven Krome detainees and eight staff members had tested positive for COVID-19, according to court filings.

“We constantly asked the guards why there were so many people entering the prison,'' Carlos said. “By the time we were hearing news about the coronavirus, (we were worried because) even priests were being allowed in to celebrate Mass.”

Nicolas Barrera, another Colombian on the March 30 Bogota-bound ICE flight, spent four months in ICE detention, between Krome and the Wakulla County Facility in Florida. In the Krome facility, he said, there was a building with close to 100 inmates in quarantine, “but suddenly all of us were mixed, and that is where the contagion and the panic began.”

“I saw many people coughing and suffering from colds,” Barrera said. “The bunk beds were extremely close to each other.”

Barrera, holding a tourist visa, arrived in Maryland in 2004 along with his mother. When the visa expired they sought asylum; his mother retired from the Colombian Army and was escaping death threats from that country’s largest revolutionary group, the Armed Revolutionary Forces of Colombia, known by its Spanish acronym, FARC. But they missed their first asylum hearing and decided to remain, undocumented, in the city of Gaithersburg, which was a sanctuary city.

In November of 2019, Barrera fell into ICE custody after police stopped him in Florida because his car had a cracked headlight. His lawyer suggested he apply again for asylum. But the courts were closed due to the virus and in the interim he was ordered deported. “I left my wife and three kids adrift (back in Maryland). I can't believe they deported me when I was trying to reopen my case. And now this nightmare.”

Like Carlos, Barrera was asymptomatic when he arrived in Bogota.

According to Diego Molano, director of the Presidential Administrative Department in Colombia, the government believed the deportees had been tested in the U.S. So, once the deportees were in Colombia, the Red Cross took their temperatures and then the Health Secretariat conducted additional screening.

An ICE statement at the time said agency protocols for immigrants who had “final orders of removal” included “a temperature screening at the flight line, prior to boarding” and an immediate referral to a medical provider for further evaluation if any detainee presents “a temperature of 99 degrees or higher.”

Nicolás Barrera

Testing in Colombia

“Once we entered the Colombian sky, passing over San Andres (island), ICE officers took off our handcuffs and gave us masks and gloves. I didn’t receive any of those during any of my transfers (to different ICE detention centers),” said Carlos.

After landing In Colombia, the 64 passengers (56 men and eight women) on the flight from Louisiana were put into quarantine at a military base south of Bogota. They were all tested and Carlos was the one deportee to come up positive for the coronavirus.

Colombia’s Ministry of Justice initial plan was to transport all deportees on the flight to a rehabilitation center in Tenjo, a small town near Bogota. But local residents blocked the entrance to their village with stones and dump trucks. They feared being infected by the deportees.

“As I suffer from allergic rhinitis, I had a rough first night sleeping in a tent (in the military base) with air conditioning,” Carlos recalled. “By the time the results came, I didn’t have any other symptoms, but I was immediately isolated.”

A second round of tests 10 days later revealed that 22 more deportees had the coronavirus. Carlos’ account was corroborated by six of the infected migrants who spoke to palabra.

“After the first positive (test), we started to take turns eating in smaller groups,” said Karen Rivera, 32, who is a nurse by training and helped the one doctor at the military base with taking temperatures and blood samples and doing other screening of the rest of the deportees, in 100 degree weather. She was also one of three women who tested positive after landing in Colombia.

“(In the base) we spent tons of time together without washing hands properly or just using disposable masks once and again,” Rivera said, speaking via telephone from the Hotel Tequendama in Bogota, where she spent 20 days quarantined with five other deportees after their positive test results. She became seriously ill: She suffered strong headaches “like a hangover,” muscle fatigue, diarrhea, loss of taste and smell, heartburn, and even panic attacks. She said she has an underlying condition, pulmonary edema, so she was “praying every day for my life.”

Julián Mesa

No social distancing in custody

Rivera is back in Colombia after a long stay in the U.S. that began with a flight from Mexico, where she had been living. In early February she was traveling to Tampa to visit her 9-year-old daughter. But on her first stop, Miami International Airport, her luggage was segregated by U.S. Customs and Border Protection agents for a random drug test. No drugs were found, but Rivera, who had a tourist visa, was accused of trying to enter the U.S. in order to work, which her visa didn’t allow.

Rivera was sent to the Broward Transitional Center (BTC) in Pompano, Fla. Like Krome, the Broward facility was ordered by a judge to decrease the inmate population because of the coronavirus outbreak.

“I was detained in a unit facility with 120 other women,” Rivera said. “We slept six per room, shared one bathroom and didn’t have access to toilet paper or feminine products … . We used to have recreation activities three times a day, but by mid-March there was a rumor of six infections and we were locked down 24 hours a day. … I didn't have access to my anxiety medication. On top of that, the arrests never stopped; (more people arrived) and the place was overcrowded.”

Although they said conditions in quarantine at the Colombian military base were better than in ICE detention centers, deportees described having to share spaces like bathrooms and small dining tables. They slept in bunks, 14 people per tent, with the exception of the eight women, who had their own tent. In all, 64 people had access to 12 toilets and 20 shower stalls.

“The hygiene was very irregular. We had a mop, a broom and a dustbin per tent. It was our duty to clean bathrooms but there was not enough soap, much less cleaning gloves,” said Julian Mesa, 34, who spoke from his house in Donmatias, Antioquia, a small Andean town located 30 miles outside Medellín. Migration from this small town to Boston’s east side -- where Mesa was detained in September 2019 by ICE -- has been so robust that today there are 4,000 Colombians living in this corner of New England.

“Once the number of the infected (from the March 30 flight) started to increase, ambulances arrived to transport us to our respective towns, to the Tequendama Hotel or the Military Hospital in Bogota. But there was so much improvisation,” Mesa recalled. “I had to ask my municipality for protection, so I won’t have any retaliation back at home.”

Throughout Latin America, deportees who have returned home from the United States, with or without coronavirus infections, have been threatened by locals. In Guatemala, villagers told federal government officials they would lynch one former detainee if he were allowed to come home.

For Mesa, the virus first revealed itself as a mild flu and pain in his joints. The whole journey was “frightening.” Mesa spent six months in the Bristol County House of Corrections in Massachusetts while waiting for a bond appeal so he could be set free while he waited for an asylum hearing. He said he was first taken into custody in 2013, in McAllen, Texas, after escaping threats in Colombia, crossing the U.S. border illegally and claiming asylum.

“I wanted to fight (for) my asylum but by mid-March when the Colombian Embassy confirmed (it would accept) the flight back to my country, I took the chance,” Mesa said. “The conditions inside Bristol were scary. Several guards were infected, two prisoners who tested positive were isolated, but we still were sharing bunk beds with more than 60 people per housing unit. We protested. Demanded tests. But that never happened.”

On May 12, U.S. District Court Judge William Young ordered the release of dozens of ICE detainees from Bristol County correctional facilities, after a class action filed on behalf of 148 people being held on civil immigration charges.

“This facility was notorious for bad medical care, bad sanitation and very high suicide rates, so we became very concerned about what was going to happen here after the coronavirus outbreak,” said Oren Nimni, staff attorney with Lawyers for Civil Rights, a rights group representing individuals in the lawsuit.

The judge ordered tests of all detainees and staff, and a release or transfer of immigrants in Bristol. To date, 18 ICE guards and nurses have tested positive and 50 detainees have been released. “We have reports from our clients inside that testing indeed has been increased,” Nimni said, adding that detainees still complain of threats from staff that anyone asking for a test will be put in solitary confinement.

Aristóbulo Varón

Deportation: The way out

The situation in Bristol is similar to other ICE detention centers around the country where the Colombians on the March Bogota flight had been detained. Individual accounts decry a lack of social distancing, of testing and of face masks while in ICE custody and as they were moved to the pre-flight staging area in Louisiana.

Public health experts in the U.S. now say that, in optimistic scenarios, about seven of every 10 individuals in U.S. government immigration custody may become infected.

“I was detained with close to 100 people, the majority from Guatemala,” said Aristobulo Varon, 52, who was held for two months in the Port Isabel detention facility in Los Fresnos, Texas.

“When we heard the news of the number of deaths and the closure of (the U.S.) borders, we started to feel very anxious,” Varon said. “We saw some (Asian) inmates who were checked and then isolated. But it was not the case for the rest of us.”

Varon said he lived in Mexico for 20 years, and was apprehended after crossing the Rio Grande into Texas, near McAllen.

In the Port Isabel facility, Varon said he noticed that the stress of being so close to the threat of the virus was hitting some people hard, especially those who had waited years for a chance to fight their immigration cases in U.S. courts. Instead, he said, they became anxious for a chance to be evacuated.

He remembers seeing medical personnel go from bunker to bunker, talking about washing hands and keeping safe distances -- things that were impossible to do because of the crowded conditions. “Some activities like telephone calls, visits, and even the change of currency were suspended. They stopped allowing people to come inside the jail. But the uncertainty was bigger and some people discussed a hunger strike.”

Seven Colombian inmates at Port Isabel, including Varon, were elated when they heard they were going home. What they didn’t know was that they were about to spend several days in transit -- being transferred from one center to another. ICE often moves those with deportation orders through multiple facilities, collecting more detainees and then distributing them to 13 airports across the U.S. West and South, where they’re put on planes headed for Latin America.

Jenny Guerra

Transfers without PPE

For detainees bound for Colombia, one of the points of departure is an ICE facility near Alexandria, La., where at least 14 ICE employees have tested positive for COVID-19, according to the agency.

Former detainees told palabra. that before arriving in Louisiana, their ICE planes stopped in Georgia, Texas, Indiana, New Jersey, New Hampshire and Tennessee, to pick up more deportees. At no time during their journeys, they said, did any U.S. official follow standard anti-virus protocols of wearing masks or gloves or keeping passengers at social distances.

Carlos recalled that by the time he was ready to board his flight, he was already feeling body aches and had an irritating tickle in his throat. He said ICE officers offered him salt-water gargles.

Deportees on the flight were seated together, even though several said there were many empty seats on the chartered aircraft, which could carry 135 people.

“The transfer between facilities mixing people from one state to another is concerning,” said Eunice Cho Sr., a lawyer for the American Civil Liberties Union’s National Prison Project. “Staff are not wearing PPE (personal protective equipment) and are potential vectors. Even the detainees who spent time isolated are. There is no way to prevent transmission in the planes.”

Cho co-authored an ACLU report published earlier this year. “Justice-Free Zones” investigated immigrant detention centers that had opened during the Donald Trump presidency. The report highlights conditions at detention facilities that, once the COVID-19 pandemic began, became big problems for ICE: understaffing and cost-cutting measures in medical units, lack of access to proper hygiene, unsanitary conditions in living units, and prolonged detentions without parole.

The report looked at five detention centers, including the Jackson Parish Correctional Center in Louisiana, where five detainees, interviewed by palabra., spent at least four nights before their flight home.

“This is where more people complained about the lack of soap for bathing, or cleaning supplies for their cells or bathrooms,” said the ACLU’s Cho.

Gonzalo Botero

Dodging the COVID-19 bullet

Gonzalo Botero, 76, said he was held in those conditions before boarding the March 30 flight to Bogota. The oldest on that flight, Botero suffers from chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD). After surviving the coronavirus, Botero said he now feels “very fortunate to be alive.”

“The most irresponsible thing (the Colombian government did) was to send me home after the positive result for COVID-19, because I then infected my wife and her nephew,” said Botero from his house in Dosquebradas, a small town in the foothills of the Andes in western Colombia. “(My wife) lost 28 pounds in 10 days.”

Yet everyone in the family survived the disease and recently celebrated Botero’s birthday.

The longtime delivery truck driver said his body is still wracked with bone pain and chills, and he often has a hard time breathing.

Before his deportation, Botero spent two weeks at the Winn Correctional Center in Louisiana. There, Botero recalled, he repeatedly asked for a voluntary deportation. He had completed a three-year prison sentence for drug trafficking and was eager to go home.

“I was freed (from prison) but spent two more months locked up, first in New Jersey and then in Louisiana, with no access to medication or doctors,” Botero said, a claim that mirrors ACLU research showing the Winn facility has had problems with inadequate medical staffing.

Understaffing was also a problem in detention centers in Texas, according to immigrants who spent time in those facilities. Jenny Guerra, 30, was detained February 26 in the Rio Grande Valley after crossing the border with the hope of working and saving money for treatment for her epilepsy, which is not covered by insurance in Colombia.

She was sent to a U.S. Customs and Border Protection holding Center in Donna, Texas, where she slept in a tent complex with 50 women. After being transferred to a nearby ICE facility, she found herself locked up with dozens of other women. She said they slept in bunk beds, shared a few shower stalls and toilets, and had no access to soap.

“If there were rumors of (coronavirus) contagion, the guards isolated the dorm, but no doctor came to check on us,” Guerra said on a phone call from her house in Medellin where she was recovering from COVID-19. “I had a throat infection, but it was not until I got to Colombia that I had access to amoxicillin and antibiotics.”

When she heard of Carlos’ infection -- she, too, was on the March 30 Bogota flight -- Guerra said she felt there was no way for her to be safe.

“I felt I took good care of myself but this virus is like a lottery. And I won it,” she said.

A doctor leaves a barracks near Bogota housing some of the Colombian deportees who returned this spring from the United States infected with the coronavirus.

A questionable coronavirus strategy

Although Colombia was the first Latin American country to run diagnostic tests in early February, its National Institute of Health has been under scrutiny for its capacity to deliver accurate and fast test results: Technical issues, broken machines and false negatives were part of Colombia’s coronavirus problem.

The institute said it wouldn't discuss confidential health records. That makes it difficult to determine if Carlos was actually the one who spread the virus on the plane. Half of the deportees on the flight have said they never received results of two different tests they took after arriving in Colombia.

As of June 30, there had been more than 95,000 reported cases and 3,200 deaths due to coronavirus in Colombia. The government extended mandatory preventive isolation until July 15, slowly opening shopping centers, hair salons and museums, while restaurants, bars and gyms remain closed.

Even though nearly half a million Colombians have been fined for violating the quarantine, according to the Ministry of Defense, Colombia has significantly fewer cases than other countries in Latin America. According to data from the Worldometer, the pandemic in Brazil has killed almost 57,000 people and the cases are rapidly rising to a million and a half contagions. Peru (282,000 cases) and Chile (279,000 cases) followed the thread in contagions but the number of deaths in those countries (9,500 and 5,600 respectively) are below the count in Mexico, where 27,000 deaths and more than 220,000 cases have been reported.

All these countries are receiving deportees from the U.S. Government. Guatemala for instance halted ICE flights after dozens of passengers were infected with COVID-19. “Our hospitals have limited capacity, but now we have to treat these patients infected with a disease that didn’t originate here,” Guatemalan President Alejandro Giammattei said during a recent interview with the Atlantic Council in Washington, D.C.

More than 300 flights

Despite all this, ICE deportation flights have continued to Central and Latin America, among other global destinations.

Witness by the Border, a nonprofit based in Brownsville, Texas, tracked 324 ICE deportation flights from Jan.1 to May 7. According to its analysis of data collected by Flight Aware, airports in Texas were the points of departure for more than half of the ICE flights. Another 17% flew from Louisiana, and 7% more from Florida. The rest departed from cities in California and Arizona. Destinations have included Barbados, Brazil, Colombia, the Dominican Republic, Ecuador, El Salvador, Guatemala, Haiti, Honduras, Jamaica, Mexico and Nicaragua.

Another survey, by the Center for Economic and Policy Research (CEPR), found that between Feb. 3 and June 30, there were 366 likely ICE Air deportation flights to Latin America and Caribbean countries. CEPR adds daily updates to a database that shows departure and arrival cities, as well as dates and times.

ICE officials provided data to palabra. detailing the number of deportees per country, between Jan. 1 and May 2. The report includes deportations via ICE Air, commercial flights, and a smaller number of people driven over the U.S.-Mexico border.

With 26,000, Guatemala has received the highest numbers of deportees. It’s followed by the two other countries in Central America’s Northern Triangle: Honduras, with 17,500, and El Salvador, with almost 11,000. In South America, Ecuador, with 2,000 deportees, and Brazil, with another 1,500, are suffering some of the region’s worst outbreaks of COVID-19.

According to ICE, 604 citizens were deported to Colombia between January and May 2 of this year. More have arrived since ICE changed its pre-flight protocols for detainees: All detainees on May 4 were tested before boarding a Bogota-bound plane, according to some among the 52 people on the flight. Two more groups of Colombian deportees landed in Bogota, on May 25 and June 22. There are no reports yet of infections among passengers on those flights.

ICE said the new procedures responded to orders in late April to get some 2,000 tests each month from the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services (HHS) “to screen aliens in its care and custody.”

“Given nationwide shortages,” an ICE spokesperson said in an email, “the agency likely won’t have enough (test kits) to test all aliens scheduled for future removals; therefore, under such a scenario, ICE would test a sample of the population and provide the respective foreign government with results.”

In a recent press release, ICE also announced that it is offering “voluntary tests” for the virus to all people held at detention facilities in Tacoma, Wash., and Aurora, Colo., and will consider doing the same at other locations.

The changes won’t hold off legal challenges by deportees on the March 30 Bogota flight. They said they are planning to sue the Colombian and U.S. governments.

Carlos, meanwhile, says he’s young and that his body was able to fight the virus.

He is now back in his home town of Antioquia, outside of Medellin. He says he has recurring dreams of a coronavirus vaccine and of never having tried to visit his aunt in Indianapolis.

As soon as he recovered, Carlos was allowed to reunite with his family. He finally met his newborn son. He went out and bought toys and clothes for him, in Colombia.

Originally published here

Want to read this piece in Spanish? Click here

#English #covidー19 #ICE #Immigration #Donald Trump #Detention Centers #colombia #brazil #Guatemala #Florida #Deportations #Bogota

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blazerina · 7 years

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Here Comes the Sun (Sean x MC)

Author’s Note: This deals a little bit with mental anguish and the basic types of anxiety or stress that happen to anyone after or during a traumatic life event. Just want to say that up front.

Rating; PG-13? (I stink at ratings but there are some mature themes, nothing more than that though)

This is the first time in a while that I’ve entered something into the Choices Creates competition with the prompt of TRAVEL. Tagging @angelschoices and @hollyashton. I know this is a late submission so I apologize for missing the time deadline.

I wrote this because there’s just not enough Sean Gayle love in this world.

Hope you enjoy!

–

A wave of ice-cold water ran up and down his spine. He felt his extremities shiver and seize, tensing up one final time before giving in and becoming completely numb. Soon the water was pouring over his head and his breath began to quicken. The same ice water that was freezing his body, began to rapidly fill his lungs and as they tightened with each shallow breath, it felt as if life was being squeezed and pulled from every vein within him. Somehow, while he was struggling for air and feeling intense, frigid tremors from head to toe, he was also feeling warm. Strong, penetrating waves of heat were making their way up and down his body, but the hotness was mainly pooling at the top of his head, as if he was sweating, all while he struggled and wrestled with himself beneath the water.

He could hear the blood-curdling screams of his friends at the surface of the frozen lake. All of them were calling for him and yelling out his name. Taylor’s voice was piercing and could be heard louder, longer and above the rest. He could feel her hand slipping over his forearm as he was pulled further and further below the surface. Images of her face flashed like a slide-show in his mind.

Her gentle and bright blue eyes that were such a contrast to her dark hair. Her confident smile that reassured him more times than he could count. The way she absentmindedly brushed her bangs out of her eyes and tucked them behind her ear. This was the last memory and thought that flickered in his mind before total darkness hit.

–

“Taylor! TAYLOR!” Sean sat up quickly, calling out to her, breathing heavily and holding his head. His temples were throbbing. In his sleepy stupor, he laid back down and rolled over in bed. His arms reached out for her, fumbling his way through the empty sheets.

“Why do these dreams keep happening? It’s been 7 years…” he mumbled, knowing in a matter of moments he’d feel her arm, or her body next to him, if he continued to feel around for her.

“T?” He opened his eyes and then let out a heavy sigh. Looking around the room, he realized he wasn’t home. He was on the road, in another hotel for what felt like the billionth time.

—

One week later…

“Ladies and Gentlemen, on behalf of our airline, I’d like to be the first to welcome you to Chicago. Please keep your seatbelts buckled until the captain has turned off the fasten seatbelt sign. We will be arriving at our gate in just a moment. If you need connecting information, please check the monitors in the terminal. For those of you staying with us here in Chicago, your luggage will arrive at carousel 8B…”

The calming tone of the flight attendant’s voice woke Sean from his slumber. He was groggy and shook his head quickly to wake himself up. “Wow.” He muttered under his breath, realizing he slept for the entirety of his flight. His doctor had given him a new prescription for his flight anxiety, due to the fact that the medication he had previously been using stopped helping. He travelled too much these days and was on an airplane at least twice every other week. Sean hated using any kind of medicine to help calm him down, but there really wasn’t any other remedy.

Looking around, he stretched his arms above his head, careful not to disturb the person in the window-seat next to him. “S’cuse me.” He nodded, making eye contact with the man on his right.

“Mr. Gayle.” A flight attendant knelt next to Sean’s chair. “I know you were asleep for the flight, but is there anything I can get you before you leave?”

“No, no thank you. I appreciate it, though.” He smiled, and then bent over to reach underneath the seat in front of him for the leather satchel-briefcase that Taylor had given him for Christmas. He ran his fingers over his monogram “SMG” that was ghost-stamped on the front, and thought of her. He missed her so much. He was painfully aware of his need to have her with him, and never felt completely himself unless she was by his side.

He opened the bag and found his phone, holding down the button to turn it on. He wanted to call her. He craved the sound of her voice.

“Sorry to disturb you again, Mr. Gayle.” The flight attendant returned.

“I don’t typically do this, especially when I’m working in the first class cabin…” she fixed her gaze to the floor of the plane, not making eye contact with Sean, all of a sudden appearing nervous.

“It’s no problem.” Sean assured her, realizing what she was doing. The plane lurched to a sudden stop and a clear bell rang out, signaling freedom for the passengers. While everyone began to stand up and gather their belongings, the attendant stumbled a bit into the Sean’s chair. He steadied her, offering his hand.

“My son would just be so incredibly thrilled if you could sign anything…a napkin, a gum wrapper, anything at all!” She gushed, clapping her hands together, hoping he would comply with her request.

“Sure thing. Uh, let’s see what I’ve got here…” Reaching into the pocket of his sport coat, Sean retrieved his boarding pass. “Do you have a pen, by chance?”

Working quickly to sign the autograph before more passengers made their way to the front of the plane, Sean asked for the boy’s name and signed the ticket with one of his favorite lines “Every moment matters. Always give your best, Sean Gayle.”

The flight attendant giddily read the autograph out loud and thanked Sean over and over again, following him off the plane, promising that he had made her son the happiest boy in all of Chicago that night.

As Sean walked down the long corridors of the airport, he realized how tired he was. He felt so alone when he took trips like this. After everything that happened once the group returned from La Huerta (the interviews, the phone calls, the articles, the movie premieres, the book deals), it was all such a blur. Before he knew it two years of his life had passed. He was drafted by the National Football League, and played professional football, but only for one-and-a-half seasons. He blamed his retirement on an injury, but really it was his mind that wasn’t up to the task of playing football anymore.

He was a high school football coach now. He didn’t really know anything other than football, at least that’s what he told himself. He loved the kids he worked with and really felt like he was able to make a difference. Every year more and more school districts from around the area tried to recruit him to come coach their team. They had all kinds of reasons why they wanted him – they tried to lure him away with more money, more prestige, more access to colleges who could one day offer him an even bigger and better job but he always said no.

He loved the small-town life that he and Taylor had created for themselves. They lived in a modest home, drove regular cars, and had pretty normal jobs and lives – well, as normal as life could be after all they experienced together. They still couldn’t go anywhere without someone recognizing them, or asking them “What was it really like?” when they were in line at the gas station, or doctor’s office, of all places.

Even just a few days ago, a large cable news network called both Taylor and Sean, asking if they would be willing to come in for a reunion interview with the rest of the La Huerta gang. Sean immediately said no, while Taylor told them she’d think about it. She always handled people with more grace and kindness than he did. She handled everything better than he did. Most of the time, Sean felt like a fraud. He felt like a fake person living inside his own mind and body.

When it wasn’t football season back in the district where he coached, he traveled all over the country to various speaking engagements booked by his agent. Some seven years after his return from La Huerta, people still clamored to hear Sean Gayle speak. He talked to CEOs, doctors, high school students, colleges and universities – he was even a featured as a guest at a mega-church one time – and that totally blew his mind because nowadays especially, he was feeling anything but worthy of speaking from a pulpit.

No one but Taylor really knew the toll that La Huerta took on Sean. Outside he may appear to be the same positive, hard-working, loyal and sacrificial leader that everyone knew him to be prior to that summer trip from hell; but on the inside, he was crumbling. The nightmares (or in some cases memories turned dreams) had gotten worse over the past year. The flight anxiety had gone away for a while, but once again returned with a vengeance. He was suffering from mood swings and he could never find a way to work out or go for a run that was long enough, or hard enough to truly rid his mind of the “what-ifs” that plagued him. Even when he was focused on something happy, something that truly brought him joy…in the back of his mind he constantly heard a voice whispering to him: Remember what you went through. Remember how close you were to losing it all. What have you done with the life you’ve been given? You’ve got to keep working, keep moving, focus on the future and what lies ahead.

He and Taylor had been together since the moment they made it back to Hartfeld. She had no family, and was pretty much alone. His family had taken her in from day one and they never looked back. Taylor stayed by his side through his short stint in the NFL. They soon settled into the home they now shared, and she was the most loyal and constant source of support for him throughout that difficult time as a pro. To keep her company when he was out of town, Sean suggested they get a pet. Taylor immediately knew she wanted a dog. She refused to even look at a kitten or a cat. Because of their experience with saber tooth tigers and Furball, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She had an aversion to cats and couldn’t bring herself to be around them. Yet another weird change to everyday life that their time on the island brought them. They settled on a dog, a German shepherd. They named him Aleister, in honor of one of their closest friends.

They had not married yet; weren’t even engaged. Taylor didn’t bring it up, and oddly enough, neither did Sean. Yet, every morning during their daily phone call, his mother would ask, “When are you gonna marry that girl, baby?”

As far as he knew, Taylor loved the life they were living. She was a counselor at the same school where he coached. She had written some books (under a different name, of course – not wanting more publicity) after getting two psychology degrees. One of her books was about being an orphan or an abandoned child, and another focused on living through a stressful or traumatic life-event. She also took great care of the students she was responsible for, and had worked through a lot on her own, after La Huerta.

Sean was in Chicago only overnight. His flight landed early in the evening and he was now making his way to baggage claim, where he would meet up with his driver, get into a black town car and be taken to a convention center downtown. He would eat dinner and rub elbows with important people, speak about the power of positivity and leadership, sharing examples and stories from the island, as well as the gridiron. He’d sleep in a hotel near the airport and head home the next day. Everything felt like it was on auto-pilot. There just wasn’t a lot of passion or emotion behind anything he was doing these days.

While he waited for his bag, he was finally able to have a moment to call Taylor. The background picture on his phone instantly made his heart ache for her. It was a picture that had been sent to him and taken by another coach’s wife. She wasn’t looking at the camera, and the photo was black and white, but he knew she was wearing the high school colors, maroon and gold, while holding a homemade sign that read “Sean Gayle is my HERO.” She was holding it above her head and yelling passionately, but also smiling with her eyes at the same time. Sean always marveled at her ability to combine fierceness with gentleness; strength with peace; protection and loyalty, with genuine care and concern for others. That picture summed up everything he loved about her and who he knew her to be.

Often, he wondered what people would think if they truly knew how much he relied on her. The Sean that so many imagined to be strong, tough, valiant and courageous was weak, tired, scared and helpless without the support, encouragement and dedication of the woman he loved.

Sean exhaled as he pressed her name on his phone and listened to the phone ring…and ring…and ring…he desperately wanted to hear her voice tonight, but wasn’t surprised that she didn’t answer.

When her voicemail picked up, he left her a message, even though he knew he could have sent a text, he wanted her to hear from him how much he missed her.

“Hey – it’s me. I landed in Chicago, just waiting for my bag.” He paused, his voice about to break and tears pricking his eyes. “I’m sorry for the way I left you. I’m so, so sorry, babe. You didn’t deserve any of that and I don’t have any excuses. Please forgive me. I want to know you’re okay. I know you probably don’t want to talk to me, but somehow let me know you’re doing alright. I’m going to fix this. I promise you. I’m going to get better, and we’re going to be okay, and I’m going to be the man you deserve. I miss you so much. My heart hurts. I love you and I’ll call you later.”

“Mr. Gayle?” A gentleman in professional attire approached Sean just as he ended the call. “I’m here to take you to the conference.”

“Hey man, thanks. Let me get my stuff and I’ll be ready.” His bag was one of the only ones left on the baggage claim, spinning around. He grabbed it quickly and followed his driver out to the car.

–

“Where are you going?” Taylor asked in disbelief.

“I have a flight to catch.” Sean was furiously digging through a drawer looking for something.

“You’re just going to leave?! Sean! Do you have any idea what you’re saying to me right now?” She was calm, but furious. He always hated how scary she was when he pushed her to the point where she finally got mad. The more calm and collected she remained, the worse it would be for him.

“I’m done.” He said, zipping up his suitcase. “We are not having this discussion again.” He quickly turned on his heel and walked towards the closet, pulling of his shirt and tossing it on the floor. He rummaged through some athletic shirts hanging up and grabbed a faded gray one.

Taylor blocked the doorway, trapping Sean in the closet. He shimmied out of his pants and started to put on some shorts, when she startled him. “So this isn’t enough for you?”

He pulled his running shorts up to his waist and snapped the elastic across his middle, dramatically. With a sigh, he responded, “That’s not what I meant.”

“That’s what you said, Sean. You said this,” Taylor gestured wildly, her arms flailing, “…isn’t enough for you.”

“I need to go for a run. I’ve gotta be on the road in less than an hour. They’ve got a car coming to get me.” He brushed past her. Taylor glared at the wall, remaining stoic, and silent, but wiping a tear off her cheek with the sleeve of her shirt.

When Sean got back from his jog, the house was silent. Aleister had not even come to the door to greet him, which was unusual. He mind raced as he thought about the possibility of Taylor being gone, and having taken the dog with her.

As he slowly walked into the bedroom, he could hear Taylor sniffling. She was still in the closet, slumped on the floor with her back against the wall. Aleister was curled up next to her. When he saw Sean, he got up and wagged his tail.

“Taylor.” Sean got down on his knees next to her.

“You made it clear that we’re done talking about this.” She almost whispered, taking a deep breath. He couldn’t help but realize for what felt like the millionth time, how naturally beautiful she was. Her hair was straight, falling just below her shoulders. She was wearing one of his old long-sleeved t-shirts from Hartfeld. Her face was now red and splotchy from crying so hard. A few dark streaks of makeup were left around the corners of her eyes.

He reached out to her, pulling his legs out from under him so he was fully sitting on the floor next to her. While he tried to put his arm around her, Taylor shrugged him off and stood up on her own. Looking down at him, she said, “What’s really sad to me about all this,” she once again gestured enthusiastically with her arms, sure to emphasize the word this, “is that while it’s ‘not enough for you’” she made air quotes when she recited what he had said only moments earlier, “sometimes, no most of the time, it’s TOO MUCH for me.” Taylor looked him in the eyes and struggled with her own thoughts and desires in that moment.

Part of her wanted to hold him and be held by him, but the other part was so mad, so angry, she felt in that very minute, she’d be okay never seeing him again.

“Travel safe.” She stepped over him and walked out of the closet, Aleister following her. Sean could hear her get the leash out of the front closet and then the front door open and close. Sighing heavily, Sean stood up and started the shower. He laid out a pressed shirt, fresh from the dry-cleaner, some khakis and sport coat on the bed, next to his suitcase. “Time to go.” He told himself as he looked in the mirror.

–

The next morning, Sean was back at the airport. He still had not heard from Taylor and he was beginning to be nervous about what he would find when he returned home later that afternoon. He text Craig, who was always good about giving him moral support in times like this.

Sean: I know I put too much pressure on her. I rely on her too much. She’s my everything and she knows that…maybe she’s tired. Tired of me. Tired of us.

Craig: Buddy! No way! Taylor is totally loyal to you, dude. It’ll be fine. Say your sorry and don’t be mean. She loves you. Just chill out!

For some reason, Craig’s encouragement was not helping the situation.

While Sean waited for his flight, he nervously tapped his foot, watching planes take off and land in the distance. He realized he was still tired. Tired of traveling. Tired of re-living La Huerta every day of his life. What he meant when he told Taylor “this isn’t enough” is that this life is not what he envisioned for himself. He knew there had to be more to life than the monotony he was experiencing. Sean made the decision that when he got back home, he’d take a break from the speeches and the conferences and the interviews. He’d ask Taylor to marry him. They’d have a real life; no more emotional outbursts and worrying about each other and if they were “really doing okay.” He was going to take control of his life and stop letting his island experience still control him after all this time.

“Ladies and gentleman waiting in the area for flight 1152 out of Chicago, we want to let you know that the flight has been delayed for, it looks like, about 2 hours. There are some heavy storms approaching our destination and we want to be safe. Of course we will let you know of any updates and will do our best to get you out of here as soon as possible, but the weather seems to be against us…”

The gate attendant’s voice droned on and on as Sean tightened his fist, frustrated that he was stuck, yet again, in another airport, away from Taylor, when all he wanted was to be home.

–

A few hours later, Sean finally made it on the plane, headed home. He had a window seat this time, which also added to his grumpy mood. He preferred the aisle, it was always more comfortable to him. He felt like he had an easier exit if he needed one. Once he sat down, he tried to get comfortable and decided one more time he’d try to call Taylor. He at least needed to let her know when the flight would be landing.

To his surprise, she answered on the 2nd ring.

“Hey.”

“Hi there.” He responded, turning towards the window to try and make the conversation as private as possible, even with someone sitting a few inches away.

There was a moment of silence on the phone before Sean immediately asked, “Did you get my messages?”

“I did.”

“Are you okay?”

Taylor took a while before responding. “I’ve been better. But I’m okay.”

“Alright. Well, I wanted to let you know I’m on the plane. We should be landing in about 2 and half hours, then I’ll be home.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Taylor – I love you.”

She exhaled, before responding. “I know. Travel safe.”

“Travel safe.” That’s what she always said to him. Before he could respond, she had ended the call. He knew he had a long road ahead of him if he wanted to make things better between the two of them.

–

Looking out the window, at the clouds the plane was flying through, and seeing the sun that was setting in the distance, Sean began to daydream about Taylor. Ever since they had come back home from the island, and especially after he retired from the NFL, whenever he’d be down or have a hard day, she would have on hand or be able to recall from memory, some kind of quote about the sun. She would often tell him things like, “Remember, the sun will still shine tomorrow, even if it’s behind a rain cloud, it’s always shining somewhere.”

She had this way of always looking for the sunshine, or positive outcome, in every situation. Yellow was one of her favorite colors. She was always begging Sean to take a walk through the park near their house so they could watch the sunset, and she often got up extremely early to sit outside on their back porch and watch the sunrise. The sun symbolized so much to her; the dawning of new opportunities with each new day; another opportunity to live this life; the promise that life goes on and the world keeps turning even when circumstances and situations make it seem like life is over.

He remembered one particular day a few years ago. It was a day that that would seem regular and ordinary to her – but one that would forever stand out in his mind.

Taylor was cooking in the kitchen as Sean walked in, sweaty and tired from his last two-a-day practice before school started. It was his second season as the head coach at Fairview High and he felt a lot of pressure to have a winning season, since the year before had turned out to be quite dismal. Feeling especially defeated and uninterested in talking to anyone, he tried to paste on a fake smile upon seeing Taylor when he entered from the garage.

Music was blaring, as it often was when Taylor was home alone. She didn’t like silence. She was humming along to “Here Comes the Sun” by the Beatles.

“Of course.” Sean smiled, muttering to himself.

The meal she was preparing looked like breakfast for dinner, one of his favorites. He could smell bacon and instantly his stomach rumbled. She was cutting out biscuits she made from scratch, with a circular cookie-cutter. As she pressed the cutter into the dough, she began to sing some of the lyrics to the song out loud:

Little darling, I feel that ice is slowly melting Little darling, it seems like years since it’s been clear Here comes the sun, here comes the sun, And I say

It’s all right It’s all right

She still had no idea that he was there and he loved getting a little glimpse into her when he wasn’t around. He leaned against the doorframe and continued to watch her, mesmerized not only by her beauty, but who she was; who she was made to be; all the pieces that made her the woman he loved more than life itself.

As she continued to place the biscuit dough on the baking sheet, he noticed a few patches of flour on her face, and as his eyes traveled down her body, he realized she had some on her rear as well. She became frustrated with her bangs falling into her eyes over and over again, letting out an exasperated sigh every now and then.

Slowly, he crept up behind her, putting his arms around her waist and lightly kissing her neck, gently and sweetly. She jumped quickly and tensed up immediately as she felt his arms around her, but then relaxed just as quickly, when she realized what was happening.

“Good God you scared me to death!” She turned around, to face him, looping her arms around his neck, but careful not to touch him with dough and flour on her hands. He smelled so good to her. She loved it when he came home after being outside at practice. She knew he had been working hard, and that he was not feeling especially hopeful about the upcoming season.

“How’d it go?” She asked, searching his eyes for the real answer.

“Been better – the kids say their ready but it doesn’t look like it.” He sighed.

“Well, you know what I’m about to say, don’t you?” She grinned, keeping her eyes locked on his. “You know what song this is?”

Sean smiled, biting his lip, holding back a laugh. Not laughing at her in a silly or stupid way, but feeling especially joyful and content; happy to know he had someone in his life who had his back no matter what. She was always there for him, in his corner to encourage him and be there for him when he was at his worst. She had seen it all.

“I know. Here comes the sun…it’s gonna be okay…blah blah blah.” He looked down, resting his forehead against hers.

Instinctively, she closed her eyes and pressed herself closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. “I love you.” She sighed, hugging him, no longer worried about the mess she may leave on his shirt.

Sean stepped back, and held her face in his hands, gazing at her. “I could not live without you.” He smiled, running his thumb over a patch of flour on Taylor’s cheek.

“You almost didn’t.” Taylor smirked, raising an eyebrow.

Still holding her face in his hands, he brought her lips to his and kissed her fervently, gently guiding her back, up against the counter. She put her hands down to steady herself, losing her balance a little bit. Breathless, she pushed him away playfully.

“Go on. Get your shower. Dinner will be ready soon.” She tried to return to the dough on the counter but Sean grabbed her hand.

“You’re coming with me.”

Pretending to be put out, and frustrated, Taylor sighed and threw her hands up in the air. “Fine. I guess if I have to…” She beamed as she held Sean’s hand and followed him out of the kitchen.

–

Sean had now been in the air a total of 4 hours and on the plane almost 5. The weather had turned ugly again and they kept circling the airport, above the storm, hoping it would clear enough for them to land. If they didn’t get down on the tarmac soon, they would run out of gas, and would have to land somewhere else to fuel up.

He was just about to reach into his bag for more medicine when a voice overhead announced the flight had been cleared to land. Sean thought, for a brief moment, he had never been so happy. About half an hour later, he was exiting the plane. He could feel a weight had been lifted from his shoulders when he was finally free from the confines of his window seat and the plane’s cabin in general.

This time, he didn’t even check his bag as he wanted to be able to exit the plane, get out of the airport and be on his way home as soon as possible. It had started to rain now, and he had made his way outside to the line of taxis, each one waiting for eager passengers to pay exorbitant amounts of money to get to their destination.

A few people were in line in front of him. With a heavy sigh, he watched as a bright green mini-van pulled up to meet him and take him where he needed to go. He felt like this was a fitting way for this trip to end. It had started on an awful note and would end that way, too.

“61st and Treeline.” He said to the driver through the window, while he opened the door to climb into the cab. As he went to close the door, he heard the faint melody of “Here Comes the Sun” coming from his bag. He set that song as Taylor’s ringtone, the day after he walked in on her singing it.

Standing next to the cab, in the pouring rain, he answered it while asking the driver to “Hang on one minute.”

“Taylor? What’s going on? You okay?”

“I’m great. But you’re a little wet.” She sassed, into the phone.

Looking around, over his shoulder he held his bag over his head, shielding his eyes from the bright security lights, hoping to see her somewhere.

“To your left.” She instructed him. His face lit up when he recognized her, leaning against her car. She had parked in the pick-up area, underneath an awning to stay dry. He sprinted from the cab towards her, not worried in the least if he was making a scene.

She lightly jogged toward him too, laughing as she watched him make his way to her. “Did you really think I wasn’t going to come and pick you up?” She asked, trying to catch her breath.

It was their tradition for her to pick him up whenever he came home from being out of town. He assumed she wouldn’t be there this time, given all that had transpired in the last 48 hours. “How do you run like this every day?”

Sean laughed and immediately kissed her. She jumped into his arms and encircled her legs around his waist, not wanting the moment to pass them by.

“I’ve always wanted to make out in the rain.” He told her, again leaning his forehead against hers.

“Welcome home.” Taylor whispered to him, as she kissed him again.

“Home. You’re right, Tay. I’m finally home.”

#sean gayle #sean x mc #endless summer #choicescreates26 #choicescreates #clear eyes #full hearts #can't lose #endless sean #blazerina babbles

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