Updating the Johnson family

If you don't know the story of Louis read it here

Louis Johnson: Heir (farmer-entrepreneur?) Mikael Kealoha Johnson: Louis step-brother (medium) Amelia Johnson: Daughter of Louis ( globetrotter-landscape photographer) Bumbublee Johnson Berry (no comments): Amelia's son

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 10 second part

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Meta)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Unclean Realm

Lan Wangji has a Louis Henry Sullivan moment on seeing the Nie family home, becoming enraptured by its overwrought monumental architecture after a lifetime of restrained good taste and single-story buildings.

He approaches the fortress with the expression of delighted wonder that he usually reserves for when he’s looking at the moon or at Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian is like, yep that’s a building, all right, but he supports Lan Wangji’s kinks.  

Meng Yao tells them about the Wen Clan directive, and has what appears to be a moment of genuine, affectionate amusement at Nie Huaisang’s reaction.

Jiang Cheng kinda blames the Lans for inventing the whole “indoctrination” thing and for encouraging his brother’s disaster bi tendencies. Wei Wuxian responds by complimenting the Lan Clan, almost like someone who met his true love got some real value out of the instruction he received there.  

(more after the cut)

One of the great ironies of this story is that Wei Wuxian sort of becomes a rogue Lan disciple because of his relationship with Lan Wangji. He relies on Lan temperament techniques, uses music as a primary cultivation method, has committed all of the Lan rules to his supposedly terrible memory and cites them on multiple occasions, and is an important mentor for the younger generation Lan disciples. Because Hanguang-Jun is just that good in bed.

Xue Yang in the background of this conversation is channeling OP’s church-enduring, school-enduring inner 10-year-old.

Nie Mingjue, Chifeng-Zun, appears, and couldn’t be more different than his brother. On first watching this episode, I saw him as a grumpy, sexy, very emotional leather daddy man who is quick to anger. Rewatching, I see someone who’s struggling with a growing illness...the resentful energy kind.

Nie Mingjue’s handling of resentful energy is very different from Wei Wuxian’s straightforward interest and acceptance. NMJ has a traditional cultivator’s view of it, regarding it as evil and as something to resist, while he is literally carrying it on his back. He’s like a secret alcoholic who is preaching temperence, and can’t find a way to be reconciled with himself.  

At this point of the story, Nie Mingjue is keeping it together, but is under a hell of a lot of stress, and Baxia’s blood thirst is already maybe a problem.

The Yunmeng bros think that Nie Huaisang’s fear of his brother is hilarious, because they don’t understand the situation. They think he’s just living in a hideously toxic family dynamic like theirs, when actually he’s in a loving, sorta healthy, if parentless, family that is being crushed under a generational curse.

Compliments for the Yunmeng Bros

I’m not the first meta poster to notice how happy Jiang Cheng is to be praised by Nie Mingjue.

He never gets this at home. Jiang Yanli praises him, but in that watery “you tried your best” way that doesn’t really stick.  Nie Mingjue’s praise really means something, because he is a fearsome warrior and stern authority figure. And this is a double compliment, because Nie Mingjue says he heard it from Lan Xichen, and agrees with it.

Let’s Make Terrible Decisions

Keep Xue Yang alive, says Wei Wuxian, and Meng Yao immediately agrees, although I’m pretty sure he would have proposed that even if WWX hadn’t.

So they do, not realizing that “kill him later” is never a good plan for someone who 1. super needs killing 2. has a whole lot of death-dealing skills.

Future clan leader Jiang Cheng notices how smart and talented Meng Yao is.  Xue Yang finds it hilarious when the trio praises Meng Yao, possibly because their evil team up is already underway.

Boss’ Bed Warmer Son of a Ho

The constant insults toward Meng Yao are about his mom, but there’s another level of leering implication, that Meng Yao seems to encourage in his conversation with the soon-to-be-murdered guard captain.

Nie Mingjue elevated him way above his expectations, and he is ridiculously pretty, which has to create rumors. In the Nightless City scenes when he’s fondling Baxia and telling Nie Mingjue’s family secrets there’s definitely a sense of intimacy that’s not just “loyal retainer.”

I feel like maybe this whole exchange is a bit of theater designed to show Xue Yang something without showing it to anyone else. Meng Yao didn’t need to have this conversation in front of his prisoner.

Let’s Do Exactly What We Said We Wouldn’t

Once the younger quartet are alone with Nie Mingjue, Wei Wuxian crosses the room away from his friends and practically into Lan Wangji’s pocket, if Lan Wangji had pockets.

He has no pockets and also has no personal bubble any more, when it comes to Wei Wuxian.

We could make a weapon out of Yin Iron, Wei Wuxian says, completely forgetting his entire conversation with Lan Yi, apparently. Lan Wangji doesn’t argue with this idea.

Nie Mingjue warns Wei Wuxian not to try it.

I stabbed a man in Qinghe just to watch him die

Nie Mingjue is like the Johnny Cash of the cultivation world, carrying the weight of his poor choices and trying to steer the young folk to the path of righteousness. But--like Johnny Cash--his bad choices have made him really fucking cool, so he isn’t very good at deterring anybody.

Meng Yao Didn’t Come Here to Make Friends

Immediately after Meng Yao’s fellow Nie clan people call him “son of a whore” again, Wei Wuxian meets him, is nice to him, addresses him by his military title, bows to him, asks why he’s away from the party, and thanks him for his service.

But Meng Yao has already decided to make friends with Xue Yang, so Wei Wuxian goes onto his list of people that he doesn’t give a crap about except if they can be useful to him.  Then Meng Yao goes to make out hatch a plot with Xue Yang.

I’ll Sleep On Your Roof

Meeting SongXiao seems to have done away with the last of Lan Wangji’s resistance to his connection with Wei Wuxian.

He hears a noise on the roof and, when realizing it’s Wei Wuxian, he smiles one of his tiny reserved smiles before heading outside.

When he sees Wei Wuxian drunkenly sprawled on the roof, limbs akimbo, wine on his chin and neck, mouth full of poetry about the open road, Lan Wangji gives him the most fond look imaginable.

Then he reluctantly leaves, with his signature “say goodbye, but only when he can’t hear you” thing.

They’ve both come a really long way since their first meeting. Wei Wuxian is openly and vocally attaching himself to Lan Wangji...but is not actually entering his space or asking for anything from him; he just wants to be near him, and wants to let him know that. “I’ll sleep on your roof tonight.”

And Lan Wangji just...loves him. Wei Wuxian is drunk, embarrassing, demonstrative, eager to make a hell weapon out of yin iron, touchy feely, and absurdly sexy. And Lan Wangji is pretty okay with all of that.

I Might Have Been Drunk

Wei Wuxian carefully avoids telling Jiang Cheng where he was last night.

Even if he did get blackout drunk, he would have woken up on Lan Wangji’s roof. And I don’t think he was as drunk as that. He just knows Jiang Cheng wouldn’t like the truth.

Wen Fucking Chao, Again

Wen Chao shows up to be annoying and boring.  This leads to a pretty good fight between Nie Mingjue and Wen Zhuliu. Note that when the chips are down, Nie Huaisang stands with his Gege without any cowering. Almost as if he had hidden reserves of bravery, and is not as helpless as he lets on.

Wen Zhuliu isn’t styled to be super hot, although he’s certainly compelling, and in Dance of the Phoenix he looks good with sensitive-guy hair wispies. I wonder what actor Feng Mingjing looks like out of character?

BRB, adding a tag to my follow list

Battle Bros

When the fighting breaks out, the Yunmeng brothers are decisive and united, with Wei Wuxian giving orders to Jiang Cheng and JC following without hesitation.

I feel like if these two could have gone through a few big battles together, instead of being separated during most of the Sunshot campaign, their whole relationship would have improved. On the battlefield, they respect, trust, and understand each other.  

The Pointy End

Nie Mingjue is holding his own against Wen Zhuliu, but he gets distracted by Meng Yao hollering “Xue Yang has escaped” and then shanking the guard captain right in front of him.

Wen Zhuliu takes advantage of the distraction to aim a very slow stab at Nie Huasang, and Meng Yao jumps in front to get stabbed on his behalf.

When the Yunmeng bros show up to help NMJ, Wen Zhuliu immeiately yanks Wen Chao back behind him and points his sword at Wei Wuxian. He absolutely sees these two as a serious threat.  Considering that eventually WWX is going to kill Wen Chao while JC kills Wen Zhuliu, this concern is not misplaced.

Wei Wuxian tells Wen Chao to stop being such a jerk, and Wen Chao menaces Wei Wuxian and gloats about the burning of cloud recesses. The burning, that is, of some part of cloud recesses that doesn’t include the library, the Jingshi, the main cultivation chamber, the rabbit warren, or Lan Qiren’s house, unless the Lan Clan is really really good at rebuilding things to very exact specifications.

In a rare moment of seeing Meng Yao’s internal thoughts, he is worried about Lan Xichen when he hears about cloud recesses.

The Yelling Part

Now we have the particularly nasty breakup between Nie Mingjue and Meng Yao. It’s...got some layers. Meng Yao is cowering on the floor, but is not apologizing.

He never apologizes throughout this encounter.

孟瑤無悔  - Meng Yao (has) no regrets

This scene is amazing and excruciating to watch, even more when you know what’s ahead.

What the Fuck is Meng Yao’s Plan

On one level this is Meng Yao, manipulative sociopath, setting up a cover story for his aiding and alliance with Xue Yang.  On another, this is Meng Yao, loving subordinate, being tossed aside by his lord because he dared to stand up for himself.

He uses the same “scout’s honor” gesture we’ve seen Wei Wuxian use to swear he’s telling the truth. Wei Wuxian is always lying when he uses this gesture.

I’m...not sure exactly what Meng Yao’s plan is, with all these chess moves? By stabbing the captain in front of NHS, he created an opportunity to plant a cover story about Xue Yang’s escape. He might be hoping that Nie Mingjue will forgive him and keep him on, while Xue Yang can stay in his back pocket to be used later.

Dry eyes? Try Visene

Or he might be intending to get kicked out, given his non-apology. In any case, Nie Mingjue is weeping during this encounter, and Meng Yao...isn’t. He is signaling distress in his voice, expression, and body language, but his eyes are dry up until the last moment, and even then they just glisten a bit. In a show where every actor is an expert at crying on cue, that’s got to be a deliberate choice.

Which isn’t to say that Meng Yao is faking being full of emotion in this scene. It’s just that the emotion isn’t necessarily sorrow.

What Does Nie Mingjue’s Head Think

Flip the view and this is about Nie Mingjue being betrayed by a subordinate, who has turned out to be a self-serving murderer. And on another level it’s Nie Mingjue being betrayed by his lover, who was just using him for advancement.

I rewatched the later episode where we get the scene as Nie Mingjue’s head perceived it, and he’s particularly brokenhearted and disillusioned from his head’s POV.  In that version there is a telling addition to the conversation.

Nie Mingjue asks about the guys who were roasting Meng Yao behind his back. He asks, if I hadn’t come, would you have murdered all of them?

Um. No, dude. Of course fucking not. That’s what a patriarchal authority does. That’s the way an angry Nie Mingjue/Baxia team might solve a problem.

Meng Yao has to use subterfuge to kill his enemies. And while he super hates being called “son of a whore” it’s absolutely not enough to make him kill someone, with the risk murder brings. Likewise, being treated well isn’t enough to make him spare someone. Nie Mingjue totally doesn’t get this, because he’s been the patriarch of this clan his entire adult life.

And Here’s the Actual Problem

There is a betrayal here, but Nie Mingjue is not simply a victim.  Whether it’s a sexual relationship or a non-sexual bond of affection, there can be nothing solid in Nie Mingjue and Meng Yao’s relationship within a feudal society, because it is fundamentally unequal. Even if they love each other deeply - which I’m not convinced either of them does - every encounter they have is tainted with power dynamics.

Meng Yao has been elevated by Nie Mingjue and quite probably taken into his bed, as well as being told many family secrets, but has not been given a new surname (like, for example, Wen Zhuliu was) or independent power. More importantly, Nie Mingjue has not used his authority to remove or punish the many people who disrespect his subordinate.  Lan Qiren would have had all of those gossipy fuckers kneeling in the snow, and Wen Ruohan would feed them to his mosh pit zombies.

Meng Yao is a murderous little snake, but he is right to be angry with Nie Mingjue about some things, and his pursuit of his own agenda is understandable.

Well, That Was a Slice

Meng Yao leaves, hurt, with a dignified bow; just as he did that one time when his dad kicked him down the Carp Tower steps.

Take note, both patriarchal authorities: that is his way of saying “I’m going to murder you one day.”

Nie Mingjue sits with his broken heart, as we realize that we’ve only spent 20 minutes with this guy and we’ve gone on an entire emotional journey with him. This episode packed in a LOT.

Soundtrack: Johnny Cash, Folsom Prison Blues

[ I Know ]

. two : the connection 

one

6:02am

I was dreaming about Omari again. For some reason, he came to me often while I slept. He had picked me up, as he usually did, but, somehow I knew that I wasn’t coming back this time. I was clueless as to where we were, but I also didn't have a single worry. I was with O and I was safe. That, I was sure of.

We were flying through the air, which wasn't odd for me because I’d had more than a few dreams where I could fly. Still, there was a difference. Whenever I’d be flying, I was usually doing so because something or someone was chasing me and I had to get away. And it was usually very dark as well. But now, I didn't discern any danger and everything around us was shining so brightly. I’d also never been able to actually stay up there. Whenever I’d stop flying, I would immediately start to float back down. That wasn't the case here. We stopped and were just suspended in the sky with no effort. He laid me down on what felt the way I thought a cloud should feel and, starting at the top of my head, he kissed my scars one by one. In some miraculous way, they all disappeared with a single touch of his lips. Amazed, I smiled and watched as he continued to make his way down my bare body. At first my nudity confused me, as did the lack of discomfort that came with it, but, when he reached my Love, I no longer cared. My grin slowly fell as he spread my legs and, without an ounce of hesitance, he began to spoil me with gentle kisses. I was stunned, but it never entered my mind to stop him. I had to admit, it felt good.

“Oh my... aaah,” I moaned softly, lacing my right hand with his left. It was almost like I could actually feel his tongue slipping around a part of me that only myself and Cam had ever touched. However, in this illusion, I had no problem with that fact becoming fiction. Though I had moved past the initial shock, unfortunately, I could sense my sleep coming to an end. He started to fade away as my eyes softly fluttered open, but there was still someone between my legs. And it wasn't Omari. I looked down and Cam had my thighs stretched wide, one arm across my stomach, licking the shit out of my pussy. I tried to get away, but my every pursuit was quickly shut down. Whenever he realized that I was trying to escape his firm grasp, he licked faster, sucked harder, rubbed deeper. 

No matter how hard I fought, my body began to respond on its own, grinding into his face. Before long, my hips were in the air, he was buried between my lips, and I had relinquished all control. I gripped the couch with both hands in an attempt to evade the floor. “Fuuuck,” I whined, so upset with myself. Then the self betrayal reached a new level as I clenched my eyes, having the most regrettable orgasm ever. I hated giving him the satisfaction that, even at a time like this, he still had the power to make me cum. My body fell into the cushions and I hid my face, embarrassed. I don't know what the fuck he thought this was doing, because he hadn't swayed me whatsoever. I felt no different about things than I had before. 

He came up with tears in his eyes, apologizing and telling me how much he loved me. “You know I love you. With my whole heart, Jade. I'm sorry.” Seeing him cry shook me up a bit, I won't lie, but I was so far away from succumbing to his will.

He came closer and laid his head on my chest. Not even the smallest part of me welcomed the contact, and I was not about to let this be over so easily. “It's not... that simple.” He looked up and I reached to turn on the lamp behind us. “Look what you did to me.” My neck held marks from his fingernails, my scalp was bruised, there were noticeable rug burns on my knee and both hips, my face was so badly swollen that a small cut had formed at the corner of my mouth, and there was blood stuck on my gum line and between my teeth. 

“Oh my God.” He quietly examined every injury, running his fingers gingerly over the damage, seemingly frightened by my appearance. 

“This is love, Cameron?”

“I'm so sorry, baby. I swear, I'm gonna work on being better. I don't wanna do stuff like this to you. I'ma get help.”

I didn't fall for any of that shit. Sadly, this was the routine. I'd get my ass beat, then I'd get fucked, next was the apology and last came the promise of counseling. A promise that he never kept. This was my life now. A life that I could not have imagined in my wildest dreams.

Cameron McKinley Taylor. He wasn't always this way.

We had been together for five years now, the first three being probably the most happy years of my adult life. He was always such a sweetheart. He'd call or text just to hear my voice or tell me he loved me, bring me flowers for no reason; you know, just little things to show me he cared. We would talk for hours about anything, and nobody could make me laugh as hard. We were just in tune with one another, damn near inseparable. But, shortly after the situation became a little more serious, after we moved in together, everything changed. Out of nowhere, he just switched up on me. All of the sweetness was replaced with constant anger. It started with him taking my car. To this day, I still have no idea what he did with it. Without a ride of my own, though, I couldn't go anywhere or do anything without him. But he somehow always found a way to accuse me of stepping outside of the relationship. Which I never understood. I made the decision to stick it out, thinking this behavior was only temporary. However, after two years had passed me by, I learned a major lesson; fun wasn’t the only thing that made time fly. Misery did it just as well. 

He moved us to Los Angeles from Atlanta about a year and a half ago for a chance at better career opportunities, he'd claimed. But, the more thought I gave it, the more I began to believe there had been some malice behind his motives. I was taken so far away from my family, or anyone I knew for that matter, that I had no choice but to spend all of my time with him. I wasn’t even sure what it was that he did. He had a couple of degrees and he was working for some company before we came out here. Whatever he was doing now required him to leave home for months at a time, usually around two, and his salary was ridiculous. That was where my knowledge ended. I had my suspicions, but I knew better than to question him about anything. I'd just convinced myself that as long as the bills were kept current and we weren’t living on the street, everything was ok. He wasn't the least bit stingy with his leftovers either. He just made sure to monitor my transactions very closely. Shopping had become a way of life for me. It was basically my therapy.

Almost as soon as we got to Cali, he left for work. For a whole week, I stayed inside, afraid to leave the house. Not only was it a new scene for me, but I was heavily intimidated by the fact that I wasn’t familiar with anyone in the entire state. Then one day, feeling unusually courageous, I just got an Uber. After a little convincing, along with some financial compensation, that lady drove me all over LA.

I met Omari that day.

I walked into this sneaker boutique just to look around and there he was, standing with four boxes beside him and still browsing.

I recall thinking he had a nice deep brown, caramel complexion with really smooth looking skin. His hair was how he always wore it; in neatly twisted braids that ran straight back, falling an ample amount past his shoulders. He had a goatee then and it was groomed perfectly to match. Likewise, he was dressed nicely in jeans and a crisp white v-neck tee that hugged his toned arms and chest perfectly. The black diamonds in his ears glistened in the sunlight, as did the gold beaded bracelet around his wrist. His feet held a pair of black high top Chucks and I caught a Louis Vuitton belt peeking from underneath his shirt right before I turned to mind my own business. Long story short, he was very well put together... and so damn fine.

I still remember like it was yesterday.

“Um, I know it’s a lot, but can I get these in an 8?”

“Oh, no problem.” The associate, who had just been helping him, eagerly studied my selections. Her memory must've been outstanding, because I definitely would’ve had to take my phone out and snap a pic. “I'll be right back”.

I smiled, thanking her as I resumed my search. I wasn’t exactly interested in anything else, I was more so making the conscious effort to keep myself distracted. I had briefly considered taking a seat when, from the corner of my eye, I could see him starting to come over. I immediately threw all of my attention to a pair of kicks in front of me. They weren't even cute, but that was neither here nor there. I just needed to conceal the fact that I had been checking him out something serious on the low.

“Hey,” he rasped, once he was standing next to me. I turned to him and he had the cutest grin on his face. I couldn't help but smile back. Plus he looked even better up close. 

“Hey.”

“I don't mean to interrupt, and I know you don't know me, but… I just had to come over and say hello. You are beautiful.”

Completely caught off guard, I blushed almost instantly. My ears weren't even tuned for that type of compliment anymore. He was serious, too. I took my gaze down for a moment, using a slight laugh as part of my recovery. “Thank you.” And upon realizing that I liked this guy and didn't want his good smelling self to walk away, I decided to go ahead and introduce myself. “Jade.”

“Omari. Nice to meet you.” He extended his hand to me and I obliged, giving it a shake. 

“Nice to meet you, too.”

“So, um, where you from? If you don't mind me asking.”

“How you know I'm not from LA?” I jokingly asked. I was nowhere near being from LA, I  just wanted to see what he would say. 

“I can hear it in your voice.”

I chuckled, fully aware that my accent had given me away. “Yeah, I'm from Georgia.”

“I knew you were from somewhere down south.”

“Yep. So, you from here?” I returned my attention to the wall of shoes in front of me, trying not to stare.

“Yeah. Been here all my life.” 

“Ok,” I nodded. “I've only been here for a couple weeks.”

“Oh, for real?”

“Yeah. Today is actually my first time getting out of the house, believe it or not.”

“Well, maybe I can show you around my city sometime.”

And, just like that, I was back. “Maybe…” 

I hadn't been able keep him out of my sight for more than a few seconds, but his proposition had warranted at least a glance; I had to see if he was playing around. The deliberate eye contact I was met with only erased some of my doubt, still his confidence was a turn on for certain. I was smiling at him, he was smiling at me, and I was more than sure that he was in possession of the prettiest smile I had ever seen. His lips were on point, too; nice and full with a couple beauty marks adorning the bottom one. I found myself licking my own lips, wondering if his were as soft as they looked.  

Right in the midst of a moment that needed to be disrupted, the saleswoman walked over toting my five boxes effortlessly. 

“Thank you,” I told her, not just for the footwear, but also for breaking me away from whatever this was. I mean, I was stuck. 

“You're welcome. I'll be at the counter when you're ready, and let me know if you need anything else.”

“Ok.” I sat down on the bench and came out of my left shoe, grabbing the first box from the stack. “So, Omari…”

“Yeah?”

“You do this often?” I quizzed, slipping a fresh sneaker onto my foot; undeniably one of the best feelings in the world. 

“Do what?”

“Just walk over to random women and start conversations.” I grinned up at him standing beside me and he chuckled.

“Well, if I can be honest, you caught my eye as soon as you walked in. I like your vibe. And you looked so nice standing over here, I couldn't leave without at least getting your name.”

He was such a gentleman, and quite the charmer. He had a way with words, for sure. My guard was still very much intact, but his company didn’t make me uncomfortable. In fact, the interaction was rather flattering. I didn't know the kid still had it. 

“And now you know my name and where I’m from.”

He laughed, dropping his head. “You right. But you know they say good things come in threes.”

“Yeah, I’m familiar.”

“So, now I need your number to complete the trilogy. I mean, if that's cool with you.”

I can’t lie, I was tickled. He was that cute, corny funny I was very fond of. “Yeah,” I agreed, without even a second thought. Despite the obvious, I didn't wanna say no. “You like these?” I stood and we both looked down at the deep pink suede Nike Blazer I had been wearing. 

“Yeah. They cold with the gum bottom.”

“Right?! I was thinking the same thing. I'ma get 'em.”

We made small talk until I'd tried on my last pair. Then the conversation carried on while he tried on a few more. The six or seven other people in the store probably thought we knew each other. He was surprisingly easy to talk to for a complete stranger. We eventually exchanged numbers and, ever since that day, we'd been down like four flats on a Cadillac.

He was the only friend I had.

gooooood morning pi, happy thursday/friday. do you have any personal headcanons or favourite theories on why these kids were sent to ericsons boarding school? ; the twins and tenn, omar, marlon, and mitch. have a good day, pi.

Good morning, anon.

I’m not the most consistent or creative with my thoughts on how the kids got to the school, unfortunately. For the most part I just assume their parents couldn’t handle them for one reason or another.

I will say that I feel like the twins and tenn were probably all sent for a singular event, but I go back and forward on what I think that event was. The main theory I’ve seen is the one where their parents died and whoever their new caregiver was couldn’t handle the traumatised kids and sent them away. That works. Otherwise, I have dabbled with the idea that since the family seemed religious, and if one of the kids happened to do something particularly bad with their church reputation... that might be something that would cross the line in to “which one of you did it? If one of you doesn’t say something you’re all getting punished”. But that might be me projecting my rather negative church views with my hyper religious extended family, so don’t mind me.

As for Omar... He doesn’t come across as one of the kids who had mood or emotional regulation problems like some of the others. I dunno, maybe he shoplifted too many herbs from the grocery store, or he announced his godhood a little too loud and concerned his family. I feel like people could superimpose whatever backstory they want on to Omar and I’d just nod and be like, yep, sounds right.

Marlon I’m honestly not sure about. I feel like it’s easy to say he had a weak grip on his temper, but from the way Louis talks about him I don’t think that was a common occurrence when they were younger. And presumably, whatever problem he got sent to the school for was something that was worse than it should be after attending the school. That or the school wasn’t good at its job... which is also quite possible. So I’m not sure.

And Mitch blew up something. We already know he almost blew up the garage, but I imagine that didn’t stop him from just moving his chemistry set somewhere else. Maybe he blew up something that didn’t belong to his family and part of the “we know this is serious, but look, we’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again” plan meant they sent him off to stop further repercussions from neighbours. Plus he was a bullied kid amongst his neighbourhood - can you imagine if he attempted to scare those kids off with something explosive? I think any parent would panic there.

“About 11 years ago,” Mike starts as he scans the room “I attended my last Mensa party, I was pushing 18 and had enough of these kinds of things. It was the night some of you will get to experience tomorrow, the sort of ball where all us nerds get to dress up in nice clothes and pretend for a moment that we’re normal…”

He pauses, taking a drink of water and fixes the rather uncomfortable tie around his neck. He hated attending these gatherings, to him they were just a waste of time. But for some of these kids, they were the only chance to get out and realize they weren’t the only ones who were brilliant beyond measure.

As he looks around the room there’s an interesting cross section of people gathered in the auditorium. There are the ones he refers to as the Sheldon Coopers, the kids who are entirely too intelligent for their own good but not only are they that smart, they’re also holier than thou little pricks who believe that because they’re smarter, somehow they’re better than everyone. The parents of the Sheldons don’t help matters much and are often making it worse than their devil spawn has. Next were the kids who have the overly helicopter parents, the ones who judge everything their child does, and try to force them into molds of what the “gold standard” of geniuses are. These kids end up…well probably like the man he was about to start talking about. They were also the ones he noticed were early onset vegans and have very little amusement in their lives. The others were either the brilliant kids who had the terrible parents, which was his case, or they were…wait.

Are those kids playing Pokemon? He leaned forward slightly over the podium, looking at one of the pools of light on the auditorium floor where there was a small group, maybe eight or nine kids gathered together in a small circle with what looked like bags of chips or fruit slices, sharing like good kids and….yep. They were trading Pokemon cards in serious but hushed voices. Mike chuckled and looked back up at the room again, clearing his throat.

“I’m sure everyone in this room has heard of the tragedy of Dayton Foster.”

The gasp and whispers made him nod, somberly.

“I met him…Eleven years ago at the banquet, and I was with him when he suffered his seizure.”

Dayton wasn’t exactly hard on the eyes, with piercing brown eyes, his hair tousled and had an odd, rugged appeal to him. Mike had been enthralled during his speech, it was eloquent, despite the fact that man delivering it looked as though he’d just rolled out of bed, ran water through his hair and somehow managed to pull off a suit without looking like a complete disaster. Mike had approached him with a question, originally it was supposed to be about his theories on the Utopian like drift the United States was heading towards as he’d discussed but when Dayton had turned his attention to him, Mike forgot all that and had instead leaned into him and said he wondered what his kids tasted like. Dayton had stared at him for a moment with a quixotic expression on his face, almost like he hadn’t heard Mike.

There was only a moment of awkward silence before his response came, telling Mike to come to his hotel room at the Hyatt and he could find out. Considering the man had opened the door fresh out of the shower with a towel around his waist, Mike had assumed he hadn’t expected the boy to come, but he’d taken hold of the front of Mike’s shirt and pulled him into the room without a word, only a smirk. When Dayton had kissed him, he tasted of cloves and whiskey, and Mike had been putty in his strong hands. For a moment, his minds’ eye lingered on the taste on his lips, the stubble and the hair in the man’s eyes and he started to realize why he was drawn to Travis in the first place. Damn he wanted to call him…

“Foster, at the time, had an IQ of over 230, which is impressive, especially for the fact that he was also a known alcoholic.” And a lech. But he left that part out. “He and I met in this very room and we spoke at great length, he was a brilliant mind, getting ready to start work in Washington for the FBI as a criminal investigator and serial profiler, which at the time was a pretty big deal, especially since he had…” Mike looks down at his papers, skimming through them to find his place again. “Four degrees and spoke seven languages by the time he was 12. Despite several people warning a very young and naive me not to take too much of what he said to heart, I found myself drawn to him almost like a moth to the flame. It probably had something to do with his outward appearance, I mean…he was hot.”

He chuckled and heard a few others in the back do the same. Ah…so they did know who he was talking about. Good. Mike leaned back from the podium, taking a few steps to the side and turned on the headset, making sure it worked before he moved. His eyes fall again onto the kids who were sorting energy cards off to the side and he smiled. He always wanted to be one of those kids. While still looking at them, he started again. “During our conversation at the ball the next day, he issued an unusual warning that, at the time, I assumed was just him being a little loose lipped but following his seizure, I realized was actually very true. He told me to be careful the kind of things that I used to distract myself. Distractions can be key, he said. But it’s the vices you choose to use that will either be your saving graces or your worst nightmare.”

That conversation had taken place after they’d had sex, he’d been laying beside Dayton as he smoked. It had been Mike’s first time with anyone and at the time he wasn’t listening that closely for what he was being told. In fact, he’d been more interested in moving back under the blankets.

“For me, I wandered down the same road as Mr. Foster for several years, falling into the pitfalls of being exactly what he said I would. I am, like many in this room, smarter than your average bear and when you’re surrounded by everyone else, you sometimes feel like you would give -anything- to just be normal.”

Mike sighed softly and looked down at where his friend Ali was sitting in front row looking up at him with pride in her eyes. After they left this hell, they were going to England to meet her boyfriend’s parents for the first time and find out exactly what being with the Lord would entail. A little over a week ago he had been dancing in a cage in a gay bar in St. Louis, blown out of his mind on ecstasy and cocaine, anything to not deal with his breakup, revenge fucking his way through St. Louis and attempting to not exist for a while. He let out a sigh, realizing the Pokemon Trainers had tuned into the lecture as well.

“I’m going to come right out and say it. Normal is boring. And trying to be like everyone else isn’t worth anything in the world. You are all here because you aren’t normal, you’re geniuses in some way. You stand above the class because it’s how you are, and you know what? That’s okay. It’s taken me another 11 years to realize that what my mentor was trying to warn me about is inevitably something we all end up going through in some degree. Some of you will be up here in ten years thinking back on something that happened to you that changed your life, and some of you might not be with us again ever again. Either you will have realized that, as reassuring as it is for there to be a whole club of other people just like you, they can’t help you in the real world. Or…you may end up like Mr. Foster.” He took a moment to look at the wide-eyed kids in front of him. “And if that is the case, I want to extend my greatest sympathies to you now.”

Mike sighed. “My message actually isn’t for the young ears out there, but rather the people fueling your genius right now. Aside from being awarded with the MacArthur grant, and solving not one but two of the unsolvable math problems in my 28 years,” He had to pause for a moment as the room erupted in applause. Raising his voice an octave, he started again “I also work as a video director for Revolver Records.” And a gay porn director with his drag queen friends, but he left that out too. “I’m outspoken about my identity as a homosexual man and I don’t feel the need to hide behind anything in order to make everyone else more comfortable with my existence but that is because I’ve lived through my mistakes and my slips have luckily been caught by friends who are willing to keep my head above water. I wasn’t always that brave or that strong. I came from a family that wanted me to be smarter than everyone else but never really step out and stand up for myself. Something changed in me when I met Foster, because I began to see for myself that I have control over my own life. In that vein, my message, is to the parents and guardians.”

Mike’s parents weren’t there for him. They tried, endlessly to use him for their own means because he was smarter than everyone else in the room. The same had been true of Dayton Foster, he was in his 30’s when he suffered a seizure and fell to the ground, striking his head on the ground and the resulting brain damage caused him to lose a lot of what had made him the man everyone had respected. Mike had knelt beside him, helping him to roll on his side so he didn’t asphyxiate and had rhythmically run his hand along the man’s back, attempting to soothe him. He was scared that night and realized that while Dayton was wearing a wedding ring, he never actually spoke of his husband and aside from the boy he’d bedded the night before, he had no one with him. Mike shivered and brought himself back to his speech.

“Your children are different than the rest of the world. Some of them may be in college before they can even drive a car and while that’s okay, you need to remember they are still children and they still need you. I see the look of the parents out there who have already forgotten that they still have a child because of how ‘adult’ they seem. My parents weren’t there for me and for the longest time no one else was either. I found friends later in life that kept me from completely imploding but with everything I’ve told you about Mr. Foster, you can probably guess he didn’t have the same luck. He worked for everything he had but it all fell through his fingers as he drank himself to sleep most nights and spent his days trying to make himself not feel anything. Foster lost everything that made him the man he was known for and I don’t want to see that happen to any of you.”

Mike had been punctuating the words ‘any, of and you’ by pointing at the kids in the audience. “It is so easy to fall into the pitfalls of ‘I’m smarter than all of you and I know it so that makes me better than you’ but what you’re going to find when you get out in the real world is people…all those average people who have bullied you for being too smart, they’re going to look down on you -because- of your intelligence and you acting like you’re better than them now is only going to make it worse going forward. Mensa can help you, it looks great on your college admissions, especially when you’re 12 and going to college. But in the end, you must know how to function with the rest of society, and you need someone in your corner. You parents out there, you must be there for your kids. If you aren’t…” He let the words hang in the air in for a moment and could already see the phones coming on in the back and middle rows, the Karens ultimately mad that he called them out for their shitty parenting practices or the ones who were tweeting about how they do everything to make sure their child succeeds but when they leave here, they won’t go where the child wants, they’re going to make them go back to doing ‘smart people things’. He sighed, picking up a bottle of water from a stool near the back of the stage and took a drink. Turning back around again he made a motion for the house lights to come back on.

“I look around this room…And I see so many different types of people and I’m sure you’re all doing exactly what -you- think you should be doing for your kids. When was the last time one of your kids went for the bike ride with their friends? When was the last time they went to an amusement park or even Chuck E Cheese?” He looked down when he heard an ‘ooh!’ off to the side and smiled, seeing a little girl run over to her mom and excitedly motioned with her hands, probably asking about the same thing. And honestly the mom looked like she was thinking about it.

“Kids need to be kids. You can be brilliant and still be a kid. You can go play with your friends, have sugar or play sports for the fun of it. If you’re not able to find something to enjoy in your life, you may find yourself sitting in a window watching the world go by and wondering why you’re still a part of it.”

This wasn’t the lecture he had written and that had been approved when he’d been invited to speak, but for some reason he had been thinking about Foster for the last few days, unable to really get him out of his head, probably because he’d hit the ground a little too hard and realized he was headed in the same direction. That and he’d been thinking about Travis and the two were…a lot alike. When he and Ali had arrived at the banquet the day before he had seen a lot of kids being kept away from the sweets and the snacks, some of them looking the way he used to, bullied and uncomfortable and then there was the Trainers he’d noticed tonight. These were animated, chatting with adults and other kids, wanting to hang out and talking about going to the museums or go to one of the parks in Washington and spend the day playing. All these different personalities had caused him to change his tone a bit.

As he moved back over to the podium again, Mike picked up his papers and shuffled them a bit. He had notes about Dayton because he was just going to mention him as a cautionary tale and for a moment wondered if the man ever gets on Youtube, because this was inevitably going to be on there.

“You know, I realize, your programming card said I was going to talk about how I solved the world’s most complicated math problems and how focus and determination can win you the biggest prize but honestly…I figured out the first one because a mathematics professor in college was annoyed by an impetuous thirteen year old finishing his whole semester in a week and the other one because I was bored and wanted something to challenge myself with.” He chuckled softly before he started speaking again.

“I have another quote from Mr. Foster for you, and it’s one of my favorites from one of his books. “Boredom is a prerequisite for genius, and sometimes for so many other things. Try new things, you’re always going to be learning but sometimes it’s nice to detach your brain and just…Do something considered trivial. Fun should never be criminalized, especially for us smart people. We sometimes forget what it’s like to do something with no other intention but to do it.”

Mike bowed his head, thanking everyone for having him and stepped off the stage, bending down when he stepped on an abandoned Pokemon card. He put his foot over it for a moment as he was bombarded by several people coming up to talk to him. When they left him, he knelt and picked up the card, turning it over in his hands. It looked like a normal card on the back but turning it over it was holographic. Raising his voice, he noticed the Trainers were all gathering again around a taller boy named Isaac and the littler one he’d seen wanting to go to Chuck E Cheese.

“Who lost a Legendary Mew card?”

The little girl was the one who came up and asked for it and he smiled, handing it down to her. He had met her the day before while she was playing with a Nintendo DS and her mother seemed to be fielding off the glares of the other mothers here who thought those things were less than appropriate for smart children. Her brother, Dakota had been playing what seemed to be a never-ending game of tic-tac-toe with their father. He had inadvertently broken her heart when he’d expressed his surprise that she had good parents. 

Beatrice, which was a big name for a such a small girl, swished her little dress as she stood there, patiently waiting her turn to talk to him and rolled on the heels of her sneakers. While she waited for him to be done with the adults she turned to talk to Isaac, Mike only caught a couple of words, something about Pokemon Go, something about the Smithsonian and then something about a...soda stream? Whatever...She said said goodbye to her friend, hugging the older boy around the waist before turning back to him again. Once everyone was gone he knelt in front of her so he could watch her eyes. 

“So...how bad was I?”

She giggled and started to speak when a woman very rudely interrupted her. Mike held his hand up to silence the woman, telling her he had no intention of talking to her now that she had interrupted their conversation and widened his eyes, looking at Ali over Bea’s shoulder. 

“You did great! But...um...What happened to him?”

“Who?”

“Mr. Foster…what happened to him?”

“Oh…” Right. “When I looked him up last night Google said he’s living in a place called Monroe Manor in New Orleans.” It was a type of adult care facility. Mike had been on the website for a while looking at it, the idea was interesting. There was the main hospital building and then on the property there were duplexes where the patients that wanted to try living on their own could try. He paused for a moment before speaking again. Beatrice was probably five, he wasn’t sure about her internet time but decided to mention Dayton’s blog. It was depressing if you read into it too much but there was still something left of the man in there, you could tell by his very long posts. “He’s staying where people can help him, he’s been there for a couple of years, I think.” He watched her eyes widen and she seemed to be thinking about something very serious. Looking up at her mother, Mike smiled. “Um...Dayton has a blog on Tumblr, I don’t know if she could actually get on it, but it’s kind of interesting.” 

A quick Google search would also tell you that Dayton Foster had been in and out of jail several times over the last eleven years, from drunk and disorderly to public intoxication and spitting at a cop during an arrest for public urination and ‘lewd’ behavior, whatever that meant. When Mike had looked him up there was also a report about his attempted suicide a few years ago. Someone had found him sitting in Audubon Park with a gun in his mouth, apparently playing a very dangerous game of roulette.

“He’s doing better now.” The look in her big green eyes told him she didn’t believe him. Mike sighed as she looked at him square in the face and said exactly that. 

“We’r/e at a Mensa meeting, I’m very smart...just like you. So...how is he doing?”

Mike wondered for a moment how Dayton would react getting a picture from a little girl that said, ‘Get Well Soon’ but all he could really do was shrug. 

“He’s not exactly giving TedTalks, but I guess he’s doing okay...I haven’t actually spoken to him.” And now he felt bad about it. He sighed and looked at Bea, earnestly wondering how he was supposed to explain how he used this man to tell a cautionary tale but knew nothing about his health. 

“I don’t think he’d remember me, honestly. Uh...you’ve got my e-mail right? If you want to talk, I’m always around.” Plus they live relatively close...for now. Is it weird for him to be friends with a 5 year old? Probably...at least he’s gay. 

Another handful of people came up and started asking him questions about what he was doing now, how he’d solved the problems or what he had done with the money from both the problems and the grant and about 100 other things. Mike sighed and slumped against Ali once they’d all left him alone. None of them had actually paid a lot of attention to his speech, instead they focused on something minute or accused him of not knowing what he was talking about because he wasn’t a parent. His dry comeback with ‘no but I am a genius’ hadn’t gone over well. Looking at his friend he sighed.

“The only one that cared was 5....” He cursed. 

“Get me out of here…I think I’ve had enough of these kinds of people for a lifetime.” He’d depressed himself and aside from being hungry and ready to be anywhere other than here, he also now wanted to call Travis and tell him he missed him.

Dammit.

Billboards #1 1964

Under the cut.

Bobby Vinton – “There! I’ve Said It Again” -- January 4, 1964

*sob* This song is so bad. Is there even a beat at all? It's so slow. It should not be so slow. Vinton sounds both self-satisfied and whiny. It's a love song, I suppose, but this doesn't sound anything like love to me. It sounds like it was created by the Moral Majority. Help, I need someone.

The Beatles – “I Want To Hold Your Hand” -- February 1, 1964

Yeah, I did that on purpose. It's fashionable to hate on The Beatles these days, but I will not be joining in. "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" is not one of their best songs, but if I'd been there at the time, I'd have been screaming my head off for them too. After going through the past couple years of hits, I feel ready to scream for them now. There's a beat. There's forward motion. There's understanding how to sing a song. That wasn't totally lacking on the charts until them -- Ray Charles, after all, and some others -- but what a wasteland it's been generally. The bad stuff has been so very, very bad. Anyway. "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" -- okay song today, but pure oxygen in 1964.

The Beatles – “She Loves You” -- March 21, 1964

This is one of my favorite songs. "Hey idiot, this great girl you thought you lost due to your idiocy still loves you." Implied: Either you go on her knees to get her back or I go after her. And it doesn't sound anything like any #1 I've covered so far. Major interesting bassline, great harmonies, good drums, guitar, everything lines up perfectly.

The Beatles – “Can’t Buy Me Love” -- April 4, 1964

What else is there to say at this point? It's good. It's true. It's romantic. It's fast. McCartney knows how to sing. Notice that none of these three hits in a row are heartbreak songs? There have been way too many of those on this list, and most of them were bad. These songs are happy, and not fake happy. They're driven. They're alive.

Louis Armstrong – “Hello, Dolly!” -- May 9, 1964

The person to finally kick The Beatles down the charts was one of our greatest homegrown artists. It's like people had finally woken up after Bobby Vinton's horrible song in January. Not Louis Armstrong's best, but it's Louis Armstrong. So it's thoroughly enjoyable.

Mary Wells – “My Guy” -- May 16, 1964

Motown is well and truly here. I adore this song. It's sweet without being cloying, the beat is fun, and of course Mary Wells is amazing. And as a woman whose taste in men has never matched up with what I'm supposed to find attractive, and has taken a lot of crap for that, I connect with the song personally.

The Beatles – “Love Me Do” -- May 30, 1964

I think this is the worst of the Beatles' hits so far. Which doesn't make it bad. The harmonica's great. But the lyrics are kinda, well, dumb. Thankfully they're dumb and cheery, not dumb and doleful like so much I've covered.

The Dixie Cups – “Chapel Of Love” -- June 6, 1964

Earworm alert. That hook is a killer. The song gets at the overwhelmed, slightly stunned happiness that comes from getting married. We went to city hall, not to the chapel, but the feeling's the same. I can't say whether I like the song exactly -- the hook is so overpowering, it doesn't really give you a chance. It's in your head now, forever.

Peter & Gordon – “A World Without Love” -- June 27, 1964

The narrator doesn't have a girlfriend so he's going to hide in his room until his true love shows up. Or maybe he was dumped by his true love and therefore is going to hide? It's not very clear, which is unusual for a song written by Paul McCartney. But there's a reason he gave it to someone else. It's actually a fine song, good harmonies, good beat, very teenage sensibility without being annoying. Not too special after the last six songs though.

The Beach Boys – “I Get Around” -- July 4, 1964

I can never hear this without picturing the 1986 film Flight of the Navigator. As usual with Beach Boys songs, the music is excellent and the lyrics are deeply dumb and repetitive. So it's a fun song, but not one I go out of my way to listen to.

The Four Seasons – “Rag Doll” -- July 18, 1964

Gah Frankie Valli's falsetto again. Also it's overproduced. This guy loves a poor girl but his father says nope, she's a poor so you can't marry her, and he just accepts it. I really don't like anything about The Four Seasons.

The Beatles – “A Hard Day’s Night” -- August 1, 1964

My mom and I once rented the movie A Hard Day's Night, and were surprised at how fun it was. (She was a little young to experience the full force of Beatlemania when it hit.) The song written for the movie: Also very fun, and good, and sexy. "But when I get home to you I'll find the things that you do will make me feel all right." Things sure changed fast in 1964.

Dean Martin – “Everybody Loves Somebody” -- August 15, 1964

Dean Martin was constitutionally incapable of being serious. Sometimes his smarm worked. Not here. It could be worse, but it could be a lot better. I'd have been much happier if it had been just about anyone else's version, though Peggy Lee's is my favorite.

The Supremes – “Where Did Our Love Go” -- August 22, 1964

Have you noticed how good pop music suddenly got? It's not just The Beatles. This is a heartbreak song without a hint of schmaltz. It makes you feel better, not worse, and you can even dance to it. But it's still sad. Motown was amazing in its heyday.

The Animals – “The House Of The Rising Sun” -- September 5, 1964

I've loved this song since I was a kid. And I understood it; "gambling causes ruin" is perfectly comprehensible to an 8-year old. It's dark and real, and Eric Burdon's voice and singing give me chills. The keyboard is like nothing I've heard on this list before. I think this might be goth. It's something great, anyway.

Roy Orbison – “Oh, Pretty Woman” -- September 26, 1964

I hate the movie Pretty Woman. A lot. This song became a hit again when the movie came out. Obviously I associate this song with that movie. So I don't have an opinion about the song that's separate from a movie I hate and that Roy Orbison had nothing to do with. I'm passing on this one.

Manfred Mann – “Do Wah Diddy Diddy” -- October 17, 1964

Two number ones in a row about a pretty woman walking down the street. They sort of sound similar in parts too. Anyway, pretty woman walking down the street singing nonsense, narrator ends up making out with and then getting engaged to her. It's silly, and it's okay. "Okay" has a much higher bar than it did just last year.

The Supremes – “Baby Love” -- October 31, 1964

I have a problem with The Supremes, and it's that their first four #1 hits have exactly the same subject matter, and that subject matter is being in love with a man who no longer loves them. After this list, I'm sick of heartbreak songs, and they were never my favorite anyway. Four love songs in a row and I'd have been happy. Dance songs, ditto. But if we must have heartbreak songs, can we have a little righteous anger too? Not just plaintiveness? Anyway, "Baby Love" is a Supremes song, which means if you hear it far apart from their other songs, it's great. When I hear them together like this, though, the formula gets painful.

The Shangri-Las – “Leader Of The Pack” -- November 28, 1964

I hope this song was meant to be funny, because I find it goddamn hilarious. How'd she meet a bad boy whom she knew was sad at the candy store? I like the message that you shouldn't dump your boyfriend solely because your daddy tells you to. But I don't think there's any intended message here. I think it might be a song making fun of the 50s motorcycle bad boy aesthetic and all those "girlfriend/boyfriend died" schmaltzfests people suffered through.

Lorne Greene – “Ringo” -- December 5, 1964

A baritone spoken word piece about a Western outlaw. I doubt it would have gone anywhere if Ringo Starr hadn't been named Ringo. It's probably good for its genre, since Lorne Greene was a good actor, but I can't tell.

The Supremes – “Come See About Me” -- December 19, 1964

It doesn't sound like a heartbreak song, but of course it is. And a super severe one; she gave up all her friends for him, and then he left her too. But she still wants him back. Eesh. Of course Diana Ross doesn't sound sad singing it, because she never sounds really sad singing these songs. The technique obviously worked, but the more I think about it, the more I don't like it. It's a really good song. And not for me, now that I've actually thought this much about it.

The Beatles – “I Feel Fine” -- December 26, 1964

A sitar has been spotted! Anyway, he and his baby are in love, and he brags about buying her diamond rings. The Beatles never had any shame about buying the women in their songs stuff to make them happy. I like that. And I like this song.

BEST OF 1964: "My Guy". Yep, not a Beatles song. This is thoroughly subjective, after all. But what a lot of great songs there were this year, and how relieved I am to be able to say that. WORST OF 1964: "There! I've Said It Again", overwhelmingly.

The Proposal- an adaptation of The English Game, a 1D fanfic

The thrill of a football game is truly something to remember.

On a hot Saturday, in the summer of ’47- 1847 - the bleachers were packed. The wives and significant others of the players came with their wealthy-looking selves, dragging their children along with them. Even from afar, you could see the vibrant colours of the oversized skirts and gowns; a tell-tale sign of showing off. Like they were saying that their husbands would carry the team and the number of ruffles they had was how sure they were. If that were factual, then a certain Niall Horan had high hopes ahead of him.

There were seemingly two types of people at the moment: those who came just to support and those who came because their life depended on it. If that were factual, a certain Louis Tomlinson was there for the fear of losing his life.

As the two teams came out into the field, the crowd went almost silent. Minus the constant wailing of a 16-month-old child, no one made a noise. Almost like saying something was a sign of disrespect for the game.

The two captains stepped forward. Deep blue eyes made an intense stare with light ones littered with gold. Their stories were different, but their intentions were the same. Win the cup. Go back home. Drink some beer. The task sounding so simple but the process being so arduous. It took quite some time to be able to play like this, the working class and the first class. But here we were.

”You’re going down, Horan, ” the shortest captain says with pure determination in his irises. The other laughs pompously as if Louis had told a joke to his face.

”Are ya serious? You’re all wrong. You and your cheap team are the ones who’re going down so you can go back to working in the factories like you were born to do. Now lemme have the ball so we can win this cup.”

Louis swears that if he wasn't raised to be so nice, he would’ve thrown the 2-pound leather ball in the rich man's clean fresh shaven face. Louis hates the first class with a passion. Always has, always will.

The screech of the wooden whistle was heard from the sidelines. The game had begun.

Niall started with the ball. He was playing hard to get with an adversary, passing the ball in between his feet and going the opposite way the other man was going as a juke. It would’ve been a perfect breakaway if Louis wasn't in the way. He successfully stole the ball by sliding his foot in between Niall’s legs and kicking it behind him. You could hear a curse erupt from the younger man and then an order to ”Go after that Tomlinson lad!”.

Louis noticed someone from the other team running up to challenge. He was smarter than that though. The football player stopped just in time as the other man went tumbling from trying to stop at the same time. Louis couldn’t resist the slight curve of his lips as he glanced at the outcome.

”Too easy, ” he thought as he went in for a shot at the net. To Niall’s surprise, Louis made the goal. A few men and women cheered from the bleachers. Unlike the rich, they were here for Louis. Dressed in their best, which was attire that appeared to be what the wealthy would call ”servants clothes”. But that was all they had.

The other teammates raved and praised but Louis knew this was only the beginning. He pushed the fringe out of his eyes as he jogged over to forward position. As always, Niall started with the ball. He made a decent pass to one of his teammates and ran ahead to receive a pass back. This is what Louis already predicted. He ordered another forward man, someone we come to know as Charles, to intercept the other team��s pass. It works and Louis calls for the ball.

”Oi, pass it over!” he yells. Charles successfully kicks it and Louis makes his breakaway. An adversary, someone who we come to know as Arthur thinks ahead and sprints over to shove the shorter man aside, resulting in him making out with the dirt. Now it's Louis’ turn to curse.

Arthur made a wide shot and the goalkeeper failed to keep the leather ball away from the back of the net.

An eruption of praise and cheers arose from a majority of the crowd. Arthur and Niall took it all in, like the rich bastards they were. At least, that's what was going in Louis' head. But he had to keep his mind on the game.

After missed goals and ear-popping cheers, the game ended 2-2. Louis scowled as he was approached by Niall’s right-hand man at the end of the game.

”The captain says there should be another game on Saturday to even the score out. Y’know, as a tie-breaker. You okay with that?” Arthur inquired. Louis didn’t have to be told twice. He reluctantly had to look up at this man as he nodded.

”Fine then. See you Saturday.” Louis replied coldly. Arthur jogged off as he announced to news to his captain, Niall. Louis caught his eye and mouthed ”screw you” before sauntering to his teammates. Charles was the first to acknowledge him.

”That was so intense. Did to see the look on the blond bastard's face when you scored? Holy, I’ll never see anything funnier in my life!” he raved as he wiped the sweat dripping down his forehead. Louis couldn't help but chuckle.

”Yeah, I guess so. But we need to work harder this week. For next Saturday.”

”Why?”

”Niall’s calling a rematch. I accepted. We need to win this cup and if going against those idiots again is what we have to do, we’ll do it. Go tell the others.” Louis ordered his friend. He complied and in a few moments, you could hear grunts and groans coming from each one of the players.

”Lou, seriously? We can’t just wait until we get paired up with another team?” one of them asked, clearly fed up. Louis shook his head.

”Sorry, lads, but that's the way it is. We already know this team's weaknesses so we’ll have no trouble next week. All we have to do is train harder. We can do it, boys. C’mon, who’s with me?”

“I am,” Charles said, motioning for the others to join him. Eventually, they all agreed with him. The rematch was officially on Saturday.

***

Back home in a small city in West England, Louis’ other friends and the rest of the town were waiting for him to return and declare the winner. As the blue-eyed man stepped off the train, he was swallowed into a crowd of fans.

”Did you win the match?”

”Did anyone get hurt?”

”How was that Horan kid?”

”Have you made any goals?”

Louis was overwhelmed. And when he got overwhelmed, he shouted.

”SHUT UP EVERYONE! Okay, here’s the deal: supposedly Blackford thought they could play better than us so the game was a draw.”

The crowd groaned.

”But, fortunately, we’ll be playing another match on Saturday and we’ll prove them wrong. We’ll win this! For the working men?”

”FOR THE WORKING MEN!” the crowd shouted back in agreement. Charles spoke up.

”For now, let’s just celebrate the fact that we didn’t lose. To the tavern!” he exclaimed, suddenly leading the way to the bar. The others followed eagerly.

***

11:11 was the time and it was safe to say that nearly everyone in the dimly lit tavern was pissed. Drunk, I mean. The fiddlers were playing tunes that made everyone want to live footloose and fancy-free. The ladies were jovially dancing with their improv partners, following the beat and chanting along. It was obvious that at least one or two of these pairs would be waking up in the other’s bed the next morning.

Louis, being the only sober one, was singing along softly and tapping his foot to the beat. If he had to be honest, he was fearing the following week. There would definitely be rumours and threats coming from the surrounding cities and teams. He had to remember that he was always a working man. And that was the problem. The lower class couldn’t even play football for competition because it was a ”rich man’s sport”. Now that the rules were changed, The Knightsmen could join the list of teams. That didn’t stop the constant berating from the elevated class. Saying that he wasn't good enough and actually banning his team from entering the cup for some time was the worst of it. So when Louis declared at 12 a.m. on a lazy Tuesday evening in his shared rented house that he detested the wealthy and privileged, he wasn't kidding. It would take a whole village to convince him that the rich were somewhat pleasant. A whole village.

”...and then she said she’d see me tomorrow. Isn't that great, Loulou? I’m gettin’ me a lady.” Charles slurred against his friend's shoulder. They were walking home from the bar at around 1:00 in the morning and Charles was slumped against Louis, his lanky body looking like a ragdoll’s. The shorter one had to endure listening to his comrade’s drunk thoughts the whole way home.

”Really, now?”

”Yep. She’s a jam.” Charles sighed, his somehow wet blond hair flopping in the slight breeze. Louis rolled his eyes.

”Yeah, yeah, yeah, I get it. You’re in love. Now focus on the game. You need to get to sleep as soon as we get home. We’re training today.”

”Today?”

”Yeah. It's about 1 a.m.”

As the two reached the house, Charles made a show of stumbling inside and shouting, “MAEVE, WE’RE HOME!” Louis slapped him upside the head. Maeve was the woman they were renting their house from.

”You 𝙞𝙙𝙞𝙤𝙩. You’ll wake her. Let's get to bed, you need to sleep.” he pushed him all the way up the stairs and into their bedroom.

”To bed.” Louis said before settling in his twin bed. Charles mirrored the action and made another show of getting his shoes off and getting under his own sheets. Then, the lights went off.

”Hey, Louis?” he heard his friend call from the other side of the room.

”What do you want, Char?” he called back.

”Some men were talking at the bar.”

”All men were talking, Charles.”

”No, I mean, some blokes were saying that all working men couldn't play anymore.”

”Really?” Louis was getting madder with every word.

”Yeah. Except us though. Apparently, we’re just that good.” Charles was sounding less intoxicated and more serious. Louis’ blood was boiling. He refused to believe this but Charles made it sound convincing.

”Who said this?”

”I don't know. I’ve never seen them before. They looked almost... 𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙝.” Charles mumbled before falling asleep, his face facing the wall. Louis followed in the identical bed after an hour of deep thoughts. He didn’t want to believe it. He didn’t. Niall Horan was such a crook.

***

”So you’re serious about this? You can’t cancel the matches. They’ve gone too deep into the tournament.”

”Have you seen the statistics? We can’t let the working men play anymore. They’re simply taking the game away from us. We started the game, we can’t let others take it away. Especially the working class.” Arthur stated at the dining table.

It was dinner at the Horan’s estate, and it was announced that the lower class wouldn't be playing in the Cup anymore. Arthur’s spouse, as well as Niall’s, didn’t exactly agree.

”Niall, you agreed to this?” Jennie inquired. Her husband nodded.

”Seriously? You talked this through and everything?”

Niall repeated the action. ”We have to keep the game clean. If the poor are sweeping the game away how will that playback on us? The ones who can actually afford a ball?”

”It doesn't matter. They worked hard to be where they are and now you’re taking it from them. How will 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 playback on you?” Jennie argued before pushing away from the table and storming off. Arthur’s wife, Adelaide followed.

”Women.” Arthur chuckled. Niall did the same.

”Why do they always think that acting out and arguing with men will solve their problems?” Niall said, ”it’s childish.”

”Childish indeed.” Arthur agreed. They ate the rest of their dinner while joking about the less fortunate.

***

It was a mundane Wednesday afternoon. The birds were chirping, the streets were busy and Louis was arguing with his manager about a classist rich man who shouldn't get his way.

”James, I’m telling you, this is mad! That Horan shouldn't have to tell us what to do anymore! Just because he’s in the Football Association Board doesn't mean he should have the right to kick us off!” he rambled, pacing in front of the wood desk that separated him from his authority. Mr. Corden shook his head.

”I’m sorry, but there is literally nothing I can do. Once the Board makes a decision, it can be very difficult to get them to change their minds.” James said as slow as can be. Louis wasn't giving up though. He easily found a loophole.

”You said ’it can’.”

”What?”

”You said ’it can be’, ” Louis started, ”which means you can, it’s just difficult.”

”What are you going on about?” James raised an eyebrow.

Louis had a sly smile on his face. ”How long does it take to get to London?”

***

”He WHAT?!” Niall boomed from his office. Arthur took a step back.

”It’s true, Ni. He’s here and he wants to talk to you. He says a game of pool would be nice to settle things. To be honest, he looks like he has quite the proposal.”

Niall rubbed his temples and huffed. ”Fine. Send him here.”

Next thing he knew, he was face to face with the one person he despised the most at that moment: Louis Tomlinson. He was dressed in a grey suit that brought out his eyes with a top hat of the same colour. His hair was gelled and combed back into a quiff and he even had a cane to top it off. If Niall had just met this man now he would've believed he had over three mansions in Cheshire. Louis certainly dressed for the occasion.

”M’name’s Louis, but you already know that. Nice to meet you this fine Friday,” Louis stretched his small hand out towards the man behind the desk. Niall took it into his own hesitantly. He made a mental note to wash it after the unexpected visit.

”Enchanted. I’m going to take a wild guess and say that this is about the decision to eliminate the lower class. If this is the case you can most certainly take your high horse and le-”

”But Mr. Horan, wouldn’t that just be plain rude? I came to justify my reasonings not argue. Can’t you allow that?” Louis reasoned, cocking his head to the side. Niall swore if he wasn’t raised to be so nice he’d throw his shoes at this bloke’s unblemished face.

”Fine. You said pool, didn’t you?”

Louis nodded.

”Follow me then.”

***

Louis was winning the game of pool and it was only making Niall angrier with every flick of his wrist.

”So you see, I think it would be better if you shared the game, ” Louis stated as he watched Niall knock a striped ball into a hole. Niall was solids.

”I don’t get why you came all the way here just to talk me out of this. It’s not going to happen. I don’t even know why you’re so cross with me. Your team is still in the Cup.”

”That’s only because we have a game tomorrow and kicking us off will make you look like a fool.” Louis countered. He knocked a striped ball into a hole. Niall scowled behind him.

”Fine. What if a modified your ’proposal’. If Blackford wins the game, you and the lower class will be withdrawn from the Cup for this and all future games.” Niall negotiated. Louis trained his eyes on the younger man.

”And what happens if the Knightsmen win?” he inquired. Niall only snickered.

”Let’s say you do win. I’ll finally have you shut up by letting the working men back onto the Board. Whaddya say?” Niall added to his deal, now him being the one to stretch his hand out to shake. Louis slapped it on his own.

”Fine. But if you go around this like the rich bastard you are-”

”Oh, you know I won't. Trust me.” Niall was smirking evilly now.

”Just you wait, Horan, ” he warned before knocking another striped ball into a hole and taking his leave.

***

Just like the week before, it was a tense Saturday afternoon. The rich, the poor and the in-between were anticipating this game. Even the girl from the bar was there, which Charles was thankful for. The news had spread like wildfire and in just under 12 hours every football fan had heard about the agreement. Louis teammates including Charles were talking him out of it, saying that they were no match when it came to something like this. But Louis had high hopes. He held his head up high and refused to think anything other than the fact that the Knightsmen were going to win the match. It was inevitable at this point. Louis had been working his team like a madman, making sure they understood that the game was a serious one. And now that this deal had been initiated, it was even more serious. More intense.

Blackford came out in their striped shirts and shined boots. A majority of the bleachers were up and chanting their motto: ”Raise the standard so others can’t reach!”

”Haughty. Just haughty. I can’t think of another word.” Charles muttered under his breath. Louis heard and if he didn’t feel like screaming he would’ve agreed.

It was his team’s turn to get out onto the field now. Just like last week, a handful of spectators got up cheered, mostly for Louis.

The two captains stepped up to the middle.

”Well, Horan, we meet again. Good luck.”

Niall chortled, ”Luck? I don't need luck.”

”Getting a little cocky now, aren't we?” Louis taunted.

”No, I'm just that good.” Niall winked before the whistle made its telltale noise.

The game was tied like last time except this time it was 1-1. Niall kept barking orders at his teammates to try and get them to work harder at the tiebreaking goal. On the other hand, Louis was using encouraging comments to get his team going. Right now Charles was controlling the ball. Dribbling forward and towards the goal. Unfortunately, someone from the other team caught up and trampled him over. Louis went after the caper to challenge him.

”You’re that Tomlinson kid aren't you?” the adversary asked while playing keep-away with the latter.

”Yeah, what about me?”

”You better start remembering how good it sounds before the whole team ruins it for you, ” he snickered. By then, Louis was seeing red. He ran ahead and shoved the other man out of the way and silently prayed that God would forgive him for that minor sin. He made a breakaway with the heavy leather ball, running like no one had ever seen him before. Cheers and praises could be heard from the crowd now getting bigger and louder. Even Arthur was quietly hoping Louis wouldn’t disgrace himself in front of everyone.

”C’mon, Lou! Shoot it!” James hollered from the sidelines.

Louis could feel the blood pumping in his veins. It was an electrifying feeling, like he was untouchable. As he came closer to the net, he could only hear the chants of his name. He shot the ball. It went soaring and for those few seconds of silence, Louis swore he felt like he saw his life flash before his eyes. This goal could possibly change how everyone viewed the working class. How pressuring.

The ball flew so quickly that Louis didn’t understand all the yelling and cheering. Then Charles slapped his back, it all made sense. He made the shot. It was a goal.

”LOUIS, YOU DID IT!” Charles cried out for the third time. Almost everyone was yelling ”All hail King Louis!”. He just stood there, revelling in it. The whistle rang through everyone’s ears. The game was over. The Knightsmen won. The working class won. Louis won. Niall approached him soon after.

”I think we had a deal, ” he mumbled. Louis nodded.

”Yeah, yeah we did. Now, I think it’s time you got off your high horse and started sharing the game. C’mon, Horan, like men.”

”Like men.” Niall repeated. He turned and walked away. Most likely in despair. Louis couldn’t care less though.

Because he won.

[graffiti]

Day 12: Unrequited Love #twdgdrabblechallenge

Note: I know I’m writing about Mitch a lot but like... I can’t stop. 

AO3

---

“Dude, think you could get off your ass and help me for once?”

Mitch glances up from his comic, thumb marking his place, saying, “Nope.”

That gets him a middle finger. 

“This is your room, too, asshole.”

“My side is clean.”

“Bullshit,” Justin scoffs, eyeing the absolute mess occupying the floor, bed, and desk on Mitch’s side. “I’m not picking up your shit.”

“Then don’t,” Mitch rolls his eyes, returning to finish the page of his comic only for it to be ripped from his grip. “Hey!”

Justin tosses the comic on to the desk where it proceeds to slide off and onto the floor all while he begins scooping up a pile of Mitch’s dirty laundry. 

He then dumps that load right on top of him.

“Seriously?!” Mitch balls up a pair of jeans and chucks it as hard as he can at Justin’s head, smacking him in the side of his face. 

“I’m not fucking around, Mitch! Pick up your shit!”

Something’s off about him today. Usually, he’s just as messy as Mitch is, leaving dirty laundry on the floor, piling books up on his desk, leaving trinkets and weapons anywhere they land. Now he’s zigzagging around the room like a maniac trying to tidy up the place. 

Shit, maybe Ruby cornered him and threatened to break in and clean their room herself again. She’s a brave one to even consider that again, given that she stumbled across some dirty stuff last time. 

Justin better hide his nasty ass porn better this time because Mitch isn’t taking the fall for that one again. One lecture from a flustered Ruby would’ve been whatever, but now he’s got Marlon and some of the other guys asking for his “secret stash” and it’s fucking annoying. 

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Mitch watches Justin pull a box out from under his bed and dump the contents out. Yep, there’s the porn and some other books and boxes that he begins to sort through. 

“You want any of this?” Justin asks. “If not, I’m gonna toss it.”

“You’re gonna toss your mags?” 

“Well, not those,” Justin replies, snatching up the disgusting material and tucking them back in the box, “but these I will.” 

He hands him some books; two that are apart of some sci-fi series that looks pretty killer, one all about different insects, a bible, and a book on birds. 

“The bug one’s pretty cool,” Justin says. “There’s a whole chapter on spiders that can catch birds out of trees and eat them.”

Mitch wasn’t ever one for bugs. They’re gross and terrifying.

Birds, however, he does like. 

He keeps the two sci-fi novels and the bird book, tossing the bible and bug book back over. He pretends to flip through the bird book and admire the colored photos occupying the page, but his focus is mostly on the determination in Justin’s eyes. 

The more he stares, the more he realizes how clean he looks, which is weird. Ever since the walkers came and shit really went downhill, they were forced to bathe in the cold river and after a while, most of them said fuck it to being squeaky clean all the time. 

There is not a single speck of dirt on his sun-kissed face and the dark mess of curls covering his forehead and neck are shiny and fresh. He’s wearing new clothes, too, ones that he doesn’t recognize. 

It’s a good look for him. 

“So, why the sudden freakout?” Mitch tries to ask casually. “Ruby get a hold of you?”

Justing laughs, shaking his head. “Nah, not Ruby. Hey, uh-” he perks up, an almost timid look crossing over his features. “I got a question for you.”

“Shoot.”

“Okay,” Justin grins. “If you could make out with any of the girls here, who would you do?”

Mitch stiffens, nearly dropping the bird book.

“Uh, what?” 

“Any of the girls!” Justin says. “You can choose one to kiss and they have to kiss you back.”

“None of them,” he shrugs, answering honestly. 

“Dude, it’s the end of the fucking world. Now’s not the time to be picky.”

It’s not that he’s picky- well, maybe he is. Thinking about every girl that lives here at Ericson, not a single one jumps out to him as one he wants to kiss. 

“I’d rather fuck a walker.”

Laughter erupts from Justin, and through his chortle, he asks, “Mitch, dude, are you fucking serious? You’d rather fuck an actual dead, decaying walker than any of the girls?”

Yes, because he doesn’t want to kiss any of the girls. At all. 

“No, shithead, it’s gross.”

“Oh, but fucking a walker wouldn’t be?”

“No, that’d be gross, too.”

“C’mon, you can tell me,” Justin pries. “What about Brody? Or Erin, or Violet, or uh, Minnie?”

“Nope.”

“Dude.”

Shit, maybe he’s being too honest. 

That- fuck.

“Uhm, y’know what? Fine,” Mitch adds quickly, causing Justin to smirk. “Any girl?”

“Any girl.” 

The first name that comes to him is Minnie, but he can’t say that, so he says the second. 

“Brody.” 

Justin visibly relaxes, relieved by Mitch's answer. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, she’s hot.”

God fucking- he couldn’t have sounded any less enthusiastic. 

“Why are you even asking, anyway?” Mitch frowns, scratching nervously at his neck until a patch of redness blooms on the skin. 

Justin smiles excitedly, hopping up on the bed with him, far closer than Mitch would’ve liked. 

“What are you doing tonight?”

The question is simple but it still makes Mitch’s stomach churn in a bizarre way. 

“Uh, I don’t know. Nothing, I guess.”

“You don’t have any plans?”

Mitch’s pulse quickens. 

“Am I supposed to?” 

“No, I just- are you gonna be here?”

“Uh, yeah? Where else would I go to sleep?”

Justin considers this, stuttering out, “Right, no- yeah, right. That was a stupid question.” 

What the fuck is he saying? What is he asking? Why does he look so nervous? Why are Mitch’s palms beginning to sweat? 

“Do you think maybe you could... Uhm-”

Do you think I could maybe what?

“-go sleep somewhere else tonight?”

...What?

“What? Why?” 

“I need the room to myself tonight.”

“Why?” Mitch asks again. 

“I’m having company, okay? So, can you go sleep in Willy’s room tonight? I know he said he wanted to try being alone at night with his own room, which has been great for us not having to deal with him so much, but-”

“Wait, wait-” Mitch interrupts, having not really listened to Justin’s ramblings. “Who the fuck are you bringing here?”

A smile spreads across his full lips and in a sing-song voice, he answers, “Minnie.” 

Minnie? What the fuck- why the fuck is Minnie spending the night in their room? There’s no way in hell she agreed to something like that!

“Why?”

“I’m finally going for it, asshole! God, do I need to explain everything to you?” 

He’s going for it? A lump of panicked dread falls from his throat and soars down into his stomach. 

“I asked her to come here tonight to help me with a ‘secret project,’ right? So, when she gets here, the room’s gonna be super clean and I’m gonna light some candles and then- and then I’m gonna ask her to teach me to dance. Romantic, right?”

Mitch’s mouth goes dry.

"And we’ll be dancing and laughing and shit, and then I’ll go in for the kill and kiss her.”

“Kiss her?”

“Yeah, idiot, listen.” 

“You’re just gonna kiss her? Don’t you have to, like, ask?”

Justin snorts. “Dude, asking isn’t romantic.”

It’s not? 

Well, fuck, not that he knows anything about romance. It’s the one subject Mitch actively refuses to explore. 

Justin continues, “Then, after I give her the kiss of her life, I’ll ask her to be my girlfriend.”

He... he’s really thought this whole thing out. 

He’s had this infatuation with Minnie for weeks now, so he’s had plenty of time to think about. Justin makes it his number one priority to spend as much time with Minnie as he can, always shoving Sophie or Violet out of the way to hog all her attention, or ditching Mitch to do whatever she wanted him to, or constantly making fun of Louis so that Minnie would stop hanging around him. 

He actually went as far as to carve a bunch of nasty shit into Louis’ piano.

Yeah, because that’s the way to get someone’s attention and affection: be an asshole. Mitch may not know shit about this stuff, but somehow, he knows that’s not the right approach.

And Louis was so devastated about that, too...

"And for me to do all that,” Justin points at him, “you need to be gone tonight.” 

No.

No, no, no. 

No. 

It’s out before Mitch can even think, “Dumbass, she doesn’t even like you.” 

Fuck. 

Justin’s taken back by the harshness but returns it what a deep glare. 

“Fuck you, she does like me! She laughs at my jokes and she’s always touching my arm!”

That’s because Minnie’s a touchy person. She touches everyone. Mitch once had to snap at her for constantly trying to touch and fix his hair. 

“Uh-” Mitch panics. “Yeah, but everyone knows that she likes Louis.” 

It’s such a huge ass lie, holy shit, but it’s the first one to come across his mind. 

“Oh, fuck off,” Justin spits. “She does not!”

“Yes, she does, why do you think they’re always hanging out in the music room? Hell, they’re probably making out in there right now.” 

“Louis is the worst, though!”

“Apparently not since Minnie’s sucking face with him instead of you.” 

“Why are you being such an asshole?” Justin snaps, standing from the bed to glare down at him. “They aren’t together! We’d know if they were because Louis is an obnoxious idiot who can’t keep anything to himself.” 

“Y’know what? You’re right!” Mitch stands too, voice growing louder with every word, “we would know if they were together because Minnie’s also an attention whore and wouldn’t miss an opportunity-”

Justin shoves him, Mitch’s back hitting the top bunk of the bed, his head bouncing off the bar. Justin’s fists remain tangled in the collar, and he’s close, right up in Mitch’s face. 

"What’s your problem?” 

His problem? 

Fuck, he... he doesn’t even know! 

All he can focus on is how Justin’s nose is almost touching his. 

Mitch pushes him back hard enough for him to trip over a book and crash against the ground. 

“Ow! Fuck!” 

Mitch still, staring down at the wincing boy with wide eyes where he’s met with a glare. 

They don’t say anything, so Mitch bends down to grab the bird book and his bag. Without a word, Mitch quickly shoves some clothes into it and leaves, clutching the book against his chest, the pounding of his heart hot, rapid and deafening.  

Some of the others are walking around, and when he passes by the music room, he can hear Minnie singing and Louis’ playing. Someone- Violet, he thinks- makes a comment about the song, but Mitch doesn’t pay much attention. He considers joining them and warning Minnie about what she’s walking into tonight, but doesn’t. 

Let Justin make a fucking fool of himself. 

Fuck him, anyway. 

He’s...

Mitch turns down the hall right outside the music room and drops his bag. 

With his trusty pocket knife in hand, Mitch begins to carve.

JUSTIN FUCKED A WALKER

 He spends the rest of the afternoon making sure that no matter what hallway you’re in, this information is known. 

From Michael Hutchence to a Pirate: Why Luke Arnold's Career Is Sailing Smoothly

Luke Arnold has been working steadily as an actor in Australia for years, with roles on Winners & Losers and Rush, but the gig that really put him in the spotlight this year was his turn as Michael Hutchence in the two-part telemovie INXS: Never Tear Us Apart. Luke was praised for his performance as the iconic rock star, and now he's returning to the small screen as another familiar character: Long John Silver in the Starz action drama Black Sails. 

The show takes place before the events in Robert Louis Stevenson's novel Treasure Island, in the 1700s during the Golden Age of Piracy. There's a lot that happens in the pilot, including how Silver gets roped into the pirate industry, the set-up of a plan to find the ultimate treasure, and the battle for captaincy of the ships. There's also a lot of action and a little bit of pirate lovin'.

We caught up with Luke in Sydney yesterday ahead of the show's premiere on Showcase tonight at 9:40 p.m. to discuss the most fun thing about playing a pirate, what he took away from the experience of playing Michael Hutchence, and the craziest Hollywood party he's been to. 

Hint: it was at a famous socialite's house.

POPSUGAR Australia: Where are you based these days?

Luke Arnold: Cape Town, while we shoot Black Sails, and that's about seven months of the year. I have a couple of boxes of things in Cape Town, a couple of boxes of things in Melbourne, LA, same thing. Everywhere there's a guitar and a box of basics.

PS: How did you get the role?

LA: So for years I was going to LA once or twice a year, and it just kind of happened that I got cast in Black Sails. I did one audition with the casting director, then met the showrunner, the creator, did one more audition, and then got signed to the show! But when I was signed to it they still didn't know what character I was going to play. They said, "You're a pirate, you're on the show, but we'll work out who you are later on."

PS: So did you test for a few different pirates?

LA: Yeah. Well I auditioned for just Vane, one of the other roles, and never actually auditioned for Silver. They went, 'It depends who else we cast,' and they found Zach McGowan for Vane and so I became Silver.

PS: What's the most fun thing about playing a pirate?

LA: I think it's that you're allowed to be a pirate in real-life, a little bit. You kind of get an excuse, and almost an expectation, to be a little rowdier, maybe a little drunker, in day-to-day life. So yeah, I think that's that.

PS: Which scenes do you enjoy filming the most?

LA: The writers on the show are really fantastic, and also really going for poetry a lot. They're really writing some amazing stuff, and I think that's what you wait for; occasionally you just get these speeches that are beautiful to say, and you can really sink your teeth into. And at the same time I love a big action scene where I've got nothing to say, and just stuff to do. I don't know which I like more, but it's nice to be on a show where you get both. One day I'll just be running up and down a ship that's blowing up, and the next day you get a five-page monologue.

PS: What are those big actions scenes like? Is this the largest scale thing you've done in terms of production?

LA: Absolutely it is. This is one of the biggest television shows ever made, and while there's a lot of visual effects, we have the real ships and the real towns, and we blow up a lot of stuff. So it's amazing. And what's fun — we've done two seasons of Black Sails — is you still never get used to walking onto a new set. Or when you bring in someone else to check out the set for the first time, it's a nice reminder where you're like, 'Oh that's right, this is amazing.' It's just a huge playground we get to play with on the show.

PS: I noticed the director of the pilot is Neil Marshall, who's known for directing the big battle episodes for Game of Thrones. What was it like working with him?

LA: It was fantastic. And that's his trademark, really, he does big action stuff for TV. So having him for Black Sails was fantastic.

PS: I feel like there's a lot that happens in the first episode. What can you tell me about John Silver's story?

LA: There's a lot going on, and I do think the first half of season one is really setting the stage in a lot of ways. Even though the pirate story has been around for ages, because we're doing a grittier, more real, historically-accurate version, there is a lot of setting the scene, and establishing what this world really is. But for John Silver, well I'm the one who's not a pirate. I'm the one guy, when we begin the show, that isn't invested in this pirate world. Everyone else, it's high stakes, they're really serious and they've got big plans, and for Silver, he just wants to get his handful of gold, and then head off to the next place. I think he realises that it's a pretty dumb career choice, if you can avoid becoming a pirate. It's dangerous; it kind of sucks, really! It's not a fun life. So I think the kind of lightness that John has at the beginning comes from that, that he's not invested in this world and he's breezing through.

But the story for him, really, is knowing that it is about him being sucked into this world, becoming one of the crew, and eventually becoming Long John Silver in Treasure Island.

PS: What kind of prep did you have to do for the role? Were you familiar with the character from Treasure Island?

LA: Yeah. I think he's the kind of character that's permanently in pop culture, in a lot of ways since Treasure Island happened. So I'd read the book before, but I'd also seen Muppet Treasure Island, and some of the other versions. And you feel like that character has been referenced in so many other cartoons and things, so it was very familiar. I then did a lot of character research. Also, we all had to go back and look at all the historical stuff, to try and get out of our heads the stereotypes, the clichés, what pirates have become over years of storytelling, and instead try and go back to who these men and women really were.

PS: I also read that physically it was quite a lot of prep?

LA: Yeah, it was. I had a few weeks of training on my own, then we did like a three-week pirate boot camp in Cape Town. It was really full on. It was a mixture of training in the gym, fight training, sailing ships, taking all the modern rigging off and just doing it by hand. It was just exhausting. In a way it's different on a film because you've got longer to shoot any particular scene, you can put the stunt doubles in, you can work it out. We're shooting a big budget movie every couple of weeks, so we have to just do it, and do it over and over. If we hadn't done all this training, I wouldn't be able to do the job. You wouldn't be able to use any angles on me — like after two times of climbing rope up the side of the ship, I don't even know if I could've done it once before the training. But now, we'll do it 30, 50 times in a day.

PS: Do you still like working out in your spare time?

LA: At the end of season one I was really addicted to it. I actually think the rock star stuff got me out of the habit, because I almost had to stop training, and stop eating to play Michael Hutchence.

PS: So you did Black Sails first?

LA: Yep. I did season one of Black Sails, then did Never Tear Us Apart, then season two of Black Sails. That got me out of the habit, then I had to get back in the habit for season two. I do still enjoy it, but I'm not like a big gym junkie. I would more enjoy kicking up with beers in the mid-afternoon in the sun. But even though the first part of training was tough, I never felt as good as I did when I was at the peak of physical health, and feeling good and eating right. It's just the pain to get to that point — you have to go through that pain to get to the point where you feel really good.

PS: As you do get to shoot in such amazing locations, do you get much time off to relax?

LA: A lot, actually. We only ever shoot a five-day week — sometimes we do six days — but mostly it's a five-day week, and it's an ensemble show, so any day we're not shooting, which is often, we'll generally be rehearsing the next episode, or going off to do costume stuff. It means we do get a lot of half-days, and days off. And Cape Town is a beautiful place for be for time off. The only problem is it's a long way away, so even if you do get a few days off, it's not like you'll go, 'Oh, I'll go visit the family.' We're stuck there. But we definitely get enough downtime, and it's recovery time as well. When we do the big fight scenes, it's like being beaten up for 16 hours, so often we do just need that day. They work us hard when we're working, but the time off in between gives us a chance to recover.

PS: I was going through your Twitter recently and saw Never Tear Us Apart aired in the US recently. What was the reception like to that? Do you even know how people reacted?

LA: It was the same as the Australian one: mostly just on Twitter. I've had a lot of really positive response. You get all the INXS fans coming out of the woodwork, taking the effort to say how much they enjoyed it, my performance and the show. So that's been really great. It's kind of airing over a few weeks there, so it's rolling out and people are still discovering it; obviously it didn't have the same publicity push that we had here. It's nice for the show to get a really good response in the American market.

PS: What's the biggest thing you took away from your experience of playing that role?

LA: It was about how important the people you work with are. They talk about film as a collaborative medium, and it absolutely is. I know that Never Tear Us Apart, there are so many ways it could have not worked. It worked because every single person, from the unit guys who arrived first to set up with the crew area, to everyone involved with props and costume — everyone cared so much. No one was just treating it like a job. And that is why it turned out being as good as it is, because everyone went above and beyond the call of duty to make it great. And I think that was the biggest thing, to see that. And I didn't think I was going to enjoy it; like I really wanted the role, but I thought the pressure of the whole thing was going to make it stressful the whole time. But I had so much fun, and that was just by being around so many passionate people.

PS: Who's on your wish list to work with as a co-star, or director, or producer?

LA: Ooh. There are lots. The actors I'm really loving at the moment: Jeff Bridges and Sam Rockwell are guys I'm looking at as other actors, where you feel you learn so much just from watching them. I'm sure working with them would be really amazing. It's tough to say with directors, because there's so many. The wish list is so big these days. [Martin] Scorsese is always my absolute idol of directors. It's constantly changing, especially in the TV world.

PS: Which TV shows are you obsessed with at the moment?

LA: I'm watching quite a few: Hannibal, House of Cards. Louie is, I think, my all-time favourite show at the moment. And I am a Game of Thrones fan as well. And Breaking Bad, I still think it's the best show that's been on television.

PS: And the Emmys are tomorrow! Are you still into watching things like that?

LA: Yeah! But actually it's funny, less now that we're in TV. It's like, really, you go for the parties, and after-parties, really. Black Sails won two Emmys this year, because we had the Creative Arts Emmys already, so we got the special in visual effects and the sound editing. So we're now an Emmy Award-winning show.

PS: Have you been to any crazy or memorable Hollywood parties?

LA: The first week I was ever in LA, which was about five years ago, like the first weekend I was there, I ended up at Paris Hilton's house at a party. It was like the cliché, LA . . . Like it was my first week and I was meeting people, and they were like, "So, how are you doing in LA, are you settling in?" I was like, "Yeah, I was at Paris Hilton's house on the weekend!" They were like, "Oh, OK, you've settled in fine, then."

PS: Have you seen The Bling Ring?

LA: It's exactly like that. Yeah. When they're walking through, and they've got the club with the poles, it was the same thing. There's like a tequila dispenser in the walls, where you just hold your glass and get shots of tequila. And her face is on everything.

Source: PopSugar Au

Lukanetteweek day 2: family +day 3: confession

Day 1 Luka strung his guitar as he observed Marinette taking the measurements of Kitty Section’s band members. Rose and the others had approved of Mari’s designs. So now all that was left to do was making those designs a reality. She’d come to the garage where they’d been practicing their new song, without the speakers as not to disturb the neighbors too much. She’d come in right after they’d started and had cheered them on the whole time. She waited patiently until they were done before waving a notebook and measuring tape, indicating the reason for her presence. Adrien had apologized and left with the promise to send her his measurements. He had a shoot. She went on to measure Rose, Juleka and finally Ivan. The girls were easy enough for her. She went to work with confident practiced moves and a steady rhythm. Measure, write, measure, write. Measure, complement, write. When it came to Ivan she needed some help from Juleka. When she saw the slight flash of insecurity on his face she comforted him by saying that Mylene must feel so safe having someone so big and strong to look after her. After she got all of his measurements down they all left. The girls had a double date with Ivan and Mylene. “Gues it’s my turn huh?” he concluded as he put his guitar away before getting up to walk towards her, hands casually shoved in his pockets. Marinette nodded without looking, turning over a page in her notebook and presumably writing down his name on top of her prepared sheet. He could see a slight blush forming on her cheeks. Was she nervous about touching him? That was kind of cute. “So what first?” he asked patiently. He had no where to be which was why he’d waited until everyone with plans had their turn. “Uhm,” she hesitated, playing with the pen in her hand.”You probably should take your hoodie off... for accurate measurements.” He nodded in understanding and took of the extra layer. It was kind of chilly in the garage, but it couldn’t be helped. Unless he wanted his shirt to be two sizes too big. Marinette closed her eyes, took a deep breath and when she opened them she had a determined look in her eyes. Her posture straightened and she walked towards him with a confidence one wouldn’t have expected of her judging by how she acted only seconds before. Except Luka had already seen her passionate, determined and confident under pressure. That she felt the need to give herself a peptalk for him was kind of flattering. Still he hoped she’d soon be comfortable enough around him to just be herself without second guessing her actions. “I’ll start with your back and shoulders,” she informed him as she walked around. “Whatever you say Miss Dupain-Cheng,” he smirked. He felt her delicate hands follow the line of his shoulders as she aligned the measuring tape. He heard a short hum before her hands disappeared ass she moved to write her findings down. Then her hands moved along his spine and he resisted the urge to move. No need for her to find out he was ticklish right now. “Can you put up your arms?” He did as he was told. She measured the circumference of his upper arm, his lower arm and his wrist. Then she measured the length of his upper and lower arm before she walked back around to stand in front of him. The blush had reappeared on her cheeks. “Now comes the awkward stuff huh?” he smirked, which lead to her blushing more intensely. She looked up apologetically and nodded. “I’m not very used to doing this... I mean I’ve taken measurements before, but usually from people I’ve know all my live... It’s different.” She fumbled with the tape, looking everywhere except at him. “Well I’m glad you get to practice overcoming this with me. You want to be a professional designer someday right? You’ll probably have to take a lot of measurements of models before you get to the point where you can pay someone to do that for you,” he mused. Marinette nodded. “Yeah. First I’ll have to built a portfolio and then I need to apply at IFA, take the exam, then when I get in I need to tale on internships. I’ll apply for one at Gabriel and work my way up trough the ranks and by the time I graduate I’ll be offered a job as a designer.” Luka smiled at the excitement in her eyes. “Well you’ve planned out your entire career it seems.” She blushed at his remark. “But I wonder what a bout your family life? Have you figured that out yet?” She seemed like the kind of girl that had her wedding half-planed and her house picked out before she graduated college. “well...” Yep, she was definitely that kind of girl. “I may have a few ideas for my wedding dress drawn out,” she admitted. “I dream of a beautiful house near the Seine. And we’d have three kids. Emma, Louis and Hugo. And a pet hamster.” Luka chuckled. “A hamster?” he queried. “I love hamsters,” she insisted. He held his hands up in surrender. “I can almost imagine it myself actually. You making coffee, a pencil in your hair and a notebook in your pocket in case of emergency’s. Emma drawing pretty dresses at the kitchen table while the boys are climbing the tree in the garden.” She nodded at the picture he painted. She gestured for him to spread his arms again. It seemed that engaging her mind with this fantasy helped her to keep her mind of of worrying about things getting awkward. “I don’t expect any of my kids to pursue fashion actually. If they want to that’s fine. But especially since I’ve seen how being pushed into his father’s business is weighing down on Adrien, I wouldn’t want to do that to my little angels,” she explained as she measured his chest, not even blinking while she reached around him, coming almost chest to chest. “I just want them to be kind, considerate and happy,” she smiled as she wrote down his size. “If they take after their mother you won’t have to worry about those first two. And the latter can’t possibly be a problem. Between you and your parents, plus an honorary aunt like Alya...” he wanted to say more, but an accidental graze from her thumb against his stomach caused to cut himself off with a sharp intake of breath. Dang... That was his weak spot. “Luka?” Marinette looked up at him confused, but then realization dawned on him. Mischievous Marinette was both very cute and a terrifying sight. “Are you ticklish?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. One hand lifted as though she wanted to let him know that she would put him to the test if he denied it. “... Yes,” he admitted and he was rewarded with a giggle. “That’s adorable,” she managed between fits of laughter. “Yeah... Little hint, don’t embarrass your professional models like that. Their ego’s are most likely a whole lot more fragile than mine,” he muttered in mock annoyance. Mari nodded and went back to work. Apearantly learning that he was ticklish was the icebreaker needed to make her at ease, since she took the rest of his measurements in comfortable silence. When she was done she got up and checked her notebook one last time. Luka was ready to grab his guitar and leave, but then she grabbed him by the arm and spun him around. “I forgot about your hat!” she exclaimed. He looked at her confused. “I have cold weather accessories planned for everyone,” she explained while she reached on her tiptoes to measure the circumference of his head. He should’ve sat down for this. He should’ve stopped her when he noticed she was too hurried to think straight. But she’d wanted to get this last one done quickly, he had been taken by surprise. And now they were both falling to the ground. On instinct Luka wrapped his body around hers to make sure he’d break her fall. When they hit the ground he broke the force of the fall by rolling them both over a few times. This resulted in him crouching down above a dazed and blushing Marinette. For one breathless moment his attention was captivated by her lips, but then that moment passed and he, once again, got a clear sight of his priorities. “Are you alright?” he breathed. Mari nodded and with a sigh of relief he helped her up “I’ll take a seat this time,” he smirked, earning an apologetic smile. “That’s probably for the best,” she agreed. After she’d taken this one last measurement she packed her things.while he contemplated that split second where he’d wanted to act without thinking the consequences trough. He was always a ‘go with the flow’ kind of guy. But he knew that with matters of the heart he needed to be careful. “See you Luka!” Mari called behind him. He acted on instinct. “Wait!” he exclaimed as he grabbed her wrist. Urgently but not too hard. Marinette looked up at him in surprise. “I feel like I need to tell you this... To make sure that there’s no misunderstanding I need you to know that I don’t expect anything from you. But I want you to know how I feel regardless. I like you Marinette. Enough that I want to find out if I might be the lucky man who one day gets to see you in that dress you sketched, to carry you trough the doorway of the little house by the seine. I want to find out if I might be so lucky as to find myself the father of those three children. And maybe I’m not. But I feel like if I don’t let you know this now then I’ll spend the rest of my life regretting it. You are the song I want to sing Marinette. But I’d understand if you don’t feel that way. I’ve seen you look at Adrien... But still, sometimes I think I catch you looking at me that way.” Marinette was silent for a minute. “You really mean that? You like me as more than a friend?” she asked breathlessly. Luka nodded, his face serious. “The truth is Luka, I don’t know how I feel right now... Would you give me time? To sort out my heart? I’d understand if you don’t want to wait for that. I feel selfish for even asking...” “Not at all!” he insisted. “I told you i didn’t expect you to do anything with this. And you should never feel pressured to feel anything for anyone.Thank you for listening to what i had to say.” Marinette smiled and gave him a playful shove. “How come you’re so mature?” she wondered. Luka shrugged. “I spent a lot of time listening,” was all he had to say. She accepted this as an explanation and after a short moment of hesitation she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving. Luka sighed. His heart felt lighter, now that he’d confessed. And while some would consider a ‘maybe’ as worse than a straight out ‘no’, he knew that this was the most that Marinette was able to offer at this point. When she spoke he could hear the conflict inside her. If he’d have to put it into notes it would be a confusing piece, fluctuating in tempo, volume and tone. She needed time. And he was happy to give her that gift. Regardless of the result. Day 4 part 1 Part 2 Day 5&6 Day 7

The First Bite

Characters: little Dean Winchester, little Sam Winchester, appearance by Bobby Singer Rating: E for everyone Warnings: allusion to child abandonment, allusion to child endangerment, scared child, angst, a little bit of fluff Summary: A small country store, the best pie in the county, and a boy looking for work.  The story of how Dean fell in love with pie. Word Count:  6,400-ish (holy crap, I wrote all that?!) A/N: I read a Tumblr post that talked about why adult-Dean always chipmunk’s his food and has a deeply passionate love affair with pie.  And so, I came up with this slice of heartbreak.

A huge “thank you” to the phenomenal writers @thesassywallflower and @percywinchester27 for being my betas!  The kind feedback from your talented perspectives is so appreciated!

This is a work of fiction based upon characters created and owned by the CW.  My work is not be published without my written permission.

(1st ever moodboard by me.  Photo cred. to owners via Google)

Effingham, IL ~ 1988-ish

Knees creaking as he descended the stairs, Louis “Louie” Moenning ambled over to the window of the store, and switched on the “Open” light.  Just like clockwork, Owen Weis drove by and honked his hello as he sped down US 40 to work, Louie waved his reply as he unlocked the front door.  Coffee maker fired up, popcorn machine plugged in, Louie worked his way down his morning punch list.

Once Effingham got all modern and built a Walmart, business at his little store had taken a real hit. But, then that Schultz fellow helped build the giant ‘Cross of the Crossroads’ out on Highway 70, and he had enough tourist traffic to keep the lights on. Things had been pretty quiet lately, though.  Louie paused to enjoy the view of blue sky as he looked northeast towards town.  Vic and Ada Lovelace had stopped by yesterday with a couple of bushels of apples from their trees.  Vic Lovelace was by no means a reliable source of information, but Louie always enjoyed chatting with him.

“Heard George Prescott down at the diner say they’re having that same problem at St. Anthony’s again.  Up on the mama floor.  Lights won’t stay on, and he’s checked the wiring top to bottom.  I’m telling you, it’s a spirit.  It’s a spirit from that fire in ‘49,” the old coot insisted, slapping his knee for emphasis.  

Nodding exaggeratedly, Louie poured the other man a cup of coffee.  “Sure, Vic.  Probably one of them nuns.  Better watch she don’t smack you with an invisible ruler for snitching my caramels when you think I’m not lookin’.”

A mischievous grin touched Louie’s face when he recalled Vic’s scandalized expression.  He didn’t buy into all that nonsense, and no spirit had been thieving his candy for years.

“Don’t forget to water the plants!” The reminder echoed down the stairs from the living quarters above.  Louie just grunted as he bent down to unlock the safe.  Violet and her plants.  He swore that woman had a whole green hand, not just a thumb, with her knack for growing things.  The old bell jingled a welcome as the front door opened, and Louie kicked the safe shut and stood.

A wiry young boy, maybe 9 or 10 years old, stood just inside, holding the stack of the day’s newspapers Marchie had dropped off for him.  Serious green eyes stared up at him as he keeled back from the strain.  

“Well, thank you for hefting those, let me take ‘em.  You’re a might young to be handling that,” Louie hustled to take the load from the youngster.

“Thank you, sir, but I got it.  Where do you want ‘em?”  Louie nodded in recognition at a man’s pride, staying just close enough to grab something if need be.

“Right over there by that metal rack, if you don’t mind, son.  Yep, that’s perfect,” praised the old man as the lad carefully plopped them down, scooting the string-tied stack as close to the rack as possible.  Faded blue eyes squinted down at him, and Louie offered him a smile.  “You must be new around here.  Think I know all the kids.”

“Just passing through.  You mind if I look around?”

Another smile touched Louie’s face.  “Not at all.  I got me a few comic books at the end of the magazines down there,” he pointed.  The youngster’s mouth pulled up at the corner in a half-smile before he turned towards the aisles.  Rounding the counter, Louie watched the little stranger for a moment.  He was in the grocery aisle, staring studiously where Louie knew the chips, crackers, beef jerky, and the like were displayed.  He shook his head fondly as he squatted back down by the safe - growing boys are always hungry.  

The front door bell rang again, snagging Louie’s attention.  A fellow walked in, worn quilted vest tossed over a flannel button-down.  A ragged ball cap, so faded the logo couldn’t be read, sat on top of longish dirty blond hair - a mullet, Marchie would have called the cut.  Louie could smell the stale cigarettes on him from here.  From the bloodshot eyes and hand tremors, he figured the stranger was beyond hungover.

“Help you, sir?” Louie called out, startling the man.

“You got coffee?” His shoulders hunched behind the query as he shifted on his feet awkwardly.  Louie hesitated a moment before lifting his chin towards the machine.

“Brewing right now.  First pot might be done.”  The stranger turned, hesitated, then fidgeted his way to the coffee pot.  Louie watched him for another moment; when he did nothing more than pour himself a cup of coffee, he returned to his task.  His fingers hurried to open the safe to get the cash drawer, his memory seeing the gun he kept under the counter.

Movement out of the corner of his eye drew his glance up - the hungover stranger stood at the end of the counter, staring at him.  The hairs on the back of Louie’s neck prickled, and he cursed his bad knee when he couldn’t get his feet under him to stand.

“That coffee’ll be fifty cents.  If you want to come around this way to the front, I can help you there,” Louie offered, a clear warning in his voice.  The stranger didn’t move, just stood silently, coffee dribbling over his shaking fingers to the floor.  “Mister, you step around here to the front, and you can pay and get on the road.”

Just when Louie was about to scramble for that gun, the rack of chewing gum and breath mints on top of the counter toppled over, slamming into the stranger.  As he cursed and grappled with the metal stand, cellophane packages raining in all directions, Louie climbed to his feet and pulled the gun free, placing it visibly on the counter.  

“Sorry about that, Pops.  By the way, I forgot to tell you.  Chief Nelson from the PD said he’d be stopping by at 8:30 this morning to drop off that book.  I told him that would be okay.”

Swallowing past his suddenly dry throat, Louie nodded gently at his green-eyed back up.

“That’s just fine, sport.  We’ll clean this up in a minute.  Why don’t you call down to the station and ask Nelson to join us for breakfast?”  Before the lad could reply, the stranger bolted for the door and ran.  Louie took a moment to calm his afib, then turned to look at the boy.

“Young man, you just helped me in a mighty big way.  Thank you.”

Thin little shoulders shrugged as he studied his shoes.

“It was no big deal.  He needed to get bent.”

Louie wasn’t sure what ‘get bent’ meant, but he nodded in agreement.  “Well, it was a heckfire lot more than ‘no big deal’.  I figure that fella planned to rob me.”

His little saviour stared out the door after the ne’er-do-well, shaking his head.  “Humans suck.”

Chuckling, Louie carefully stepped over the spilled packs of gum and righted the metal rack back onto the counter.  Without a word, the lad started scooping handfuls of gum to the counter while Louie grumbled to himself as he scooted the rack into place.  When he turned back, he smiled to see all that gum being studiously stacked by brand and flavor.  Louie watched the young man for another moment before reached down and scooped up the cash drawer, fishing out a shiny silver dollar as he wedged it in the register.  He smacked the coin down by the boy’s elbow with a flourish, then extended his hand out.

“Young man, I don’t know your name, but I’m Louie Moenning.  I’d be pleased to shake your hand, and I hope you’ll take that as a thanks for your help this morning.”  The kid surprised him by looking at his hand first, then the money, before putting his own smaller hand in his.  The strength and calluses in his grip further surprised Louie.

“Dean Winchester.  You don’t have to pay me for that.  Just doing what’s right.”

Such grown up wisdom in such a little fella.  “Well, Dean, consider it payment for hauling in that newspaper and stacking up the gum nice n’ neat.  Hard to get any help from young people these days.”  Louie busied himself setting the packages back on the rack; from the corner of his eye, he watched Dean stare at the silver dollar, then glance back towards the grocery section that had earlier engrossed him before he joined in restocking the gum.

Footsteps on the stairs announced Violet on her way down.  He grinned when his bride appeared in the white dress with big yellow flowers he’d given her for her birthday.  She complained she looked like old wallpaper, but he thought she looked just like Princess Di.  Wonder if Prince Charles ever got the glare Vi was shooting at him now?

“You didn’t water the plants, did you?” she accused, hands on her hips.

“Now, Vi, I had a customer, and this young man was kind enough to help me.”  

Violet’s brown eyes began to sparkle as she smiled.  “Louie!  Have you finally changed your mind about hiring some help?”

He blinked at her in confusion.  “No, no, Violet, I-”

“He looks like a strapping young man, too.  Think you can handle boxes when orders come in?”

Dean snapped to attention.  “Yes, ma’am.  I can carry boxes just fine.”

“Violet-”

“How are you at sweeping?”

“Real good.  I can sweep really good.”

“Vi-”

“Stocking shelves?”

“Violet!” Louie frowned at his wife.  This was getting away from him.  Yes, they’d talked about him hiring a helper, but he didn’t know this boy, helpful or not.

The boy in question turned those green eyes back to him, earnest and hopeful.  “Mr. Moenning, I’d be happy to help you out for a few days.  I can be here at sunup, and I’ll work till dark.  Whatever job you need me to do.  You don’t have to pay me much.”

Shooting his wife an exasperated look, Louie folded his arms over his chest.  “How much you figure ‘not much’ is, son?”

Dean looked down at the floor, then cast a brief glance over his shoulder towards the shelves behind him.  Neither of the Moennings saw his fingers twitch as he counted.  “Two dollars and thirty-four cents.”

Both Moennings blinked at the strangely specific amount, then turned to regard each other.  Louie pursed his lips when he saw the mulish set to Violet’s chin, and sighed.

“Mr. Winchester, I’ll tell you what.  You go out front and water Miss Violet’s plants for me, and I’ll pay you that two dollars and thirty-four cents.  Alright?”

“Yes, sir.”  The boy hurried out the door, and Louie turned to his wife.

“Violet Iola Moenning.  What do you think you’re up to?”

“Louis Daniel Moenning.  Your promised me you would hire a helper.  And one shows up practically gift wrapped.”

“But, Vi, we don’t even know this boy.  He said he was just passing through.  For all we know, his family could be mixed up in all kinds of...ne’er-do-well stuff!” Louie sputtered at his wife.  She scoffed at him as she stepped forward to peer out the window.

“Nonsense!  Just look at him.  He’s even got the water pressure turned down so the water doesn’t plow into the dirt.  That little man is being real gentle with my petunias.  Better than you’ve ever been,” she scolded with a side eye in his direction.  He only harrumphed as he came around to join her studying the boy.  

“Well…,” Louie watched as Dean finished up watering, and began carefully coiling the hose - more so than he was wont to, he had to admit.  “He was mighty helpful this morning.  Thinks good on his feet.”

Sensing victory, Violet patted his arm gently as she wrapped her other arm about his waist.  “And since he’s not staying long, it would just be for a few days.  Like a test shot those car salesmen talk about.”

“Test drive, Vi.”

His wife only sniffed.  “He may need to make arrangements, so you pay him his money and tell him to come back tomorrow.”

Knowing he’d well and truly lost, Louie only sighed as Violet took herself back up stairs.  The bell jingled again as Dean returned, and Louie had to smile at the hopeful look on his face.  Moving back to his spot behind the counter, he opened the register. “Well, now, Mr. Winchester.  For your help this morning, here is two dollars and thirty-four cents.  You go on now and enjoy your day, and I’ll see you back here 8 o’clock sharp.  Deal?”“Deal.”  Green eyes crinkled a bit as Dean grinned at him before he studied the money in his hand.  “Would it be okay if I bought a couple things?”“It’s your money, son.  You’ve earned it.”  Without a word, Dean spun and hustled toward the shelves.  Certain he’d be returning with a comic book, Louie shut the register and finished piling the gum and mints where they belonged.  The boy returned in a quick minute, carefully placing a box of Ritz crackers, a small can of Vienna sausages, and a can of Coke on the counter.  Almost proudly, he slid the silver dollar from earlier and the newer coins and $1 note towards Louie.“Thank you, Mr. Moenning.  I’ll be here in the morning.”  Chuckling to himself, Louie bagged up the foodstuffs for the boy and waved him out the door, watching him run west down the highway.  Growing boys and their food - he should have figured.

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

Louie guessed he shouldn’t have been surprised that the young Mr. Winchester was a man of his word.  What he wasn’t prepared for was how the boy gave him a heart attack by popping up in front of the door just as he was unlocking the next morning.  While he calmed his afib down, Dean proved his readiness to get to work.  Newspapers were hefted in, the string pocket knifed free, and the daily dose of headlines plopped in the rack.  Louie couldn’t help the approving smile he gave the boy as he directed him to the wash closet for a broom.

That day set the pace for the next four.  Dean would be waiting on the doorstep well before 8:00am, and always got right to work - newspapers, sweeping, dusting.  Wednesday was soda truck day, and the boy dragged or pushed cases like a pro.  Thursday brought Robbie with the food goods delivery, and again, he found himself impressed at the boy’s stick-to-it attitude with the bulky packages of canned goods, bottles, and the like.  

At noon, Violet brought him lunch, happily adding an extra plate for the boy.  Dean always stared at the sandwich, chips, and cookie for a moment.  He’d thank Violet politely, ask if he could eat it later, and return to work when given permission.  The first two times it happened, he and Violet just shrugged at each other.  The plate always stood empty by afternoon.  The third time, Violet had to dash off to lunch at a friend’s, and Louie got a phone call.  The fourth time, Violet didn’t want to take ‘no’ for an answer.

The day had started rainy, with Dean surprising him with his absence from the doorstep.  Louie caught himself staring out at the highway, looking in both directions for a glimpse of the boy.

“He’s late?” Violet’s query sounded behind him.  Louie grunted his reply.  “He shouldn’t be out in this rain.”

Dean was a surprisingly reticent ten year old, proving himself an expert in classic rock and hand tools, but unwilling to talk about much else.  Louie realized with a pang he didn’t even know where the boy was staying.  When he turned around, Violet stood wringing her hands as she squinted into the downpour.  “He’ll be wet through when he gets here.  I’ll go make something hot to drink.”  She spun on her heel and hurried back upstairs.

Silently, Louie went about his normal routine - coffee maker, popcorn machine, cash drawer - 8:08am.  The quiet store, so familiar from before, seemed altogether too quiet without the serious little worker bee of the last three days.  The elder Moenning shook his head and ambled to the wash closet for the ‘wet’ rug.  Any customers today were sure to track in water, needed to give them somewhere to wipe their boots.  As he struggled with the bulky, awkward floor mat, the bell jingled.

“That you, Dean?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Glad you made it!  I’ll be right there!” he called out.  No answer came from the boy as Louie finished wrestling the mat out, carrying it to lean against the counter for a moment.  Dean wasn’t just inside the door as he expected; a slight scuffle-ish sound drew his attention to the back.  Dean appeared, looking like a half-drowned pup, wet wedges of dark hair dripping into his eyes.  He’d tried to keep the worst of the rain off with a trash bag, but Louie could hear the squelching of his soaked shoes from here.

“My goodness, boy!  Am I glad to see you.  You didn’t have to come all this way today!  Couldn’t your dad drive you?”  Louie hurried to drag out the old space heater from under the counter, ignoring the complaints of the coils as they heated up while he peeled the boy’s sodden jacket off of him.  

“He’s working.  ‘S alright, I wanted to be here.”

“Louie, is that Dean?”

“Yes, Vi, he’s here.”  Muted exclamations filtered down, staccatoed with Violet’s footsteps above them.  Moments later, she pounded down the stairs as Louie tried to urge Dean to kick off his shoes.

“Heavens to goodness, child!  You’re soaked through!  Here - you sit right there and drink this.  I made you my special hot chocolate.”

Dean’s shoulders hunched, his hands bunched with discomfort.  “I don’t want to make any trouble.  I’m fine.  I tracked a bunch a’ water in, I’ll go get the mop.”  When Louie and Violet wouldn’t rest till he’d drunk the beverage, the boy chugged it in four swallows and bolted for the mop without a word.

The rain kept customers away.  After he wrung out his socks and shoes and studiously mopped up the tracked-in water, Louie had Dean tackle expired products. After setting him up with empty boxes for the refuse, Louie started a deep clean of the popcorn machine.  It gave the older man a chance to think and watch.  

No one could ever complain about the determination with which the boy went after each chore,  not one too menial or too dirty.  He attacked the pesky dustpan-leftovers line and straightened magazines with a precision he remembered from his Marine uncle.  No complaints, no stopping to rest, just a serious gaze and busy hands.  Maybe too serious.

Ready to give credit where credit was due to the father who clearly taught Dean an impressive work ethic, as Louie watched the boy today, he was more ready to give him a piece of his mind.  Faint shadows flagged the boy’s eyes, and more than once, he paused from his work.  Catching his breath?  A small hand rubbed between his eyes.  Headache?  Louie wasn’t sure, but he did know whoever this Winchester was, he wasn’t taking care of his son.

When Violet reappeared with lunch, she’d done some extra fussing.  Their ham and cheese sandwiches had an L and a D carved in the bread, the chips arranged in a circle around them.

“Here we are!” she sang out, handing both working men a plate.  Louie pressed a kiss to her cheek, offering her a warm smile as he sat down.

“You’ve been reading Betty Crocker again, haven’t you, Vi?”  He chuckled when she shooed him away, turning to face the boy as he tried to slink away.

“Now, young man, you’ve been working like a fiend messing with all those cans and boxes.  I insist you take a break and eat your lunch right now.  I can’t have you gettin’ sick on me!” she exclaimed, urging the boy to the folding chair she’d set out for him.  Louie nodded his approval as he gestured with his sandwich to Dean.

“Come on, Dean.  Break time.  Work’ll still be there after we eat.”  Dean squirmed a bit under their watchful gazes, then took a bite.  Satisfied, Violet turned to her husband.

“Ada’s going to drop by my Avon order today, if she wants to get out in this rain.”

“Whaddya get?”

“Just a lipstick.  I was out of Bold Orchid.”

Louie shook his head as he chewed around a chip.  “You mean, the pink one?”

“Louis Moenning, you have no fashion sense.”

“I agree, dear.  It’s a good thing I have you.”  When Dean scooted off his chair to amble towards the back, they paid him no mind - he’d been told time and again to help himself to a soda.  

“They got any more apples ready?”

“I hope so, I put the last of them in a pie for after dinner.”

Dean reappeared, chewing the last of his sandwich as he offered his empty plate to Violet.  “Thank you, Mrs. Moenning.”

She patted the boy’s cheek fondly.  “Of course, hun!  I love to see clean plates!”

He shrugged his shoulders a bit awkwardly, turning to Louie.  “Mr. Moenning, the coffee machine stopped working again.  Want me to unplug it and get the tools?”

Louie grumbled to himself, telling Dean, “yeah, let’s take another look at it.”

Violet smacked a pink/Bold Orchid kiss to his forehead, taking the plates back upstairs.  While Dean dug in the closet for the tool box, Louie approached the coffee machine.  As he stared accusingly at the cursed contraption, a movement to his right caught his attention.  Louie glanced over at the display of umbrellas - one must have fallen and opened, for the dome of the thing showed out towards the store.  With a careful lean, Louie snagged the item, wiggling it when it appeared to get stuck on something on its way.

A pair of huge hazel eyes stared up at him, startling Louie something fierce.

“What the...who are you?” he stumbled out, reaching down to tug the youngster to his feet.  Small, swimming in a too-big rain jacket, the little curly top looked absolutely petrified.  His bottom lip trembled, his hands shook - holding a ham and cheese sandwich with a D carved in the bread.  Flummoxed beyond description, Louie took a step back.  “What is going on here?”  

In a blink, the little mister mustered up a scowl, trying to look mean.  Then, he squared himself up into a miniature little boxer’s stance.

Louie didn’t remember a lot about the next few moments except pain, shouts, more pain, crying, and stars and black dots in his vision.  Gradually, Violet’s voice threaded its way into the mess.

“Louie!  Louie, what happened?  Dean, who is this boy?  It’s alright, hun, don’t cry - Louie if you don’t open your eyes this instant, I’m calling an ambulance!”

Growling under his breath, Louie tried to roll to his side, cupping his throbbing manhood gingerly.  “Don’t call an ambulance!” he barked out.  After another moment of Violet’s whispered reassurances, Louie dragged in a deep breath as a different voice came through.

“I’m so sorry!  I’m sorry!  He didn’t mean to, it was my fault!  I’m responsible, please don’t punish him.  I’m sorry!”

Dean.  It was Dean’s voice.  Louie forced his eyes open and saw his serious little soldier clutching the pint-sized boxer to him, tears running down his face.  While Violet steadied him, Louie made his way to his feet, the pain in his crotch still keeping him hunched over.

“Alright, everybody,” he declared, still short of breath.  “Alright, let’s everybody calm down.  Violet, why don’t you go get a couple more chairs?  I think we all gotta do some talking.”

Five minutes later, the four of them sat facing each other.  The littler little boy was wedged firmly against Dean, Dean’s arm tight around his shoulders.  The bedraggled ham sandwich had long ago lost the fight, laying in limp chunks from the youngster’s chubby fingers.  When Violet had offered to take it, the boy had clutched it closer; Louie knew the heartbreak in his wife’s eyes mirrored his own.

“Dean, why don’t you introduce us to this young man?” Louie started, adjusting the icy liter bottle of beer against his abused parts.  Pale, solemn, Dean tightened his arm around the little boy’s shoulders.

“This is Sam.  He’s my brother.”  The boy’s voice croaked with the words.  A ten-year old’s terror trembled his chin for a moment, belied by the protective ferocity glowering from him.  Louie nodded while Violet tried a winning smile at little Sam.  

“It’s very nice to meet you, Sam.  Sam, I’m Louie Moenning, and this is my wife, Violet.”  Sam ducked his chin in answer, looking for all the world like he was trying to disappear.  Louie thought another moment before he spoke again.  “I’m sorry I scared you earlier.  You packed me a real good punch.  Did your brother teach you to do that?  Hit a man in the privates if you think he’s going to hurt you?”

A beat of silence, then the little boy nodded.  “He said they’d go down like a potato and leave me alone,” came the tiny answer.

Louie had to smile at that, chagrined as it was.  “Well, Dean was right.  I sure went down like a potato.  And, again - I’m sorry I scared you.”

Serious hazel eyes blinked at him before he offered Louie a nod, then looked up at his brother.  “Dean, is that the lady who made the sandwiches you brought me?”

“Yeah, that’s her.”

Sam turned a shy smile to the lady.  “They were real good, even with the cheese.  Dean said I could pick it off and just eat the ham.  Was that okay?”

Louie blinked at the question, watching Violet’s head tilt a bit in confusion as she cleared her throat.

“That was absolutely okay.  Now - I know the sandwich you’ve got there has cheese on it, and it looks a little tired.  Why don’t you come with me, and I’ll make you a new one with no cheese?” she asked gently, holding a hand out to him.  Sam shrank back against Dean’s side, looking up at him fearfully.  “Oh, don’t you worry, hun.  Dean’s coming for a new sandwich, too.”

Astonishment blinked from Dean’s green eyes as his gaze shot between the two Moennings.

“No, I - I gotta get back to work.  You don’t pay me for sitting around.”  

Memories flipped through Louie, awareness stitching sadness behind.  The very specific $2.34 and the carefully chosen groceries.  The disappearing sandwiches.  The absent father.  The clear fatigue and headache from earlier.  Dean’s actions were more than just protective over his brother.  He was raising his brother - earning money, buying food, sacrificing in a man-sized way from his little boy heart.

Clearing his throat once, twice, Louie tried to smile.  “That’s alright, Dean.  You’ve earned a break.  You go on and help Mrs. Moenning upstairs.”

As soon as the three disappeared upstairs, Louie closed the store up.  There was more important work to be done.

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If little Sam’s words had  broken Violet’s heart, those shared at their dinner table stomped all over the leftover bits.  Sam, who she learned just turned five, often lifted hazel eyes to Dean, waiting for his nod before answering questions or making a move.  She’d made a double-batch of her famous Sloppy Joe sandwiches, along with crinkle cut French fries, pickles, tall glasses of chocolate milk, and no cheese for Sam.  Gradually, the littlest Winchester warmed up to her. He chattered about how strong Dean was when he piggybacked him to and from the motel seven whole times now.  About all the ‘radical’ bugs he’d found under the big tree by their fence where he waited each day for Dean.  How Dean taught him his numbers to the Scooby-doo song.

Dean, on the other hand, sat as silent as stone.  He wouldn’t touch one morsel of food until after he saw his brother’s plate filled and several bites down the hatch.  After the hushed conversation she’d had with Louie, Violet wondered when Dean had last had a first bite of something without having to worry about whether his brother was hungry.  When the sandwich platter was empty, and the little faces were pleasingly sauce-smudged, Violet ducked into the kitchen and returned with the apple pie she’d baked earlier.

“Now, I hope you boys like pie!  My Violet makes the best in the county.  She won a blue ribbon for her apple pie,” Louie praised.  She blew him a kiss as she began to slice.

“Do I like pie?” Sam whispered to his brother as Dean wiped his face.

“You will, don’t worry,” came the confident whisper in reply.  Louie sent his bride a proud smile as she placed a huge slice in front of each boy.  Curiously, she handed only Dean a fork before she continued slicing for the two of them.

“You go ahead, Dean, tell me what you think,” Violet encouraged nonchalantly, seemingly very involved in her cutting.  Dean looked over at Sam, who simply watched his brother disarmingly.  The older boy looked downright uncomfortable before turning to his brother.

“Here, Sammy, I’ll take the next fork.”

“That’s alright, Dean, I’m counting on you as my expert taste tester.  You show your brother how eating apple pie is done.”  Violet served up another slice with aplomb, and Louie quickly realized her endgame.  He busied his hands holding the pie plate for Violet, both of them watching Dean from the corners of their eyes.

Tentatively, Dean dug the tines into the pastry, coming away with a healthy chunk of golden fruit.  The syrupy goodness, delicately dusted with spices, coated the apple luxuriously.  When Sam nudged his elbow with a, “go on, show me!”, Dean carefully took the bite.  As the flavors unraveled in his mouth, Louie couldn’t bite back the grin when the boy’s eyes drifted shut.

“Mmmm,” he murmured absently.  Violet smiled, radiant in her glee, as she handed Sam a fork with a flourish.

“There you go, young man!” she crowed.  “Show us what you learned from a master pie taste tester!”  Smiles abounded across the table as everyone enjoyed the dessert; and if Dean’s smile was a trifle brighter, a bit more grateful, no one was the wiser.

While Violet had the boys help her clear the table, the doorbell downstairs summoned Louie to the little-used “front door”.  Ada Lovelace stood there, bag in hand, smiling up at the bearded man behind her holding the umbrella.

“Ada, hello!  Come to sell my beautiful wife beauty products she don’t need?”  

The woman trilled a laugh as she lifted the bag.  “And bring you apples!  Louie, this man has a question for you about someone.  Robert, was it?”

“Bobby, ma’am.  Bobby Singer.”  The newcomer paused as Louie ushered them both in the entry way out of the rain.  He removed his hat, showing a head of thinning, reddish hair that matched his beard as he shook hands with Louie in greeting.  “I’m sorry to bother you, Mr. Moenning, but I’m looking for a couple of boys.  Man down at the Field & Dream Motel back a mile or so said they headed this way this morning.  Both have dark hair, kinda’ quiet.”

Louie squinted at the man, studying him briefly before he gestured up the stairs.  “Come on up, both of you.  Violet’s got coffee and pie on.”

The quiet Mr. Singer hesitated a moment before heading up the stairs.  He kept his back to the wall, not entering further into the room while Ada unbuttoned her jacket.

“Violet!  Company,” he called.  The clinking of supper clean-up stopped as Violet murmured something before she stepped into the doorway.

“Ada!  You didn’t have to come out in this weather!”

“Oh, it was no trouble.  Saw you’d closed up, everything alright?” The shorter woman’s gaze flicked between the Moennings curiously.  

“Right as rain, just decided to close early for a good meal.”  After Louie’s statement, the boys appeared, both of them pausing at the sight of the stranger.

“Uncle Bobby!” Sam shouted delightedly, running to the man.  A wide smile crinkled Dean’s eyes, relief sagging his shoulders a bit.  

“Hey, there, boys!  Good to see you!”  Mr. Singer hefted Sam up to his hip, ruffling Dean’s hair affectionately.  “You ready to go?”

“Is Dad with you?” Dean wanted to know.  Louie caught the flicker of frustration on Mr. Singer’s face before he schooled his features.

“No, he asked me to come get you two and he’ll meet us at my place.”

Nothing could hide the disappointment that wiped away the smiles from the boys.  After an awkward moment, Violet clapped her hands.  

“Boys, Mr. Moenning and I can’t possibly eat all that pie.  Come help me pack it up for you.  I’ve got some Tupperware we can use.”  

The three adults watched Violet lead the boys away before Ada turned to Louie.

“I need to be running.  Would you give this to Violet?” When Louie nodded his affirmative, she handed the bag over.  “Oh!  Before I forget - did you hear what happened in town today?”

“No, no customers in today.”

“Well.  First of all, after the most bizarre chase through the hospital, the police caught a man who had been lurking outside the nursery.  He was going to steal a baby, can you imagine?  All the lights kept going out up there again, doors kept getting stuck, it was a mess.  By the time it was all over, the only door that was stuck was to the room he’d run into.  The fool was raving like a lunatic that someone kept trying to attack him.  He’s in jail as we speak.  But that’s not the only thing!”

Louie shook his head, baffled at the gall of the perpetrator.  “Well, my goodness, Ada!  What could top that tale?”

The woman leaned forward, intent on her news.  “The groundskeeper at the cemetery found a grave disturbed.  And not just disturbed - completely dug up!  Someone broke into the casket and burned that poor soul!”

Disgusted and mystified, Louie frowned at the woman.  “Who on earth would do such a thing?”

Ada shook her head, just as baffled.  “I don’t know.  And the saddest part?  It was one of the nurses who died in the hospital fire of ‘49.”

Louie snorted at that.  “Oh, Lord.  Don’t tell Vic that!  He’s for sure that hospital is haunted!”

“Haunted,” Ada scoffed at her husband’s notion.  “It is sad, though.  That grave was Fern Riley’s.  She’s the nurse that died in the fire trying to protect the babies.”

Silence fell at the announcement; the day St. Anthony’s Hospital burned had been a sad one.  Everyone in the small town had been affected - everyone knew many, if not all, of the 77 people who died.  Ada sighed, then rebuttoned her coat.

“I best get back to Vic.  Tell Violet she can write me a check later for the lipstick.”

“Her pink lipstick?” Louie smirked as he ushered the woman to the stairs.

“Bold Orchid, Louis, get it right,” she sassed.  Louie waved her on her way before turning back to Robert Singer.  The man had a strange stillness about him - like someone who knew a lot more than what they’d ever say.  Before Louie could ask, voices and footsteps told him Vi and the boys were headed this way.

“You from around here, Mr. Singer?”

The other man shook his head.  “South Dakota.”

“You know this Winchester fella?”

“Enough.”

Watching Dean hold the green Tupperware of pie like it was the Holy Grail, Louie fixed a stern eye on Singer and dropped his voice.

“You tell him from me that he’s doing a piss-poor job of being a father, leaving his children hungry and fending for themselves.”

It was a small comfort to watch Singer’s gaze dart to the boys in shock, then curdle with disgusted anger.

“I’ll be more than happy to.”

A chorus of happy chatter from the boys accompanied them as everyone trooped down to the store.  While Dean reminded Sam to make his thank you’s and good-bye’s to Mrs. Moenning, Louie popped open the register before coming around the counter for his own farewell.

He smiled at Sam’s well-trained seriousness as he pumped his hand in a man’s handshake, looking for Dean’s approving smile afterwards.  As Dean stepped towards him, Louie placed a warm hand on his shoulder, smiling down at him.

“Well, Mr. Winchester.  You were a man of your word.  You did every job that came your way, and more besides. Minimum wage is $3.35 an hour.  You worked for me four days here, and you did a man’s work every hour.  So, here’s $110.00.  There’s your wages for hours worked.  You earned it.”

If the boy’s eyes got any wider, they were going to fall out of his skull.  The boy’s throat bobbed once, twice, as he swallowed.

“I - I - I can’t accept this, Mr. Moenning, it’s too much!” Dean frantically shoved the money back towards him, but Louie raised his hands and stepped back.

“No.  We had a man’s agreement.  You’d gone anywhere else, they’d a’ paid you minimum wage.  Ain’t that right, Mr. Singer?”

The man’s mouth opened, closed, then opened again.  “Mr. Moenning’s right, Dean.  If he says you worked the hours, then he can pay you a wage he sees is fair.”

“Yes, sir.  Thirty-two hours at $3.35 an hour - you take that $110.00 and we’ll call it square.  Deal?”  Louie held a hand out to the boy; he stared at it for a long moment before he looked up at the older man.  Tears shimmered in the green eyes as he shook his head firmly.  Gratefully.

“Thank you, sir.  Th-thank you.”

Louie smiled at him as Violet stepped up to his side.  They looped their arms about the other’s waists as Singer led the boys to the door.  Sam waved a smiling good-bye to them as Dean paused at the door.

“Thank you, sir.  Ma’am.  I mean...thank you.”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Louie felt Violet tighten her arm around him comfortingly.  “You’re a good man, Dean Winchester,” he told the ten-year old boy.  Just like that first day, a corner of his mouth kicked up a bit in a half-smile.  With a little wave, he followed his brother out the door.  The roar of a truck engine sounded, and they were gone.

The Moennings never saw the boys again, not that they expected to.  Whenever it rained, or the coffee machine broke, they’d remember the two fondly.  They wondered if Sam still had all that hair, if Dean was still a natural with tools, if both of them were still so serious. They always shared a quiet smile when they had apple pie.  No words needed to be spoken as the memory of serious green eyes threaded between them.  They both hoped that whenever there was pie on the table for the Winchester boys, wherever he was, Dean always got the first bite.

**2nd A/N:  The hospital fire mentioned here is a true story.  St. Anthony’s Hospital in Effingham burned down April 4, 1949.  Among the 77 lives tragically lost - patients, employees, nuns, a priest - was 22yo nurse Fern Riley.  A nurse in the maternity ward, she was heard shouting, “I have to stay with my babies!” as she ran towards the nursery, where her body was later found.

In case they want to read it: @pinknerdpanda @littlegreenplasticsoldier @mirandaaustin93 @my-mind-is-incognito @mrswhozeewhatsis 

Firstly, hii!!! How are you? Hope you're okay.

I don't remember but probably saw it on the dashboard, said 'wow what an amazing art' and followed you.

Okay okay, I'll try to keep watch it.

I hope you'll like the uni, won't drop out, and graduate peacefully.

The cake was a chocolate cake with blackberries on top ahahaaa.

Stupid and younger? Okay, you might be younger, but I don't think you're stupid. You seem very mature about things. Ouchhh, your last crush://// good for you tho.

Having time to think is SO TRUE. I don't fully have time, but a new chapter has opened in my gender crisis. I'm not sure if I can handle it right now. Hope we can figure things out about ourselves.🤞🤞🤞

I really like/d afhf and the doc watched it like 2 times.😋 3rd time watching is coming ~maybe tonight~. Harry's shows: If I don't that tired, I'm waking up at 5 or 6 am (ugh timezones) by concert time and watching the show or just checking on Tumblr ahhaha. (I'm really catching up wow) It looks like I won't be able to see them live in at least 3 years. They don't come here, so I need to support myself financially and go abroad for it, yikesss.

Thanks to you too for reading my stuff. You're lovely and talking to you is always super nice too.💖 I knew you were on a vacation. No problem!!! You should stay away from social media and anons (they might be nasty ahahags) on vacation anyway. How was it though? Did you have fun or get rest? Love you and bye!!!!

(Thank you for keeping your promise!! I saw this in the morning but didn't have time to answer/ask ahahahah. Bye again!!!)

Hello hello! Yep, I'm good. It's hot and I'm not used to it anymore 😭😭 take me back to the mountainsssssss pls!! How are *you*??

Hahahha I hope so too. For now it makes me laugh: the students are organising a party to know each other.. 200€ for a bottle and a table 😂 that's what I get for choosing a snob private uni i guess. Let's hope there are broke folks too 😂😂 how's it going for you?

And just so you know, I want chocolate cake now. I already bought some organic cocoa because it was on sale, so. Also, yours sounds delicious!!

Aw, I'll take that as a compliment, but yk, idk. I feel like a child sometimes, needing help doing stuff or people forcing me to do them, even if *I* am the one that needs them. And I also mean stupid as ignorant (???), like, I don't know SO MANY THINGS. So I might come off as stupid. Hahahahaha

Yeah, :/ for real. You know, months after I discovered that he talked to me and one of my classmates at the same time, and by talked I mean flirted and *stuff*. She had it worse than me though, when we discovered this I was already over him, but she's still recovering (they didn't talk for 5-6 months and then began again this summer but he came back to me too and obviously I told her bc I knew she was already half in love. After some shitty texts like "nah it's nothing serious with her, but don't let her know I texted you!!" I convinced my friend to block him and never see him again :)) tbh I just hope he can figure out his life, even if he's an asshole 😂

Hahahahah yeah it isn't the right time for me either, let's hope for the future!! Maybe I'll run away from home and go live under a bridge, this way I'd have plenty of time 😂

I liked it too! Watched it that night after work but fell asleep 😭 anyway I downloaded it so it's fine. Did you rewatch it in the end? As for Harry, I'm seeing pics and vids on here and instagram and everything seems beautiful, I miss live shows so so so so so much :( and ugh, I'm so sorry! Italy is relatively lucky with singers, but sometimes they don't come here either (see billie), so I know the feeling. I'll see Louis (just bc this year I have a state fund to spend in culture only) and I'd like to see Harry too but 1) that mf doesn't come in Milan and 2) there are still no info about the European dates so no tickets to purchase eventually.

Ahhhh staying away from socials is way too hard for me now that I have nothing to do. We'll see how it goes when uni starts. And anyway, look at you, anons can be nice and cute too 😜💕 The vacation was alright, I was in Naples and saw a friend for the first time (after 6 years lol), but we also walked A LOT and fuck if it isn't tiring!!! Then we came back and I went on a lil trip to France with my dad and had to wake up early ("lil trip" = 850km on a motorbike, in a DAY) and the following day in Switzerland (just 400km, to give my ass a bit of rest hahahahaha). I even fell asleep once or twice 😭😭 Anyway!!! Expect pics both of Naples, France, Switzerland and maybe the place I worked in. They're all beautiful :)

Love you too :)))) 💕 have a nice day!

My Favorite

Synopsis: You’ve been a stagehand for the boys ever since their first tour. So far, you had done a great job at avoiding your favorite member (Liam), so you wouldn’t embarrass yourself. Eventually, your luck runs out.

Word Count: 3.5k!

“What’s up guys?! We’re One Direction!! Although you probably already knew that,” You chuckled at Liam’s little joke. “Anywayyyy, how’re you all doing tonight?!” The crowd roared. You could hear Liam’s voice ring through the speakers of the venue, which inevitably made you grin. “Good! We’re gonna start with an oldie, let’s see if you lot remember it.” The beat to C’mon, C’mon starts playing, one of your favorites. It reminded you of when you first met the boys, all that time ago.

During their first tour, you were given the job of making sure everything was plugged in and set up for the boys. You got paid a hefty chunk of cash every month and you definitely weren’t complaining since you were secretly a fan of the band (Though you tried to keep that part of your life on the down-low so you wouldn’t embarrass yourself). During the set-up and practice for one of the concerts off of the first album, you had accidentally tripped on one of the thousands of cords towards the back of the stage and were thoroughly embarrassed—not to mention extremely red. You tried to get up and hobble around, but it hurt too much and you just ended up back on the ground wincing in pain.

The boys were walking onstage, about to warm up for their practice. They were all having one big conversation about which Kardashian was the sexiest (Liam had the most to say on this topic), and went up to their mics. On the way there, Liam turned around and saw you sitting on the floor, obviously in pain. “Are yeh okay, love?”

“Uhm, not really. I think I sprained my ankle. I can’t seem to get up on my own, so looks like I might spend the rest of my life right here on this stage.” You made a sad attempt of a joke to hide your nerves since this was the first time you’ve ever spoken to your favorite member of One Direction. You mentally face-palmed yourself.

Liam chuckled, “Not if I have anythin’ to do with it. Seems like I ‘ave to Save You Tonight,” he winks at you, which made you blush immensely. Liam helped you up and let you lean on him while walking you to a chair towards the back of the stage. You could still see the boys from where you were, which was good. Watching them practice always brings a smile to your face. It’s crazy how much energy they have, you’re always tired, yourself. You’re essentially Sleepy the Dwarf.

He sat you down in your chair gently and you gave him a grateful smile, which he returned. That’s why Liam was your favorite, he was always so polite and kind. He reminded you of a little puppy.

“Payno where are ya?!” you heard Niall yell up from the front on stage.

Liam gave a small sigh while giving you an apologetic look. “Sorry, Ni! Had to save a damsel in distress!” he yelled back.

“I gotta go, but I hope your ankle is okay.” Liam started jogging towards the front of the stage, but not before he told one of the crew members about your ankle, who said they would “get right on it.”

You smiled to yourself as you watched the boys practice and jump around rambunctiously on stage. Your first interaction with Liam wasn’t that bad, you thought.

—————————

“Mate, are ya sure you’re alrigh’? You’ve been in your head all day.” Niall asked. The boys were all walking back to the tour bus, they had just finished up practice.

“Yeh, jus’ thinkin’.” Liam replied. Truth is, he couldn’t shake the thought of you out of his mind. Ever since saw you on that floor and heard you make that terrible joke, you’ve been in his thoughts. “Say, mate, d’ya know who that girl was? The one I helped before we practiced?”

Louis snickered. “Ohhhh, so that’s where ya‘ve been! Payno’s little damsel in distress, hmmm?” He elbowed Liam jokingly, poking fun at him.

“I dunno mate, I jus’ can’t seem to get her out of my head.”

Harry speaks up, “Actually, she’s been here since the first tour, but I guess you were too busy with Danielle then.”

Liam blows a raspberry. “D’ya know which bus she stays on?”

“Probably the one for the setup crew, genius.” Zayn jokes.

“Am I really the only one who hasn’t noticed her before? I’ll catch up with you lot later. Save me a drink.” Liam glares at Niall before turning and jogging his way towards what he assumed was your tour bus.

—————————

You were comfortably laying in your bunk in your pj’s (some random pajama pants an old tee that you threw on), just scrolling through your instagram feed. You had amassed quite a bit of followers since you worked for 1D. A few times, one of the boys had tagged you in some behind-the-scenes photos, but never Liam. Then again, he was with Danielle when you joined the team, so he probably didn’t notice that you even existed, with her being so breathtakingly gorgeous and all.

A knock at the door interrupted your endless scrolling. You groaned. Jake probably wanted you to do more work because no one had told him that you were injured. There’s a serious communication problem with some of the people on this team. You went up to get to door, already pissed off with the rest of the team.

“Jake! Look bud, I can’t work right now! Maybe no one has told you—“ You voice caught in your throat when you opened the door to see the beautiful, puppy-of-a-man, Liam James Payne standing right there before you.

“Sorry, love. ‘M’not Jake, but maybe that’s a good thing…?” Liam furrowed his fuzzy brows, trying to figure out what you were on about.

You were thoroughly embarrassed, and were turning quite red. Liam saw this and tried to utter some sort of comfort, “Don’ worry ‘bout it, don’ be embarrassed! I just came by for a friendly visit!”

Now it was your turn to furrow your not-so-fuzzy brows. Liam hadn’t so much as glanced at you during these past few years of working for the band. Why did he want to start now? “Okay..have a seat?” You motioned to the nearby couch. Liam took a seat, you sat on the loveseat across from it, within reaching distance of him.

Liam grinned up at you like a child. Even though you were extremely confused, Liam didn’t miss a beat. He didn’t let the conversation dry out or go dull even once. Part of the “Payno Charm”, you guessed.

“So, how have I not known about you? The boys say you’ve been here ever since the first tour.”

You let out a small chuckle. “Yep,” you popped the P as you said this, “But then again, I’m just one of the many stagehands. Nothing significant about little ol’ me.”

“I know nearly everyone on the team. Maybe you were avoiding me, huh?” Liam joked, or maybe he was flirting. You couldn’t tell.

The funny thing is, his theory actually made sense. Since he was you favorite, you were always super worried about not making a fool of yourself in front of him. You hadn’t meant to avoid him, it just happened. Whenever he walked up to the guys, you finished your conversation and left, immediately getting butterflies just from the sight of him.

“Y/N? Wait a minute…you were avoiding me weren’t you? I was only joking!” He looked a little upset at this. This certainly wasn’t what you wanted.

“Want to know the truth?” You started apprehensively, playing with the loose thread on your pajama pants while looking at the floor.

“The truth is always the best route.” He nodded, telling you to go on.

“This is embarrassing...but ever since you lot were on the x-factor I’ve been a huge fan. You were always the one I rooted for the most, even with your outrageously long side-swept bangs,” Liam shook his head and laughed at this part. You continued, “I guess since I’ve admired you for so long, I was terrified of making a fool of myself when we met, even more so than I was with the other boys—which doesn’t really make sense, since you’re the nicest. Geez, you probably think I’m some weird fangirl now.” (You didn’t mention the fact that you had a blog specifically for Liam).

“Y/N, you didn’t faint or cry when I came up to yeh earlier today, I think it’s safe to say that you’re not some ‘weird fangirl.’” He gave you another one of his signature kind smiles. You smiled back, which only made him smile more.

You sat like that, across from but close to each other, just smiling and looking at the other one’s eyes. “Pardon me if I’m being too forward, Y/N, but I think you’re absolutely, gobsmackingly gorgeous.” Your inhaled sharply, taken by surprise. He didn’t look away from your eyes as he said this, like most guys would. He was confident in these type of situations, you thought.

You kept your gaze at his eyes, not daring to look away. The room was dead silent, except for your (what you imagined was heavy, being as flustered as you were) breathing.

Liam reached his hand across the space between the couch and the loveseat, slowly taking yours in his. You closed your eyes gently, savoring every moment, never wanting it to end. When his hand gently slipped across yours, your heart sped up. You shuddered at the feeling of his soft, slightly calloused hands. He held it lightly, giving it a reassuring squeeze. When you opened your eyes, he was still gazing intently up at you.

Suddenly there was rapid knocking at the door, startling you both, making Liam drop your hand. You involuntarily pouted, mentally killing whoever was outside.

“Oh, Paynooooo,” you heard Louis sing through the door. “I don’t see a sock on the door, so I’m assuming the both of you are doing something G-rated, like playing checkers.”  You heard what sounded like Niall snicker behind the door.

Liam rolled his eyes and groaned. He got up from the couch as you remained seated, not sure what you should do.  “Oi! Stuff it, Lou!” Liam shouted as he made his way to the door, opening it to reveal the two boys, both with amused smirks on their faces. You blushed and pretended to busy yourself with your phone.

“You’re needed at soundcheck, Payno. Truly sorry to interrupt you kiddies.” Louis winks at you.

“Another one? They’re really bustin’ our chops after Zayn’s mic stopped working last concert, huh?” He looks back to you with sad eyes, “Sorry, Love. We’ll catch up later, yea?”

“Yea..” You can’t help but feel somewhat deflated and depressed as the boys left you alone with your thoughts. You figured it was time for a nap, you could never go wrong with one of those.

——————

After soundcheck, the boys were filled with energy, not to anyone’s surprise. They all decided to go to the nearby beach for a quick dip before dinner. Liam was definitely in the mood for some surfing, and so was Louis. The two rarely got the chance to enjoy a nice wave with all the touring they do, not to mention the fact that two full-size surfboards take up so much space on the bus.

As they’re all walking down the beach, people are already starting to notice. Paps are here snapping pictures, how they knew the guys would be here, nobody knew. Liam cheekily posed for a few of them, just to lighten the mood. The others ignored them for the most part.

Who they didn’t ignore is their fans, who came up to them while tanning. Only a few, maybe 4 or 5. Regardless, they were all happy to sign something and snap pictures with the girls. It was nice when fans were pleasant like these were, not overbearing and screaming. Once they got a few hugs and pictures, they went on their way. Plus, it made the guys feel good when they saw the smiles on the girls’ faces. They were somebody’s reason to smile, that feeling never got old.

As Liam and Louis separated from the rest of the guys to go catch some waves, the talking and joking ceased. Both boys were admiring the mesmerizing sound of the waves crashing upon the shore. The water was a striking color of blue today, almost too pretty to touch. That’s what Liam thought of Y/N, too pretty to touch. Just like that, she consumed his thoughts again. Both boys went on their own conquest to find waves to ride, giving congratulatory smiles and a thumbs up whenever the other successfully caught one.

—————

The sun was setting as Louis and Liam jogged back towards the rest of the group, surfboards in tow. Zayn was trying to bury Niall, who was snacking (nevermind the fact that they were literally about to leave for dinner), and Harry was reading a book of poetry with the last rays of sunlight.  

“Can’t leave you three alone for anything, can we?” Louis sassed, referring to Niall’s new home in the sand.

“Oi, maybe this time Niall won’t burn!” Zayn joked, still shoveling sand onto the poor irishman, who was seemingly unphased by what was happening.

“You know who else we can’t leave alone?” Louis wriggled his eyebrows towards Liam, who sighed heavily. “Big Payno here, was about to get some with lovely little Y/N earlier.”

Niall and Louis both snickered again as they recalled what happened earlier. Liam was glad the sun was setting, otherwise the other boys would tease him endlessly for blushing so much.

“Hush up, Louis! I don’t need all the tabloids in the world knowing about my sex life!”

“Oh, so you admit it!” Louis jumps and claps his hands together excitedly—he really is a little kid.

“Guys, I think I’m in trouble with this one. There’s something about her...Something that makes me want to know her and protect her from the world.”

“Spoken like a true softy,” Niall joked, “‘Though if ya keep at ‘er, maybe you’ll ‘ave more dan a softy, eh??”

“NIALL.” Liam chucks his towel at him, narrowly missing and hitting Harry instead, who was still in another world filled of poetry.

“Oi!” Harry shouts angrily.

“Sorry, H.”

Zayn clears his throat and speaks up, “Though on a real note, Liam, I think you should seriously go for it. Regardless of if it works out or not, I really think that you’ll both enjoy your time together, and that’s really all that matters, mate. She’s a great girl. I’ve had only a handful of conversations with her, but she’s always so bright and cheerful, like yourself. I think you two would be rather cute together.”

Liam blushed again, even though none of the boys could see it since it was now fully dark out.

“Guyssss,” Niall started whining, “Can we pleaseee go get some dinner now?”

“Idea: Maybe we could even invite Y/N. We can be Liam’s wingmen and what-not.” Harry pipes up. A true sap for romance, he was.

“That sounds like a great idea. I’ll shoot her a text.” Zayn replied, pulling out his phone. “I got her number awhile back when she used to get a few of us coffee often. I’m telling you, Liam, she’s basically the female version of you.” Zayn lightly punches Liam in the shoulder, both boys grinning.  

Needless to say, Liam was pretty excited for dinner, and not just because of the food.

—————

You were in your trailer binge-watching Catfish when your phone chimed, signaling that you had a text. When you picked up your phone and saw that it was from Zayn, your interest definitely piqued. He hadn’t texted you since last month. Weird.

Z: Do you want to come to dinner with me and the lads? We can pick you up. Its that seafood place right by the beach

Would Liam be there? Man, you hoped so.

Sure!, you replied.

Z: Good! Be there in 30 minutes :)

Now, what were you going to wear?

——————

You all were seated at a large round table, waiting for your food. You sat in between Liam and Zayn, ever so thankful for the invitation to join them for dinner.

“Oh, come on! Everybody has a favorite member!” Louis rolled his eyes. He’s been trying to get you to rank all of them for the past 5 minutes. Quite a bugger, he was.

You blushed and looked quickly at Liam, who shrugged. Finally, you gave in to Louis’ seemingly endless torment.

You gave an exasperated and over-dramatic sigh. “Fine, Louis. From most to least favorite, it’s Liam, Zayn, Harry, Niall, and then you.” You purses your lips and narrowed your eyes at him. Serves him right.

Louis raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I’m all the way at the bottom?! This is a disgrace. You’re a disgrace Y/N.”

You roll your eyes. Such a drama queen, always has been. The other boys snicker at your sass towards Louis.

“So Liam’s your favorite, eh?” Niall smirks and looks between you two.

“This is why you’re second to last, Horan.”

——————

You woke up to a rapid knocking at your trailer door. You looked at the clock: 3 AM. Nobody in their right mind would wake you up this early in the morning, it must have been something horrible.

You groped around in the dark for the doorknob, your eyes not fully adjusted to the pitch black of the room just yet. Finally finding it, you poked your head out a tad to see Liam. He was swaying slightly. A big, dopey grin broke out on his face when he saw you. “Y/N!”

You swung the door open fully, letting him come in. He was obviously drunk. Why he was at your door, you had no idea. Nevertheless, a drunk Liam was still a Liam. “Y/N, d’ya know yeh have the prettiest eyes I think I’ve ever seen?” He hiccuped and grabbed your hand, pulling you onto his lap. You were too tired to react any differently.

“Say, that bed looks mighty cozy. ‘Aven’t had a good cuddle in a while….Can we cuddle, Y/N? You’re so warm and pretty, please let’s cuddle.” He was rambling at this point, but a cuddle did sound good to you, and who were you to reject your favorite boy? You nodded and made your way to the bed.

“I’ll be the big spatula. Spoons are bad.” You chuckled at this. Liam sounded just like a child. At least he was a happy, cuddly drunk.

He flopped onto the bed and sloppily got under the still-warm covers. He held his arms out for you to get in, and you happily obliged. He sighed when you were pressed up against his chest. “Been wantin’ this for awhile, Hun. You don’ even know.”

Your heart sped up in your chest. This was just like a dream. You only hoped that when morning came, and he wasn’t drunk anymore, he wouldn’t be upset by what he was doing right now.

You nestled into his chest, his arms tight around you. He smelled like expensive cologne that you wanted to breathe in forever. You were lulled to sleep by his rhythmic breathing.

—————

When you awoke, you were still held tight in Liam’s arms. You shifted a bit, trying to pull the covers up over the both of you. You froze when Liam shifted and groaned sleepily.

He sat up with a fright, looking around wide-eyed and confused. “Y/N?”

“..Yea?” Here it came. The regret and embarrassment.

“Did we sleep together?”

“Yes. Well, we fell asleep together, nothing happened except for cuddling,” You looked at him sheepishly, “You came to my door at 3 AM drunk and begged for a cuddle. You even used your little puppy dog eyes.”

Liam chuckled roughly, voice still scratchy from the night’s rest. “Well, I’ll have to thank Drunk-Liam next time I see him. He seems to have more confidence than I do when it comes to the ladies.” He brushed a few strands of hair from out of your face as you both laid across from each other, tangled up in the covers. “Yeh look mighty pretty in the mornings, Hun. So pretty, you’re not letting me think straight. And your lips…” He traced them with his finger, “...I could kiss you right now, you know.” He whispered.

You shuddered. “You’re very welcome to do it.”

And just like that, Liam shuffled closer to you and closed the space between both of your faces. His lips passionately, but softly, against yours. Your hand went into the dip on his side, his went around your back, pulling you closer towards him, lips never leaving each other.

You finally broke free for air, both gasping. You’d dreamed of that since you were a teenager, but he didn’t need to know that. Even with all the fanfictions you wrote about him, this kiss wasn’t like anything you’d ever imagined—it was so much better. Liam Payne was quite the kisser.

. two : the connection

6:02am

I was dreaming about Omari again. For some reason, he came to me often while I slept. He had picked me up, as he usually did, but, somehow I knew that I wasn’t coming back this time. I was clueless as to where we were, but I also didn't have a single worry. I was with O and I was safe. That, I was sure of.

We were flying through the air, which wasn't odd for me because I’d had more than a few dreams where I could fly. Still, there was a difference. Whenever I’d be flying, I was usually doing so because something or someone was chasing me and I had to get away. And it was usually very dark as well. But now, I didn't discern any danger and everything around us was shining so brightly. I’d also never been able to actually stay up there. Whenever I’d stop flying, I would immediately start to float back down. That wasn't the case here. We stopped and were just suspended in the sky with no effort. He laid me down on what felt the way I thought a cloud should feel and, starting at the top of my head, he kissed my scars one by one. In some miraculous way, they all disappeared with a single touch of his lips. Amazed, I smiled and watched as he continued to make his way down my bare body. At first my nudity confused me, as did the lack of discomfort that came with it, but, when he reached my Love, I no longer cared. My grin slowly fell as he spread my legs and, without an ounce of hesitancy, he began to spoil me with gentle kisses. I was stunned, but it never entered my mind to stop him. I had to admit, it felt good.

“Oh my... aaah,” I moaned softly, lacing my right hand with his left. It was almost like I could actually feel his tongue slipping around a part of me that only myself and Cam had ever touched. However, in this illusion, I had no problem with that fact becoming fiction. Though I had moved past the initial shock, unfortunately, I could sense my sleep coming to an end. He started to fade away as my eyes softly fluttered open, but there was still someone between my legs. And it wasn't Omari. I looked down and Cam had my thighs stretched wide, one arm across my stomach, licking the shit out of my pussy. I tried to get away, but my every pursuit was quickly shut down. Whenever he realized that I was trying to escape his firm grasp, he licked faster, sucked harder, rubbed deeper. 

No matter how hard I fought, my body began to respond on its own, grinding into his face. Before long, my hips were in the air, he was buried between my lips, and I had relinquished all control. I gripped the couch with both hands in an attempt to evade the floor. “Fuck,” I whined, so upset with myself. Then the self betrayal reached a new level as I clenched my eyes, having the most regrettable orgasm ever. I hated giving him the satisfaction that, even at a time like this, he still had the power to make me cum. My body fell into the cushions and I hid my face, embarrassed. I don't know what the fuck he thought this was doing, because he hadn't swayed me whatsoever. I felt no different about things than I had before. 

He came up with tears in his eyes, apologizing and telling me how much he loved me. “You know I love you. With my whole heart, Jade. I'm sorry.” Seeing him cry shook me up a bit, I won't lie, but I was so far away from succumbing to his will.

He came closer and laid his head on my chest. Not even the smallest part of me welcomed the contact, and I was not about to let this be over so easily. “It's not... that simple.” He looked up and I reached to turn on the lamp behind us. “Look what you did to me.” My neck held marks from his fingernails, my scalp was bruised, there were noticeable rug burns on my knee and both hips, my face was so badly swollen that a small cut had formed at the corner of my mouth, and there was blood stuck on my gum line and between my teeth.  

“Oh my God.” He quietly examined every injury, running his fingers gingerly over the damage, seemingly frightened by my appearance. 

“This is love, Cameron?” 

“I'm so sorry, baby. I swear, I'm gonna work on being better. I don't wanna do stuff like this to you. I'ma get help.”

I didn't fall for any of that shit. Sadly, this was the routine. I'd get my ass beat, then I'd get fucked, next was the apology and last came the promise of counseling. A promise that he never kept. This was my life now. A life that I could not have imagined in my wildest dreams.

Cameron Makisig Taylor. He wasn't always this way.

We had been together for five years now, the first three being probably the most happy years of my adult life. He was always such a sweetheart. He'd call or text just to hear my voice or tell me he loved me, bring me flowers for no reason; you know, just little things to show me he cared. We would talk for hours about anything, and nobody could make me laugh as hard. We were just in tune with one another, damn near inseparable. But, shortly after the situation became a little more serious, after we moved in together, everything changed. Out of nowhere, he just switched up on me. All of the sweetness was replaced with constant anger. It started with him taking my car. To this day, I still have no idea what he did with it. Without a ride of my own, though, I couldn't go anywhere or do anything without him. But he somehow always found a way to accuse me of stepping outside of the relationship. Which I never understood. I made the decision to stick it out, thinking this behavior was only temporary. However, after two years had passed me by, I learned a major lesson; fun wasn’t the only thing that made time fly. Misery did it just as well. 

He moved us to Los Angeles from Atlanta about a year and a half ago for a chance at better career opportunities, he'd claimed. But, the more thought I gave it, the more I began to believe there had been some malice behind his motives. I was taken so far away from my family, or anyone I knew for that matter, that I had no choice but to spend all of my time with him. I wasn’t even sure what it was that he did. He had a couple of degrees and he was working for some company before we came out here. Whatever he was doing now required him to leave home for months at a time, usually around two, and his salary was ridiculous. That was where my knowledge ended. I had my suspicions, but I knew better than to question him about anything. I'd just convinced myself that as long as the bills were kept current and we weren’t living on the street, everything was ok. He wasn't the least bit stingy with his leftovers either. He just made sure to monitor my transactions very closely. Shopping had become a way of life for me. It was basically my therapy.

Almost as soon as we got to Cali, he left for work. For a whole week, I stayed inside, afraid to leave the house. Not only was it a new scene for me, but I was heavily intimidated by the fact that I wasn’t familiar with anyone in the entire state. Then one day, feeling unusually courageous, I just got an Uber. After a little convincing, along with some financial compensation, that lady drove me all over LA.

I met Omari that day.

I walked into this sneaker boutique just to look around and there he was, standing with four boxes beside him and still browsing.

I recall thinking he had a nice deep brown, caramel complexion with really smooth looking skin. His hair was how he always wore it; in neatly twisted braids that ran straight back, falling a copious amount past his shoulders. He had just enough facial hair and it was groomed perfectly to match. Likewise, he was dressed nicely in jeans and a crisp white v-neck tee that hugged his toned arms and chest perfectly. The black diamonds in his ears glistened in the sunlight, as did the gold beaded bracelet around his wrist. His feet held a pair of black high top Chucks and I caught a Louis Vuitton belt peeking from underneath his shirt right before I turned to mind my own business. Long story short, he was very well put together... and so damn fine.

I still remember like it was yesterday. 

“Um, I know it’s a lot, but can I get these in an 8?” 

“Oh, no problem.” The associate, who had just been helping him, eagerly studied my selections. Her memory must've been outstanding, because I definitely would’ve had to take my phone out and snap a pic. “I'll be right back”. 

I smiled, thanking her as I resumed my search. I wasn’t exactly interested in anything else, I was more so making the conscious effort to keep myself distracted. I had briefly considered taking a seat when, from the corner of my eye, I could see him starting to come over. I immediately threw all of my attention to a pair of kicks in front of me. They weren't even cute, but that was neither here nor there. I just needed to conceal the fact that I had been checking him out something serious on the low.

“Hey,” he rasped, once he was standing next to me. I turned to him and he had the cutest grin on his face. I couldn't help but smile back. Plus he looked even better up close. 

“Hey.”

“I don't mean to interrupt, and I know you don't know me, but… I just had to come over and say hello. You are beautiful.”

Completely caught off guard, I blushed almost instantly. My ears weren't even tuned for that type of compliment anymore. He was serious, too. I took my gaze down for a moment, using a slight laugh as part of my recovery. “Thank you.” And upon realizing that I liked this guy and didn't want his good smelling self to walk away, I decided to go ahead and introduce myself. “Jade.”

“Omari. Nice to meet you.” He extended his hand to me and I obliged, giving it a shake.  

“Nice to meet you, too.”

“So, um, where you from? If you don't mind me asking.”

“How you know I'm not from LA?” I jokingly asked. I was nowhere near being from LA, I  just wanted to see what he would say. 

“I can hear it in your voice.”

I chuckled, fully aware that my accent had given me away. “Yeah, I'm from Georgia.” 

“I knew you were from somewhere down south.”

“Yep. So, you from here?” I returned my attention to the wall of shoes in front of me, trying not to stare.

“Yeah. Been here all my life.” 

“Ok,” I nodded. “I've only been here for a couple weeks.”

“Oh, for real?”

“Yeah. Today is actually my first time getting out of the house, believe it or not.”

“Well, maybe I can show you around my city sometime.” 

And, just like that, I was back. “Maybe…”

I hadn't been able keep him out of my sight for more than a few seconds, but his proposition had warranted at least a glance; I had to see if he was playing around. The deliberate eye contact I was met with only erased some of my doubt, still his confidence was a turn on for certain. I was smiling at him, he was smiling at me, and I was more than sure that he was in possession of the prettiest smile I had ever seen. His lips were on point, too; nice and full with a couple beauty marks adorning the bottom one. I found myself licking my own lips, wondering if his were as soft as they looked.  

Right in the midst of a moment that needed to be disrupted, the saleswoman walked over toting my five boxes effortlessly. 

“Thank you,” I told her, not just for the footwear, but also for breaking me away from whatever this was. I mean, I was stuck. 

“You're welcome. I'll be at the counter when you're ready, and let me know if you need anything else.”

“Ok.” I sat down on the bench and came out of my left shoe, grabbing the first box from the stack. “So, Omari…”

“Yeah?”

“You do this often?” I quizzed, slipping a fresh sneaker onto my foot; undeniably one of the best feelings in the world. 

“Do what?” 

“Just walk over to random women and start conversations.” I grinned up at him standing beside me and he chuckled.

“Well, if I can be honest, you caught my eye as soon as you walked in. I like your vibe. And you looked so nice standing over here, I couldn't leave without at least getting your name.”

He was such a gentleman, and quite the charmer. He had a way with words, for sure. My guard was still very much intact, but his company didn’t make me uncomfortable. In fact, the interaction was rather flattering. I didn't know the kid still had it. 

“And now you know my name and where I’m from.” 

He laughed, dropping his head. “You right. But you know they say good things come in threes.”

“Yeah, I’m familiar.”

“So, now I need your number to complete the trilogy. I mean, if that's cool with you.” 

I can’t lie, I was tickled. He was that cute, corny funny I was very fond of. “Yeah,” I agreed, without even a second thought. Despite the obvious, I didn't wanna say no. “You like these?” I stood and we both looked down at the deep pink suede Nike Blazer I had been wearing. 

“Yeah. They cold with the gum bottom.”

“Right?! I was thinking the same thing. I'ma get 'em.”

We made small talk until I'd tried on my last pair. Then the conversation carried on while he tried on a few more. The six or seven other people in the store probably thought we knew each other. He was surprisingly easy to talk to for a complete stranger. We eventually exchanged numbers and, ever since that day, we'd been down like four flats on a Cadillac.

He was the only friend I had.

Powercouple of stupidity || Bellamy Blake

A/N: I feel like Barry Allen when I’m fucking up timelines like that.

Warnings: Fucked up timeline, language

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

You looked terrified as people were running in panic. Everyone was yelling, pushing others. Everyone wanted to already be inside. Black rain was here.

You felt your skin burning, something klicked in your brain and you started to run too. Just to get to the door. Just few steps more. Your skin burned like hell. Everything seemed to be slower than it should be. Yelling was like behind the glass, other people's pushes weren't relly touching you, your long steps weren't as long as you thought. It was just like that. Panic ran through your body. When it started to rain, you were outside of the gates. Now you were the only one who was still outside. And you heard someone's groaning for help. You looked there.

- Louis - you whispered, what seemed to be like a scream. You looked at the entrance to destroyed Arkadia. Kane and Monty held Bellamy, who tried to run to you. He was screaming for you to come inside. But you rushed toward Louis without any second thoughts. You grabbed his arm and helped him stand up. Then his legs betrayed him.

- I'm sorry! he screamed in pain. You just shook your head, teeth clenching just to not throw Louis away and run to Arkadia by yourself. You dragged him there. Few steps more, just few steps more.

Bellamy jumped out of the Arkadia and helped you. Kane and Monty grabbed Louis and quickly took care of him. And then everything started to speed up. You didn't hear Bellamy's screams, you didn't have any strenght left. Then you felt someone lifting your body up. You looked at older Blake's face, now full of fear and desperation.

- Move! - he yelled at someone and put you on the ground next to the barrel with fresh water. - Harper, help me! - he yelled once again and with girl's help he started to quickly undress you. Then he pulled you up and held you like that, when Harper was splashing water on you. You closed your eyes and sighed with relief, your throat fully in pain from screaming all this time. You didn't even know you were doing that, but it wasn't important right now. - [Y/N]! Look at me! - you heard Bellamy's voice. Your eyes shot open, when you heard horror in his voice. He held you close, searching for something in your eyes.

- I'm okay now - you croacked, trying to move from the man, but he held you tight. - Bellamy, let me go.

- You're going to rest now - he said, quickly lifting up your body in bridal style.

- I have to help the others - you whispered, feeling that your conciusness were slipping away.

- You helped enough - was the last thing you heard from him. Your eyes closed itself and your body decided it's time for rest.

- I swear I'm okay! - you yelled, trying to get up. - Let me go with you!

- Bellamy, I think we would need her - Clarke said with her usual worried face. Blake shook his head.

- No, I had to carry her in, because she was dragging Louis by herself without anything that would protect her. She's still weak - he said, all serious and shit.

- I'd still easily kick your ass...

- That's it, we're taking her with us - you heard someone's really annoyed and deep voice. - I saw her fighting with worse injuries than she has now. We need her - Roan said and you tried to remember why he was here. Clarke nodded and looked at Bellamy, who just sighed and shook his head slightly.

- I don't like it - you heard him whisper to Clarke, when you were leading Roan and his men to the back of a truck.

- No one likes it, Bellamy - you heard her whisper back and rolled your eyes. Okay, you still had few patches of burned skin on your neck and face, but that's all. Nothing else. No headaches, no vomits, no problems with breathing. Nothing. So you didn't know what they wanted from you.

Everything was okay, until Bellamy and Roan went up the river to find a place where we could cross it. And you insisted to go with them. But no, they left you with Clarke and the Azgeda men. And the last thing you remembered was pain in the back of your head. Then you just saw darkness.

You opened your eyes suddenly and saw Rover stopping few feet from you. You got up slowly and hissed, when the back of your head started to hurt again. Bellamy and Roan jumped out of the car and ran toward you.

- [Y/N], what happened? - Bell asked, kneeling next to you and helping you sit up.

- I'm not sure. I was talking to Clarke, I turned around to look at the trees and then someone hit me - you gestured at the back of your head.

- Over here! - you heard Roan calling.

- Stay here - Bellamy said and ran to Azgeda's king. You turned around and you felt your stomach turning upside down. They found the body. You saw Bellamy's hesitation before he tore the tilt from above human's face.

- Trikru - you heard Roan's growl.

- Bellamy, who is it? - you called with fear, trying to get up, but as soon as you stood up, you saw darkness.

- Easy - you heard next to you and felt Bellamy grabbing you, before you could fall.

- Sorry, just stood up too quickly - you breathed out, slowly getting back your eyesight. You looked at Bellamy with pleading eyes. - Tell me it's not...

- No, not Clarke - he cut you off and you sighed with relief. - Are you sure you're okay? We have to chase and fight someone who kidnapped Clarke and took our truck.

- I'm fine Bells, I swear - you smiled and pushed him slightly, so he would let you go. You looked at Roan and smiled slightly. - Even king Roan told you I can take care of myself, so it means something, right? - you chuckled a little. - Now, to the Rover. We're going to rescue Clarke... As always.

- Trikru are burning their dead. Something's wrong - Roan said, when Bellamy stopped the Rover. Soon other Trikru's men attacked the car. - Everyone are doing what they can to help their people - king said to himself and then he looked at Bellamy. - It was Azgeda.

- Go! They don't know how to ride for their life, so Clark is still alive! - you yelled, grabbing Bellamy's shoulder. He turned car around and drove where Roan told him to.

Soon you saw the truck. Rover was faster, so you could easily drive next to them. Roan got out of the car and jumped to stop his man from pushing the barrel with fuel off of the truck. You saw them fighting, you saw king killling his man and pushing the barrel to the back of a truck.

You climbed to the front seat and looked at Bellamy.

- Cut them off - was all you said as you grabbed your gun. Blake already knew what you wanted to do, so he sped up and suddenly turned the wheel, stopping the Rover. You looked at Clarke, who tried to fight the man sitting next to her.

- Come on, Clarke - you heard Bellamy's voice. You breathed in slowly and concentrated on target. You had him right there, in front of you. You pulled the trigger. Nothing.

- Fuck! - you yelled and grabbed Bellamy's gun before he could even do anything. You jumped out from the Rover. In that moment Clarke pushed the Azgeda off of her. You aimed at him in a split second and pulled the trigger. The man just flinched and stopped moving. You sighed with relief.

- [Y/N]! - you heard scream. Suddenly someone pushed you to the side and you fell on the ground face first. You heard metal screeching, when truck hit the Rover. You tried to get up, but first you rolled that someone off of you. You sat up with heavily beating heart. Bellamy was breahing quickly as he looked at you. - Don't do that - he whispered, closing his eyes and finally relaxing.

- Are you two okay? - Clarke called, jumping out of the truck. You just nodded.

- You're just as brave as stupid - you heard Roan's voice. You looked at him and winked at him.

- Yep, that's me - you laughed a little, standing up. You grabbed Bellamy's hand and helped himstand as well. - So... We're going back to the camp, right? - you looked at Bellamy, but he just looked at Clarke. - Um, so we'll check what's with the rest of the barrels - you mumbled, suddenly loosing your good mood. Before king could say anything, you pulled him toward the truck.

- I checked them all - he said, when you got on the back of the car.

- I want to do it again - you hissed at him. You heard him sigh and got on the truck as well.

- Just tell him you don't like when he's talking so much with Wanheda - he said suddenly. You looked at the king with raised eyebrows. - What? Do you think everyone is as blind as him? Maybe, but not me. I'm the king after all, I see everything - he said seriously. You chuckled at his attempt to offend Blake. - And they say I'm not good at comforting people - he smiled at you slightly.

- [Y/N], you're coming? - you heard Bellamy calling you. You just sighed and suddenly felt big, warm hand on your head. You looked up at Roan, who was actually trying to smile at you.

- If he breaks your heart, I'm breaking his bones. I like you too much to watch him breaking you like that - he whispered, before pushing you slightly. You laughed and shook your head.

- Thank you - you whispered back and hugged him tightly. He froze for a moment, but then hugged you back. - May we meet again - you said, pulling away and jumping from the truck. You swear you heard him saying 'May we meet again' too. You hugged Clarke and without any other word, you got into the Rover with wide smile on your lips. Soon Bellamy hopped on the drivers seat and closed the door with loud bang. Ride to the Arkadia was quiet and slightly uncomfortable. But when you finally arrived, you just jumped out of the Rover, grabbed the tent, which could possibly protect from black rain and ran after Jasper, who just walked out of the Arkadia.

- Don't tell me you dragged me here just to get that nuts - you sighed as you watched Jasper, cutting off some of the 'drugs'.

- Come on, [Y/N]! Live a little before we all die! - he laughed slightly and you felt your heart ache. You liked Jasper a lot and his suicidial self was just another nail to your heart. And it was your fault he felt like this too. You could stop Clarke, you could help them get better idea. But you just watched a they pulled the lever. - Hey, don't look at me like that, Bellamy - Jasper laughed a little. You raised your eyebrows and turned around. Indeed, Blake was few steps from you two now. - You know, you can keep punishing yourself for your mistakes and die like a hero, but that's no fun, right? Now we can really do whatever the hell we want, because we're all going to die anyway. So just stop blaming yourself and trying to fix everything. Do what you always wanted to do. In the end everyone will be trying to survive, no one will be reckoning up everyone's sins. So just live untill we can - Jasper smiled widely. You smiled right back at him, even if not so wide. Bellamy just stood behind you, all silent and serious.

When you got back, you heard music blasting from the speakers. Jasper waltzed on the 'dancefloor' and turned to you.

- Come on! - he yelled. You shook your head and walked toward the people in the corner, who were talking about something. You put your things on the floor and made your way toward Bellamy. And then that blonde girl walked up to him and started to flirt. You clenched your teeth and fists. You walked past them and stomped toward the table. - Oh! Look who finally joined us! - Jasper laughed and passed you cup with moonshine. - You're magician - the boy winked at you and grabbed another cup, filled it with the moonshine and handed it to the Bellamy, who suddenly stood next to you. - For doing whatever the hell we want! - he yelled.

- For doing whatever the hell we want! - everyone yelled right back at him and drank their moonshine.

- Bellamy, take off that backpack, you look like that awkward kid in class - you laughed at him. Blake just snorted, but took off his backpack AND his jacked. You didn't complain, but that blonde still had her eyes on Bell and that drove you insane.

- Happy now? - Bell asked you, taking another sip of the moonshine. You nodded, trying not to look at him, because you were sure that if you do, he'd be able to see your every emotion in your eyes. Suddenly the music changed and your smile returned.

- Bell! Come and dance with me! - you exclaimed and drank the rest of the moonshine from your cup. Blake shook his head.

- I don't dance - he smiled at you, but you sighed and rolled your eyes. You stepped closer, so he could hear you. You didn't notice that his body tensed and his cheeks were pinkish now.

- Now you do! Come on! - you grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the other dancing people. He shook his head, smiling slightly. He put his cup on the table and let you drag him on the dancefloor. You let his hand go and started to dance with closed eyes. Your favourite song was now blasting through the speakers and you were singing with it as you danced like there was no tomorrow. Because maybe there wasn't. You stopped suddenly, when the song ended and you heard slower music. You opened your eyes. Bellamy was right in front of you, his hair sticking to his forehead as he panted slightly.

- Drink? - you heard Jasper's voice. He gave you the cup and handed the other to Bellamy. You drank whole thing at once and watched Blake doing the same. You grabbed his cup and put it on the table. Then you turned toward him and felt your confidence rising, so you grabbed his hands and put them on your hips. You placed arms on his shoulders and started to sway to the music. You looked at Bellamy, who smiled at you. You did the same and rested your forehead on his chest. You felt him chuckle. Your heart was beating fast enough to give you sudden heart attack.

- I want to stay like this forever - you mumbled to yourself.

- What? - you heard Bellamy, so you looked up at him.

- I said I want to stay like this forever - you said louder with slight smile. He seemed to be surprised at first, but then he smiled and nodded.

- Me too - with that he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you tightly. And you were swaying and hugging each other, until someone changed the song. Suddenly you felt your feelings explode. You wanted to tell him. You had to tell him.

- Come with me! - you said loud enough so he could hear you. Bellamy nodded and you led him outside. Sudden quiet hit you along with cold air. You immediately sober up a little. What did you wanted to do? That was stupid!

- What's wrong, [Y/N]? - you heard Bellamy's low, husky voice. You looked at him, his eyes watching you in concern. - You seemed to be... different today. Something is wrong, right?

- No, nothing is wrong... I think - you said quietly and ran your fingers through your hair as you sighed. - Listen, I thought about all of this for a while now and I'm tired of...

- [Y/N], no - he cut you off. You looked at him surprised. - You're not giving up, okay? Jaha, Kane and Monty went to find the bunker and I feel that they are going to find it. We'll going to survive, all of us will, so please, don't tell me you want to stay behind - he looked at you with pleading eyes.

- No, Bell, that's not what I wanted to say - you chuckled slightly. Bellamy sighed with relief. - I wanted to say that, um... I like you, a lot actually - you took a deep breath. - Okay, that's a lie. I'm in love with you and since we don't know when either of us will die, I just wanted to say this and carry on, so I can die peacefully - you smiled at him. He opened his mouth in shock.

- You're drunk - was all he said. You sighed as you felt tears trying to escape. You sniffed and looked at the sky.

- Yeah, I probably am - you whispered and smiled at Bell. - Come on, let's go back to the party - with that you grabbed his hand and pulled him inside.

You woke up with slight headache. It wasn't the worst hangover you've ever had, but it was still hangover. Nothing nice. But then you felt someone's body laying beside you. You froze, when they groaned quietly and started to move.

- G'morning - you heard Bellamy's voice. You turned to him and tried to smile.

- Morning - you whispered, not sure how you should act now. He looked at you for a second and then smiled sadly. He didn't believe you. He seriously thought it was just alcohol talking through you. - Um... About what I said yesterday...

- You were drunk, I understand - he cut you off. You felt anger boiling inside of you.

- Are you going to cut me off every fucking time I'm trying to tell you something? - you hissed at him and Bell looked at you surprised. - What I said yesterday was true. All of it. And you can tell, I'm not drunk anymore.

He was looking at you with shock now, clearly trying to process what you just said. He blinked a few times and then smiled slightly, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

- Loving me is possibly the most stupid thing you could do and believe me, I know you ideas can be really stupid sometimes - he said, looking at you again. You pouted slightly and that made him laugh quietly.

- I know it's stupid. You have Clarke and stuff...

- What? No. That's not what I meant - he cut you off again. - Clarke is just my best friend. And I love you too. That's why I was on this party. I didn't want you to do anything stupid - he smiled slightly and pulled you closer. You shifted on his bed and looked at him.

- Are you serious? - you whispered, searching for any sigh of a lie in his eyes. But he just nodded.

- I'm dead serious - he whispered and kissed you gently. Suddenly someone opened the door.

- Oh, God, finally! - you heard Monty's voice. - We found the bunker, so get up and move your hangover asses.

- Are you judging us, Monty? - Bellamy asked with a smirk. There was silence for a second.

- Well, yeah, a little - with that Monty left and you two started to laugh.

Mincemaker Yep. Jeanne was an illiterate peasant girl.

AdventZero That, and Marie Antoinette didn't even say those words. It came from Jean-Jacques Rousseau's autobiography which he supposedly quoted from a "great princess."

Marie Antoinette was 9 years old at the time Rousseau's books were written.

Farran TFW the Throne of Heroes gives all the basic knowledge of the world to a Heroic Spirit and still can't make her literate. Though on a more serious note, I thought that Jeanne as a Servant could read, she just still couldn't do math?

Mincemaker And you would think that if she did indeed say those words, she should be excused because she was 9 years old, for God's sake!

AdventZero Agreed. She wasn't even a princess back then, much less a "great princess" of her time. If my research is correct, Rousseau didn't even know she existed when his book was written. Marie Antoinette arrived in France until about 5 years after his first six books were written - at the age of 14.

That, and the saying was already a hundred years old by the time he quoted it in his book.

BarefeetChaser It is indeed a tragic case of somebody just make shit up, and some other people gets the shit for no good reason.

Kippenberger When did that myth first appear? It sounds like something Robespierre or someone petty would make up.

NWSiaCB In general, the wives/daughters of despised monarchs were roundly vilified in their day. To say something bad about the king was against the law, and being open about such things gave anyone within earshot who didn't like you all the excuse they needed to have you brought to trial and possibly even executed. Talk shit about the king's relatives, however...

The same can be said of Lucretia Borgia, as well, who gets a rap as the wickedest woman who ever lived because she's the daughter of one of the most corrupt popes to ever use the church as a bargaining chip for getting his son onto as many thrones as possible. Since he needed political marriages, and only had one daughter, well, why not just re-use his daughter by murdering or annulling any marriages that live past their usefulness and marry her off again? Who cares what she thinks about this, she's just a bargaining chip woman.

Then again, Marie Antoinette doesn't really have room to complain too much. If she's played as the genuinely innocent naive girl who was brought into a decadent court just before it collapsed, then it raises questions as to why she even qualifies to be a servant in the first place.

Kippenberger Marie in her earlier years was basicly an innocent naïve girl who's "restraing bolts" was loosend too early and as a result overspent her personal fund (money gained from taxing already suffering cevilians) more often then not.

While Marie in her later years started acting more mature, by then Robespierre and people with similar ambitions had gotten into a position to take avantage of those with even less commen sense then most versarien nobles - Yes that's possible - (such as Jeanne de Valois-Saint-Rémy) to stage a Coup.

Claverhouse Something continued with those poor wretches of pseudo-monarchs, presidents and such people: I have yet to come across an American First Lady not roundly abused by some screamers. And they are nearly all innocuous, rather dull women who have not interfered with their husband's work at all.

NWSiaCB Well, there's a gap between "some people" and "how history primarily remembers them". There are some partisans so fervent they loathe Laura Bush simply for being married to George W., but that isn't how the history books are written.

If you go back to First Ladies of more than a generation ago, the way history is handed down to anyone who didn't live through the moment leaves them only as historical curiosities if people know anything about them at all; a general whitewashing of history to heroify the likes of Jackie Kennedy, and a dismissal of Nancy Reagan's interest in the occult as a silly note of interest. As I stated before, the problem she has is "Let them eat cake!" is pretty much the ONLY thing most people know about Marie Antoinette. She wouldn't be noteworthy at all without it. (Hell, more people know who Marie Antoinette was than her husband who was the actual reining monarch of what was at the time the world's most powerful empire overthrown in the whole affair.)

Even worse, most portrayals of Lucrezia Borgia in anything that isn't trying to actively dispel the rumors of her life show her as a raging psychopath and incestuous slut who was willing to sleep with and/or murder (not necessarily in that order) anyone to make her otou-san or onii-san happy. (Of course, she has the misfortune of being related to the Pope so flagrantly corrupt that he's considered one of the primary reasons for the backlash against church corruption that led to the Protestant Reformation. Plus, he was also followed up by a Pope who loathed him with the blazing passions of a million hateful suns and overtly forced "confessions" under torture of Borgia servants to fabricate accusations of murder, adultery, and incest against a family already rife with rumors of those same activities.)

PraiseVectron To add onto that, Marie was an Austrian. Worse, she was an Austrian with the blood of the Hapsburgs in her veins. Nowadays, we don't really consider France and Austria to be arch-enemies, but the hate was intense back then. There were revolutionary politicians whose entire platform can be summarized as "we need to preemptively kill the Austrians before they kill us". Oh, and the Affair of the Diamond Necklace didn't help either.

In the Affair of the Diamond Necklace, Louis XV commissioned an intolerably expensive diamond necklace for his mistress, but died before it was finished. Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette refused to buy the necklace. During this time, a group of scammers had convinced Cardinal de Rohan that Marie secretly loved him and wanted him to buy the necklace for her using forged love letters. Cardinal de Rohan told the diamond makers it was for Marie when he bought the necklace. The diamond makers told Marie about the purchase, and Marie had them all arrested. While modern historians believe it was all the fault of independent scammers, the French public at the time believed it was all Marie's Keikaku. They believed Marie was an evil Austrian who wanted to destroy the romantic Cardinal de Rohan while receiving a decadent diamond necklace on someone else's budget.

Also, she was heavily involved the firing of Finance Minister Jacques Necker. While Necker would later be revealed to have completely failed to bring France out of debt, the French public believed Necker was the savior of the French budget. Necker used accounting tricks to hide problems in the budget, but when the truth was revealed during the revolution, the public initially blamed Marie's excesses instead of the "genius" Necker and his "perfect" math. When the truth finally came out, it was too late. Marie's reputation as a profligate was too large to be removed by something as silly as the truth.

As for actual faults during the revolution, Marie's only problem was being convinced that God would let them turn back the clock with no real consequences. Instead putting all their chips on the constitutional monarchists of the Feuillants Club, their stubbornness helped lead to the domination of the Jacobin Club and their own execution. This is no great fault of Marie's, since more worldly French nobles made the same mistake and gave the same advice to Louis XVI.

Kippenberger The idiot I mentioned (Jeanne) WAS the one who broke the camels back with the whole "Diamond Necklace Affair" Stunt. Didn't know about Jacques though. I know he was fired but not because of imcompetence. I THINK A documentary I watched - Can't remember which one - said it was because of something else but I don't remember what.