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lovemesomesurveys · 5 years

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● Name something you lost or gave away that can never be replaced. A lot of time wasted. “I wasted my time...” ● What 5 websites do you visit often, and why? Tumblr, YouTube, Twitter, Facebook, and Pinterest. ● Name a totally useless possession and how you came to acquire it. Some would consider knickknacks and collectibles and stuff useless, and I mean yeah they just sit on a shelf, but I like stuff like that. ● What music album would be used for a movie about your life? I don’t know. ● List your bad habits and/or addictions and what you have tried to rid yourself of them. I got a lot of bad habits. As for addictions, caffeine and my pain medicine. I don’t abuse it, I take it as prescribed, but after so long your body develops a dependency. I remember several years ago I tried to cut out caffeine. It lasted a couple days, I think. haha. The headaches are no joke.

● If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be, and what would you do if later on you changed your mind? There’s a long list of things I’d want to change, but I mean if I could have good health (mentally and physically) that would make a big difference. I think some other changes would follow. I can’t imagine I’d ever change my mind about that. ● What are your religious beliefs? Have they changed, or have they always stayed the same? I’m a Christian now. Up until 4 years ago I was atheist and then agnostic. ● When was your last food craving, and what did you crave? I’ve been wanting Doritos tacos from Taco Bell lately. ● Who was your first crush and what made them special? This kid named Philip when I was in 3rd grade. He was a grade or two above me. He and I were turning the jump rope for people during this event my elementary school had every year called, Jump Rope for Heart. It was to get people active and raise awareness. Anyway, he was across from me holding the other end of the rope and I just thought he was cute haha. ● Name your most cherished childhood memory. I have a lot of those. I loved my childhood. It wasn’t without struggle or obstacles, but for some reason those things aren’t what stand out the most. I was a strong, resilient kid. Kid me would be so ashamed of how weak I am now. ● Turn to an entry in your journal or diary from a year or more ago. What has changed and what has stayed the same since then? I don’t feel like looking back on old surveys right now. ● What is one thing nobody knows about you because nobody ever cared to ask? Hmm. ● Robert Frost write a poem titled The Road Not Taken. Name a road you’ve always wanted to travel. Where do you hope it takes you, and what might you see on the way? Wait, literally or metaphorically? I mean, metaphorically I’d like to take the road that takes me to working on myself and leading to some happiness and success. That’d be nice. ● Name one thing you always wanted to do, but haven’t. What has prevented you from doing it? Uhh there’s a lot of things. I feel like I’ve wasted so much time in my life each passing year. I’m just wasting away. I want to just...live. Travel more. Do something with my life. My physical health has been a contributing factor, but ultimately it’s me. It’s my mental health. That affects me more than anything else. ● Write about your first kiss. Was it everything you wished or hoped it would be? It happened behind the drama department at my high school. It unexpected and awkward, but it was my first kiss so it was all I knew. I was so giddy about having had my first kiss it didn’t matter haha. ● What was the worst mistake or decision you have ever made in life? What could you have done differently? Oh jeez. I have a lot of regrets. One that weighs heavily on me in recent years relates to my health. I’m very stubborn. I should have taken better care of myself. I should have neglected certain things. Some things don’t just go away, they get worse. And here I am, still not taking care of myself like I should be. Each passing year... ● What song was stuck in your head recently, and what were you doing at the time that made you think of it? I Love Me by Demi Lovato. I just really like the song.

● Write about something you now know that you wish you knew earlier in life. How could this knowledge have helped you? Just going back to the big thing that’s been weighing heavily on my mind these past few years that I talked about up there. ● Write about your greatest fear. Death, losing loved ones, never getting better/getting worse, and never doing anything with my life. ● Name one thing you feel brings out the good in people. Hmm. ● Describe a time in your life when everything turned out fine, despite the odds. I mean, there have been some times where things turned out to be not as bad as I thought they would be. ● If you invented a device that could fix one problem you are facing right now, would you use it? What problem would you like to solve? I’ve talked about it enough. ● Write about the last time you spoke to your best friend. What did you talk about? Last night when my mom got home from work. She was just telling me about stuff that happened at work and the latest Coronavirus news. It’s a wild time right now. All the cancellations of events, school campuses closing, and empty shelfs because people are stockpiling on hand sanitizer, face masks, and toilet paper. Italy is quarantined. I’ve never witnessed anything like this. ● Describe a time you felt alone. I feel that way a lot. I don’t spend a lot of time physically alone, but I still feel alone a lot. ● Name something you found; what was it and where did you find it? Uhh earlier I found a new ASMR channel on YouTube to watch haha. ● What’s on your calendar for tomorrow? I have a doctor appointment. ● What is the most annoying sound you have ever heard? Eating sounds make my skin crawl. ● Describe your first job. I’ve never had one. ● What is the one thing you cannot live without? Besides oxygen, food, and water; my family. And coffee. That doesn’t get lumped into food or water, coffee gets its own honorable mention. ● Quote the nicest thing anyone has ever said about you. Lane said I was strong, beautiful, brave, and rocked red hair like nobody’s business. :D ● Are you afraid of the dark? Why or why not? I can’t sleep if it’s completely dark or quiet, which is why I sleep with the TV on. I’d be scared if the electricity went out and it was dark if I was home alone. I wouldn’t go anywhere alone at night. Even with with someone I’m heightened alert. ● Describe the longest amount of time you have ever been away from home. A week. ● Write about a recent adventure or travels. I went to Disneyland for a few days last month. It was awesome. ● Who did you idolize growing up? My mom and grandma. And some celebrities at the time that were around my age like Hilary Duff. ● Name a celebrity or famous person you wish would take you out on a date. Alexander Skarsgard. ● Describe your daily routine when you get out of bed in the morning. Take my medicine, use the restroom, have coffee. ● Name one thing you have always been good at doing. Jumping to the worst case scenarios. ● What is your favorite season, and why? Fall and winter. I love the weather, the clothes, the scents, the holidays, and just the coziness of it all. ● What was the title of the last book you read? I’m currently reading, “The Girl That Vanished” by A.J. Rivers. It’s the sequel to, “The Girl in Cabin 13.” ● List your biggest regrets. I talked about one of them already. That’s enough for today. ● Have you ever seen a ghost? No. ● Describe your note-taking style and habits. Bullet points, underlining, asterisks, and highlighting. ● Do you believe that we are all here for a reason? What might the reason be? Yes. You have to figure that out for yourself, we all have a different purpose. I’m still trying to figure mine out. ● What comes to mind when someone uses the phrase prolonging the magic? I’ve never heard that phrase. ● Have you ever done something just to feel the danger, or to feel alive? Drinking, smoking weed, and taking a ride in a truck at night on a backroad at night near a levee. That was scary, but definitely an adrenaline rush. ● What is your favorite cliché? Actions speak louder than words. ● What are all your thoughts on god? I believe in God. ● How do rainy days make you feel? I love rainy days. I do the same things I do any other day, but it’s just cozy. The sound is relaxing. ● What is the most amount of money you have had at one time? A couple grand. ● Write a celebrity crush list. Alexander Skarsgard. ● What is the most amazing thing you have ever seen, heard, or experienced? I couldn’t pick just one thing. ● What effect does music have on you? It can perk me up, it can give me a little energy if I need to clean, it can make me sad, it can make me zone out, it can make me relax. ● What did you learn today? What did you learn yesterday? Uhhh. ● What 5 traits do people first notice when they meet you for the first time? I’m sure the very first thing they notice is I’m in a wheelchair. Then probably how thin I am. Then perhaps my hair and my black rimmed glasses. Maybe my freckles. ● Have you ever carved your name or initials into a tree or stone? No. ● Does Never Never Land really exist? No, sadly. “Cause Neverland is home, to lost boys like me...” ● Where is a great place to get breakfast? This local place that’s known more for their burgers, fries, and shakes, but actually have bomb breakfast, too. I love their country gravy. ● List 3 things that went right (or wrong) today. It’s only 2 in the morning, but so far I had ramen, I’m finishing up my Starbucks Doubleshot energy drink, and I’m watching/listening to an ASMR video. Not a bad start, but we’ll see how the rest of the day goes... I have a doctor appointment later that I’m not looking forward to. Afterwards my mom and I are going grocery shopping and I’ll probably pick up Wingstop on the way home. It’s been hot lately and I’ve had a nagging headache the past couple days, so I hope that isn’t the case today. ● What is the best method of travel, and in what ways have you traveled? Car and plane. ● If you could give the world just one thing, what would it be? Peace. ● What were your best and worst subjects in school or college? English throughout school, with the addition of psychology in college. My worst was always math. I struggled with science, too. Philosophy was really fucking hard. ● Describe the most outrageous thing anyone has dared you to do. I haven't really been dared to do anything too outrageous. ● Ice cream: chocolate, vanilla, or strawberry? Strawberry, but vanilla is good as well. ● What historical events happened the year you were born? Ted Bundy was electrocuted. ● Pick up a random object that has special meaning to you and describe it in as much detail as possible. I’m on my bed and there’s 2 giraffe stuffed animals, one is a big squishy one. I love all my giraffe stuffed animals, which there are a LOT of. ● Write about a recent visit to a museum or art gallery. I visited a Walt Disney museum a couple years ago. It was really cool. ● What food items do you consider staples in a well-balanced diet? I’m the wrong person to ask about well balanced diets. Well balanced for me is Wingstop, ramen, this pizza from my favorite local pizza place, scrambled eggs, and coffee. haha. ● Describe your feelings in regards to an issue in todays society, and what would be done to fix it. I talked about the coronavirus, which is a big issue and hot topic currently, and my feelings to it already. ● If you had only one wish, what would you wish for? Cures for all diseases. ● If you could tell the world just one thing, what would you say? Wash your hands! ● Share a dirty little secret about yourself (or someone else). Nah. ● Have you ever gone skinny dipping? Noooo. ● Name something you would like to devote more time to seeing or doing. I need to devote time to taking care of myself and taking some necessary steps. ● What is the name of your favorite book, magazine, or publication? I have too many favorite books. ● Describe your first car. I’ve never had my own car. I don’t drive. ● Thunderstorms… Inspiring or scary? I love them.

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scrumptiousalpacadeer · 4 years

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Post Covid joyfulness; vole death; and why I love my Frida Cagnolino

Good morning dear reader(s),!.. indifferent universe, loving universe...

I hope you are very well this Tuesday. Things have been rather eventful since my opening post; yesterday I staked my row of snapdragons; planting sticks like crutches for them to lean on so they could bloom to their full potential, on Sunday I went to my FIRST OPEN AIR CAFE FOR THREE MONTHS!!! (that's a whole other story)

This morning my daughter very nearly saved a vole’s life; she shook our murderous cat Laura down by the swing until she released the vole from its jaws before yelling at me through the kitchen door that she needed a Tupperware container IMMEDIATELY. We both kind of knew the vole wasn’t gonna make it; it was in full shock, quivering in the corner of the container, in that way that humans do after a car crash or some terrible news... the last energies go into the death shake - the ‘crossing over’ between life and death. However, vole didn’t give up without a final adventure - it escaped the container and dashed to the bathroom for one last foray in this world. Minutes later my daughter said; ‘I was wrong mama. He died. One minute I looked up and he was alive. And the next minute I looked up and he was dead.’ I resisted the temptation to say, ‘well, that's just life, kid!’ and instead told her she’d given him the best death a vole could ever ask for; passing away in a girls den along side her collection of Jacqueline Wilson books; if it hadn’t been for her interception he would have been de-bowelled; torn limb from limb, departing this earth is a chaos of blood and terror. ‘Can I bury him?’ she said.

Vole is buried along with two of his brethren and a few mice down by the Camelia tree.

However, the strangest thing that has happened since last waxing is that according to my daughter I said the words ‘Spicy Man’ in my sleep last night.....! Now that's funny. ‘Spicy Man’....!??????? Sometimes words fail. This is one of those times. That's the gap where words fail.

OK, so I promised you the story behind my background picture. Here it is in all its glory; it’s called ‘Frida Cagnolino’ - oil on Gesso - and was created by a lady called Kate Milson in 2015.

I purchased it at the Battersea Affordable Arts Fair in April 2017. As with any creation there is the story of its creation and the story of its procurement; how it passes from the creator out into the world and lands, lovingly, into the hands of its receiver. And the story of how I came to buy a collage of the Virgin Mary with an owl on her head is quite something.

First off, this original piece of art cost £1500. I want to be less of a twat about money Post Covid - there’s too much weirdness and shame attached to coins and notes - so there it is. I paid £1500 for this work - much more than I pay in a month’s rent now; far more than I could ever afford to pay for anything right now - but back then, in this other life, I was RICH BEYOND MY WILDEST DREAMS... I had come into a very large amount of money, having been furnished with half the assets of the sale of my father’s house following his death. In short; it was ‘sad money’; ‘dad’s money’ - and the story of ‘how I sp**ked my father’s inheritance up the wall on facials in exactly the same way he sp**ked his life away on a bullshit suburban life that he never believed in for one second’ is a whole other BLog post entirely.

So anyway, at the Battersea Art Fair 2017 I have money to spend and I’m giddy on the freedom of it. That day I spend £2500 on three pieces of art. What’s interesting and highly significant is that I was also in a wheelchair that day; my beloved *David are *Boo are wheeling me around the various collections at Battersea Evolution Venue, because, at that time, I was pretty much immobile due to having contracted six blood infections courtesy of some rank and highly illegal black mould in our basement Richmond flat. I was helpless; powerless; hopeless; but I had money to spend and it felt so damn good. I knew deep down that that I’d been corrupted entirely by my father’s fat wad; that I should be shelving it responsibly for my daughter’s college fund or some such; but screw that - I was gonna blow it on art. And I could pretend I was an arts aficionado. I might not be able to walk 100m straight but I could converse with artists’ agents and immerse myself in astonishing beauty.

And then it happened. I’m wheeling past a collection, about to turn down the next aisle, and all of a sudden Mother Mary catches my eye. I am drawn like electricity to this burst of read crazy colour, and a blue cloaked magnetic woman just looking at me... I instruct *David to put the brakes on and move towards this glorious work, basking in it for a while. I think I knew I was going to buy this thing from the very first second I laid eyes on it. I felt like Mona Lisa was looking into my soul but at the same time reminding me that life was a gas.

Its largely a mystery as to why we’re drawn to particular objects. Why do I love this piece of art so? Let me count the ways. Well, it manages at once to be subversive, heretical, beautiful, chaotic, surprising, highly weird, spontaneous, and deeply joyful all at the same time. I love the singularity of ‘her’ - this figure; and I realise now that she represents this beautific mother figure - with infinite love, understanding and kindness - that I’ve been searching for my whole life. Even now as I look at the picture, hanging on the wall to the left of my bed, it’s her blue blue eyes I must meet first. I love her wild and free relationship to animals; she has an owl on her head but manages to not only retain her dignity, but somehow embrace and be in partnership with this wild gesture. She’s composed, wholly and entirely a woman, but entirely humble and at one with nature and her environment. Somehow, even though she has inherent grace and a natural regality, she doesn’t stand on ceremony. This woman is all knowing; entirely free; a true punk. And I get to hang out with her every day.

I love the unspoken bond between her and her beloved dog (a Bichon Frise?). ‘Cagnolino’ means ‘lapdog’ in Italian. They both challenge the viewer, inviting us to the party. I like to think the Post-Covid world we’re being asked to form is something akin to this; we have a chance now to choose punk joy and reverence to wild nature over stifling rules and dank conformity.

I love the fact that its a collage - bit and pieces from here and there brought together in one woman’s determined imagination.

I love the way the brightest yellow surfinia bursts out of pure blue sky of the most gentle hue, and how this sky in turn bursts out of the blood red streets of Venice; I love the way butterflies flitter all over the place. Perhaps most of all, I adore the purple crown sitting atop the dogs head - and how he wears it so well.

I love the violent effrontery growingness of it. I love its revolutionary impulse. I love how it reminds me to be free and brave and enjoy the moment; and that when things get really hairy and scary, as they are prone to do from time to time, that there will always and forever be butterflies and surfinias throbbing into life, and if you’re really lucky, you might just get an owl landing on your head, bestowing upon you a scratchy blessing with its razor claws. And I love the fact that I am the only person in the whole world who has this treasure.

The artist Kate Milson wrote to me most generously days after I’d settled her art in my house. This piece, she told me, was largely a collation of images from a bundle of old art magazines bought from a second hand book shop in Venice some years previous. The name Frida is a nod to Frida Kahlo - a woman who created art from a state of paralysis - having survived a near fatal bus accident in her youth. I like this nod to a woman who despite physical confinements, drenched herself in colour and beauty.

She wrote that she recalled surfinia plants in her garden when she was a child; how they ‘seemed tough, but once picked die almost immediately’ - and how there seemed to be ‘this combination of strength and fragility to everything in the natural world’.

I like being reminded of this each morning; that being strong can come directly out of fragility - that they’re intertwined.

So...there we have it. That’s how Frida came into my life, and actually, even though she felt very ‘costly’ at the time, and I was kind of basking in a wealth I knew couldn’t last, it is of great comfort that this piece will last through my lifetime and maybe beyond. And actually, considering all the hours that went into her making, considering that I may have, in my small way, contributed to an independent artist continuing her craft; and considering all the hours I’ve spent with Frida Cagnolino’s loving gaze on me, well......she was worth every penny and much much more.

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wheelchair-wizard · 7 months

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Irish Mythology

VOL 8. Cliodhna. Queen of the Banshees.

Clíodhna: Queen of the Banshees

In the verdant hills of South Munster, where the veil between our world and the Otherworld is gossamer-thin, Clíodhna reigned supreme. Her ethereal beauty was whispered across the emerald landscapes, and her name echoed in the rustling leaves of ancient oaks. But Clíodhna was no ordinary banshee; she was a goddess entwined with both sorrow and desire.

The Three Birds of Clíodhna:

Three birds accompanied Clíodhna—a trio of feathered emissaries whose plumage shimmered like rainbows. Their melodious songs held the power to heal, and their wings bore them across the realms. These avian companions feasted on apples from an otherworldly tree, their beaks stained crimson by the fruit’s magic. When they sang, the air itself danced to their tune, and mortals who heard their harmonies were blessed or cursed, depending on fate’s whims.

The Forbidden Love:

Clíodhna’s heart, though steeped in mystery, was not immune to love. Her gaze fell upon Ciabhán, a mortal man of courage and grace. Ciabhán’s eyes mirrored the sea, and his laughter echoed through the cliffs. When he hunted in the forests, Clíodhna would wait for him by the shore, her silver hair catching moonbeams. Their clandestine meetings transcended the boundaries of existence—a banshee and a mortal, entangled in a love that defied the cosmic order.

Manannán Mac Lir’s Music:

One fateful evening, as Clíodhna lay on the rocky shore, lulled by the rhythmic waves, Manannán Mac Lir, the enigmatic Sea God, emerged from the depths. His harp strings sang of forgotten memories, of lost cities beneath the waves, and of love that spanned millennia. Clíodhna listened, her heartstrings resonating with each haunting note. Manannán’s melodies summoned a colossal wave—the very essence of Tonn Chlíodhna, “Clíodhna’s Wave.” It rose, a liquid titan, and swept her away.

The Diverging Legends:

Legends diverge at this juncture. Some say Clíodhna drowned, her form merging with the ocean’s embrace. She became the guardian of shipwrecks, her mournful cries echoing through storms. Others insist that she transformed into a swan, her feathers iridescent, her song both melancholic and hopeful. As a swan, she glided upon the waves, her eyes reflecting the moon’s silver path.

Carrig-Cleena: The Palace Beneath the Sea:

Her palace, hidden within a pile of ancient rocks near Mallow, bore her name—Carrig-Cleena. Its walls shimmered like mother-of-pearl, and its halls resonated with the whispers of lost lovers. Clíodhna’s memory lingered in the salt-laden air, in the cries of seabirds, and in the hearts of those who dared to listen. The Blarney Stone, kissed by countless pilgrims seeking eloquence, was said to have formed from a fragment of Clíodhna’s magical rock.

And so, Clíodhna, Queen of the Banshees, dances between realms—a paradox of love and lamentation. Her story, like the sea, remains both mysterious and eternal, etched into the cliffs and carried by the tides.

Note: Clíodhna’s tale is a delicate thread woven into Ireland’s rich mythology, a reminder that love transcends even the boundaries of life and death.

Christy,

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pendragonfics · 6 years

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Early Mornin’

Paring: Markus/Reader

Tags: gender neutral reader, no pronouns used for reader, meet-cute, domestic fluff, like the fluffiest fluff you've ever seen fluffed, post-pacifist best ending, Markus (Detroit: Become Human) needs a hug, blood and injury, blue blood, angst with a happy ending.

Summary: After the war, the both of you deserve to sleep in, and snuggle.

Word Count: 1,570

Current Date: 2019-01-04

If you were to be completely frank on the subject, you loved early mornings. You had always loved them, and now, after the riots in Detroit led by the people of Jericho, it felt good to relax in the morning. When you spoke about your love of them, though, people would be confused, confounded, unsure by your words. Early mornings suck! you heard often enough, why wouldn’t you just prefer to stay in bed?

But that was the things - you loved early mornings…in bed.

Especially in the wintertime, when the frost bit at the window frames beyond the confines of the flannelette sheet-strewn bed, where the house was warmed by electricity and comfort. The skies would be dark in the morning, just like they were the night before, and you loved looking into the darkness at just after five thirty in the morning, seeing shapes that could barely be deciphered by the naked human eye.

Despite your love for early mornings, the man who you loved, well, the android-man who you loved, did not have a fondness for them. Markus was a busy man, always working on something more than another. It led to lots of things - sadly, the death of Mr. Carl Manfred, the uprising that he had managed to make into the hallmarks of history…and, the marginalisation of your love of early morning snuggles.

But it wasn’t ever said that he didn’t love time with you.

You had met Markus in the town square, where you had witnessed an anti-android protest gone wrong. The android with the close-cropped hair wandered too close to the demonstration of the angry masses, and you watched, aghast. The threw him around, kicked him, called him names that made your blood boil. You’re not sure what made you do it, but you sprung to action, and toward the android.

“Markus,” you cried out the name that was printed on the back of his jacket, moving to help him up, “Come now, I’ll be late for the appointment.”

“Is this your plastic fuck?” a protester sneered.

“Well, I don’t care.” Another chimed in. “We’re going to teach it a lesson.”

Luckily then, a police officer stepped in, and diffused the situation. Before too long, you were walking off with the RK200 model, unscathed. You stopped at the bus stop, and the android turned to you, looking you in the eyes with its green ones.

“Why did you do that?” He asked you.

You frowned, considering your hands. “I’m not quite sure.” You reply honestly. “Perhaps, because it’s wrong for those people to act like that toward you?” You take a deep breath, and add, softly, you add, “Or because it’s wrong to stand by and watch bad things as it happens?”

The android nodded. “Either way, thank you for your actions…”

“_________.” You reply quickly. “I’m sorry if calling you by your name earlier was wrong. I’ve never had an android, I really don’t understand the etiquette -,”

“It was fine, _________.” The bus pulled up, and Markus moved toward the end, where the Android’s Only compartment was located. It was then when you realised that you couldn’t follow him any longer, and you gave him a small wave. “Good bye, _________.”

“Goodbye, Markus.” You bid, feeling like you’d never see him again…he had such a distinct face, too…

In the dimness that seeped through the window of your shared apartment, you saw the hints of the beginnings of sunrise. It was too early to be fully awake, but by the time it was eight o’clock, when the sun sat comfortably in the sky, you’d be ready.

Too bad today, you stirred a little too much to your boyfriend’s liking.

“Remember how we met?” you asked him, your voice crackling a little from disuse in the night.

“Go back to sleep, _________.” Markus grumbled.

It took weeks after the death of your favourite artist Carl Manfred to lift the burden of sadness that made you feel so gloomy. You spent most of it locked in your apartment, neglecting your canvases and commissions. He had been a mentor to you when you had been younger, and he hadn’t been in the wheelchair - he had inspired you to become who you were. In the time after hearing about his death, you barely spoke to anyone for days, but when you found the strength to leave the apartment, you did. From being at home for so long, you’d exhausted all your resources - food, essential supplies…

So, you went to the town square to stock up. You had just begun to place fresh foods in your basket at the supermarket when you saw a familiar face outside, through the shop window. The android of which you had met earlier in the year, Markus. In a dream-like daze, you returned the items to the shelf, and exited the shop empty-handed, gravitating toward him. If he were the sun, you were Icarus, willing to be burnt.

There were other androids with him, many more than you had ever seen congregated together in the same area, ever. There was a model that you remember from university, a woman with golden honey-red hair, and so many more flanking his sides. As you neared, you realised that his face was devoid of the LED that had been there before. No flashing blue-to-yellow, no light.

He looked so very human.

“_________?” he spoke your name with a conviction that you hadn’t heard in his tone in the last time that you had spoken. You’d heard of deviant androids, and you suspected that he had broken free as well. His eyes lit up at the sight of you, “What are you doing here?”

“Are you marching?” you asked him.

He nodded, looking toward the massive billboard to the right of the gathering. In seconds, it flickered from its advertising picture of the football team to a picture, a logo. You smiled at the sight of it.

“This is dangerous,” he told you, voice low.

“What else is new?” you replied, and turning to the android beside you, a blonde man, you linked arms with him, and the university lecturer. “Hey,” you told them, “I’m _________.”

“Simon,” the blonde replied.

“Josh,” the other said.

“It’s wonderful to meet you all,” you told them, and you meant it.

Even though you loved him with all your heart, trusted him as your leader as a part of the uprising, and admired him equally, you didn’t listen. Instead, you shuffled, so very quietly, toward his side of the bed. He looked so human, in these moments - no LED, the slight warmth within the sheets, and his breathing, so soft.

You slot yourself into his arms, and place your head on his shoulder, you let out a small breath.

“Are you comfortable?” he asks you, voice low. It’s a different voice to what he usually uses, when speaking to the people of Jericho - it’s calm, kind. There’s the authority to it, yes, but with you, it isn’t trying to rally the people. Just show you how much he cares. “_________?”

You chuckle, nudging his face with your own. Your cheeks brush his own, the hint of a smile on your face. “Oh, you know I am,” you reply, your voice cheekily soft.

“I mean, if you weren’t, I’d -,” you cut Markus’ words off with a kiss, deftly placed just beside his mouth, beside his lips. “Is that how we’re playing this now?” he asks you, a small smile upon his face. His words are daring, but the way he spoke them, you know he’s messing with you.

When you found him in the stronghold outside the camp, you pressed yourself into the wall, where all the journalists stood. There were guns trained on the people on the other side, but that didn’t stop you. Nothing could stop you from being there for Markus. You hadn’t had the chance to tell him of your feelings, but by the look of things, it would be now or never. None of the people with their cameras paid you any mind as you straddled the fence, and once on the other side, you mentally thanked the bullet-proof vest you’d managed to buy from the internet. They fired at the people in the barricade, like fish in a barrel, but once you were over the next wall, you didn’t care if you’d be shot. You had to be there.

For Markus.

“_________! Get out of here!” Markus called to you, his tone aghast.

A bullet whizzed by your arm, grazing where the vest didn’t protect your shoulder. You wince, feeling the sting of pain. The soldiers pause, halting their fire. You’re not sure if it’s because of their orders, or because they see you, and are seeing the blood drip down your arm, a colour that they weren’t expecting.

You walk toward Markus, but it’s him who cradles you, his blue-blood stained hands clutching you close. Close enough to hear his breathing, feel it on your face, his lips -

His lips on yours.

“If you don’t want early morning kisses, be my guest,” you grin into his synthetic skin, feeling it graze on your own.

He laughs into your hair, holding you closer. “I’d have them forever, with you.” He states and asks, “if that works for you?”

You nod, feeling almost giddy with your happiness, “Yeah, that works for me, Mr. Rebellion.”

#dbh markus #markus rk200 #markus #markus/reader #markus dbh/reader #markus x reader #markus dbh x reader #detroit: bh #Detroit: Become Human/Reader #dbh reader insert #chaotic--lovely #pendragonfics #gender neutral reader

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wroughtbetwixtfanfic · 5 years

Text

Love, Blood, And Rhetoric, Ch 2.

Fandom: The Society.

Summary: Campbell’s just trying to survive in the new world. He knows he can make it– it’s everyone else he’s worried about.

Rating: Mature.

Tags: Canon Divergence, Mental Health Issues, Family Issues, Substance Abuse, Complicated Relationships, Consent Issues, Antisocial Personality Disorder, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Mild Sexual Content, assuming Elle and Campbell are both 18 for the sake of things, Underage Drinking, PTSD, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, implied eating disorder, Fix-It, Campbell has mild ASPD, and is actively trying to not be awful

Word Count: 6971

Ch 1 || Ch 3 || Ch 4 || Ch 5 || AO3

Emily was buried in the morning.

They chose the church yard for her final resting place. The grave was too shallow, and there was no casket. Just a bedsheet, white and clean, and some flowers laid across her body. No one spoke any memorable words. Helena said a sermon from the Bible, ironic for the fact that Emily had been Buddhist, and that was it. They buried her, people cried, and then they went home.

Over the next few days, cards and handwritten letters showed up around Emily's grave. Campbell brought a few flowers from the front yard, and Harry brought one of his sister's teddy bears. It felt right to show some sort of solidarity. Soon, there were candles and other things left behind, too. Campbell wondered if anyone would leave tokens at his grave, if he died. Not that he'd care, but it was a morbid little thought, nonetheless.

People hid in their houses, for the most part. Emily's death seemed to solidify what was happening. They weren't home, they weren't going to be magically saved; that was something else to be grieved. Harry coped by throwing parties. He never invited Campbell. Not anymore. Campbell knew it was because drugs were involved, but whatever. Elle would come over in the morning for coffee, anyways. She wouldn't talk much or stay long, but she'd give him a hug before leaving. For just a little while, it'd soothe the strange pit in Campbell's chest.

In the ten days that followed, Cassandra stopped by twice. Once to get some of Sam's things, once to take the food rations he'd stolen for Sam. They didn't speak. Cassandra was pissed. Whatever. He was used to people being fed up with him. At least on day ten, Campbell got a text from Harry, inviting him to the gazebo. Apparently, Lexie and some friends of hers were trying to channel God or something.

They're talking to a stack of rocks, Harry said. You gotta see it.

Campbell couldn't resist. He found Harry, and the two watched the bizarre spectacle unfolding on the green. Sure enough, Lexie and several others had gathered up rocks, stacked them, and were sitting in a circle around them while chanting. He almost felt bad for staring, but Cassandra, Allie, Helena, and Gordie were in the gazebo and staring just as much.

After twenty minutes or so, Harry gently prodded Campbell in the chest with his phone. "Hey, there's a game of Fugitive tonight. It's gonna be the biggest one yet. You in?"

"Yeah, sure," Campbell replied. He'd rather piss on an electric fence. "Whatever."

"Look, I know I've been kind of a dick these last few days. But I miss my friend, you know. We've always been partners in crime, haven't we?"

Campbell looked over at Harry. The poor fuck had dark circles under his eyes, and his hair was a mess. He hadn't been taking care of himself at all. It was enough that Campbell wanted to tell Harry to get a shower, and then they'd talk, but... Partners in crime. Campbell had long ago given up on the idea of Harry ever desiring him, and now Campbell had Elle to focus on, but when Harry batted those goddamn eyelashes of his and used that tone? Impossible to resist.

"Yeah, yeah," Campbell murmured. "Forgiven."

Harry leaned against him, just a little. It was almost enough to distract Campbell from the absurdity that was Lexie attempting to throat sing, but then several people began to shout and point upwards towards the sun. Campbell glanced up, just a bit. Enough to notice that something was happening. He turned the screen of his phone towards the sun. In the reflection, he could see a dark circle oozing across the face of the star.

"We asked for a sign!" Lexie yelled.

Her rock-stacking buddy, genius that he was, stared up directly at it. "What does it mean?"

Gordie saved the day, luckily. "It doesn't mean anything. It's a fucking solar eclipse. It's not a sign, it's a predictable astronomical event." His tone turned pointed as he looked at the guy. "Just don't stare at it, and we'll be fine."

Of course, some people kept staring at it. Campbell waited until it went completely dark, and the air turned cold; Harry let out a soft gasp, and Campbell looked up. Totality. It was beautiful and eerie. The sky was dark, the moon was dark, and around it was a halo of bright light. It stayed that way for a long, long minute and a half, before the "diamond" appeared along the side of the moon. It was ending. Campbell looked away, and soon daylight returned to the world.

"Shit," Harry whispered.

Campbell nudged Harry. "C'mon. Like Gordie said, man, it's nothing. Let's go get breakfast and leave Lexie and the God Squad to freak out."

Harry nodded, following as Campbell led them to the small coffee shop downtown. It was easy enough to pick the lock and disable the alarm; Harry had worked there the last few months, and could make one mean coffee. They found some of the frozen sandwiches and heated them up, sitting down at the little table near the window.

"Been a while since we just hung out," Harry said as he sipped his drink. "How have you been?"

"Oh, I've been keeping myself busy."

"I heard you kicked Sam out."

Campbell groaned. "Why does everyone keep bringing that up?"

"Cold move, dude."

"Yeah, well, it's a good thing we don't have to explain shit to each other if we don't feel like it, huh?"

"Whatever you say. I just think it's gotta suck being in that big house by yourself."

"Yeah?" Campbell picked the sausage off his sandwich and tossed it onto Harry's plate. He smiled, taking a bite and leaning forward. "Hey, how are things going with Kelly these days?"

Harry lifted his hands in a gesture of peace. "Point taken, okay? Damn." He let out a long, slow sigh. "But if you actually care, I don't know. We haven't talked much. I keep thinking maybe she's just pissed and will come around when she's done being pissed."

"Good luck. Chick knows how to hold a grudge."

"Don't be rude. She's sweet."

Campbell shrugged. He felt the familiar, possessive spark burn to life; he didn't want to talk about Kelly. She was smart, she was gracious. She was polite and elegant and the perfect sort of woman for a politician. Senator Bingham and his lovely wife. They really would have made a pretty picture. But did she know him? Did she see him as he was, and love him anyways? Of course not, but still, he chased after her.

The bell above the door jingled. Speak of the devil, Campbell thought as Kelly walked in. Her eyes were cold when she noticed him, but she still strode over. "Could I get a coffee?" she asked, turning her gaze to Harry. "If you're not busy."

Harry's spine immediately evaporated. "Oh, sure. Yeah."

"I had to get going anyways," Campbell added. He stood and pushed between them, heading to the door. Campbell paused at the door and flashed Harry his brightest smile. "Lemme know when you find those balls you were missing."

There was no point waiting for an answer. Campbell headed out, wandering the streets and trying to figure out what to do. He could break into the arcade, steal the quarters, and start a lucrative career in 8-bit gaming. Grizz and his crew were out on the football field. He probably could weasel his way in with them, especially since Grizz seemed almost friendly. Or maybe he could go convert the golf course outside of town into a community garden; Cassandra hadn't taken him up on that whole screw-grass-plant-food idea yet. He just felt itchy, and he knew that meant trouble if he couldn't find a productive outlet.

"Campbell?"

He stopped, pulled from his thoughts. Elle was behind him. She was in a nice black and white dress, hair gleaming and just a touch of make-up on. Campbell tilted his head. "Hey, Elle. Going somewhere?"

Elle pursed her lips. "I was thinking about it. Helena's speaking at the church."

"You're Christian?"

"I don't know what I am anymore."

"Would you like me to walk you? I was heading that way."

"Yeah?" That managed to get a small smile from her, anyways. "I'd like that."

Campbell held out his arm, and Elle took it. "Cute necklace. Ballet slippers?"

"Mhm. My mom got it for me when I had my first solo."

"A solo is kind of a big deal in ballet, isn't it?"

"It is."

"How old were you?"

Elle blushed a little. "Oh, about seven or so. But then I got the part of the Sugarplum Fairy in my old school's production of The Nutcracker."

"That's impressive."

"Well, I'm no Lauren Cuthbertson, but I try."

"Who?"

By the time they got to the church, Campbell had been well-schooled on London's Royal Ballet. Elle gave him a curious look when he stopped at the church steps. "You're not coming in?"

"Nah, I kinda get hives around the Bible. I'll wait for you here, okay?"

Elle shook her head as she went inside. Campbell mulled around for a moment, before noticing Kyle Jasko sitting on the sidewalk nearby. He was in a wheelchair thanks to a bad accident when he was young, but he never seemed too down about it before; now, he looked like he hadn't been getting any sleep, either.

"Hey, Kyle," Campbell called out in greeting. Kyle's head snapped up. He didn't say anything back. "How's it going?"

Kyle eyed him for a moment. "Fine. What do you want?"

"Nothing. Waiting for someone?"

"Yeah. The guys in the Guard help me into the church, but I guess they're late."

Campbell looked from Kyle to the church steps. That wasn't something he'd thought about before. They were basically in a half-hearted apocalypse situation. What was that like for people like Kyle? He knew for a fact that most of the stores had small doors, narrow aisles. A lot of places only had stairs. Navigating the world was a pain in the ass as it was. With wheels, it had to be even harder.

The church doors opened, and one teen wandered out. A few seconds later, Cassandra followed. For a second, Campbell was surprised to see her; it had been a good five years since Cassandra had gone to anything resembling a sermon. Then again, people were doing all sorts of desperate things these days.

Cassandra startled a bit when she saw him, but then kept walking, eyes far away. Distracted. She didn't really look at him, but she slowed her walk so that he could keep up. "Hey. What are you doing here?"

"I walked Elle over." He peered over at her, trying to read her face. She had her mask up, though, and even he couldn't figure that out. "Message not for you?"

"Yeah, oddly enough I'm still not into church services. Not a lot of people are buying what Helena's selling. They're starting to lose hope."

"I think people are doing pretty well under the circumstances, don't you?"

"For now, but we both know that won't last. Once reality settles in, I'm worried what they're going to start doing." Cassandra frowned. "People who are scared and alone can do terrible things."

"Well, at least we're not alone. You and I are some of the lucky ones. You've got Allie and I've got Sam."

"You had Sam."

Campbell stopped, lightly grabbing Cassanda's arm. She looked at him, finally, and it was cutting. So, that was it. She was pissed off. "He told you what happened."

"Of course he did." She yanked her arm out of his grasp. "Campbell, how could you?"

"You know I'm not going to be able to play by the rules you want everyone else to play by. If I get Sam out of there now, if people think I turned on him, no one will question why I'm in a home by myself. Besides. I care about Sam, but I can't take care of him. I can't give him what you can."

"Fine, but I hope you realize you can't get through this all on your own."

"I've got Harry. Elle, maybe." Campbell hesitated. Hard to tell where they stood, at this point, but he was willing to hedge his bets. "And I've got you."

Cassandra crossed her arms. She let out a little, irritated breath of air, but the look in her eyes had softened. "You do have me."

"You're right, anyways. We can't go on like this. We have to figure some things out. Make some rules."

"You almost had me fooled, that night in the church."

"C'mon, as if I'd really hurt you. I did what I had to do. You know who's with you and against you, now."

"True enough." Another kid left the church. Cassandra led them to the bench nearby; they sat back to back, like then did when they were younger, leaning against each other. "So, you're on board, then?"

"Idle hands are going to be a big problem eventually. The thing is, who's gonna decide the rules, you know? Who has all the power? That'll be interesting."

"You?"

"No," Campbell chuckled. "Fuck that. No, I'm just the idea guy."

"And what ideas do you have?"

"Lawns."

Cassandra's tone turned incredulous. "Lawns."

"We're gonna need food sources. Lawns are useless wastes of space and water." It was a rich people luxury that they couldn't afford. Not anymore. "Rip them up. Get seed packets from the stores and start planting. Also, Kyle really needs some ramps for his wheelchair. Just saying."

Bringing out her phone, Cassandra tapped something out. "I'll talk to Grizz and the others about it. It might be too late to plant anything, but Clark and Jason were in wood shop. They must be able to use a hammer."

"Cool." Campbell closed his eyes, soaking up the feeling of the sun on his skin and breathing in the smell of flowers. Waiting. But she didn't say anything else. She was waiting, too, and she was never the first to cave. "How is Sam?"

"Mm. He's hurting. He misses you, I think, but he'd never admit to it." Her tone turned dry. "It's something you two have in common, as it turns out."

"So, we both got the stubborn gene. What the hell am I supposed to do about any of this, long-term?"

"Why are you asking me?"

"Because you think it's a bad idea. You have that vibe."

"I do not."

"Do so."

Cassandra shifted, sitting up and pulling away so she could turn to face him. "Fine. I think there are other ways we could keep you both safe. But if you really are going to do it like this, just... Don't come around for a while. I think you both need time to think things through."

Campbell opened his mouth to argue, but then people started coming out of the church. "Looks like Helena's lecture is over. I better go get Elle."

"Of course. Thanks for the suggestions."

Nodding, Campbell turned and headed towards the small crowd of people gathering on the front steps of the church. His eyes found Elle. She was at the edge of the crowd, eyes down and face drawn. She looked lost. Sad. Still, as he approached, she looked up; her hair shone gold in the sunlight, and her blue-green eyes sparkled faintly. Absolutely gorgeous. Campbell smiled at her and offered his hand. She took it, and they began to make their way back towards Elle's home.

"Bleak service," Elle muttered. "Maybe the other kids are right. We're gonna die here."

"Maybe, maybe not. Doesn't do much good to worry about it, though, right? Like Cassandra said. We need to just focus on preparing for the long haul."

"How do you keep yourself from freaking out?"

"Lots and lots of distractions. Speaking of which, Harry said there's a game of Fugitive tonight. Wanna come? Might take your mind off things."

Elle cocked her head. "What's Fugitive?"

"Like tag, with cars." Campbell grinned as she shot him a worried look. "No, you don't run people over. Fugitives run on foot towards a safe zone, and cops hunt for them in cars. One cop drives and the other cop is the runner. The runners chase down and tag fugitives. It's whatever, but it's something to do."

"Maybe. Sounds a little too intense for me."

"I'll text you the location, if you change your mind. We're starting at ten."

"Alright."

Campbell sent her the information, but his phone buzzed with a new text a split second after. Sam. He bit his lip at the preview. Can we talk? Maybe Cassandra had said something, but that seemed unlike her where Sam was concerned. Sure, Campbell finally texted back. Where are you? A few moments later, and Sam sent a picture of himself posing with a pair of deer antlers. So, their dad's office. "Jesus christ."

"What's wrong?"

"Sam wants to see me. I should go."

"I thought you two were fighting?" Elle shrugged as Campbell glanced up at her. "Gossip travels fast."

"Figures. I bet the town is having a field day with it."

"That you're a homophobic dickbag that kicked out your deaf brother? Yep."

"I deserve that, I guess. It's just not the full story."

Elle curled her arms around herself. She studied his face a moment, then gave a small nod. "Maybe you can tell me about the full story after Fugitive."

It was a chance to explain. Campbell reached out and touched her shoulder; she didn't pull away. "Thanks. You gonna be okay By yourself?"

"Oh, I've managed before. Good luck with Sam."

Hopefully he wouldn't need much luck. It was a long walk to the office, which meant a lot of time to think about all the possible scenarios and ways things could play out. When he arrived, though, Sam was surrounded by boxes and up to his eyeballs in paper. Campbell flopped down in one of the office chairs. Sam jumped at the sudden movement, nearly dropping a folder, and for a split second Campbell almost felt bad. Maybe it'd teach the kid to be more aware of his surroundings, anyways.

"You rang, Sammy?" Campbell asked. Sam stared at him, shoulders hunched a little. He didn't answer. "Seriously. I'm not gonna bite. What are you doing here?"

Sam still didn't answer right away, but then he swallowed hard and let out a long sigh. "I'm trying to figure out why we're here. In this place."

"Any luck?"

"First one is a letter from some guy named Pfeiffer demanding $1.5 million for the smell removal." Sam picked up two papers and handed them to Campbell. "The other is a response, refusing to pay, signed by dad and Uncle Rogers. It's dated the day before we were taken."

Campbell took the papers and skimmed. It was actually worse than that; they had payed, but then they'd cancelled the check. They had purposefully screwed the guy over. "What do you think it means?"

"The smell, us being taken on the buses. It has to mean something. They have to be related some way. Maybe, I don't know."

Interesting, and definitely suspicious; it reminded Campbell of something, though he wasn't sure what. It didn't matter. Campbell focused on the inevitable outcome if those letters were ever discovered. "You have to destroy those papers."

"What? No."

"Fucking destroy them. Don't you get it? We're going to be blamed for this."

"What does that mean? We just want to know the truth."

"You're a fucking dipshit if you think it's that simple." Campbell ignored the way Sam straightened and clenched his fists. He just get the hell over it. "You and I may hate each other, but we still share our father's last name."

"So what?"

"You think things aren't gonna get bad around here? You think it's all just gonna be one big happy camping trip?"

"Is that why--"

"Look," Campbell interrupted. He knew what Sam was going to say, and there was no way they were gonna have that conversation yet. "If we're stuck in this place, things are gonna get so bad so fucking fast. And you want to tell people that our family had something to do with this?"

Sam looked down at the papers, then handed them over. Campbell took them, ripping them into tiny pieces and tossing them into the metal trashcan by the office window. One little flick of a match, and the scraps were up in flames. There was a chance Sam had copies on his phone, but Campbell chose not to push it. Sam's phone needed his fingerprint to get in, anyways. Whatever was there was probably safe from prying eyes.

"No one else knows," Sam signed. "Not even Cassandra."

"Good. Keep it that way, for now."

"What are we going to do?"

"Keep our heads down and play along until we can find a way home."

As much as Campbell loved being away from their parents, away from the pointless day to day social rules, it wasn't sustainable unless they found some sort of civilization besides their own. Campbell met Sam's eyes, and pondered saying something. Even just an apology. But Sam was the protagonist of If You Give A Mouse A Cookie-- if Campbell apologized, Sam would want an explanation, and then he'd want to talk.

But then Sam seemed to give up, shuffling his foot on the hardwood floor. "Is that it?"

He'd take the out. "I need a car. Can I have dad's key?"

Sam hated their dad's car. He took the key off the ring and handed it over, a tiny hint of relief on his face. "What do you want the car for?"

"Game of Fugitive in an hour." Campbell fiddled with the key for a moment, thinking. "You wanna go? I could use a rider."

It was no surprise that Sam shook his head. "I need to keep looking."

Well, whatever. Campbell headed towards the door. He stopped just outside of it, looking over his shoulder; Sam was still watching him, a mournful expression on his face. It sucked, but it wasn't enough to make Campbell budge. Campbell signed one last thing. Be careful. It was the best he could, or would, do.

The faces at the Fugitive start point were a lot less somber. People were bouncing, laughing, chattering among small groups. There was one group hanging out near Harry, comprised of some of the people he'd known back in their real home. He hung around the edges there while he waited for Harry to show up; they were always Fugitive partners, and now that Kelly was out of the picture, that sure wasn't going to change this time around.

One face Campbell didn't see was the one he wanted to see most. Elle wasn't there, not yet. Maybe she wouldn't show, after all.

But then Harry was hopping up onto the hood of a car, yelling at the growing crowd. "Okay, okay, we're gonna... Hello!" People settled, listening. Harry grinned. "I got some texts saying more folks are coming. We're gonna wait a few minutes before we divide up sides, see who else shows up, so just hang out."

"You look chipper," Campbell said as Harry jumped off the car and sauntered over. "Extra strong coffee?"

"What? I'm my normal self."

"Your normal self isn't chipper."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but Campbell slid his arms around Harry's waist before her could. "Woah, what the hell? Campbell, you can't just--"

Campbell's fingers closed around a small baggy in Harry's back pocket. He pulled it out and sighed. "Really? This stuff again?"

"Don't be a hypocrite. You slipped me pills plenty of times. And besides, it's not like there's an endless supply. Just one last little party before it's gone."

"You know how I feel about you getting into the harder shit." It was bullshit. The occasional painkiller or little bag of weed wasn't the same as a cocaine addiction. "This is the last of it, right?"

"Well... No. I have one more at home."

"Harry."

"Campbell."

Whatever fight was about to start, it was cut short by the arrival of Allie. She smiled at Harry, and Harry smiled back. Campbell stared. No. No, no fucking way. "What's she doing here?"

"I invited the town. Besides, I asked her to come with me tonight."

Campbell kept his mouth shut. Harry's eyes were locked on him, almost daring him to say something. What was there to say? Harry hated being alone. Of course he moved on to another hot body before his own got cold. "Don't do anything stupid and get her hurt. I don't need to hear about it from Cassandra."

"Yeah, okay," Harry answered. Campbell was viciously pleased that the bounce had gone out of Harry's step, just a little. A hollow victory. "Whatever."

Clark came zooming up in an actual cop car, crowing about how the keys were still in the ignition. For some reason, no one found that weird as fuck; Campbell refused to get near the damn thing. They were stuck in some parallel world. A cursed car didn't seem quite that far-fetched anymore. But Clark, of course, claimed it for himself and picked someone else as his rider anyways. Good thing about everyone thinking he was evil-- less people roped him into their terrible ideas.

Harry had stomped off, dividing up the crowd and explaining the rules. Campbell tuned him out and scanned the players one last time. He didn't expect to see Elle, but he caught sight of a small figure along the outskirts of the group, talking to Grizz. She'd shown up after all. Campbell felt some spark of happiness, even if it was dimmed by Harry's bullshit.

The starting horn let out a shriek, and the fugitives took off. Elle froze, looking over at Campbell; he grinned as one of the guys yelled at her to get moving, and she bolted down the street with the others. The evening suddenly looked a lot more fun.

"Nice car," Grizz said as he wandered over. "Need a partner?"

"Would have thought you'd be someone's rider, Mister Football."

"Pulled something playing with the guys. I can still drive just fine, though."

Campbell considered the offer, then tossed Grizz the key. It'd be a chance to prod at Grizz about Elle. They climbed into the car to wait for the three minute head start to be over; he watched Grizz familiarize himself with the car, wondering how to approach the situation. The three minutes ended and they were out on the road when Campbell decided to just go for the throat. Just a matter of finding the right opening...

"Hey Campbell, how many miles per gallon does this thing--"

"So, interested in anyone?"

Nailed it.

The car jerked forward a bit as Grizz's foot slipped and hit the gas. Grizz glanced over at Campbell for a split second, before focusing intently on the road. "How do you mean that?"

"You know. Romantically. Sexually. Philosophically."

"Uh, that's kind of... Why do you ask?"

"I saw you chatting to Elle in the parking lot, so I just wondered."

Grizz visibly relaxed. "Oh, oh thank god."

"What?"

Squinting, Campbell eyed Grizz but decided to let it go. "So, you're not interested in Elle?"

"Nope. I don't really know much about her, besides the fact that her family's from Ireland. Hey, I think I spotted someone down that way. Wanna go?"

The shift in topic was obvious, but Campbell got the information he wanted. Time to focus on the game. They peeled down the street, and Campbell jumped out and raced after a fugitive who was trying to go through a locked fence. Easy. They gave the fugitive a quick ride to the gazebo-- the 'jail' for the night-- and then headed back out. Five more captured fugitives later, and they took a quick break.

Grizz sipped a water. "You're good at this."

"Eh, I was super into maps and history when I was younger. I know pretty much every street here like the back of my hand. Useful for this, anyways."

"Yeah? Where'd the best hiding place be?"

"Hm. There's an alley back behind the old video rental store. There's some bushes and a few other buildings that kind of hide it from view. We could check it out."

"Affirmative."

When they pulled up, it looked like an alleyway from a horror movie. It was dark, and utterly silent. Campbell opened the door and headed in, despite the fact that Grizz looked like they were in the Upside Down and he was expecting the Demigorgon to pop out. Sneaking down towards the back of the store, Campbell paused when he heard a twig snap; he stopped, watching and waiting.

A shape moved from the shadows and into a single beam of light from the streets. It was just enough that Campbell could see a bit of blonde hair, and the glint off a necklace chain. Campbell couldn't believe his luck. Elle was right there, mere feet away, and she hadn't seen or heard him yet. He held his breathe, waiting until her back was to him. Finally, he moved, grabbing her shoulders.

Elle yelped, jumping and spinning around. When she saw Campbell, she began to laugh, pressing a hand to her chest. "You scared the shit out of me."

He couldn't help but laugh a little, himself. "I'm sorry. Are you gonna make it?"

"I suppose." Elle smiled and held out her wrists. "Okay, you can take me to jail."

"I can take you someplace better than jail."

Elle's smile faded. She leaned a little closer. "Well, we did plan to talk after the game. Your place or mine?"

"That's entirely up to you."

"Your place, then."

Campbell brushed a lock of hair from Elle's face, taking her hand and leading her back to the car. They both hopped into the back seat. "Hey, Grizz. Mind playing chauffeur?"

Grizz peered into the rearview mirror. "Not at all. Clark called to say the game's over in ten, anyways. You two going to Harry's party?"

"Nah, just take us to my house."

"Gotcha."

He began driving, without asking for directions. Any other night, Campbell would ask Grizz how he knew the way, but it didn't matter. Elle was still holding his hand. She was looking at him like she wasn't sure yet if she actually forgave him or not, but she was coming home with him and her fingers were laced with his. It meant he had a chance to make things better.

Grizz parked in the driveway, hopping out and handing the key back over. He smiled, and gave Elle a little wave. "Thanks for the game. Have a good evening."

"You, too," Campbell replied. "Night."

Feeling nervous usually wasn't something Campbell had to worry about, but he did feel a small flicker of uncertainty as he let Elle inside and watched her look around the house. She inspected the books, the art, the furniture and fixtures. Whatever she saw must have passed the muster, because she was smiling again when she came back.

"I don't suppose a lady could ask for a beer?"

Campbell snorted. "I've got enough stashed away to last a year. A lady most certainly can have a beer."

She followed him into the kitchen and perched on one of the stools, resting her elbows on the countertop. "Well, I'll know where to come in a drought, then." Elle accepted the beer Campbell fished out of the fridge. "You really do have a beautiful home. Awfully big for one person though, isn't it?"

Popping open their drinks, Campbell let out a rough exhale. "Yeah, I guess I should try and explain that."

"Probably."

"It's complicated. I know I shouldn't have said what I said, but..." Campbell ran a hand through his hair. "You don't know Sam. Our parents doted on him. He always was the center of attention, especially when he got sick. Our parents just acted like I was a nuisance. I was always a problem to get rid of."

"What do you mean?"

"Like... Sam got all the attention. The newest toys, treats, birthday parties. Mom and dad were too busy for me, because they had work or because of the baby or because Sam needed them. And they never really got me anything, because they said I'd just break it. I couldn't have parties because I was rude to the other kids."

Elle tilted her head. "Yeah? Did you actually do those things?"

"Well. Yeah. But they never asked why, you know? I broke things because I got frustrated, and they just didn't care. I got into fights because it was the only time I felt like I could let the anger out."

"So, what does that have to do with Sam?"

"It made me hate him. And I know it's their fault, not his, but it fucked things up between us. I felt like I was always fighting over every scrap of anything with him. And when we got here, I just... I don't know. I wanted my own space, my own time. And then they start talking about sharing homes, and I just... I would hurt people. And I didn't want one of those people being Sam."

Elle rested her chin on her hand. "You could have just explained that to him, you know."

"No, because then he'd think that we could just work it out somehow. Even if he left, everyone else would wonder-- why me, and not them? Why do I get my own place?" Campbell shook his head. "Then anyone could just claim to be crazy and get their way. No, I had to actually do something. And most people love Sam and hate me, so it was the best way to prove I was the monster they thought I was already."

"Well, I don't think you're a monster. A little crazy, maybe," she added with a half smile, "but not a monster."

"Yeah, but it's not the cute kind."

"Then what kind is it?"

Campbell downed the rest of his beer. He wanted to tell her, warn her off or whatever, but he could remember Cassandra telling him not to let anyone know. Still. When he looked at Elle, something in him made him think he could trust her. And if she did react badly, who would she tell? They were both the town social pariahs. No one cared what they had to say.

But... He couldn't say it. He opened his mouth to try, but it didn't want to come out. Instead, he just shrugged and tried to smile. "The kind I don't talk about until the third date."

"Two more dates to go, then."

"Yeah?" Campbell blinked. Maybe it was the alcohol, but he could swear Elle was looking at him a bit warmer than before. Who was he to question it? He stood up and offered his hand. "Wanna go up to my room? It's comfier than the kitchen. We could watch a movie or something."

Elle finished off her beer and accepted his hand. "Only if you bring that bottle of wine I saw in the fridge."

It was just some cheap Barefoot Moscato, but he dutifully grabbed it from the fridge before heading upstairs. Elle followed him into the room; besides his family and Harry, no one else had ever been inside, and he was suddenly thankful that he kept his space clean and tidy. She explored with the same intensity that she had downstairs, not touching anything but studying everything.

"Did you take these?" she asked, pointing to the black and white photographs above his desk.

"Yeah. 7th grade photography class."

"They're very good. Have you considered getting into photography?"

"It was a thought. It'd give me a chance to see other countries."

Elle looked to his desk and lightly grazed her fingers over a small globe, the stamps he had out to sort through, a small collection of old books on world maps. "I guess I expected you to be more into video games and posters of women in bikinis than nature shots and world travel."

"I mean, I could whip out Super Smash Bros if you're disappointed."

But then Elle was right there, curling her arms around him and kissing him. Campbell froze, just for a split second, before kissing her back. Her lips were soft and tasted faintly of strawberry; when he brushed his fingers along her cheek, her skin was warm. Campbell had never allowed himself to get that close to anyone. It had always seemed just out of reach, but Elle was right there in his arms. His other hand rested on her hip, and that was when she yanked back. Moment gone.

"I'm going home. This was a mistake."

Campbell lifted his hands. "Woah, woah. Hey. I didn't mean to upset you again. I thought we were having fun."

"I don't want to have fun."

"Elle, I don't understand what's going on here. I promised I wouldn't do anything you weren't comfortable with, but you kinda seemed into this."

"Yeah, well I'm not just some skank, okay?"

"Okay, okay. I know I made a mistake at the church, but I didn't mean anything by it this time. It's just where my hand rested. I don't think you're easy or anything."

Elle brushed past him and headed towards the door, but then she stopped and turned back. "Why did you pick me? Why do you keep picking me? You barely know me."

"Because I like you." Campbell sat on the bed, gesturing at the air between them. "Alright, so I don't know you super well, but we're not strangers. I think that we've got a bit in common."

"I like you, too, but I... Look, I don't like being touched like that."

Campbell bit back the urge to ask. It wasn't his business. He nodded, raising his right hand. "I swear, I won't touch you without asking. Okay? But I need you to tell me I'm making you uncomfortable. I'm kind of new to this."

Crossing her arms over her chest, Elle looked up at the ceiling, her eyes blinking rapidly. "Can we watch a movie still?"

"Hey, of course. C'mon. You can pick whatever you want. Our DVD collection has thrilling titles like Lord of the Rings, Top Gun, and Frozen."

"Frozen, seriously?"

"Don't hate on Frozen. It's a beautiful movie about familial love and self-acceptance."

Elle sniffled and laughed at the same time, coming over and sinking on the bed next to Campbell. They were cuddled up and halfway through Let It Go when the thunderstorm rolled in; the lights flickered, and Elle pressed a tiny bit closer, and closer still when the power went out completely.

"Don't worry," Campbell tried to assure. "They'll be back on by the time the movie's over."

"How do you figure? Who's gonna fix it?"

"We've been here two weeks without anyone at the power plant. Wherever we are, whatever this is, I have to believe that it'll right itself."

"I wish I was that confident."

Campbell looked over at Elle, the glow of the DVD player illuminating her taut, worried expression. "You're safe here with me. I want you to know that. I won't let anything hurt you."

Her eyes shone as she turned her face to him. "Do you think I need someone to protect me?"

"I don't know. I need someone. I think maybe you do, too."

"Maybe." Elle rested her head on his shoulder. "Can I have some wine?"

They passed the bottle back and forth for a little while, until Elle shook her head when he offered it back. He set it aside; it wouldn't do any good to get drunker than her. Not again. "Pleasantly warm" was a good place to stop. What wasn't pleasant was that, by the time the movie was over, the rain was still pouring and the power wasn't back on. He tried not to think of what that meant in terms of frozen and refrigerated food, and focused on the fact that Elle had fallen asleep against him.

"Hey." He gently nudged her with his elbow. "It's late. Do you want me to drive you home?"

Elle stirred, but didn't move. "Can I stay here? I don't wanna be alone."

"Yeah, no problem. You can stay here and get comfy. I'll use one of the other beds."

"No. Don't go."

"Are you sure?"

"Mhm."

Campbell felt torn. Elle was half asleep, and probably a little tipsy. Was she making a choice she'd normally make? But if she really didn't want to be alone, then he didn't want to make her upset. Waking up to find someone gone didn't sound like anything he wanted to put someone through. After a few moments of deliberation, Campbell carefully lowered Elle to the bed and tucked her in with a quilt. It was warm and a bit muggy from the storm, so hopefully a light blanket would be good enough.

Stretching out on his side of the bed, Campbell kept his distance as much as possible. He was just about asleep himself when a loud crack of lightning rang out over the house, rattling the windows. Elle mumbled something, shifting around until she was curled up at Campbell's back, one arm slung over his waist.

Never pictured being the little spoon, he thought to himself as he closed his eyes. But for someone like Elle, he could see himself getting used to it.

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mollyraesly · 6 years

Text

Time with Wolves--Chapter 15

A/N: Sorry for the long wait!!

Once her midterms were finished, all Sansa wanted to do was leave campus as soon as she could. She boarded her train with such eagerness that the ticket collector seemed a bit concerned. “Are you alright, miss?” the old man had asked, not unkindly. “Yes,” she said with a polite smile. “Just eager to get home.”

“Where’s that?” “Winterfell,” she replied. “Ah, a Northern girl. What’s a lass like you doing so far South?” Sansa let out a sigh, but was saved from having to give an answer by a question from the next customer. She waved goodbye to the man and hurried to find a decent window seat. Throughout the train ride, she tried but failed to distract herself by answering neglected emails on her phone and flipping through the fashion magazines she’d bought; the latest couture couldn’t ease her antsy fidgeting and neither could boring administrative emails. So instead she turned to the window to watch the landscape pass by, her heart beating just a bit faster the further north the train went. When she finally stepped onto the station at Wintertown, the chill in the November air made her shiver. But she was grinning as she watched her breath form small clouds of white and gray wisps. The air felt crisp, like air ought to. She rolled her suitcase through the crowd, searching for the exit. When she spotted her father waiting for her by one of the brick columns, tears welled in her eyes. Beaming, she hurried toward him. “Father!” Ned swooped Sansa into a strong hug, and in his arms she felt like a young girl again. “I’ve missed you,” Sansa told him, her voice cracking. “I’ve missed you too, little one. It’s not been the same without the whole pack together. But now you’re home, everything is just as it should be.” He kissed the top of her head and took her bags for her, and Sansa was reminded that the world still had true knights. She filled him in on how the travel had gone and on what she thought about her performance on her exams.

Ned did not seem overly concerned about Sansa’s academic performance, for no one put more pressure on her than Sansa did herself to do well in school. “You’ve always been so motivated, Sansa,” Ned said with pride. “I wish that would have passed on to Rickon.”

“Still having trouble?”

“Your mother and I are at Winterfell Middle School every other week,” Ned told her. “To be honest, I think they should give us a parking spot, considering how many kids we’ve sent through.”

By the time they got into his truck, the conversation had turned to the situation back at home. Sansa peppered him with questions so she’d be ready for what awaited her. Arya had already slept off her jet-lag, so she wouldn’t be a complete ghoul. Bran was still tinkering with his wheels to make them work better on snow—so she needed to watch out for puddles everywhere. Rickon was still grounded for setting Mr. Luwin’s pumpkins on fire on Halloween, and Robb had been dodging everyone’s questions phone calls of late so was expected to have some bad news he did not want to share. “And how’s Mom dealing with Thanksgiving prep so far?” Ned gave her a secretive smile. “That bad?” “You are as much needed as you are wanted, daughter mine.” When they arrived home, she heard her siblings before she saw them. The house smelled like dinner—beef stew with peas and onions—and the warmth of the heat engulfed her after the brisk walk from the driveway. “Look who’s here!” Ned called. “Sansa!” “Sansa!” “Sansa!” She was nearly tackled to the ground by Rickon. “You’re home!” Rickon screeched. “I’m home!” Sansa replied with equal enthusiasm. She planted kisses on his face, which made him scowl and her laugh. She then reached out to Bran and all but knocked his wheelchair over. “My genius brother!” she sang. “Oi! What does that make me?” Sansa turned around to find Robb. “My older brother!” He, too, groaned as she kissed his cheek. “Where’s Arya?” But as she asked, her little sister appeared down the stairs, stomping in bulky combat boots. “Arya!” Sansa sang and threw her arms around her. “Look at you! You cut your hair!” Arya had cut her hair into a short choppy bob that fell just beneath her eyes. “Do you like it?” “I love it,” Sansa replied. She spotted some ink behind Arya’s ear. “Gods, did you get a new tattoo?” “Do you like it?” “I love it!” They all began to speak at once, until Cat called them into the kitchen. Sansa found her mother behind the counter with a somewhat frantic look. “Sansa!” she exclaimed. “Thank the Gods you’re here.” She forced a meat thermometer into Sansa’s hand. “Here, I need you to check to the roast for me.”

A minute later, Sansa had washed her hands and was wearing one of the aprons she’d soon herself back in high school that had pumpkins and apples patterned all over it. As she was throwing a loaf of bread into the oven to get it nice and warm before serving, Cat scooped her into a hug.

“You grow more beautiful every day,” her mother said.

“You’re just saying that because I’m the only one who helps.” Most of her siblings subscribed to the philosophy of don’t be good at something you don’t want to do.

Cat sighed. “At least the only one who I can trust to help and do the job well. Do you remember when Bran volunteered to bake a cake two years ago?”

Remembering that catastrophe, and Bran’s disbelief that he could understand high-level physics but not how to crack an egg properly, they both broke into giggles that only faded when the fire alarm went off from all the rising steam coming off the oven. Dinner that night was loud and happy, as was Thanksgiving. Sansa peeled potatoes and diced onions till she thought her hands might go numb, but they managed to feed over 25 people—even more than usual, as Gendry and his mother had come, as well as Theon and his sister Yara. And Robb had unexpectedly brought his new and apparently serious girlfriend Jeyne Westerling, about whom none of them had heard anything. “Do you think she’s pregnant?” Arya had asked Sansa when they were sent into the linen closet to grab more napkins. “Arya!” “Her shirt looks a bit roomy. Did you see that puffy part at the belly?” “People dress casual for Thanksgiving,” said Sansa, trying to be nice and set a good example. “It is a holiday about eating.” She looked pointedly at Arya’s too-big leggings ensemble. “But c’mon, didn’t you see that bulge?” Arya goaded. “Old Nan saw that bulge, and she’s past her eighties!” Sansa hissed and then clasped her hand over her mouth in horror at what she’d just said. Arya cackled. “Why would Robb be so stupid to introduce her to everyone on Thanksgiving?” “Maybe he thought it’d be a good buffer? I mean, we can’t exactly ask him, in front of the turkey, can we?” “He’s a moron,” said Arya, looking very much like her birthday had come early. “This will be so fun.” “Oh, Arya, please don’t do anything to Jeyne.” “What about Robb?” “After Jeyne leaves, he’s fair game,” Sansa proclaimed. “But if that girl is knocked up with Robb’s baby, she’s suffered enough.” Arya feigned gagging. “What a Thanksgiving,” she observed with glee. “What a Thanksgiving,” Sansa agreed with a sigh. They didn’t tease Robb too much with Jeyne around, but the teasing was merciless as soon as she left—only stopping when Ned asked to have a private chat with his eldest. “Is Robb gonna get grounded?” Rickon asked. “Worse,” Bran said sagely. “I suspect he’s about to be forced to finally become an adult.” “That sucks,” Rickon observed. “Indeed.” Sansa did the dishes with her mother, who seemed to be taking out her frustrations on the good china. “Watch it, Mom. You’ll break the plate.” Catelyn turned to her oldest daughter. “Sansa, promise me you’ll be smarter than Robb.” Sansa grinned. “Aren’t I always?” She decided to let things cool down at the Stark household and went out the next morning for some Black Friday shopping. Retail therapy had always been Sansa’s preferred method of cheering herself up, pampering herself, or really just spending a Tuesday. She bought a pair of classy drop earrings, a beautiful suit and skirt combination at an upscale designer shop for a fraction of the cost, a gorgeous chess set for Bran, a new pair of mile-high combat boots for Arya that were electric blue and absolutely ridiculous, and some sweet infant onesies with ducks and baby elephants on them—just in case she’d be attending a baby shower in the near future. Armed with lemonade and a cinnamon sugar pretzel, she left the mall and went to the wolf preservation. Combing her fingers through Ghost’s fur and feeling the warm heavy weight of him against her was exactly what she needed. “You are such a good boy,” she cooed while rubbing behind Ghost’s ears. “You’ll spoil him if you continue on like that,” Mr. Mormont warned. “He could use some spoiling. I don’t see him enough.” “You almost done with the South? When you coming home for good?” Sansa paused a moment before answering. “I’ve applied to law programs all around Westeros. I’m not sure where I’ll be next year.” “You know, Winterfell U has a good law program. No reason to travel the country when you can get a good education in your own backyard.” “Yeah,” she replied, thinking it over. She smiled at Mr. Mormont. “But just think how spoiled Ghost would be then.”

Mr. Mormont rolled his eyes. “You’d think he was a dog they way you treat that beast.” Her time with Ghost lasted for another hour before she needed to head home to help with dinner. She kissed his face, and Ghost silently purred. “I hate leaving you,” she told him. “You think after a few years I’d be better at it. But no. I still cry every time.” Ghost gave her such a sympathetic look that Sansa felt like he’d really understood her. “Winterfell U does have a good law program,” she murmured under her breath. After dinner, Sansa was losing spectacularly to Rickon and Bran in a game of Mario Party — she always played Princess Peach, Rickon Wario, Bran Yoshi— when Arya barged in. “Wow, Sansa, you still massively suck at this game.” “Oh, quiet!” she hissed. “I’m doing my best.” “And your best is losing to the computer Waluigi.” Sansa pressed pause. “What is it?” “Do you want to go to The Bear and the Maiden Fair with me and Gendry in a bit?” Sansa sighed. “What?” “Well, I just woke up so early today—“ “Your choice.” “And I’m still tired from last night.” “Your fault for being so helpful.” “And I don’t know if I can stay up that late.” “We’ll get you some caffeine.” “But—“ “Oh, c’mon, Sans. You’re leaving soon, and I won’t see you for months. Come out with us. Just a few drinks.” Sansa bit her lip. “Don’t they card at The Bear and the Maiden Fair?” “Yeah, so?” “Well, last I checked, you were still only 19.” Arya rolled her eyes. “Gendry knows a guy. C’mon, it’ll be fun. There’s going to be dancing.” “I do like dancing,” Sansa mused.

“And you can have an excuse to get dressed up.”

“I do like doing that.”

“And wear your new earrings,” Arya pressed.

“Oh, those are so cute,” Sansa sighed. “And I already told Gendry to pick us up in twenty.” “Minutes?” “No, decades.” Sansa gave her younger sister a frosty look she’d learned from her mother. “Gods, yes, minutes.” Sansa inspected her ensemble of warm gray sweatpants and Robb’s old sweater from high school. “I need to change.” Arya grinned impishly and gestured her head toward the paused screen. “I’ll fill in for you. Maybe you’ll finally win a mini game.” Sansa hurled her controller at Arya, who had the audacity to catch it easily. As she made her way to the stairs, she heard her sister muttering complaints about her character choice. “Princess Peach is a feminist icon, and I will not hear any differently!” Sansa called as she climbed the stairs. “You can still wear dresses and be powerful!” “I know! I know!” Arya shouted back. “This is the hill I’m prepared to die on!” Sansa sang. She put on a pair of navy tights, a green plaid skirt, and a matching sweater. The light makeup she’d put on earlier had held up, but Sansa swiped on just a bit more mascara and coated her lips with just a hint of lip stain. Old habits died hard, and she snuck into her parents’ room to spritz on her mother’s perfume. She found her father on the stairs. “Going out?” he asked. She nodded. “Arya wants to go to The Bear and the Maiden Fair.” “Don’t they—“ Ned began, but then he sighed. “I’m sure your sister has a way in all worked out.” He kissed Sansa on the top of her head. “Call if you need a ride home.” “We might be our late. I don’t want to drag you out of bed.” “It won’t be me.” Ned’s eyes glimmered. “Robb will be more than happy to come pick up his sisters and learn the importance of staying sober and being a responsible parent.” She and her father shared a look that was interrupted by Arya hollering her name. “Gendry’s here!” she screeched. “Let’s go!” “I’m being summoned.” Ned smiled. “Have fun, Sansa.” “Thanks, I’ll try.” Sansa should not have been surprised that Arya, who looked even younger than she was, was nevertheless right that she’d have no trouble getting into the bar, but she was still impressed when Arya handed her a lemon drop and a ginger ale. “How?” “I told you. Gendry knows a guy.” “But it’s illegal.” Arya shrugged. “Lommy doesn’t care.” “What’s a Lommy?” Arya motioned for Sansa to grab her drink. “Cheers!” She downed nearly half her beer while Sansa sipped daintily from her drink. “Oh, you can do better than that.” Arya observed. Sansa took a larger sip. “There. Happy?” “Not nearly.” Arya looked to the bar. “Lommy! We are going to need some shots.” “How many?” “Eight.” An hour later, Sansa had very much forgotten how tired she was as she, Arya, and Gendry danced to loud pop music. She couldn’t quite remember how many drinks she’d had, but she knew that Arya and Gendry had had more. Gendry was actually a good dancer, which she had not expected, as he was normally a bit stiff and tough. Maybe it was the fact that Arya was so much shorter than him, and so they had to find inventive ways to dance together.

Sansa was quite happy to stand beside them and dance along. She had gotten quite hoarse from shouting along to the lyrics, but she was grinning like a loon anyway. To her welcome surprise, she’d run into Loras, Margaery’s brother, and his new boyfriend Renly. After another round of shots, they’d all gone back to dancing, and Sansa laughed as the couple cooed over how attractive Gendry was. “He’s called the Bull!” Arya informed them. “For a reason!” “You did good, little Stark,” Loras said. “Very good!” “He did better!” Sansa shouted. “Look how beautiful my sister is! And so talented! And just the best. I’m so proud. Arya, you know I love you, right?” “I love you too!” “Let’s move back to Winterfell,” Sansa said. “I’m so tired of being so far away. Let’s come back—and—and we can be roommates!” “YES!” exclaimed Arya, punching the air. But no further discussion was had, as a new song started playing—“The Dornishman’s Wife (Remix Version)”— and they all started screeching and stamping to the beat. An hour later, the effects of the alcohol, despite its copious amount, had begun to wear off, and Sansa was starting to feel tired. Loras and Renly had gone to the bathroom over twenty minutes ago and had never returned. Sansa, knowing Margaery, suspected they would not come back. “My feet hurt,” she whined to Arya. “Mine too.” Gendry leaned over to let Arya climb into his back. Sansa frowned. “We shouldn’t have drinked—drank—drunk—hah! grammar! Suck it, English! I know my past participles. I’m a fucking Queen!” “Sansa!” “We should get water.” Gendry nodded and started toward the bar. “We should call Robb,” Sansa announced suddenly. “Robb?” Arya asked. “To take us home. Gendry is too drunk to drive.” “S’ too loud. Won’t hear anything.” Sansa tried to respond, but her brain couldn’t think of any response. “I’ll text him,” Arya said as Gendry returned with water and struggled to make his way onto a barstool. She pulled out her phone, and her whole face scrunched in concentration as she typed. “He’s coming!” She declared after a minute. Sansa cheered. They sipped their water and discussed the food they wanted to eat to sober up. “Pancakes,” Arya said. “Mmm,” Sansa agreed. “And bacon.” ��Yes! And eggs.” “Fries,” Gendry volunteered. “And a cheeseburger.”

“Oh my god, yes, but with bacon.”

“Yes, and pancakes too. On the side.” Both Stark girls agreed that was the best option. “We should go to the Ice Shack,” Arya said. “Rob will take us.” “They have the best milkshakes,” Sansa sighed dreamily. “I’ve never been there,” Gendry said. The next ten minutes were spent by the two sisters trying to remember and describe everything on the menu to him. At last, Arya’s phone vibrated on the bar counter. “He’s here!” “Fries!” Gendry cheered. Sansa pulled on her coat and did her best to walk evenly out of the bar, Gendry and Arya ambling slowly and laughing behind her. They opened the back seat of Robb’s red Mustang and collapsed inside. Sansa fumbled with the handle, and with some muttering was able to fall with some grace into the front passenger seat. The dazed grin on her lips died when she turned to her left and saw that it was not Robb sitting behind the wheel. “Jon?”

#jonsa #jonsa fan fic #jonsa fanfiction #jonsa fan fiction #jon snow #sansa stark #time with wolves #mollyraesly

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