#Every night when the sun goes down She drives downtown to the city Every guy in the club Is looking at her

[datewithgianni]

Trace Cyrus ft. DreamDoll SUMMER (official video)

[mothdust23]

⟢Mundanity (PART 1)⟣

CW: A LOT of gender dysphoria, dolls, Becoming, toxic masculinity, looong post

..You are a girl.

Well, you wished you were. But boys can't be girls, and you're a boy.

The feelings stuck, either way. As you clumsily pawed at your phone to shut off the alarm, dragged yourself out of bed, turned on the shower while trying your hardest to avoid looking at your body..

Distracting yourself with hotter water, filling the room with steam.

Don't take too long in there, only girls do that. Get out, dry off, brush your teeth. Stare at the man in the mirror. Avoid meeting his eyes. Consider shaving....it wouldn't matter.

T shirt, jeans, dress shoes. Muted colors every time. Wallet, keys, contact lenses.

Traffic's slow today.

Drive through downtown. Briefly see a shop you've never seen before.

Arrive at work, spend too long looking at the secretary. She notices. HR will probably find out. You didn't mean to, she just looks pretty. Despite yourself, you're jealous. You remember to smirk and whistle. Boys do that. You have to do that, naturally.

Sit down. Type. Copy, paste, research, graph, calculate. Soul crushing work. Zone out making far less than you deserve.

Email from the boss. Invitation to an office party. You know you won't attend.

More work. Briefly entertain the idea of working overtime.

...yeah, no.

Clock out, drive home.

...

Sit at the kitchen table, looking at your hand.It's the wrong shape.

A strange feeling compels you. Something you saw on your drive to work..

You get up, grab your keys, your jacket. Glance at the car, then the darkening sky.

..Fresh air is nice.

Stroll down the street. You ate at that restaurant once. It gave you food poisoning. Wave to the guy working the night shift in the corner store. He's probably confused about why you aren't taking your car. You are too. The store is far away, but you need to do this.

You need to do this.

You need to do this.

The sun's going down. You can see stars appearing in the sky. Cars appear less and less, and the city goes quiet. Part of you says that something here is wrong.

Another part wants to see that store. It's louder. It sounds like the part that wishes it could be a girl.

..Usually, you're better at ignoring it, but it currently seems to live on a higher priority than common sense.

Your worry grows, your legs keep moving. When was the last time you heard a car? What time is it? You check your phone. Battery's dead. It was fully charged when you left. You keep walking.

..Arrival. The store is the only one open. Light spills out of its windows, enough for you to look up and read the sign.

[The Fairy Ring]

..Weird name.

..You stand outside, in the cold. You can't see anything but light through the windows.

...you feel scared, but.. there's a fluttering feeling in your chest.

⟢<(O)>⟣

As you open the door, a pleasant scent and a burst of warmth rushes over you. Cinnamon and a fireplace.. despite never having a fireplace, nostalgia and comfort fill you. Despite never coming here before, you feel oddly safe. Gancing around, you notice the varied stock- racks of clothes, strange glittering trinkets, pointed hats and a row of long objects- broomsticks, walking sticks, umbrellas, even a few metal sticks that remind you of space-age antennae. Masks, candles, blades - or at least their scabbards.. An entire wall of the store is covered in hung up keys of all different kinds, like the kind one would find on a clockwork toy.. You push the door further open, trying to look closer, but an odd noise distracts you. A bell attached to the door rings softly, and you turn your head as a stifled "eep!" can be heard behind the front desk.

"T-this one will be right with you!"

Someone(?) gets up from behind the counter, holding a screwdriver and magnifying glass. Their gender is hard to discern, which isn't helped by the metallic lustre to their skin and hair - a cosplayer, perhaps? Quite a work ethic for a night shift... you feel yourself open your mouth, stepping into the shop.

"Uh, hello.. I'm just here to look around."

"Awa, that's what they all say at first.. can this one help you find anything in particular?"

Their movements are oddly stiff. A brief wave of uncanniness washes over you, but you steel yourself.

"This one..?"

They(?) laugh, stepping out from behind the counter with the arm of a tiny doll, broken at elbow-

"No, THIS one! You are that one, and-" the person(???) gestures to themself, "this one is this one! You're very new to this, aren't you?"

Already regretting your investigation, you pretend to peruse the trinkets as you look at the door.

"Something like that. Is this a cult?"

This only causes more laughter, a comfortingly human sound considering the cashier's... odd nature.

"No, silly, this is The Fairy Ring! The premier shop for and of entities of all kinds, run by our gracious hosts! We do not meddle with such.. improper things. We only deal with helping entities find true joy and acceptance!"

A wave of revulsion passes through you as you pass by the rows of keys.

"...is this a fucking sex shop?"

"Why ever would you think that?" it says, frowning. It looks genuinely upset at this. For some reason, knowing that makes you feel terribly guilty. "This shop is for entities of all ages, and this one cares not for such base things!"

"Well, you're clearly doing some sorta freaky cosplay thing, and there's all sorts of weird junk here. I wouldn't be surprised if your store attracted all sorts of freaks and creeps." you feel guilty speaking, knowing this is horribly rude, but... you have a reputation to uphold, right? You can't think any of this.. admittedly cool stuff, IS cool, because then you'd be a freak too. You have a cushy job and social life, you can't afford to be one... the cashier, however, blushes bright red and tears up.

"T-this one lacks permission to kick you out, but.. you are on thin ice, mister! You have no... no right to say such things.. you should apologize!"

The cashier looks down.. and then back up, lost in thought.. before wiping off its tears and grinning..

"In fact, you WILL apologize to this one!"

This struck you as odd. Not the statement, although it was very strange, but you suddenly sucking in your breath, newfound guilt bubbling to the surface when you usually keep it so well hidden, and you blurting out a quick "I'msorry-" to the stranger. Normally, you wouldn't be caught dead saying sorry to anyone, let alone a stranger, but..

These are strange times, aren't they? And it felt nice to say sorry.. you felt good inside, like a weight was lifted.

..how.. long have you been standing there, smiling and cradling your cheek?

Too long, you decide. You lower your hand, unfamiliar warmth filling your face.

"How did you do that?"

"Do what? This one did nothing!"

"You told me to say sorry, and- I.. did, but.." you peter off, realizing how absurd what you're saying is. You're in control of your own mind. Nothing can change that. You.

Right..?

You sigh and pick up a little packet of novelty tea, staring at it.

"This.. uh.. hobby shop. Doesn't get many guests, does it.."

"Oh, not yet! We've recently moved to a new location, but this one is sure more customers will come!"

"Really? All of this stuff is uh.. very specific. I can't really see anything I need, to be honest."

You turn around and the cashier is inches from you, staring you in the eyes. Up close, their skin looks even more artifical, and you catch a glimpse of their name tag - "Penny".

"OH- you startled me. Why are you uh.."

You step back, discomfort growing. This shop, everything about it feels wrong. The floors aren't dusty enough. All the glass is spotless.

"This one probably should have told you sooner, but you may take one item, free of charge!"

It smiles. You feel uncomfortable.

"..uhh.. ok, I'll be leaving then-" you mutter, not wanting to stay any longer than you have to.

"Oh, you misunderstand! You must! You have little choice."

..You only then notice the ball joints connecting Penny's limbs and neck. Like a doll's.

Terror fills you.

"I- n-no, please, I can't- g-get away from me!!"

"Awa, fine.. this one was excited to help you Become, but if you wish to find something on your own.."

"..what? What do you mean, Become..? What ARE you?

"Oh, right, you are new to this! This one is a doll, this shop is made of magic, and you are to choose an item! It will dictate what you will Become."

"N-no thanks, I.. i.. i.."

The door stays open ajar. You look at it, then at the too-clean shop, full of things you cannot help but feel interest in. Is it really possible to have a second chance at life..?

"I.. tell me more." you hear yourself say, defeated. You can't think of a reasonable excuse. "Is magic.. actually real?"

"Well, haha, this one sure hopes it is! It wouldn't prefer to be powered by nothing, instead!"

Penny raises its blouse, causing you to look away and wince.

"Come on, look! It is not what you think!"

You reluctantly stare, before gasping and stepping back. Open hydraulics, visible through a glass torso, and dozens of tiny fibre optic cables, flashing like fairy lights. It's a work of art, in the shape of a person. Penny lifts its blouse further, and hundreds of cables converge on a single point, a little pinpoint of light so blinding it reminds you of looking into the sun.

"You.. you're.. beautiful.. what.. what are you..?"

"This one is a doll! It thought it made that clear. Do you believe in magic now, or should this one call its witch?"

"No, no, I- wait, aren't witches like.. evil hags?"

"Awa.. no, no, that is incorrect! Most witches are very kindly, in fact.. including this one's witch! She took it in when it was still human!"

"Still.. human..? Wait, so-"

...so you could look like that. It's starting to sink in. You don't have to be a boy.

..you sit down at one of the chairs for sale, putting your head in your hands.

"This one sees you need more time. Do not worry, you may find what you want to be at your own pace!"

Penny puts its shirt back on, walking back to the register and going back under the desk to fix the little doll. You eventually get up, stretching (how long were you sitting there, perfectly still..?) and wandering about the shop. Running your hand across rows of keys, staring into the face of ornate masks..

A bell rings. You recognize it as the doorbell and catch a glimpse of a pointed, wide brimmed hat. Part of you wants to hide - out of embarrassment, or something similar. You're a boy standing next to dresses, you don't belong here.

"Miss Brooke! This one is happy to see you in our new location! Do you need anything?"

"Oh, just a few odds and ends. You wouldn't happen to have any new dolls to adopt, would you?"

"Well, no, but.."

..Wait, dresses. You turn away from the conversation, spying rows of mannequins with dresses, masks, and hats. You- you can wear them if it's so you can hide. That's why you want to wear them. Totally.

Hurrying and pulling items off shelves, you assume your new disguise next to the other mannequins, trying not to shake from how nice it felt to wear clothes like this.

..what is wrong with you?

you just need to pose like the mannequins.. and stay still.

Pose... just pretend the clothes fit.. just.. stay Still.

Stay.. Still.

A woman in a pretty hat walks by you and smirks. There was something important about her. You.. were hiding from her?

Stay Still.

Stay..

...

St.. i..

You jolt awake, pulling off the mask and hat. It's light now, like it's morning.

"How.. how long was I.."

[dontshootmespence]

Home Again

Summary: Spencer and Luke are happily married when the world goes to shit. In the chaos, they’re separated. After years, each one presumes the other dead. Until one day.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Luke Alvez

Word Count: 3,564

Warning: Zombie apocalypse shit. Character deaths.��

A/N: This fulfills my apocalypse au square for @cmbingo​. 

Inside their mid-size apartment, Luke dances to his favorite music as he moves about the kitchen, getting dinner ready for when Spencer comes home. A medical researcher’s work was never really done, but in the years since they’d gotten married, Spencer made a commitment to be home by every night at 6PM unless they discussed otherwise. 

Turning on the nightly news, Luke saw what looked like a pretty severe car accident on the road that Spencer normally took on the way home. He pulled out his phone and dialed, hoping to give his husband a head’s up about the driving conditions, but it went straight to voicemail. “Hey, Spence, it’s me. I mean, of course it’s me,” he laughed. “But anyway, I’m working on dinner now and I just saw the news. There’s a big accident on I-275 so you might want to take another way home if you can. I’ll see you in a little bit. Love you.”

As Luke slipped the chicken into the pot, he heard what sounded like another car wreck and ran to the window, sticking his head out to see a car on its side and one man running clumsily after another. A knock at the door distracted him from the damage on the street below. 

“Luke, it’s Steven. Open up.”

Steven was their neighbor and a college student. They rarely ever spoke. “Steven, what’s wrong?”

“There’s something wrong, man. People are going crazy out there. They’re attacking each other and...and eating each other. It’s like there are...”

Luke couldn’t help but laugh. “Do not say zombies. There’s no such thing, kid.”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Steven insisted. “Something is happening. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll pack up some essentials and get moving. Apparently, it started at the Recovered Exploration Lab downtown and people, zombies, whatever they are, they’re headed this way. I just wanted to give you a heads up.”

Steven sped down the stairs in a panic, leaving Luke’s focus to drift back to the television. “We’re here just above Recovered Exploration Lab where the breakout of what looks like zombies seems to have started,” the news anchor started. “On the ground, people are ripping and tearing and eating each other in what seems to be a real-life apocalypse, folks. At this time we don’t know what caused it, but we can assume that the staff at Recovered Exploration have been keeping secrets. This is WLVW Channel 2 News. Back to you in the studio.”

Luke couldn’t believe what he was hearing and ran back to the window to see even more people than before ambling down the street. Cursing under his breath, he pulled out his phone again and dialed Spencer again. “Spence, have you heard what’s on the news? Are they talking about it on the radio? They’re saying it’s a real life zombie apocalypse out there and I’m, I’m, I’m, uh, looking out the window and people are attacking each other. There’s a swarm of people heading toward the apartment so I’m grabbing some essentials for us. Meet me at our diner okay? Then we can figure out what to do. Be safe, Spence. I love you.”

Running into their bedroom, Luke grabbed the biggest backpack he could find and anything he thought they might need. Spare clothes, toiletries, canned food, a can opener, toilet paper, some sharp knives and his guns from work. “What else?” He spoke into the empty room. On the wall hung their favorite picture from their wedding. He and Spencer wore matching tuxes and walked hand in hand along a lit-up, tree-lined path. Lost in thought, the commotion brought him back. He stuffed the picture into the backpack and ran downstairs, hoping that this was all a dream.

----

Having heard both of Luke’s messages, Spencer took an alternative route home, but unfortunately, he ran into another accident, slamming on the brakes as two cars crashed into stopped cars in front of them. With traffic at a standstill, he pulled his phone out and tried to call Luke. Obviously, there had to be another explanation for what was happening. 

As he was about to try calling for a second time, he saw someone in the wreckage ahead, who he’d previously assumed to be dead, jerk back to life. Slowly, she go up from the ground and shuffled toward an office that had his back turned. When an ear-shattering scream resounded through the air, Spencer dropped his phone. She wasn’t the only one.

A man from a nearby car knocked on Spencer’s window. “Buddy, we need to get out of here. You have anything that might help?” 

“Like what?” Spencer asked, voice quivering as he picked up his phone from the car floor and shoved it back in his pocket. Quickly, he searched the car for anything that might be helpful. His keys.

“Anything in the trunk?” The man asked, grabbing Spencer’s arm and yanking him away from the incoming crowd. “We need to move now.” 

His mind had blanked. After grabbing the emergency preparedness bag from the trunk of the car that Luke insisted he have, he and the unnamed man ran over the highway barrier and away from the traffic. “I need to get to the diner on Jones and Washington,” Spencer said. “Do you know it? My husband said to meet him there.”

Staring back into the growing see of screaming and ambling bodies, the man replied. “I don’t think you’re going that way, kid.”

----

Stumbling down into the street they lived on, Luke looked around in horror. He ran. He ran as hard and as fast as his body would allow, staying clear of any of the infected like his life depended on it. Right now, it did. 

Luke wavered between walking and running in the general direction of the diner he knew so well. For five years, every Friday, he and Spencer would head there for a greasy burger and fries and some of the best milkshakes either of them had ever tasted. 

The farther he traveled from the apartment, the less insanity he seemed to encounter, but still, his heart beat with reckless abandon as he peered around every corner. If whatever this was didn’t get resolved soon, every street, every city, every state would be something to fear. No longer would he and Spencer be able to go to the local park and bask in the sun. No more walks on the beach. No more calm and colorful sunsets. “You’re getting ahead of yourself,” he muttered to himself. “Just get to the diner.”

Using landmarks to guide his way (so that he could keep his phone on and pray for a call from Spencer), he crossed what he believed was the halfway point between the apartment and the restaurant. They now lived in a world where people ate each other and rose from the dead, but it was the groups of human beings taking this whole situation as a free for all that he had to avoid most of all. 

As he hurriedly turned the corner, Luke bumped into a group of nervous but determined young adults. The youngest couldn’t have been 16 and the oldest topped 25 at the most. By the looks of the straggling adults, most of them had already lost someone or taken this new world as an excuse to ditch their families and fend for themselves. The most self-assured of the bunch stepped in toward Luke and looked at his bag. “Seems like you’re well stocked.”

“For a couple days,” he replied, carefully taking a small step backward. “For my spouse and I until this whole thing blows over.” He spoke the words, but something told him ‘this whole thing’ wasn’t going to be over anytime soon. 

With each step Luke took back, the young man stepped forward and tried to yank the bag from his grasp. “Sorry, kiddo. That ain’t happening.” Before the other man could swing his gun from his back and into his hand, Luke had his pulled and aimed. “Don’t. I don’t wanna hurt people. You walk away. I’ll walk away and we’ll pretend this never happened.”

The next moments passed by in a blur - kids running, bullets flying. Luke didn’t glance back, running away from the screams and toward the diner with tears in his eyes. He just shot a kid. A kid who was just trying to survive in whatever the hell this new world was. 

----

Days passed before Spencer and his party of misfits arrived at the diner. Jim was the man that shook him to reality. On the way they’d also run into a single mother named Avery and her 3-year-old son, Chase, who were being harassed by a couple of guys who just didn’t want to take no for an answer. Although they tried to resolve things peacefully, Jim killed the one that pulled a gun on him and the other ran away. From there, they all went to Jim’s former precinct and grabbed whatever guns they could find. Unlike Luke, Spencer wasn’t used to holding guns, but he was going to have to get accustomed quickly.

Normally, the diner looked reminiscent of the 50s. Crisp black and white checkered floors, red leather seats, clean white tables and chrome chairs at similarly colored bar-tops. Now there were skid marks on the floors, dinged counters and bits of food all over the floor. The kitchen had already been ransacked so very little decent food was left, but they stocked up on what they could and waited. 

Nearly a week went by before Jim insisted they leave. “I know your husband was going to meet you here, Spencer, but if we stay any longer we’re putting ourselves in danger. We don’t wanna use all our gunpower to defend this place when we can’t stay here.”

Spencer knew he was right, but the thought of leaving hurt his heart. “I’m never going to see my husband again, am I, Jim?”

The older man just looked at him sadly, resting his hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “Call him. You’ve still got a little power left. Leave a message. And hope for the best. I’ll give you a minute before we head out.” 

Spencer thanked him softly and went into the back room before pulling out the phone. Shakily, he dialed Luke one more time. “Hey, babe. I’ve been at the diner for almost a week. I don’t know what happened to you...or,” his voice broke, “or if you’re even still alive, but if you are, I’m headed toward my mother’s nursing home. I need to see if she’s okay. I have no idea if we’re ever going to see each other again. I hope we are. But if we aren’t, I need you know that the years we’ve been together, the years we’ve been married, they’ve been the best and happiest of my life. Studying what I study, it can suck the life out of you, but seeing you in the mornings, the sun shining on your face, it gave me that little push I needed to go do what I do. You changed my life, Luke. I love you so much. If you’re out there, and you can’t get to me, just know that, I love you with everything I have.”

Quickly, he ended the call and shoved the phone back in his pocket before breaking down sobbing. He allowed himself a few minutes and then met Jim, Avery and Chase outside. They’d all agreed to head in the direction of his mother’s nursing home. Spencer prayed that Luke and his mother were still alive. And safe.

----

After shooting the kid, Luke ran into a building a melted down. Sure, he’d had to shoot people before. He’d killed people before. But this was different. This was practically a kid whose only crime was trying to look out for the group he was with. Between dodging zombies and dodging other people, it took Luke almost two full weeks to get to the diner, but by the time he arrived, if Spencer had been there, he was gone. 

Despite the possibility of nearby zombies or walkers or whatever he’d heard people calling them, Luke screamed at the top of his lungs and lost it. Without finding him here, there was no guarantee that they were ever going to see each other again. In his search for any salvageable supplies, he came across random papers, broken glass, ripped bandages - but nothing of use. 

When he glanced down at the floor, he saw Spencer’s signature and hurriedly picked it up, but the other pieces of whatever note he left were too ripped up and dirty and stepped on for him to make out what it said. As his fingers slid over his husband’s name, a tear fell from his eye. If Spencer was still alive, he was likely headed in the direction his mother lived. 

“Hello?” A small voice broke Luke from his train of thought. He spun around, his hand on the gun in his holster. “Please don’t hurt me,” the girl said. Dirt and dried blood covered her face and her eyes conveyed a lifetime of hurt. “Please.”

Luke lowered his gun. “How old are you?”

“Fourteen.”

Luisa had been right in the eye of the storm at the start of this whole thing weeks earlier. “My papa died trying to save my mama. And then she was bitten trying to save my sister and I. She saved me, but it was too late for Josephine. My mother lost too much blood. She fell asleep and never woke up and I had to- I had to put her out of her misery. I’m all alone.”

“Not anymore, kiddo. “You’ll stay with me.”

“Thank you - “

“Luke.”

“Thank you, Luke.”

----

The weeks that followed put Spencer’s band of misfits went through the ringer. After detouring around a group of people that would’ve outnumbered them three to one had they decided they wanted trouble, they had to fight their way through a hoard of walkers. Though they had few weapons, they managed, but not without Jim being bitten. 

“Kid, you know without a medic around this tourniquet is just stopping the inevitable. The bastard nicked my brachial artery,” Jim said, heavily drawing in each breath as it came to him. “You’ve got to take the weapons and keep those two safe for as long as you can. Maybe find your husband again.”

Spencer swallowed the lump in his throat. “I could go find-”

“No way. There’s a hoard at our backs and only Lord knows what up ahead. I won’t have you risking that for me.”

Over and over again, Spencer tried to reason with him, but in a way Jim was right. He had no idea what was up ahead and even if he found a medic there was no guarantee that he’d get back in time to save Jim. “I’m sorry,” Spencer said, placing a handgun in his palm. “I really am.”

“I know, kid. I have you find your husband again. Now get going.”

Once Spencer grabbed the weapons Jim had, he gathered up Avery and Chase and headed out into the unknown. A gunshot rang out and the crows fled into the sky. Hope was waning fast.

----

On their way to Diana’s nursing home, Spencer, Avery and Chase faced no further challenges. As soon as they detected voices, they headed away from them, preferring to stay in their small group of three than risk bringing other people into their ranks. They crossed the occasional zombie, but they were quickly dispatched.

Finally, they reached Diana’s home, but they were too late. Spencer found her alive, but too bloodied and bruised to move. “Mom, I’ll find someone. I won’t let you die,” Spencer said softly as he cried. “I can find someone to help and we can get you out of here.”

Diana was nothing if not a realist. “I’m going to die, Spencer. Soon probably. I just hope I can keep my wits about me until the sleep sets in. How’s Luke? Where is he? Is he-?”

“I don’t know,” Spencer sobbed. “You really want to talk about my life right now?’

“Yes. When I first saw this on the news, I thought I was having a nightmare, but it’s real and it’s unreal and I just want a sense of normalcy.”

Spencer radioed Avery to tell her where he was before curling in next to his mother. “I was on my way home from work when this all started. Luke was home. I-I haven’t seen him since and I don’t think I’m ever going to see him again. Mom, I’m so scared of being alone.”

“You’ll find him again,” Diana said weakly. 

“How do you know?”

“A mother knows. Remember?”

Spencer grabbed her hand and started reading the nearest book he could find. “Spencer...” she said, whisper soft. “It’s time for me to go to sleep.”

“No, mom, just a little bit longer.”

“Promise me something.”

“Anything.”

Diana fought for each breath. “Don’t let me turn into one of those things.”

Spencer choked out a sob. “I won’t.”

“And stay hopeful.” 

He promised he would, though he wasn’t sure it was a promise he could keep. “Mom?”

Nothing.

Before she could come back, he took a small gun out of his pocket, aimed, and fired. “I’ll try, Mom.”

----

Days passed into weeks passed into months passed into years. In a world changed, it changed those within in. Luke, once a confident and self-assured government agent, turned inward, going from one “safe haven” to another and sheltering himself and Luisa until their hideaway was discovered and they needed to move on, never once fighting for a place to call a makeshift home.

Through the years he lost himself, finding that instead of helping others, he did only what he had to do for he and Luisa to survive, never once taking a life, only dispatching zombies when need be. 

On the other hand, Spencer found himself hardening against the world. More than a year after everything began, Avery was overtaken by a hoard they passed, shoving Chase out of the crowd and toward Spencer. With her last breaths, she begged Spencer to take care of her son. Five years later, he and the almost nine-year-old boy headed a group of nearly 50 people, though numbers dwindled and rose from month to month. 

Spencer became a leader, but he confided in no one, killed if it was necessary to defend his “home”, and rarely spoke, shutting down in the face of any emotional connection. To connect was to lose, and he had lost enough. 

“Daniel and Alexa, you’ll accompany me into town for some supplies.” In addition to defending the makeshift community they’d developed, Spencer always sent out scouts to ensure that no one touched the supplies in surrounding towns. Less-looted stores were low in number and eventually he would need to conduct another reconnaissance mission to find supplies, but for now they would survive. “We leave within the hour.”

Smiles were few and far between, for Spencer more than most. However, the little boy he’d ended up raising as his son brought him a sliver of joy, along with his memories of Luke. They coaxed him to sleep at night and in the morning, he used them to make it through the day. “Chase, you know I love you, right?”

“I do, Spencer. Be careful okay? I can’t lose you.”

“I’ll be back.” He never promised, knowing more than most that sometimes the world was cruel. “Be good for Sandra.”

Though he was born before the world went to shit, Chase had essentially grown up in this new world. He was disciplined and trustworthy and more an adult than any almost nine-year-old boy should ever have to be.

On the way to gather supplies, Spencer zoned out, only gathering little bits of the conversation going on behind him. Both Daniel and Alexa had lost spouses at the start of the apocalypse and something told Spencer they were seeking comfort in one another now that they were “safe.” Funny how the meaning of a word could change in such a short amount of time.

While out for supplies, Spencer had insisted that no one go anywhere alone, so the three entered the hardware store in search of anything they could use as a weapon. As he gathered ropes and zip ties and wrenches into his supply bag, he heard Alexa and Daniel call for him. “Boss!”

Spencer approached the two, their guns raised and ready to fire. In the line of sight was a young woman, sheltered by a man. He closed his eyes and begged the universe for this not to be a joke, his mind playing tricks on him. When Spencer opened his eyes, he remained. “Luke?”

He smiled and immediately broke into tears. “Spence? You’re, you’re-”

Pushing past Daniel and Alexa, Spencer ran into Luke’s arms on the verge of tears, pressing his lips to his husband’s for the first time in nearly seven years. “I’m alive. And you’re here. How are you here?”

“Because I’m a different person. You?”

“Me too,” Spencer said sadly. “Everything’s changed. Except what I feel for you. I’m finally home again.”

[cultureisdarkbeer]

We Will Remember; From Out of the Ashes

From my Rooted in Friendship series, this is Mulder on 9/11/2001

It was September.  Mulder had spent the summer wandering aimlessly.  Using the identities The Lone Gunman had given him he roamed from one menial job to the other in one town to the next.  Every day was spent looking over his shoulder and every night dreaming of Scully and William.  Hesitant to make contact, he hadn’t even checked his email for fear of a trace.   It didn’t even matter.  There was nothing for him to say that wasn’t already said.  He wanted to come home.  To be with them again.  The only positive, if there was any, was that he was meeting different people from all kinds of backgrounds and philosophies.  There were more people out there that believed than he had realized.  Some circles had even mentioned him by name as a crusader. If they only knew.  If he was on a crusade it was to return to his family.  The only way to do that would be to discover what destroyed human replacements and stop them before it was too late.

Mulder opened one eye and squinted at the time.  He thought it read 10:37.  He was thinking that it must be A.M. as there was sunlight shining into the window.  Sometimes it was an arduous task to simply discern one day to the next.  Today was Tuesday.  He knew this since his last day at the mill had been yesterday and the guys had gathered at the local bar for a going away bash.  The last thing he remembered was being dropped onto the couch by Randy after having too many drinks to maintain the ability to walk let alone drive a car.  His head was still buzzing, but he did recall crying into a beer or two over Scully. He slowly rolled into a sitting position on the most recent couch he called home.  Rubbing his neck, the stiffness reminded him that he needed to buy a pillow.  Thinking of stiffness, he stared down at ol’ reliable standing at his usual attention.  Not that he had much use for it.  The times he did partake he usually ended up in a worse depression than before and he wasn’t in the mood for tears today.  He rubbed his face and the scruff that had formed cut into his calloused hands.  Blindly, he turned on the small picture tube in the room and went to the bathroom to empty his bladder.  When he returned he had a toothbrush hanging from his mouth and disbelief in his eyes.  The news showed smoke rising from where the World Trade Center once stood.  There had been an attack on the Pentagon as well and in Pennsylvania.  The next couple hours he spent glued to the television absorbing everything in front of him.  His first instinct was to contact Scully, but he knew he couldn’t. The FBI had to be heavily involved at this point.  Thoughts of human replacement involvement crossed his mind although most evil didn’t land from the sky, but that from within.  It was then he decided his next destination would be east to NYC. If nothing else, they could use his help.

As he got dressed he accidentally glanced at himself in the mirror.  He usually avoided mirrors as they reflected his heartache.  Today he looked at himself as if from afar.  It was the first time in a while he felt he might have a purpose again. Tanned from working in the sun, his skin glowed golden and his abs had a harder cut to them than usual.  The muscles in his arms and chest were wider.  Scully would be impressed he thought as he ran his hand over his chest. The pain of her absence began to culminate in his heart and he quickly resumed getting dressed frantically trying to push his mind onto another track.  Any thoughts of Scully resulted with tears, anger and unending sadness.  He walked outside and flung his bags into the back of an old Buick sedan he had purchased for a couple hundred dollars.  The plates and registration were phonies Skinner had retrieved from FBI storage, but they got him wheels.  He sat the picture Scully had given him in the corner of the instrument panel wishing he had one of William as well.  Straightening his rear view mirror he gave the rural landscape one last look, put on his shades, and headed out.

 A few days had passed before he had reached New York traveling from Kansas.  He had stopped to visit Sheila and Holman.  At least there he got to share good memories, eat some home cooking, and be the proud papa as he told them about William.  He had given Holman a package to mail to Scully so she knew he was still alive and took off for New York. 

As he entered NJ, he took heed of the solemn atmosphere.  There was an eerie quiet looming.  When he finally pulled the car into a parking spot he was near Liberty State Park.  The air was cold, a frigid day with no wind, the only breeze being from the echoing of voices from the dead and the screaming hearts of the living.  He came upon a spot with candles burning.  Pictures and cards hung everywhere.  There were notebooks too.  He picked them up and read them.  Poems and prayers, wishes and requests, all to missing loved ones.  They were beautiful and he felt his anger rise up with the sadness. The monster inside him was winning.  He spun around when he felt a tap on his arm.  It was a woman with tears in her eyes.  She hugged him without words.  A total stranger holding him, greeting him like family.  They cried in each other’s arms for each of their losses without sharing words.  Others came to pray, share hugs and photos, and leave messages.  Everyone was leaning on the other.  Mulder had witnessed many things in his life, but such a beautiful reflection of humanity he never would have guessed to find in the vicinity of so much that was corrupt. 

“Hi. My name is Lauren.” A tall slender woman dressed in what might be considered hippy attire held out her hand for Mulder to shake.  “Do you have missing loved ones?”

“No… I, uh.  I came to help.” 

“Yes. It seems there are people from all over the country some from other parts of the world that have traveled to help.  I’m from Long Island myself.  There’s a group of us meeting here in a while to make the trek over into the city.  From there we will meet up with the firefighters.”

“What will we be doing?”

“You’ll see.”  She replied with a warm smile.

For lack of any ideas, Mulder wandered into the city with them.  The streets were covered in ash. What looked like snow was more ash falling from the sky.  A post-apocalyptic feel gripped at his fears.  This was not cruelty from an alien force, but only that capable of man.  They walked the streets. Lit candles covered every street corner accompanied by flowers, cards, letters, and poems.  The walls of every business and billboard filled with pictures of loved ones. 

Children, mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, friends, wandered the streets searching.  Some came as he did.  From a pull that they did not know.  From a pull to be together, for comfort from the sadness. To mourn the loss, embrace each other.  When they finally settled on a street corner they waited.  The firefighters were changing shifts.  The truck stopped at the corner and the firemen got out as others piled in.  They carried with them shovels and masks.  The news stated it was an attempt at a recovery mission, but Mulder knew better.  It was to dig up the dead.  To find evidence of who had died, to attempt proper funerals.  Most would remain where they died, their tombstone a memorial and another skyscraper to once again reach out to the heavens on the backs of their souls.  The returning firefighters had it all in their faces.  The people cheered them like superheroes upon their return.  Those people were there for one purpose.  To hug those men, to give them their strength back through their love.  Total strangers giving the only thing they had to give to the men that had lost so many of their brothers.  The firefighters in turn cried into the embrace.  Falling apart in their arms.  Real giants did exist and they walked the streets that day. It was the men in red and those in blue that ran towards their impending doom as others ran away.  To now be represented by those from all over sifting through the ashes, not giving up on a chance of resurrection.  If there was a place Mulder felt at home since leaving D.C. it was there among the mourning.  They gave him strength to go on.  To know that he was blessed to have Scully and William still alive waiting. 

After sharing handshakes, more prayers and kind words, he left as soft music played bouncing off the resilience of the tall standing buildings of downtown. The Empire State Building glowed red, white, and blue for all to see that we still stood tall. People had brought their instruments, boom boxes and whatever they had, playing the music throughout the night to let everyone know they were not alone.  The spotlights boomed into the sky like a signal to batman calling for a savior when the only one to answer was from inside.  Mulder continued to wander the streets, like he was searching, but for what he had yet to know.  He got to a large rock near central park and sat down.  His heart started to race as butterflies beat furiously in his stomach.  “Scully.”  He said to himself out loud.

“Mulder” Scully said as butterflies grew in her stomach at that familiar feeling. 

“What is it Dana?” Monica asked concerned at the upset look on her face.

“Nothing.  I… I just got a strange feeling like Mulder was here.”

“Maybe he was.”

“Maybe.  I miss him Monica.  Not a second goes by….”

“You have to stay positive.”

“I know.”

Scully and Monica were two blocks from Mulder’s rock in Central Park. They had come to see the tragedy with their own eyes and unknowingly came within steps of Mulder.  Monica waved down a cab and got in.  Scully paused for a second longer, the butterflies still beating in her stomach. “I know you’re out there Mulder. I hope you feel me too.” She whispered more to herself than anything else.  She joined Monica in the cab and they headed to the airport to return to D.C.

 Mulder got up from the rock looking for the subway to take him back to his motel room. A kid in his twenties in a gray hoodie came up behind Mulder and tapped him on the shoulder startling him.

“Excuse me.  You’re Fox Mulder!”

“What? No, I’m sorry you have the wrong person.” Mulder picked up his pace taking longer strides to get away from the attention this guy was bestowing upon him.  The kid only ran to keep up.

“No, I know you’re him.  You were friends with Max from NICAP.  I’m from NICAP too.” The kid said extending his hand to Mulder as they walked.  Mulder kept his hand in his pockets and didn’t slow his pace.

“Look I’m kind of undercover.  I’m not really able to talk right now it could compromise my position.”

The kid nodded, but didn’t back away. “My name is Josh.  We’re having a meeting tomorrow if you’re interested. The topic…  alien hybrid kryptonite.”

This stopped Mulder in his tracks. “You’ve figured out how to stop them?”

Josh looked hesitant. “Well that’s what the meeting is about.  We have reports that some of the members have seen them turn into one of those magnetic desk sculptures.  You know what I’m talking about?”

“Not exactly.  They might have thought they killed them, but these things rejuvenate.  I’ve seen them crushed into a tiny cube and come back to full capacity.” Mulder countered.

“According to our latest reports, this destroys them.  If you come to the meeting, you can speak with these men yourself. Ask all the questions you want.  It would be quite an honor to have you there.  You’re kind of a celebrity in our neck of the woods.”

Josh handed him a small NICAP business card with an address and time.  “See you then”

As Josh walked away, Mulder looked around nervously.  If I guy from NICAP could locate him, anyone could.  He wouldn’t be able to stay much longer.

After a restless night’s sleep in a rundown motel, Mulder went back over to ground zero and put in some hours helping with the recovery.  At a little after 7 he headed over to 8th avenue where he found a building with windows nailed shut by wooden planks covered in Broadway posters.  He went down a dark alley, down a flight of stairs to a locked door.  He knocked on the door and a 400 lb. man with a Spiderman t-shirt answered.  “It’s the second star to the right” He said to Mulder.  “And straight on ‘til morning” Mulder answered.

“Please turn around and expose your neck.” The heavy set man answered.   Mulder turned around and lowered his jacket so the man could observe the top of his spine.  He then handed Mulder an alcohol swab and a disposable blood lancet.  Mulder punctured his finger so the man could witness that his blood was red.  Lastly he ran a wand over him for evidence of weapons, tracking devices, or taps.  When he was satisfied that Mulder was clean he let him proceed. The man opened the door to let Mulder in. “It’s an honor to meet you Fox Mulder” the man winked and smiled. As Mulder looked around he realized he had found the greatest collection of outcasts the planet earth may have ever known.  Once everyone was checked in, the meeting commenced.  There was a lot of formalities, new business, old business until finally they got to eyewitness accounts.  Each person would go up front and speak of their experience. It was nothing new and all things Mulder had heard several times before.

“And now the moment we’ve been waiting for.” Said the meeting head.  “Eric will be reviewing his latest information on Hybrids.”

He started his speech telling of first accounts of hybrids being birthed from human mothers using mutated eggs.  He told of stories of embryo implants through abductions and contaminated water supplies. Most of it Mulder was aware and some seemed skewed or misguided.  Finally, he got to what Mulder really wanted to hear.  “We have some exciting news today.  It’s been confirmed.  We have dead hybrids.  They were turned into a metallic dust.  It happened at ground zero.  What we believe is that when the twin towers fell, they exposed the Manhattan bedrock which is millions of years old.  Folded into that bedrock is an iron ore, remnants of an old meteor.  We believe that if we could mine meteors that contain this same iron, we may be able to build a weapon to combat these hybrids.”

“So where do you find this iron and how are you going to test it?” Asked one of the members.

Eric turned on the projector.  “This is a Map of all the meteor dustings in the past two million years.  As you can see the largest concentration is in Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado, Utah, and Nevada.  This is where we should concentrate our efforts.”

“But how do you know this iron stuff will kill them?” Asked another member.

“Because we have it on video and we have the dust sample.”

The room became silent as he hooked up his video camera. 

The video took place after the first tower fell.  There was a considerable amount of smoke and it was apparent the video had been taken by someone in law enforcement.  Two men with FBI jackets were running into the smoke and the camera was shaking widly.  You could see them enter the building and go down steps where the mall once stood. Ash was everywhere and smoke filled the hallways.  It appeared they were in search of something inside the mall. Then one of the FBI agents froze like he was magnetized to the floor.  With tremendous force the two men crumbled as if from the inside out like a huge magnet drew them downward.  You see the man holding the camera yell and pick up their clothing which now contained only dust.  He let out a few expletives and the camera shut off.

Even this made Mulder miss Scully.  He wished she was there to witness the tape.  He wanted her opinion.  He also wanted some of that dust.  She would be able to dissect it in the lab and find the answer.  Not this time.  This time he would have to prove it on his own.

“What happened?  It was like terminator was struck with a light saber.” Shouted Josh, the kid he had met in the street.

“We don’t know.  This is all we have, but the rock that was scraped up from the site had a high concentration of a form of magnetite.  If we could fashion a weapon, we may be able to use if against them.”

 Walking back to the motel Mulder didn’t know what to make of any of it.  Was there a way to stop them? There had to be.  Nothing was invincible.  Except maybe Scully.  He went to put the key in the door and it creaked open with a push.  Someone had already been there.  The place had been ransacked, but from what he saw nothing was taken.  His first instinct was to ensure the intruders had left, but they were gone.  His suitcase full of cash was still intact. He searched his luggage finding a tracer.  He also found a bug inside the lamp on the nightstand.  They had located him.  His time in NY had run out. He grabbed his stuff, packed it into the car, placed the picture back on the instrument panel, and headed west in search of magnetite and an old friend.

Read more here

[theladyofdeath]

V O I D { F I V E }

Chapter 5. An ACOTAR fanfiction.

Nessian. Elriel. Feysand.

Previous chapters:  Fanfic Masterlist

“It sounded like a dream; it tasted like damnation.”  from The Foxhole Court by Nora Sakavic

Nesta woke up early the next morning, but it wasn’t until 8 or so that she got a surprise visitor.

Elain hurried past the guest room towards the bathroom, but slowly backstepped a second later.

She looked into the room, brown eyes wide. “Wh- Nesta?”

She had been at a party the night before when Nesta has gotten there. Everyone had been asleep when she had gotten home.

Nesta sat up in her bed, a small smile for her younger sister. “Surprise.”

Elain’s eyes remained wide. Nesta didn’t know if it was just because she was shocked to see her or if it was because she hadn’t yet seen her hair, or lack thereof, in person yet.

Before Nesta could string together another sentence, Elain was running inside of the little bedroom, throwing herself on top of her sister. “I missed you!”

“I missed you, too,” Nesta muttered into her hair. “Feyre still asleep?”

Elain froze. “Okay so, don’t tell dad, but she’s at a boy’s house.”

Nesta blinked. “She spent the night at a boy’s house?”

Elain rolled her eyes. “Not like that. At least...I don’t think so. Not last I heard. Anyway, I’m just telling dad that she’s at a friend’s and I’m going to get her in a little bit.”

“And why are we lying?” Nesta asked, intrigued.

“We’re not lying. He is a friend,” she said, winking as she nudged her sister in the ribs before throwing her arms around her neck, once more. “Oh, I’m so happy you’re here. How long are you staying?”

Nesta hesitated. “A while.”

Elain gave her a curious look, but nodded. “We’ll talk details later. I’m just so happy to see you.”

A soft knock came on the already opened door.

Isaac stood in the doorway, a mug of steaming black coffee in hand. “What’s your plans for this Saturday, ladies?”

“I’m going to get Feyre this morning,” Elain said, nodding. “She stayed at a friend’s house last night. Then I was thinking we’d do some shopping downtown.”

Isaac blinked. “Feyre made a friend?”

“Yeah,” Elain smiled without missing a beat. “They’re getting along really well. One of my cheer squad mates.”

“Alright,” he said. “Nesta? What about you?”

“Going with Elain,” she said, much to Elain’s delight.

Isaac nodded, his eyes holding Nesta’s for a moment longer. “Alright. Well, you three be safe. I’ll see you tonight for dinner?”

“We’ll be here,” Elain smiled, clapping her hands.

Nesta nodded, trying her best to smile. Her heart wasn’t in it, though. She wasn’t sure if her heart would ever be in it.

Nesta smiled, but she felt nothing.

She never felt anything.

Not anymore.

~~~

Feyre woke up with a pounding headache and a hazy memory.

She shot up on the couch, fully taking in her surroundings. She had no idea where she was, had barely any memory of the night before.

She remembered going with Elain to the bonfire. Remembered the punch. But after that?

Rhysand.

Oh gods. Rhysand. She had a vague memory of her shoving her hand down Rhysand’s pants.

Her cheeks burned.

“I know you from somewhere.”

Feyre spun around, fully aware that her breath reeked.

A young, teenage girl stared at her, hazel eyes curious, curly brown hair pulled back into a bun.

“She goes to your school,” a guy answered from the kitchen. “Feyre, my sister, Cecily. Cece, meet Feyre. Oh, and I’m Cassian.”

Feyre’s mouth opened, then closed.

The three of them were alone.

“Rhys is in the shower,” Cassian said, guessing her thoughts, mouthful of scrambled eggs. Feyre felt sick.

“I...should go,” Feyre hesitated.

“Rhys drove you here. Don’t you remember?”

Feyre blinked.

She remembered her hands in his….

Feyre cursed, her face falling into her hands.

“It’s okay, Elain is on her way,” he chuckled.

Feyre’s cheeks burned to the point that she was almost in physical pain. She couldn’t imagine what Elain would say when she arrived, but she knew it would be embarrassing.

Another dark-haired male stepped into the main room from the hallway. He gave Feyre a polite nod as he went into the kitchen and began to dig through the fridge. Feyre recognized him from the bonfire.

“So, you all live together?” Feyre asked.

Cassian nodded.

Feyre, not knowing what else to say, sunk back down onto the couch.

The bathroom door opened a minute later. Rhys came out, a towel around his waist, tanned skin still glistening.

He caught Feyre’s eye and grinned. “Ah, she’s awake. Good morning, Feyre darling.”

Feyre didn’t respond.

“Already in denial about your flirting last night?” He asked, leaning over the back of the couch. “That hurts.”

“I was drunk,” she mumbled.

“You know what they say,” he began, “drunk people always tell the truth.”

“I’ll wait outside,” Feyre announced, rising to her feet.

Rhys stepped in front of her. “Stay. Please? Have some breakfast….if you can stomach it. I’ll even put a shirt on.”

Silence.

The room was met with utter silence.

“Fine,” Feyre snapped, after a moment passed. “But the minute Elain is here, we’re leaving.”

Rhysand’s grin simply widened as he grabbed a tee shirt and a pair of sweatpants off the ground and meandered into one of the back bedrooms to dress.

Before he could come out, a precautious knock came to the front door. Feyre watched as Azriel’s eyes shot up and he hurried to open it.

Feyre’s sister stood on the threshold, smiling at Azriel once she met his gaze. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” he replied, quietly.

Feyre quickly ducked around Azriel and past Elain, hurrying toward the car as quickly as she could. She only froze when she saw who sat in the passenger seat.

Feyre hadn’t seen Nesta in a while, but she knew her oldest sister hadn’t been doing well. Looking at her now, Feyre didn’t even recognize her.

She was far too thin, her head buzzed. She was wearing a black jacket that nearly swallowed her whole.

Nesta’s eyes met Feyre’s and her entire body tensed. Feyre took the remaining footsteps cautiously. When she sat in the back seat, neither of them spoke a word.

They simply watched Elain, and although all they could see was her back, Feyre knew she was giggling. Azriel watched her, hazel eyes soft, as Elain said whatever it was that she was saying.

“Who is this guy?” Nesta asked, out of nowhere.

Feyre was so unprepared for the question that she jumped at the sudden noise in the silence.

“Azriel?” Feyre asked, surprised by the steadiness of her own voice. “A friend of Rhysand’s.”

“And Rhysand is the boy you slept with last night?” Nesta asked.

Feyre scoffed, not even bothering to tell her that it wasn’t what she thought when she said, “And you’re one to judge? How has Tomas’ bed been treating you lately?”

Nesta didn’t reply.

She didn’t even look back to glare at Feyre, which is what Feyre had expected her to do.

Instead, they fell back into silence as Elain hurried back toward her car.

~~~~

Rhysand wasn’t too surprised when Feyre didn’t say goodbye. He was, however, surprised to find her phone still sitting on the couch.

He’d put it in his pocket as he went for a walk through the city.

Cassian and Cecelia were busy arranging their father’s memorial service while Azriel had to go to work at the garage. Rhys offered to help Cassian, but he just brushed his friend off. Cassian hated his father. Rhys even thought that he was happy to see the old bastard dead after everything he’d put his children through.

Hatred of their fathers. It was one thing they had always had in common, even when they were young.

So, that left Rhys to waste a day out of the apartment.

The sun was shining, the air finally becoming brisk with the approaching Autumn. He thought to spend it messing around with some lyrics he’d been working on, but it had been a while since he’d been to the rivercourt.

It sat just along the Sidra, although it had seen much better days. The court paint had long ago faded, the concrete cracked. The basketball hoops no longer had nets, but it didn’t stop Rhysand.

It was his favorite place to play, it always had been.

He’d loved the game. Once.

Before his father wanted him to become a slave to it. Then it had become torturous.

But every now and then, Rhysand liked to relive those days when he was nothing more than a boy who loved a game.

He had been good, too.

As he pulled up to where the three-point line would have been on the broken concrete, Rhysand squared himself up and took a shot.

It effortlessly fell into the middle of the rim.

Rhysand didn’t move as the ball bounced off the concrete, into the grass. He spun around, slowly, taking in his surroundings and breathing in the fresh, salty air.

But as he closed his eyes, all he saw was her.

~~~~

Cassian, Azriel, and Rhys pushed through the doors of Rita’s. Helion had done an impressively professional job on their fake id’s. At eighteen and nineteen, they barely passed for twenty-one. At least, that’s what the skeptical glare of the bodyguard checking id’s at the door told them.

“Beer,” Cassian told the bartender, “whatever’s cheapest on tap.”

After showing the bartender the black X that was drawn on the back of his hand, the bartender fulfilled his request. Cassian hated the taste of beer, but he could use it.

All he had thought about all day was his father.

His anger had built up until he told Cece he was sorry, but he needed the rest of the night off and they could resume dealing with his death in the morning.

Azriel and Rhys hadn’t hesitated when Cassian had asked if they wanted to join him for a night out on the town.

Cassian was glad, too, because it would have been far more pathetic getting drunk alone. And three hours later, when they were all stumbling around in the parking lot howling at everything and nothing at all, Cassian was grateful for his two best friends, even if this memory would be nothing more than drunken haziness that he would barely remember.

“Shiiiiiiit,” Cassian breathed, getting behind the wheel of his truck. He blinked a few times, trying to clear his vision.

“You shouldn’t drive,” Azriel said, falling into the passenger seat. “Let’s call a cab.”

“I’m so drunk!” Rhysand screamed, standing in the bed of the truck with his shirt over his face.

Cassian and Azriel howled.

“Sit down, jackass!” Cassian hollered, pounding on the back window. “I’m fine. We live less than fi-five minutes from here.”

Azriel, completely unaware of what he had said before, was singing along to the radio, obnoxiously loud, head hanging out the window.

He could hear Rhys joining in for the chorus, voice worse than Azriel’s.

Cassian shook his head, sputtering a laugh as he put his truck in reverse.

It was only three miles to their apartment, but they barely made it a mile down the road before everything changed.

Even the beauty of the starlit night sky of Velaris could not diminish the tragedy that would unfold a mile down the road from Rita’s.

~~~

Don’t be mad at me, but I’m no longer going to do tags! They don’t work half the time and they add, like, an extra half hour onto every post....so, from this post forward, every chapter will be tagged “tacmc void” and I will be updating weekly. :)

[philcmena-alt]

NATALIA DYER / DEMI GIRL — don’t look now, but is that philomena carmichael i see? the 19 year old wildlife science student is in their sophomore year and she is a rochester alum. i hear they can be whimsical, patient, apathetic and unpredictable, so maybe keep that in mind. i bet she will make a name for themselves living in garcia row. ( james. 20. est. she/they. )

like this to plot !!

TW CANCER, TRAUMA, DEPERSONALIZATION / DEREALIZATION DISORDER ( ALT. MENTAL HEALTH ) / DEATH / DECAY / MAGGOTS / GROSS ??

a e s t h e t i c s

wildflowers in your hair and bare feet against moss, binoculars and maps, madonna beating out of half-dead speakers in a half-dead van, whipping wind, jumping off cliffs and rolling down hills, a bandaid wrapped around each finger, cryptic bumper stickers and cryptids in the woods, facing the sun and letting the rays hit you, counting stars late into the night, mismatched socks and lucky ribbons, hoarding a box of special treasures, shoplifting and diner-dashing, bleach against roots, pink sweaters paired with ripped fishnets and slip dresses with knock off uggs, willingly wearing crocs, glitter stickers.

general info !!

full name: philomena brontë carmichael

nickname(s): philly, phil, mena, etc.

b.o.d. - april 20th lmao !!

label(s): the amaranth, the halycon, the neophyte, the wanderer, etc. etc.

height: 5′4″

hometown: woodside, ca

sexuality: ??? $500 ebay mystery box. pansexual if you had to label it.

pinterest

stats

biography !!

a middle child belonging to christopher and imogen carmichael - two stanford professors. christopher specialized in british literature whilst imogen specialized in the classics. hence the name.

the order of siblings goes as such: lysander, elektra, juno, philomena, and twins orion & valora. the deal was that everybody had a greek (or in juno’s case, roman) first name and a middle name inspired by a piece of british literature circa 1800s and under. a family of nerds, if you will.

so, clearly - right off the bat, their parents are … eccentric. they’re both in love with their respected topic, and with each other, and with their kids. the carmichael family is a happy family.

they each have their own quirks and whatnot - though philly’s always been particularly dreamy - even as a child, she’d spend hours watching clouds or caterpillars or the leaves blow in the wind rather than play with other kids. she wasn’t a shy kid - she just had her own interests.

hardship doesn’t hit the family until philomena is five and starts having splitting headaches. they’re slow at first - but as soon as she’s seeing spots and unable to walk in a straight line, doctor appointments are made.

it doesn’t take long for them to discover the tumor, though the official diagnosis of malignant ependymoma comes a month later.

it’s grade ii but slow-moving, small enough to not be as much of a threat as worried, but big enough where removal is necessary. philomena earns a scar and brings it in for show-and-tell. for two months afterwards, philly’s at radiotherapy monday through friday.

they’re lucky - philomena’s considered cancer-free by the next year. she’s babied at first - handled delicately, as if she could break if touched - but with five other children … it doesn’t last for too long.

and life continues as normal.

her personality doesn’t shift much over the next few years - she’s awfully independent for a kid, and awfully quiet - when she speaks it’s about faeries and bigfoot, about how the sky is so blue and if you listen quietly, you can hear the leaves whisper their secrets to each other. this is not odd.

she’s close to all her siblings, but she idolizes her older sister - elektra. elektra’s six years older and dyes her hair whatever colors she wants. elektra bought a knife off a seedy guy downtown. elektra threw away all of her heels and renounced god. elektra is god. her music is loud but it’s not heavy - it’s florence and the machine.

they’re opposites - elektra’s boisterous and feels loudly, philomena’s softer and feels…less. when elektra sneaks out, philomena keeps watch. they are a duo.

philomena is smart - but she’s fifteen and hates school. hates sitting inside all day. hates the same routine - day after day - it’s all the same. her parents’ routine is the same, philly feels contained and she wants to live.

elektra’s twenty-one and just bought a brand new spanking (used but not falling apart) 19-something volkswagen … van - using her entire savings account. she says she’s tired of routine, she’s leaving the next day.

naturally, philomena stows away in the back and isn’t discovered until they’re two states away and she’s got to pee. elektra nearly crashes the van in shock.

it’s an argument - philomena vs. elektra, then them vs. their parents, then their parents vs. the school, the state - it’s an ordeal. philomena switches to an online program in the end.

it hurts christopher and imogen - lysander’s not having any of their nonsense, juno’s betrayed and alone - the twins are twins. in the end, it’s alright. the carmichael family is a happy family.

philomena and elektra take their time - it’s not a road trip, it’s their new life, permanently on the road. they stop and explore often - they do odd jobs in whatever town they settle in. they dine-n-dash, they shoplift. they survive in their own way.

during particularly desperate times, they two resorted to identity theft & credit fraud - getting away with it only by ditching the cards once they’ve made it out of state.

she drops out of high school officially when she’s seventeen - they have to drive all the way back to california to deal with the wrath of their parents and to deal with paperwork, but it’s done. philomena doesn’t know what path she wants in life - but it’s not that.

it’s during this time that the episodes occur - philomena’s outside her body, philomena’s wrapped in cotton, her memories are not her own. she’s looking in the mirror and she doesn’t recognize herself. they take shelter in a city for six months, long enough for her brand spankin’ new therapist to figure out what’s wrong with her. she’s diagnosed with depersonalization / derealization disorder - they think it’s stress. philomena doesn’t get stressed. they think it’s trauma. she laughs - she never laughs.

she gets medication, and life is normal.

three years later and her parents want philly to have a higher education - desperate for it, really - worried for her future. it’s a battle that she loses, getting her GED and applying to a local college in a town halfway across the country.

staying rooted pains her - pains elektra, stuck in a midwest state for no good reason. by the summer before her sophomore year, philly deides to transfer to lockwood. elektra can travel up and down the eastern coast and philly goes too, sometimes, on the weekends. it’s a compromise that favors her parents’ wants above all.

school has caused philly’s disorder to flare up - a small rift in her day-to-day life even when she doesn’t realize it.

things were fine for a while - they have to be fine, because philly is always fine - because elektra is always fine, because they’re always fine and happy and content with their situation. but years of negligence had caught up with philly - and now she’s not quite sure what to do.

it began with a phone call from juno - angry juno, hurt juno - juno who has called every week for four years and has only gotten a handful of answers - and many, many handfuls of answering machines. juno who doesn’t understand why philly is like this - when she’s so hurt, all the time - when things are so much, all the time. the call ends with a reminder that they are the same - that they’ve experienced the same thing, the same thing that nobody else in their family had experienced.

juno, of course, refers to the dead body in the woods nine years ago.

to backtrack - philomena was ten and juno was thirteen when they had decided to go on a hike - a nearby trail that had been walked countless times, in a town they’ve always felt safe in. it should’ve been safe - it should’ve been fine. but philomena liked going off the trail, making her own - insisted on it, in fact. she was the one who skidded down the slope first, curiosity drawn to a dirty, fraying red scarf - but juno had been the one who had tripped and fallen, who had landed besides decaying flesh and maggots. philomena had seen the body first - but juno had touched it. juno had touched it.

after the police and the sirens and the years of therapy, juno had always wanted to talk about it - always wanted to address it, vent to the one person who would maybe, could maybe, understand. philly had already blocked it out of her mind.

back in present day - the phone call with juno had attracted elektra, who then in turn called juno and marched away, screaming match from across the country (supposedly). philly, always a little too curious, had only overheard parts of their argument. but she heard the one thing that left her bothered - a rare experience, and a sickening one. elektra had called her a child. just a kid, to be exact.

philly had stopped considering herself a child when she turned eighteen - and she certainly never thought she acted childish. confrontation led to a rift, and philomena determining that they needed time apart - that elektra should go, now, please. and she did. and philly was alone. no elektra, no florence - no more depending on her sister, just philly. alone.

a firm week before dean lockwood was murdered and the rochester students moved to huntington beach, philly had disappeared. run away, if you will. no driver’s license, just a handful of cash and her ‘pets’ set free. she’s just now reappeared, with a van she has no registration for parked outside of garcia row & in front of their new ‘dorm’.

personality !!

she’s quiet but she’s confident - her voice sounds like rustling leaves, if leaves smoked a pack of cigarettes a day.

often underestimated - philly’s petite and looks like she’d fall over if a plastic bag blew too close to her. she’s independent - for the most part. elektra is the only person philly takes orders from.

has always been considered odd - weird, strange. still talks about the trees as if they’re listening, as if they’re old friends. she’s vague and doesn’t elaborate on the things she says.

believes in pretty much any superstition you throw her way. luck is very important to her. if you ask her if the earth is flat, she’ll say probably. believes strongly in bigfoot and the lochness monster. has personally seen aliens, and loves ghosts almost more than herself.

she can be amusing - whether you ‘get’ her or not, her outlook is often bright - she talks about the negatives the same way she talks about the positives. can be seen as naive or gullible, but she’s plenty smart. even if half of her education has come directly from google.

philly doesn’t laugh. a smile, yes - often, in fact - not always reaching her ears, or bearing teeth - but these are not indicators of her happiness. philly is consistently content. she thinks many things are funny - she still will not laugh.

her voice is often monotonous - she doesn’t sound dreary, she sounds far-away. her voice carries. her emotions are often unknown to others.

is apathetic in most situations. she’s hard to bother - she’s incredibly patient and enjoys the company of most - tolerates them at the very least. it’s hard for her to express her emotions, because she feels them so little that it’s very nearly not worth it. her affection is not verbal - it’s small touches and gestures of kindness, love in her own way.

is a fan of knock-knock jokes and bad puns. she won’t crack a smile while telling you them, nor does she expect you to laugh. she just enjoys them.

she owns a motorola razr covered in puffy stickers - hasn’t ever had a smartphone. she’s a fan of emoticons. her favorite is :o)

has a lot of bruises and scratches and scars - she’s often getting herself into pickles. there are always, at the very minimum, three bandaids on each hand.

she has insomnia, so she’s awake often. is often seen wandering town - even when she shouldn’t be, even when it might be dangerous. her intuition is delayed. when she does sleep - her dreams are vivid and fantastical.

keeps a box of memories - sentimental bits and pieces she’s picked up over the last few years. there are a lot of buttons and postcards, but any teeny tiny object will do.

her style changes every week - most, if not all, of her clothes are thrifted. one week she’s baby spice and the next she’s lydia deetz. she combines pieces from different styles often - she looks like a barbie clothed by a child. she feels most comfortable like this.

will either patch-up the clothes that get too worn or reuse them in some way. sometimes donates the clothes she gets tired off - isn’t minimalistic, but she’s learned to keep only a small amount of possessions.

the only consistency is her lucky ribbon - it’s pastel yellow and silky and as thin as a shoelace. she ties it onto her outfit of the day, everyday. if she loses it, she’s lost. elektra has a matching ribbon.

has no problem with minor theft - she only takes bare minimum, puts herself and elektra first and that’s how it’s always been. she tries to be good while in rochester - would hate to make enemies whilst florence is getting repaired.

currently living in audax while elektra stays in their van, florence - sometimes philly stays there during the weekends.

they used to live in motels on the occasion, the cheapest room, and more often than not they’d both go home with strangers for a comfier bed and a hotter shower.

it was a common occurrence - she didn’t sleep with them - but somehow, she weaseled her way into their homes anyway. has come out mostly unscathed, on most occasions. this has been a practice ever since they’ve been on the road.

really, truly - has not slept with anybody, had her first and only kiss at thirteen with a frog. this doesn’t bother her.

will consume a n y t h i n g you put in front of her - isn’t picky.

listens to whatever they’ve picked up along the way but she likes instrumentals the best. her second favorite genre is 1990′s and 2000′s top hits. they’re nostalgic for her.

loves storms - will go out in the rain and will risk her life for it.

owns a pair of roller-skates and is often skating rather than walking. unless she’s on grass - then she’s walking barefoot.

has many hobbies, and gets bored of them often. her favorite hobby is welding. she’s not certified.

also, juggles.

also, accordion.

the kind of girl who’ll do any job you give her. odd jobs are her favorite jobs. babysitting is her least favorite - but she does it anyway. has lost children before. have they ever been found? not by philly.

dyes her hair blonde often and cuts her own hair - bangs included - finds it cathartic, likes the itchiness of bleach.

everything she does is often in pursuit of feeling free, alive, and meaningful.

wanted connections !!

random encounters - she’s new to rochester and doesn’t know many people - if anybody at all, so :-)

alternately, people she’s run into with elektra during their journey. whether they’ve stolen from them or stayed with them somewhere or just, ate dinner with them. anything.

someone whose couch / floor she’s crashed on after a night of whatever - a party, adventure, etc.

people she does jobs for !! people who commission her to make stuff for them. people who need a babysitter.

people who think she’s weird - and those who like it. or those who hate it. people who don’t understand her - people who do, in their own way.

someone trying to get closer to her but she keeps slipping out from between their fingers.

a parental / older sibling figure !! they take one look at philomena and instantly want to swaddle and protect her.

people who take an immediate liking to her. people who introduce her to the music scene. people who show her around town.

someone who catches her stealing or about to dine-n-dash.

late-night walking pals.

a dealer b/c weed ? a thing.

someone who gets into a debate with her about conspiracies or superstitions or anything !! someone who gets frustrated at her apathy.

somebody who just immediately distrusts her for whatever reason.

??? you don’t have a smartphone ??? cue someone trying to teach her how they work - and philly hating it !!

thrifting pals.

m a y b e a hook-up, eventually, but it’s questionable.

something unrequited, likely on their end b/c philly is … a hard egg to crack.

maybe something returned !! eventually. slowly. slow.

god … someone she just tells her entire life story to. like this meme.

i’m rly down to brainstorm and think of anything !!! dnt forget 2 leave a like :)

[philcmena-archive]

NATALIA DYER / DEMI GIRL. — philomena carmichael is really making a name for themselves as a sheep. i think that she/they are studying wildlife science in their sophomore year at lockwood, living in audax. originally from woodside, california, philly is known to be whimsical & patient, but can also be apathetic & unpredictable. — james / 20 / est / she/they.

hllo !! 2/5 intros so far, ur almost there !! like saige, there has been slight alterations to philly bt they’re not very extreme uwu

TW CANCER, TRAUMA, DEPERSONALIZATION / DEREALIZATION DISORDER ( ALT. MENTAL HEALTH ) / DEATH / DECAY / MAGGOTS / GROSS ??

a e s t h e t i c s

wildflowers in your hair and bare feet against moss, binoculars and maps, madonna beating out of half-dead speakers in a half-dead van, whipping wind, jumping off cliffs and rolling down hills, a bandaid wrapped around each finger, cryptic bumper stickers and cryptids in the woods, facing the sun and letting the rays hit you, counting stars late into the night, mismatched socks and lucky ribbons, hoarding a box of special treasures, shoplifting and diner-dashing, bleach against roots, pink sweaters paired with ripped fishnets and slip dresses with knock off uggs, willingly wearing crocs, glitter stickers.

general info !!

full name: philomena brontë carmichael

nickname(s): philly, phil, mena, etc.

b.o.d. - april 20th lmao !!

label(s): the amaranth, the halycon, the neophyte, the wanderer, etc. etc.

height: 5′4″

hometown: woodside, ca

sexuality: ??? $500 ebay mystery box. pansexual if you had to label it.

pinterest

stats

biography !!

a middle child belonging to christopher and imogen carmichael - two stanford professors. christopher specialized in british literature whilst imogen specialized in the classics. hence the name.

the order of siblings goes as such: lysander, elektra, juno, philomena, and twins orion & valora. the deal was that everybody had a greek (or in juno’s case, roman) first name and a middle name inspired by a piece of british literature circa 1800s and under. a family of nerds, if you will.

so, clearly - right off the bat, their parents are … eccentric. they’re both in love with their respected topic, and with each other, and with their kids. the carmichael family is a happy family.

they each have their own quirks and whatnot - though philly’s always been particularly dreamy - even as a child, she’d spend hours watching clouds or caterpillars or the leaves blow in the wind rather than play with other kids. she wasn’t a shy kid - she just had her own interests.

hardship doesn’t hit the family until philomena is five and starts having splitting headaches. they’re slow at first - but as soon as she’s seeing spots and unable to walk in a straight line, doctor appointments are made.

it doesn’t take long for them to discover the tumor, though the official diagnosis of malignant ependymoma comes a month later.

it’s grade ii but slow-moving, small enough to not be as much of a threat as worried, but big enough where removal is necessary. philomena earns a scar and brings it in for show-and-tell. for two months afterwards, philly’s at radiotherapy monday through friday.

they’re lucky - philomena’s considered cancer-free by the next year. she’s babied at first - handled delicately, as if she could break if touched - but with five other children … it doesn’t last for too long.

and life continues as normal.

her personality doesn’t shift much over the next few years - she’s awfully independent for a kid, and awfully quiet - when she speaks it’s about faeries and bigfoot, about how the sky is so blue and if you listen quietly, you can hear the leaves whisper their secrets to each other. this is not odd.

she’s close to all her siblings, but she idolizes her older sister - elektra. elektra’s six years older and dyes her hair whatever colors she wants. elektra bought a knife off a seedy guy downtown. elektra threw away all of her heels and renounced god. elektra is god. her music is loud but it’s not heavy - it’s florence and the machine.

they’re opposites - elektra’s boisterous and feels loudly, philomena’s softer and feels…less. when elektra sneaks out, philomena keeps watch. they are a duo.

philomena is smart - but she’s fifteen and hates school. hates sitting inside all day. hates the same routine - day after day - it’s all the same. her parents’ routine is the same, philly feels contained and she wants to live.

elektra’s twenty-one and just bought a brand new spanking (used but not falling apart) 19-something volkswagen … van - using her entire savings account. she says she’s tired of routine, she’s leaving the next day.

naturally, philomena stows away in the back and isn’t discovered until they’re two states away and she’s got to pee. elektra nearly crashes the van in shock.

it’s an argument - philomena vs. elektra, then them vs. their parents, then their parents vs. the school, the state - it’s an ordeal. philomena switches to an online program in the end.

it hurts christopher and imogen - lysander’s not having any of their nonsense, juno’s betrayed and alone - the twins are twins. in the end, it’s alright. the carmichael family is a happy family.

philomena and elektra take their time - it’s not a road trip, it’s their new life, permanently on the road. they stop and explore often - they do odd jobs in whatever town they settle in. they dine-n-dash, they shoplift. they survive in their own way.

during particularly desperate times, they two resorted to identity theft & credit fraud - getting away with it only by ditching the cards once they’ve made it out of state.

she drops out of high school officially when she’s seventeen - they have to drive all the way back to california to deal with the wrath of their parents and to deal with paperwork, but it’s done. philomena doesn’t know what path she wants in life - but it’s not that.

it’s during this time that the episodes occur - philomena’s outside her body, philomena’s wrapped in cotton, her memories are not her own. she’s looking in the mirror and she doesn’t recognize herself. they take shelter in a city for six months, long enough for her brand spankin’ new therapist to figure out what’s wrong with her. she’s diagnosed with depersonalization / derealization disorder - they think it’s stress. philomena doesn’t get stressed. they think it’s trauma. she laughs - she never laughs.

she gets medication, and life is normal.

three years later and her parents want philly to have a higher education - desperate for it, really - worried for her future. it’s a battle that she loses, getting her GED and applying to a local college in a town halfway across the country.

staying rooted pains her - pains elektra, stuck in a midwest state for no good reason. by the summer before her sophomore year, philly deides to transfer to lockwood. elektra can travel up and down the eastern coast and philly goes too, sometimes, on the weekends. it’s a compromise that favors her parents’ wants above all.

school has caused philly’s disorder to flare up - a small rift in her day-to-day life even when she doesn’t realize it.

things were fine for a while - they have to be fine, because philly is always fine - because elektra is always fine, because they’re always fine and happy and content with their situation. but years of negligence had caught up with philly - and now she’s not quite sure what to do.

it began with a phone call from juno - angry juno, hurt juno - juno who has called every week for four years and has only gotten a handful of answers - and many, many handfuls of answering machines. juno who doesn’t understand why philly is like this - when she’s so hurt, all the time - when things are so much, all the time. the call ends with a reminder that they are the same - that they’ve experienced the same thing, the same thing that nobody else in their family had experienced.

juno, of course, refers to the dead body in the woods nine years ago.

to backtrack - philomena was ten and juno was thirteen when they had decided to go on a hike - a nearby trail that had been walked countless times, in a town they’ve always felt safe in. it should’ve been safe - it should’ve been fine. but philomena liked going off the trail, making her own - insisted on it, in fact. she was the one who skidded down the slope first, curiosity drawn to a dirty, fraying red scarf - but juno had been the one who had tripped and fallen, who had landed besides decaying flesh and maggots. philomena had seen the body first - but juno had touched it. juno had touched it.

after the police and the sirens and the years of therapy, juno had always wanted to talk about it - always wanted to address it, vent to the one person who would maybe, could maybe, understand. philly had already blocked it out of her mind.

back in present day - the phone call with juno had attracted elektra, who then in turn called juno and marched away, screaming match from across the country (supposedly). philly, always a little too curious, had only overheard parts of their argument. but she heard the one thing that left her bothered - a rare experience, and a sickening one. elektra had called her a child. just a kid, to be exact.

philly had stopped considering herself a child when she turned eighteen - and she certainly never thought she acted childish. confrontation led to a rift, and philomena determining that they needed time apart - that elektra should go, now, please. and she did. and philly was alone. no elektra, no florence - no more depending on her sister, just philly. alone. 

personality !!

she’s quiet but she’s confident - her voice sounds like rustling leaves, if leaves smoked a pack of cigarettes a day.

often underestimated - philly’s petite and looks like she’d fall over if a plastic bag blew too close to her. she’s independent - for the most part. elektra is the only person philly takes orders from.

has always been considered odd - weird, strange. still talks about the trees as if they’re listening, as if they’re old friends. she’s vague and doesn’t elaborate on the things she says.

believes in pretty much any superstition you throw her way. luck is very important to her. if you ask her if the earth is flat, she’ll say probably. believes strongly in bigfoot and the lochness monster. has personally seen aliens, and loves ghosts almost more than herself.

she can be amusing - whether you ‘get’ her or not, her outlook is often bright - she talks about the negatives the same way she talks about the positives. can be seen as naive or gullible, but she’s plenty smart. even if half of her education has come directly from google.

philly doesn’t laugh. a smile, yes - often, in fact - not always reaching her ears, or bearing teeth - but these are not indicators of her happiness. philly is consistently content. she thinks many things are funny - she still will not laugh.

her voice is often monotonous - she doesn’t sound dreary, she sounds far-away. her voice carries. her emotions are often unknown to others.

is apathetic in most situations. she’s hard to bother - she’s incredibly patient and enjoys the company of most - tolerates them at the very least. it’s hard for her to express her emotions, because she feels them so little that it’s very nearly not worth it. her affection is not verbal - it’s small touches and gestures of kindness, love in her own way.

is a fan of knock-knock jokes and bad puns. she won’t crack a smile while telling you them, nor does she expect you to laugh. she just enjoys them.

she owns a motorola razr covered in puffy stickers - hasn’t ever had a smartphone. she’s a fan of emoticons. her favorite is :o)

has a lot of bruises and scratches and scars - she’s often getting herself into pickles. there are always, at the very minimum, three bandaids on each hand.

she has insomnia, so she’s awake often. is often seen wandering town - even when she shouldn’t be, even when it might be dangerous. her intuition is delayed. when she does sleep - her dreams are vivid and fantastical.

keeps a box of memories - sentimental bits and pieces she’s picked up over the last few years. there are a lot of buttons and postcards, but any teeny tiny object will do.

her style changes every week - most, if not all, of her clothes are thrifted. one week she’s baby spice and the next she’s lydia deetz. she combines pieces from different styles often - she looks like a barbie clothed by a child. she feels most comfortable like this.

will either patch-up the clothes that get too worn or reuse them in some way. sometimes donates the clothes she gets tired off - isn’t minimalistic, but she’s learned to keep only a small amount of possessions.

the only consistency is her lucky ribbon - it’s pastel yellow and silky and as thin as a shoelace. she ties it onto her outfit of the day, everyday. if she loses it, she’s lost. elektra has a matching ribbon.

has no problem with minor theft - she only takes bare minimum, puts herself and elektra first and that’s how it’s always been. she tries to be good while in rochester - would hate to make enemies whilst florence is getting repaired.

currently living in audax while elektra stays in their van, florence - sometimes philly stays there during the weekends.

they used to live in motels on the occasion, the cheapest room, and more often than not they’d both go home with strangers for a comfier bed and a hotter shower.

it was a common occurrence - she didn’t sleep with them - but somehow, she weaseled her way into their homes anyway. has come out mostly unscathed, on most occasions. this has been a practice ever since they’ve been on the road.

really, truly - has not slept with anybody, had her first and only kiss at thirteen with a frog. this doesn’t bother her.

will consume a n y t h i n g you put in front of her - isn’t picky.

listens to whatever they’ve picked up along the way but she likes instrumentals the best. her second favorite genre is 1990′s and 2000′s top hits. they’re nostalgic for her.

loves storms - will go out in the rain and will risk her life for it.

owns a pair of roller-skates and is often skating rather than walking. unless she’s on grass - then she’s walking barefoot.

has many hobbies, and gets bored of them often. her favorite hobby is welding. she’s not certified.

also, juggles.

also, accordion.

the kind of girl who’ll do any job you give her. odd jobs are her favorite jobs. babysitting is her least favorite - but she does it anyway. has lost children before. have they ever been found? not by philly.

dyes her hair blonde often and cuts her own hair - bangs included - finds it cathartic, likes the itchiness of bleach.

everything she does is often in pursuit of feeling free, alive, and meaningful.

connections to the victims !!

tatiana samuels & george craig iii / philly was not attending lockwood university at the time of their deaths, and has never met them.

hana williams / they were friends, but didn’t hang out together often. they sometimes ate lunch together, or went on walks at night together. hana had wanted to meet philly’s many pets.

christoph wainwright / philly and christoph had met through a mutual friend, and though philly hadn’t been expecting kindness from him - he had given her it, and in turn she found him interesting. a little too interesting, maybe - and they had kept talking since their initial meeting. they met and spoke often at night, for hours at a time - where nobody would see them. philly never understood why he had wanted it that way, but she respected it. even now, their ‘friendship’ with each other isn’t known by others. it’s a secret, one could say.

wanted connections !!

random encounters - she’s new to rochester and doesn’t know many people - if anybody at all, so :-)

alternately, people she’s run into with elektra during their journey. whether they’ve stolen from them or stayed with them somewhere or just, ate dinner with them. anything.

someone whose couch / floor she’s crashed on after a night of whatever - a party, adventure, etc.

people she does jobs for !! people who commission her to make stuff for them. people who need a babysitter.

people who think she’s weird - and those who like it. or those who hate it. people who don’t understand her - people who do, in their own way.

someone trying to get closer to her but she keeps slipping out from between their fingers.

a parental / older sibling figure !! they take one look at philomena and instantly want to swaddle and protect her.

people who take an immediate liking to her. people who introduce her to the music scene. people who show her around town.

someone who catches her stealing or about to dine-n-dash.

late-night walking pals.

a dealer b/c weed ? a thing.

someone who gets into a debate with her about conspiracies or superstitions or anything !! someone who gets frustrated at her apathy.

somebody who just immediately distrusts her for whatever reason.

??? you don’t have a smartphone ??? cue someone trying to teach her how they work - and philly hating it !!

thrifting pals.

m a y b e a hook-up, eventually, but it’s questionable.

something unrequited, likely on their end b/c philly is … a hard egg to crack.

maybe something returned !! eventually. slowly. slow.

god … someone she just tells her entire life story to. like this meme.

i’m rly down to brainstorm and think of anything !!! dnt forget 2 leave a like :)

[find-me-beneath-wonderland]

An Unexpected Magical Experience

So my fiance and I took a trip together with my family to Disneyland back in May of this year, 2019.

We didn't know exactly what to expect on this trip. I haven't been to the park in years because of the prices, and I believe he hasn't gone since he was very young. We planned that we would all go to Disneyland the 1st day, California Adventure the 2nd, and back to Disneyland on the 3rd day. We all didn't have to stick together of course, we just wanted to be in the same park as each other at the least. My fiance has epilepsy and gets seizures if there's flashing lights/strobes, we were unsure as to which rides had these and which ones did not. We would ask every Cast Member before either boarding a ride or entering a show; they either did not know or said that there were no lights when there actually was...

Day 1:

Went horribly. Every ride we went on had lights of some sort that rapidly flashed or strobed. He had lots of convulsions and 4-5 seizures. We went on Indiana Jones and all was fine until the end where the camera is. He wasn't expecting it, I forgot about it entirely.. he was unable to get up and out of the seat. He couldn't move his legs and I asked a Cast Member for just a few moments because he's epileptic and the camera flash had got him. I had seen him struggling to even stay standing so I stepped back on and picked him up to carry him off so the next guests could board the vehicle. It took him about 10-15 minutes to recover from.

While we were in Toon Town, both of our favorite spot in the park, we picked up Pin Trading. A Cast Member had given him a starter pin and a Stitch(one of his most favorite characters) pin. Before even entering the park to begin with, he had buttons and pins on him. He had a pin in the shape of Mickey Mouse's head that had the German flag colors on it, it meant a lot to him. As we were walking through Main Street, it fell off and we were unaware of it at the time; he noticed it was missing as we were walking back to the hotel we were staying in. The entire day had been really horrible, and losing that pin made it worse...

Day 2:

We went on one of the CARS rides in CARS Land, that ride was okay, it was the dancing cars that spin.

We went on Monsters Inc, that was alright as well except for the part where the helicopters are searching for Boo.

We ate at Flo's Diner. We had an okay day. No seizures, it was a lot better.

Day 3:

Was the best out of all the days!

I told him I wanted to walk the same path we've been taking to the park from the hotel, just in case we do find his pin. I had a lot of hope and a drive that was not gonna die. He gave up and had told me that it wasn't going to be found, he was pessimistic about it, but calm. I told him that anything is possible and that we were gonna find his pin on one of those trading boards.

Our day started out horribly.. we get to the park and we're in line behind a couple with a stroller, we follow them and the Cast Member tells us to get back in line instead of behind the ones with the stroller; we didn't know... A family cuts in front of us and he's freaking out and wants to just leave the whole place and go back to the hotel since we weren't having that great of a time the past few days. He's not in a good mood at all, there's screaming children and loud talking, and music, and overall so many noises going on all at once; so this family is the last straw for him at the moment. We finally get in after them and he goes up to them and just says, "Hey, you guys cut us in line and we didn't appreciate it at all. We would really like an apology." He was being very polite about it. The tall husband gets in his face and he's like, "What did you say to me? I'll knock those glasses right off your face. [Etc]." He takes them off and I'm holding him back and apologizing to this family while the wife looks at me and is like, "WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO DO?!" and it was a shitty and scary encounter. They almost got in a fist fight because this guy didn't feel they did anything wrong and just wanted to start confrontation while acting all macho. People walking by us were like, "Come on guys, it's Disneyland. Don't do this." as if we started any of this. So they ended up going their own way and we went ours. We met Goofy and got his autograph. We went to City Hall and gave names of Cast Members that were amazing and made our experience magical the past few days despite the mishaps that happened.

We stopped by Esmeralda, and I had never tried the machine out until then. He put a quarter in, then gave me one. We got these cards from her that actually happened to.. happen. His card said, "A magic cityscape may unfold before you today. Your adventures could have their 'downs and ups' and may let you hoist a secret flag, or take part in a "spirited" adventure." so we just thought that meant go to the Pirates of the Caribbean ride. Mine said, "A look into the future is in your future today. Visit another galaxy or blast your way to command the stars." We figured my card meant go to Tomorrowland, so we went there first and we got on the Monorail from there and it took us to Downtown Disney. There was a Pin Trading station and I traded a pin for one that was shaped like Mickey Mouse's head but had the French flag colors.

He suggested it because I love France, but once we walked away he had wished I didn't get that one because he was starting to miss his Germany one again. We got back into the park and we were walking around going to different shops still looking for pins. We walked into this one store called Castle.. well... we both saw it at the same time on the trading board, and we freaked out and started crying together. It was his Germany pin.

Later on after the sun went down and we were getting tired, we found my mom and her best friend, told them both about our day and what our cards from Esmeralda did. Then we told them to meet us at the Magic shop because we were gonna grab a few things.

So after we got what we were needing to get, we met them at the Magic shop and we were doing a pretend pin trade between each other, just goofing off. A lady saw us and came up to him to ask if she could trade with him as well to give her daughter a pin before they leave that night back to Washington; she said "Just something really Disney."

He had a Lion King pin, it was baby Simba as the painting on the cave wall, he handed her that one because he strongly felt that one meant something and she said that it's so crazy because her daughter has that exact tattoo and her yoga studio is called "Hakuna Mayoga". He almost gave her a Cheshire cat one.. he told her how he has a gift and how stuff like that usually just happens all the time. She called her daughter over and she showed us her tattoo on her shoulder. They left and my mom pulls out her Esmeralda card and said, "We both went and got those cards after you guys told us about them.. but I wasn't gonna say anything, until now." My mom's had something to do with "witnessing a magical experience" and her best friend's was that she "was gonna join along for an adventure that she normally doesn't get to do"(she never gets to get out of her house often).

That was truly a magical wild ride

[philcmenabadadink]

cisfemale — ever hear people say PHILOMENA CARMICHAEL looks a lot like NATALIA DYER? I think SHE is about 19, so it doesn’t really work. The FREELANCER is here because THEIR VAN BROKE DOWN and they are from WOODSIDE, CA. They can be WHIMSICAL, but they can also be APATHETIC. I think PHILLY might be N/A. ( snot goblin. 20. est. she/they. )

hi hello friends ,,, i bring to u my third character and the Newest Muse i have created ... which means i’m still working on her ! so pleathe bare w/ me as i have no idea how she’ll rly truly turn out. but !! as always, give this a LIKE and i’ll come bother u !!!

TW: CANCER, IMPLIED TRAUMA, DEPERSONALIZATION / DEREALIZATION DISORDER ( ALT. MENTAL HEALTH )

a e s t h e t i c s

wildflowers in your hair and bare feet against moss, binoculars and maps, madonna beating out of half-dead speakers in a half-dead van, whipping wind, jumping off cliffs and rolling down hills, a bandaid wrapped around each finger, cryptic bumper stickers and cryptids in the woods, facing the sun and letting the rays hit you, counting stars late into the night, mismatched socks and lucky ribbons, hoarding a box of special treasures, shoplifting and diner-dashing, bleach against roots, pink sweaters paired with ripped fishnets and slip dresses with knock off uggs, willingly wearing crocs, glitter stickers.

general info !!

full name: philomena brontë carmichael

nickname(s): philly, phil, mena, etc.

b.o.d. - april 20th lmao !!

label(s): the amaranth, the halycon, the neophyte, the wanderer, etc. etc.

height: 5′4″

hometown: woodside, ca

sexuality: ??? $500 ebay mystery box. pansexual if you had to label it.

pinterest

stats

biography !!

a middle child belonging to christopher and imogen carmichael - two stanford professors. christopher specialized in british literature whilst imogen specialized in the classics. hence the name.

the order of siblings goes as such: lysander, elektra, juno, philomena, and twins orion & valora. the deal was that everybody had a greek (or in juno’s case, roman) first name and a middle name inspired by a piece of british literature circa 1800s and under. a family of nerds, if you will.

so, clearly - right off the bat, their parents are ... eccentric. they’re both in love with their respected topic, and with each other, and with their kids. the carmichael family is a happy family.

they each have their own quirks and whatnot - though philly’s always been particularly dreamy - even as a child, she’d spend hours watching clouds or caterpillars or the leaves blow in the wind rather than play with other kids. she wasn’t a shy kid - she just had her own interests.

hardship doesn’t hit the family until philomena is five and starts having splitting headaches. they’re slow at first - but as soon as she’s seeing spots and unable to walk in a straight line, doctor appointments are made.

it doesn’t take long for them to discover the tumor, though the official diagnosis of malignant ependymoma comes a month later.

it’s grade ii but slow-moving, small enough to not be as much of a threat as worried, but big enough where removal is necessary. philomena earns a scar and brings it in for show-and-tell. for two months afterwards, philly’s at radiotherapy monday through friday.

they’re lucky - philomena’s considered cancer-free by the next year. she’s babied at first - handled delicately, as if she could break if touched - but with five other children ... it doesn’t last for too long.

and life continues as normal.

her personality doesn’t shift much over the next few years - she’s awfully independent for a kid, and awfully quiet - when she speaks it’s about faeries and bigfoot, about how the sky is so blue and if you listen quietly, you can hear the leaves whisper their secrets to each other. this is not odd.

she’s close to all her siblings, but she idolizes her older sister - elektra. elektra’s six years older and dyes her hair whatever colors she wants. elektra bought a knife off a seedy guy downtown. elektra threw away all of her heels and renounced god. elektra is god. her music is loud but it’s not heavy - it’s florence and the machine.

they’re opposites - elektra’s boisterous and feels loudly, philomena’s softer and feels...less. when elektra sneaks out, philomena keeps watch. they are a duo.

philomena is smart - but she’s fifteen and hates school. hates sitting inside all day. hates the same routine - day after day - it’s all the same. her parents’ routine is the same, philly feels contained and she wants to live.

elektra’s twenty-one and just bought a brand new spanking (used but not falling apart) 19-something volkswagen ... van - using her entire savings account. she says she’s tired of routine, she’s leaving the next day.

naturally, philomena stows away in the back and isn’t discovered until they’re two states away and she’s got to pee. elektra nearly crashes the van in shock.

it’s an argument - philomena vs. elektra, then them vs. their parents, then their parents vs. the school, the state - it’s an ordeal. philomena switches to an online program in the end.

it hurts christopher and imogen - lysander’s not having any of their nonsense, juno’s betrayed and alone - the twins are twins. in the end, it’s alright. the carmichael family is a happy family.

philomena and elektra take their time - it’s not a road trip, it’s their new life, permanently on the road. they stop and explore often - they do odd jobs in whatever town they settle in. they dine-n-dash, they shoplift. they survive in their own way. 

she drops out of high school officially when she’s seventeen - they have to drive all the way back to california to deal with the wrath of their parents and to deal with paperwork, but it’s done. philomena doesn’t know what path she wants in life - but it’s not that.

it’s during this time that the episodes occur - philomena’s outside her body, philomena’s wrapped in cotton, her memories are not her own. she’s looking in the mirror and she doesn’t recognize herself. they take shelter in a city for six months, long enough for her brand spankin’ new therapist to figure out what’s wrong with her. she’s diagnosed with depersonalization / derealization disorder - they think it’s stress. philomena doesn’t get stressed. they think it’s trauma. she laughs - she never laughs.

she gets medication, and life is normal.

it’s four years later and they’re in vermont when their good ol’ trusty van - affectionately named florence - breaks down in a town called livingstone. the cost is more than they have at the moment, and they’re stuck. philomena thinks she likes the town - but she doesn’t know about the watershed. 

personality !!

she’s quiet but she’s confident - her voice sounds like rustling leaves, if leaves smoked a pack of cigarettes a day.

often underestimated - philly’s petite and looks like she’d fall over if a plastic bag blew too close to her. she’s independent - for the most part. elektra is the only person philly takes orders from.

has always been considered odd - weird, strange. still talks about the trees as if they’re listening, as if they’re old friends. she’s vague and doesn’t elaborate on the things she says.

believes in pretty much any superstition you throw her way. luck is very important to her. if you ask her if the earth is flat, she’ll say probably. believes strongly in bigfoot and the lochness monster. has personally seen aliens, and loves ghosts almost more than herself.

she can be amusing - whether you ‘get’ her or not, her outlook is often bright - she talks about the negatives the same way she talks about the positives. can be seen as naive or gullible, but she’s plenty smart. even if half of her education has come directly from google.

philly doesn’t laugh. a smile, yes - often, in fact - not always reaching her ears, or bearing teeth - but these are not indicators of her happiness. philly is consistently content. she thinks many things are funny - she still will not laugh.

her voice is often monotonous - she doesn’t sound dreary, she sounds far-away. her voice carries. her emotions are often unknown to others.

is apathetic in most situations. she’s hard to bother - she’s incredibly patient and enjoys the company of most - tolerates them at the very least. it’s hard for her to express her emotions, because she feels them so little that it’s very nearly not worth it. her affection is not verbal - it’s small touches and gestures of kindness, love in her own way.

is a fan of knock-knock jokes and bad puns. she won’t crack a smile while telling you them, nor does she expect you to laugh. she just enjoys them.

she owns a motorola razr covered in puffy stickers - hasn’t ever had a smartphone. she’s a fan of emoticons. her favorite is :o)

has a lot of bruises and scratches and scars - she’s often getting herself into pickles. there are always, at the very minimum, three bandaids on each hand.

she has insomnia, so she’s awake often. is often seen wandering town - even when she shouldn’t be, even when it might be dangerous. her intuition is delayed. when she does sleep - her dreams are vivid and fantastical.

keeps a box of memories - sentimental bits and pieces she’s picked up over the last few years. there are a lot of buttons and postcards, but any teeny tiny object will do.

her style changes every week - most, if not all, of her clothes are thrifted. one week she’s baby spice and the next she’s lydia deetz. she combines pieces from different styles often - she looks like a barbie clothed by a child. she feels most comfortable like this.

will either patch-up the clothes that get too worn or reuse them in some way. sometimes donates the clothes she gets tired off - isn’t minimalistic, but she’s learned to keep only a small amount of possessions.

the only consistency is her lucky ribbon - it’s pastel yellow and silky and as thin as a shoelace. she ties it onto her outfit of the day, everyday. if she loses it, she’s lost. elektra has a matching ribbon.

has no problem with minor theft - she only takes bare minimum, puts herself and elektra first and that’s how it’s always been. she tries to be good while in livingstone - would hate to make enemies whilst florence is getting repaired.

they’re staying in a motel, currently, in the cheapest room they could get. philly will still visit florence. will sometimes go home with strangers purely to take advantage of a comfortable bed and a shower with better pressure.

it’s a common occurrence - she doesn’t sleep with them - but somehow, she weasels her way into their homes anyway. has come out mostly unscathed, on most occasions. this has been a practice ever since they’ve been on the road.

really, truly - has not slept with anybody, had her first and only kiss at thirteen with a frog. this doesn’t bother her. 

will consume a n y t h i n g you put in front of her - isn’t picky.

listens to whatever they’ve picked up along the way but she likes instrumentals the best. her second favorite genre is 1990′s and 2000′s top hits. they’re nostalgic for her.

loves storms - will go out in the rain and will risk her life for it.

owns a pair of roller-skates and is often skating rather than walking. unless she’s on grass - then she’s walking barefoot.

has many hobbies, and gets bored of them often. her favorite hobby is welding. she’s not certified.

also, juggles.

the kind of girl who’ll do any job you give her. odd jobs are her favorite jobs. babysitting is her least favorite - but she does it anyway. has lost children before. have they ever been found? not by philly.

dyes her hair blonde often and cuts her own hair - bangs included - finds it cathartic, likes the itchiness of bleach.

everything she does is often in pursuit of feeling free, alive, and meaningful.

wanted connections !!

random encounters - she’s new in town and doesn’t know many people - if anybody at all, so :-)

alternately, people she’s run into with elektra during their journey. whether they’ve stolen from them or stayed with them somewhere or just, ate dinner with them. anything.

someone whose couch she’s crashed on after a night of whatever - a party, adventure, etc.

people she does jobs for !! people who commission her to make stuff for them. people who need a babysitter.

people who think she’s weird - and those who like it. or those who hate it. people who don’t understand her - people who do, in their own way.

someone trying to get closer to her but she keeps slipping out from between their fingers.

a parental / older sibling figure !! they take one look at philomena and instantly want to swaddle and protect her.

people who take an immediate liking to her. people who introduce her to the music scene. people who show her around town.

someone who catches her stealing or about to dine-n-dash.

late-night walking pals.

a dealer b/c weed ? a thing.

someone who gets into a debate with her about conspiracies or superstitions or anything !! someone who gets frustrated at her apathy.

somebody who just immediately distrusts her for whatever reason.

??? you don’t have a smartphone ??? cue someone trying to teach her how they work - and philly hating it !!

thrifting pals.

m a y b e a hook-up, eventually, but it’s questionable.

something unrequited, likely on their end b/c philly is ... a hard egg to crack.

maybe something returned !! eventually. slowly. slow.

god ... someone she just tells her entire life story to. like this meme. 

i’m rly down to brainstorm and think of anything !!! dnt forget 2 leave a like :)

[halfway-happyyy]

Anywhere I go, There You Are

Anonymous request: So, seeing as we’re both from Canada, I figured that you might be willing to write something where Bill’s girlfriend is Canadian & she goes to Sweden with him for the first time (maybe her first impression when they arrive in Stockholm is: ‘well, the cold weather’s definitely familiar to me’). Anyway, he takes her on a series of mini dates which revolve around sightseeing/relaxation; then, for the last one, he takes her on a very fancy dinner & proposes.

Disclaimer: Sorry in advance if you aren’t Canadian! Just close your eyes and picture yourself surrounded by a bunch of igloos and majestic moose, sipping on a large double-double coffee with two creams that you paid for in loonies, with a bowl of steaming poutine sitting next to you! 🍁🇨🇦💙 

It starts off as a playful conversation between two long-term lovers. You’re seated face-to-face, the only source of light in the darkened room emanating from varying degrees of melting candles. “If you could have anything for Christmas this year, what would it be?” Bill’s arm is slung over the back of your wooden chair, his other hand resting loosely around the stem of a white wine glass.

You push the almost empty plate of food out of your way and steeple your hands under your chin. “This is a loaded question.”

Bill shakes his head grinning, he lifts the glass to his lips and takes a hearty sip. “Its not, because I have a feeling I know exactly what you’d like. I’d like to hear you say it.”

You take a sip of your own wine, savoring the slightly bitter tannin against your tongue and set the glass down with a resounding clank against the marble tabletop. “I’d like to travel to Sweden with you. More specifically, Stockholm. You’ve been home to Canada with me a few times. You’ve met my family and vice versa, but it’s just… time.”

Bill tips the last of the wine into his open mouth, his gaze lingering on yours. “Well,” He beams brightly and produces two folded sheets of paper from his denim pocket. “I can’t even begin to fathom how much more beautiful Stockholm will be with you in it.”

Eleven hours and thirty minutes, and you don’t think you’ve ever been more excited to travel to a place in your life. Just as you begin your descent into Stockholm, Bill turns to you and murmurs, “I should warn you that it’s not very warm this time of year…”

You cock your eyebrow in mock surprise and fold your arms over your chest matter-of-factly. “Were you aware that the coldest day ever recorded in Canada was -63°C? We live for the cold. It’s what makes us Canadian.”

Bill tilts his head back and elicits a laugh, nodding his head. “Fair point, my love.”

Stepping foot into the Stockholm Arlanda airport is a welcome reprieve from any of the airports back home; there isn’t a single person gawking embarrassingly at Bill, there are no tacky cameramen or autograph hunters. It’s delightfully peaceful and Bill is absolutely reveling in it. Retreating out into the evening Stockholm air, you’re quite prepared to pull your jacket tighter around your body but when you realize that it’s actually only -2°C, you turn to Bill. “This? This is your perception of cold?”

Bill’s green eyes widen and he throws his hands into the air. “When you’re used to the climate in California anything below zero is considered cold!”

Though it’s incredibly dark out, and Bill’s brother Sam is driving inherently fast, it’s easy to see how beautiful the city of Stockholm truly is. You can’t help but feel utterly giddy about what Bill and his family have in store for the next two weeks. When you arrive to Bill’s mothers house in the south of city, she is still awake and standing on the porch outside the house. Sam exits the car and heads to the trunk to grab your luggage but Bill’s already halfway up the sidewalk. You stay behind to help Sam with the bags, but he simply smiles and gestures to his mother. “She’s been waiting weeks to see you both. Go on.” You watch in awe as My cradles Bill’s head between her hands and kisses both of his cheeks passionately. He gives her hug and makes way for you, which she does a variation of the same greeting. “So happy to finally have you both here.” She smiles warmly at you and leads the way into the brightly lit house.

You’re pretty much dozing off on the couch to the sounds of Bill, Sam and his mother speaking fervent Swedish. It’s such a beautiful lull that you don’t want to leave but Bill eventually takes your hand and says, “Its been a long travel day. Let’s get you into bed love.” Bill actually drifts off to sleep before you, a small smile etched across his delicate features.

You’re jolted awake after what only feels like a few hours of sleep, to the sound of arguing in the kitchen. Tentatively, you stretch your arm over to Bill’s side of the bed, which is cool to the touch. A bright morning sun filters in through white lace curtains and you strain to make out the cacophonous voices in the distance. Bill says something in Swedish and before the sentence has even left his mouth, a female voice interrupts him. You grin in spite of yourself.

Eija.

You throw on a pair of pants and a sweater of Bill’s and pad out into the kitchen where, sure enough, Bill and his sister Eija are having a heated debate over two cups black coffee at the kitchen table. As soon as she spots you in the corner, her blue eyes light up and she excuses herself from the table to wrap her arms around you. “Y/n! So happy to see that Bill has finally brought you home to the motherland!” She tosses a cheeky wink in Bill’s direction, to which he simply rolls his eyes at. “What have you guys got on the go for today?” She asks, and returns to the table to take a sip of her coffee.

You glance expectantly over at Bill who is already shrugging his shoulders. “It’s a surprise.”

Eija nods her head, checking something on her phone. “Well as long as you’re both back here before dinner. Dad and Megan are doing a family dinner tonight.”

“Here?” You ask, slightly confused.

Bill shakes his head and removes himself from the table to rinse out his empty coffee cup. “Mum and dad live on the same block.”

You spend about an hour getting ready to go out before Bill proposes that you wander around downtown for the day, (which is exciting in itself because it means you get to shop). You’re quite content to be by Bill’s side regardless of what it is you’re doing. This occasion just happens to be particularly special because Bill is home, he is happy and you don’t know if you’ve ever seen him this relaxed. After a few hours of gallivanting around downtown (and an hour’s worth of relaxation during fika) Bill suggests you retreat to famed art hotel At Six. It’s a beautifully modern, stone structure. Seventies vinyl’s play softly in the background of the lounge; Bill glances at the menu and orders what he would like in Swedish. When it arrives to the table, it is an ornately decorated ceramic teapot. You eye it cautiously and Bill grins. “Its gin. Try it love, you’ll like it.” Sure enough, it is gin and it’s going down fast. Halfway into babbling nonsensically about something unimportant, and trying in vain to ignore the way Bill is amusedly watching you, he slides his hand over the table to cup yours. “I don’t think I could ever describe in words how happy I am that you’re here with me.” The only thing you can do is sip more of your alcoholic tea and nod your head happily. Bill’s about to order your second pot when he manages to catch a glimpse of the time on the underside of his wrist. “Shit,” He breathes out. “We’ve got to catch a taxi to dad’s.”

Stellan Skarsgård is leant against his front door, full glass of red wine wedged within his grasp. He lifts a hand in greeting, passes his wine glass to Bill and wraps you in a bear hug. When he pulls away, he’s grinning from ear to ear. “Sweden is a lot more beautiful with you in it tonight, Y/n. Come in and make yourself at home.”

It’s a full house this evening; all of Bill’s siblings are in attendance and Eija is seated next to her mother at the end of the table. You join her there, finding a seat between the two. “I should warn you now,” Eija leans in close to you so that she can whisper this into your ear. “It will inevitably get quite loud in here.” And sure enough; after the feast of pickled herring and traditional Swedish meatballs has been consumed, plates are cleared and conversations are started. Eija, who seems quite intent in not getting involved, eventually finds herself in another heated debate, this time with Alexander and Valter.

Stellan finds a seat next to you, and pours what is left of a red wine bottle into your glass. He bends his head to your ear and simply says, “I’ve taught them everything they know. I tried to teach them to question everything as children and they’ve become perspicacious, opinionated conversationalists because of it.”

You can’t help but smile softly at this. “That’s what I love so much about Bill.”

Stellan chuckles at this, clapping a broad hand over your shoulder. “Ah Billy… He’s found an absolute gem in you I’m afraid.”

The evening continues on in that fashion, late into the night. Every now and then you’ll catch a glimpse of Bill’s gaze on you from the other end of the table. It’s tentative and happy, and when you fall into bed that evening, sleepy and drunk and entirely too content, Bill wraps his strong arms tightly around your body and tells you sincerely how much he loves you.

“Bill?” You ask, sleepily.

Bill nuzzles in closer to your neck, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear. “What is it baby?”

“Can’t wait to marry you someday.”

A week and a half vanishes by as quickly as it had began. Lazy days spent traipsing around Stockholm, visits to the National Library of Sweden, art galleries and bars, and even lazier evenings spent in the company of family and amazing food. You were in a constant state of denial over the idea of ever leaving Sweden but somehow you knew you were going to be making trips back regularly. “You must visit again soon,” Eija pleads on your last full day there. “Honestly… just come without Bill if you want to.”

You giggle softly at this, and press a gentle kiss to the apple of her cheek. “I know I’ll be back again, Eija. You couldn’t keep me away from this exquisite country if you tried.”

You’re halfway through dessert and cocktails at the most beautiful restaurant that you’ve ever been in. Oaxen Krog is a wonderment of a building; a quaint glass encasement floating on the harbor of the Baltic sea. Your flick your gaze to Bill’s and ask teasingly, “If you could have one thing for Christmas this year, what would it be?”

Bill shifts back in his seat, the dim light of the restaurant casting him in the most beautiful glow. You study him intently from across the small table, his green eyes alight and blazing happily. “You.” He simply says. You roll your eyes with a smile but Bill stops you, shaking his head. “No, no. I don’t just mean I want you in a, ‘I want to rip the clothing from your body and have my way with you on this table here’ kind of way…” He hesitates and you can feel the heat begin to pick up in your neck and cheeks. “I mean I want you, in the most simplest of terms. I want you warm and raw, and real. I want you beside me when I wake up in the morning, and beside me when I fall asleep at night. I know how greedy this is all sounding but life is short and I’m a fucking idiot if I don’t get this out now.” Bill falters and your breath catches in your throat. “I would like to spend the rest of my life with you. You’re my best friend; I couldn’t imagine not spending the rest of my life with you. I want the fights, I want the memories, I want babies,” You laugh at this, sending a tear rolling down the length of your cheek. Bill reaches for your hand over the table, interlocking your fingers with his. “Do me the honor of being my wife.”

You’re already nodding your head before you can get the words out, wiping the tears away with the pads of your fingers. “Of course, my love.” Bill produces a ring from the pocket of his trousers, sliding it on to your finger with ease.

He comes around your side of the table and holds your head between his hands, pressing a kiss to the center of your forehead. “Look at that, huh? A Canadian getting engaged to a Swede, in Sweden.”

“Doesn’t get much sweeter than that, does it?” You giggle, peering down at the brand new breathtaking piece of jewelry on your finger.

Bill brushes a stray lock of hair behind your ear, taking your hand and pressing it to his lips. “Sure as hell doesn’t, y/n.”

[spellyjane]

Big Island Splash, Mash, Dash!

Belated Aloha, forgive me for taking two weeks to write this!

I thought we had landed on the moon as I descended the plane stairs onto the island of black volcanic rubble. After nine plus hours of flying I had arrived at Triathlon Mecca, Kona, a little town on a wisp of land in the middle of a massive ocean, noisy with wind and hot as hades.

Hawaii is halfway between Sydney and Chicago so provided the perfect location for a rendezvous with my Dad whom I had not seen for over a year. (Aww, thanks for coming and sharing this with me Dad. ×××)

“Downtown” Kona is small and super cute but that week was COMPLETELY overrun with compression-wear trussed, trucker hat clad, slightly weather beaten, uber athletic types. I almost fit right in.

I was pleased to get up and out of the hype on my first night, having a home cooked meal with my dear friends Ben and Lillian at their B&B located on a flower farm way above Kona. Ben and Lillian are a fab couple I met running in Jersey City. I laughed off their prediction back in 2013 after my first 70.3 that I would one day race at Kona, thinking of course that will never happen because I will NEVER do an Ironman. I was beyond flattered to receive a message from these guys on my return home from IM Texas with my IMWC slot secured, telling me that they had booked their flights to Kona! Just wow.

At the suggestion of a friend I had signed up for the big charity Underpants run. Yes! Why not? It is for charity, I figured that if I had to endure running along behind ironmen in their tighty whities, well it would be worth it, for the charity of course. I wore a pair of huge granny dacks sporting a kangaroo waving an Aussie flag on the butt and dragged my poor Dad to the start line. He did not run, just observed… (that sounds way more creepy that it really was.) I met up with some friends Mike, a seasoned Kona participant and Jeff a green Kona rookie just like me.

We had a hoot, Mike and Jeff were happy to be stuck behind the Coeur Team girls, how shallow, I mean really? Post run “analysis” and breakfast at Evolution hit the spot. Oh a tip for Underpants Run rookies I gleaned from post race observation: sweaty tighty whities may leave you exposing a whole lot more than you anticipated.

Simon arrived on the Thursday. We had decided to leave the kids solo in Chicago… just kidding, our friends Alex and Theresa stepped in there. Theresa was so super cute, she called the schools to make sure the boys got there ok, drove the boys to their after school triathlon sessions and gave up their whole weekend too! What a load off our minds, we were so grateful.

I was able to squeeze in some down time. Dad, Simon and I spent Thursday afternoon sitting on the lanai of our apartment sipping a beer, watching the sun go down, taking a million photos and solving the world’s problems. I don't get to chill with my Dad too often, spending time with my Dad like that has left a warm little glow in my heart. It was one of my favorite moments of the trip. (My Dad hates being in photos, but I do manage to snag him in a few pics on this trip.)

As amiable and easy going as you all know me to be, I knew I would be prone to a little pre Ironman World Championships fretting. I did not want to expose my loved ones to my potential dragon lady side so I sent Simon and Dad off to explore Volcano National Park on the other side of the Island on Friday. A rather unwelcome visitor arrived on Friday, perhaps the best euphemism I can use is “Aunt Flo”, what a cow, she was not invited and I was not expecting to see her. She threw me in a bit of a spin, but I pulled it together and added dealing with that to my race plan.

I got my race gear together, checked my bike and checked in. What an awesome hype! I had forgotten that I had listed my occupation on the Ironman registration form as “Secret Agent.” As I walked down the red carpet to check in they called me out, “Here is Kelly Phuah, she is competing in the women’s 45-49 age group…” [pause] “she is a secret agent!” Haha, cover blown!

I was welcomed into Transition by my very own volunteer escort, Craig. Craig and his wife,  from Seattle, have been coming to the big Island for the last 10 years to volunteer for IMWC!

Whaaat!? I know right? Gulp, I felt a little overwhelmed at that moment. I racked my bike, hung my transition bags.  Then I stood for a few moments on the red carpet, I let myself feel special for being there before heading off to eat and find an air conditioner!

I found my friend Mike and we talked race stuff and spectator logistics tips while sipping protein shakes with our feet up. It was the perfect pre race afternoon.

Dinner that night was right down in the middle of all the action at Honu’s, overlooking the athlete area and swim start with Ben, Lillian, Dad and Simon. There was much discussion over the spectator plans and I shared my hopeful race splits to help them know where I would be at certain times. I was worried about how the day was going to be for everyone who had come all that way to watch. I knew it would be a long hot day for them too.

I had to have the Hawaiian Pizza, oh wow, caramelized pineapple and kalua shredded pork, It was awesome!

I got antsy all of a sudden in the middle of dinner when I realised that I was doing a freaking Ironman the next day. I rushed our farewells with Ben and Lillian and dragged Dad and Simon home. I have no clear memory of going to bed or how I slept, my mind just leaps to Simon and I driving down Alii Drive at 4am!

Race Day

Goal: under 11hrs.

Gosh, how much detail can you handle? Do I make it sound epic and glamorous? I guess if you are reading this then you are either a really good friend or a weird triathlon junkie so I will just give you the ugly truth.

Treading water with 600 other women waiting for the start canon was crazy. Everyone was apologetically kicking each other. I looked back at the crowd on the shore and the pier and let the swell of excitement pick me up. I sighted the 1st boat and wiggled a little closer to the front. The cannon boomed and we turned from polite and apologetic to tiger sharks. I was kicked, swam over and grabbed, I had to restart my watch 3 times because the stop button was kicked. I am quite sure I did my fair share of kicking others too, it was impossible not to. And at one stage I found myself laying completely on top of another athlete, I have no idea where she,came from!

I found my rhythm eventually and was able to start really swimming. By about half way I could feel my speedsuit cutting into my neck and throat as I was sighting and turning to breathe. It left quite a good chafe and I looked like I had been strangled. I snuck a peak at my watch as we made the turn at the boats, I was happy to see I was on schedule for my goal of a sub 70min swim. I was enjoying the water, it was clear and fairly calm. I could see the bottom. I picked out a blue swim cap on the bottom and wondered if it’s owner was down there too. I made the last push to the pier and grabbed the stairs, I ripped off my speed suit with glee and made my way around to T1 on wobbly legs.

1:09:42

I rinsed off my face with some fresh water, grabbed my bag and dove into the tent, and with the help of another volunteer it was suit off, socks on, shoes on, glasses on, food in pocket, loo stop #1 and out to my bike. Helmet on and go go go.

4:44

Yay!! Spotted my posse as I took off on the bike.

Lol, my Dad showing me the way to go…

I settled in and got out onto the Queen K thinking ok Kona, show me what you’ve got, bring it, do your worst.

I had a plan, hold watts for an IF around .68-.69. Yeah, naa, that just did not feel right. I was hot and pushing those watts just felt a little more taxing than it should so I backed off a little and kept a closer eye on my effort than my watts. I guess the wind was kind because even at the lower watts I was still on schedule for a 5:40 bike.

The best tip from Mike, stay wet all day. So at every aid station I was grabbing a cold bottle of water and pouring it all over my body, it was keeping me relatively cool.

I was keeping an eye out for girls in my age group, I passed a few and but noticed as we got closer to the finish that we were all getting a little feisty and not letting each other get too far away.

The climb up to Hawi was the first time that I really felt good, not being familiar with the course had made me a little reserved but when I hit that climb I felt like I just had this one hard bit and I was more than half way. I made the turn for home at the top and launched myself down that descent with a mission. So much fun! I was ticking down the miles and aiming to be out on the run course in under 7hrs and that kept me on the gas all the way back into Kona.

Ugh, triathletes are disgusting, the visor on my helmet was totally aero but also saved me from taking a snot rocket the face. “Dude!!” I shouted as I passed, he looked really sorry, but still, look over your shoulder before you launch. Same goes for the girl taking a wee. Being splashed by someone else's piss is not cool either.

My guts were feeling a little sketchy nearing the end of the bike, I took a couple of Imodium hoping to hold off the horrible tummy cramps etc I seem to be prone to on the run.

I came hurtling down the bike finish chute, eyeballing my volunteer bike catcher, I dismounted like a swan gliding in for a landing on a lake while seamlessly passing my bike to the catcher. They will probably be playing that footage in the Kona highlights, because it was so  freaking pro.

5:38:48

Into T2 in my socks, grabbed by bag, ripping off clothes as I ran, sort of like Superman - until my arms got hopelessly snagged in my super tight bike jersey and I resembled something more like a mad person trying to escape a straightjacket.  Yay for those volunteers. So, shoes on, race belt in hand, loo stop #2 and off on the run.  

4:33

Bahaaa, happens every time, my body rejoices for the 1st 2 km and I am lulled into a false sense of, “Oh hell yeah, I am going to be so amazing.” A quick glance at my overall time on my watch had me out on the run course in under 7 hours, yessss. I felt so confident that I was going to make that 11hr goal.  All I had to do was manage a 4 hr marathon. Then at about kilometer 3 it began to suck.  I saw my posse again at around this point, Simon and Ben ran alongside, giving me my position in the field and who was where, at that moment, they could have told me that there was a lion chasing me and it would not have made the bit of difference to my pace.  

I ran on in misery, downing a couple more Imodium for my increasingly cranky gut.  I had been taking salt tabs every hour, I had had mucho electrolytes and fluids on the bike and about 200 cals/hr all tried and tested and to plan.

Anyway, my mood began to shift, the discomfort in my gut was relieved for a little while.  I was given a huge piece of ice at an aid station. I sucked it, rubbed it on my body, down my legs and sides, down my arms and over my face, I bit little pieces off and when it was small enough it put it down my top. (My gosh, that almost sound erotic - it quite possibly was!) By the time I was heading back along Alii Drive and saw my posse again, I was a different girl.

I got down to business, thinking, tidy posture, keep hydrated and wet.  I was sad to see a few girls in my AG glide by but just kept to my own race and reminded myself that a sub 11 hr race was my goal and that racing someone else's game was not smart. There were 2 more loo stops on the run course, the last being out on Energy Lab road with about 16k / 10miles to go.  After that I was feeling much better. I made it up out of the Energy Lab climb and headed for home gritting my teeth to hold on to that 4 hr marathon but intermittently smiling because I totally knew I was going to do it.

I was surprised to see another friend Liz cheering me on as I turned off the Queen K down Palani rd. Eek, that downhill was ugly, ouch, I felt like a robot, horrible form that I just could not fix at that point. I nearly cried when Simon told me I had a mile to go. A mile! Oh just make this OVER! Finally I entered the finish chute with an idiotic grin, feeling emotional, tired and proud. I punched the air 2 times as I crossed the finish line.

3:58:44

Total time: 10:56:31, 16/88 F45-49 

So much room for improvement!

A friend asked me that night if I was keen to do it again, it only took one sleep for that answer to go from no way to yeah, I need another crack at that.

I got to spend another couple of days with Dad before we took off to opposite sides of the earth again. I was glad we got to see the town transform back into the cute little town it is 51 weeks of the year.

Mahalo!

I am surrounded by really hard working and intelligent people, people who inspire me to push myself and to be humble. (Well, I try with the humble bit.) I don't know many people more hard working and intelligent than Simon, he blows me away with his own dedication and humility and I live my life struggling to keep up with him. He is my biggest fan and I would not be doing any of this without his support.

My race experience was made really special with the support and fun with Ben, Lillian, Dad, Mike, Jeff, Liz and and Simon. Oh guys, thanks a million.

The online messages and texts from my family, my INTENT team mates, and friends were wonderful!! Pre race pep talks from my very good friend Jeff kept me in check. Much love to everyone who was following my race online and cheering along at home

My coach Rick Schopp at INTENT is also one of those inspiring people, I have put myself into painville at his instruction so many times but I am still here, I am still keen and I am getting faster. He has shown me that the pain pays off. Sending me the Urban dictionary definition of whinge when I slightly lost my shit during my second last intense training week leading into Kona was just the kick in the pants I needed.  

(That sounds rough, he may have added a few additional kind words in there too.)

Much love to Alex and Theresa for taking great care of our boys while we were away.

Many thanks to the volunteers who gave their time and to the super cute little town of Kona for letting us take over!

Mahalo xo

Now I count down just a few weeks to Ironman Cozumel before we pack up and make the very exciting move to Denver, Colorado!  Two more years in the USA before we head back to Australia.

Pic credits: Thanks Ben, Lillian and Simon

[neubauje]

BEGT ch. 14

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 AO3

Five minutes in the basement of the apartment complex is all Yagi needs to swap the two loads from washing machine to dryer. It’s not as much time as he would like in order to compile his thoughts, but he’s not about to dawdle and leave Aizawa waiting upstairs any longer than necessary. Steeling his nerves, the weary host climbs his way back up the three and a half flights, and slips back into his apartment. “Aizawa... we should talk.” He glances around the small living room, not seeing the erasure hero there, and is about to duck into the bedroom, when he hears the other’s voice.

“I’m out here.”

Toshinori turns his head toward the voice, and is surprised to spy the balcony door cracked open, leaving the blinds rattling softly in the breeze. He lets himself out onto the balcony and slides the glass door shut all the way, turning apprehensively to join Aizawa in the night air. “Aren’t you cold out here with no shirt?” (more under the cut)

Aizawa lifts one shoulder in a careless shrug as he tips his head stiffly to the side, keeping his back to the apartment as he leans forward against the railing. His eyes sweep out across the orange and blue lights of the city’s skyline, which casts an odd glow to make the pink track pants almost seem like a dusky lavender instead. “So talk,” the gentle command is almost lost to the wind.

Yagi draws closer and steps in against Shouta’s back, fitting them back together again as neatly as they’d been on the subway the previous day. Reaching in with his right hand, he carefully works it in under the straps of fresh gauze acting as a sling, then gingerly curls his left arm around the shorter man’s stomach, keeping him close while framing his still-healing arms with stronger, whole ones. Aizawa starts to tilt his head back to look up at the taller hero, but Toshinori rests his pointed chin atop the other’s crown, just holding him against his chest for a few minutes while keeping his expression out of sight. The heat which seems to constantly radiate from Yagi’s body is enough to counteract the slight chill from the late night breeze, and Aizawa leans back against him to relish the embrace against his bare skin.

Eventually, Toshinori gathers the will to speak, his voice rumbling softly against the back of Shouta’s head. “Aizawa, this past week has been... I’m thankful for the opportunity to get to know you better, not only as a peer and co-worker, but as a close friend. When I heard you mention you’d been living alone, I recognized some of the same loneliness and isolation I’ve had since moving back here, and this time we’ve spent together has done a lot to help with that. At least, for me.” He gives a firm little squeeze around the shorter teacher’s shoulders and waist, trying to make his point clear, “But this... You and I?” He sighs softly into the black hair under his chin, “This can’t happen. Not like this, not now. It wouldn’t be right.”

The younger teacher seems to freeze in place, the muscles of his chest tensing up again beneath Toshinori’s grasp, “What do you mean.”

All Might grimaces to himself and slowly strokes his thumb over Aizawa’s shoulder, just the smallest of gestures to add a little reassurance, “Shouta... You’re not of sound mind right now... and not just because you’re full of painkillers, either. It would be unethical of me to let this develop while you’re in my care, when you’re healing and dependent on me for your very livelihood. The power imbalance alone makes my head swim with the ramifications...” He shakes his head a little, those long blond bangs flapping gently in the wind, and glances down at the man in his arms.

“You’re sending some very mixed messages,” Aizawa tensely shoves his shoulder blades against Toshinori’s chest, still careful not to strike him in his weak spot, but firmly cueing him to disentangle himself and back off. The taller hero reluctantly complies, and Shouta turns in place to lean back against the railing, letting the ends of his hair fly free over the edge. He fixes his glare on those heavily-shadowed eyes, trying to keep his mouth from forming a grimace or a scowl or a sneer or anything but the carefully-guarded neutral mask he’s spent so long training it into. “What was I supposed to think?”

Yagi averts his gaze, unable to meet that intense stare this time, and he folds his arms across his chest with a little shiver. “I’m... sorry. It’s just, it’s been so long... I clearly let myself get carried away, despite my best efforts to keep things professional between us. It can’t- I won’t let it happen again.” He glances back up resolutely, but Aizawa brushes past him and shoves a shoulder against the door handle, fighting not to break into a snarl when Yagi reaches to help him slide it open, and closed again once he’s followed back into the relative comfort of the apartment they’ve been sharing.

Aizawa stalks to the couch and attacks it with his knee, trying to pull the cushions off to get it back into the bed formation. He stands back in silence as Toshinori comes over to help, then falls back onto the thin frame, makes a grab for the edge of the blanket between cast and chest, and rolls across the width of the couch, cocooning himself in a make-shift semblance of his sleeping bag. Yagi watches all this with concern, knowing that between the plaster casts against skin, the awful couch mattress, and the pillows lumped unevenly into the fabric burrito, this can’t be comfortable. “Aizawa...”

“It sounds like you need some space,” the encumbered guest cuts him off brusquely, “I’ll ask Present Mic tomorrow if he’s still willing to put me up for the remainder.”

“Ah... I see.” All Might sighs and turns to let himself out the front door, dragging his feet down the hall to go wait out the rest of the drying time in the basement, with the clothes. With a sigh, he settles into a gangly squat, sitting on the last flight of stairs, the soft buzz and flicker of the basement’s fluorescents and the louder, thumping rattle of the dryers quickly lulling him into a shallow sleep, at least until the steady sound of the machines cuts off. Toshinori sits up blearily and takes the time to carefully fold and sort both loads into each respective carrier, then eventually bulks up and returns to the third floor. Ducking into his own door to set the duffel and hamper just inside, he glances at his watch and bites his lip, then knocks at the door across the hall. Thankfully, Mrs. Ogawa doesn’t seem to adhere to most stereotypes about going to bed at too early an hour, or at least, if he’d woken her, she doesn’t seem too phased by it. And sure enough, she replaces the coins from his cargo pockets with a handful of candies to tide him over.

The rest of the evening proves tense, as Toshinori manages to convince Aizawa to at least get into a pajama shirt and a slightly more comfortable position to sleep in, then collapses in bed with his phone, using the school’s messaging system to preemptively send Present Mic a heads-up about the request. Mic, were you okay with taking care of Aizawa while he finishes healing? I can bring his things with us to school tomorrow if so.

The reply awaits him by the time the alarm blares from next to Yagi’s ear, where he’d dropped the phone as he’d fallen asleep. Sure dude, no prob.With that confirmation settling things, Toshinori dutifully goes through the morning paces, this time adding Aizawa’s re-packed duffel slung over his shoulder again during their morning commute. He tucks it into the teacher’s lounge for safe-keeping while the two of them lead their respective classes.

Hizashi seems to be in good spirits that evening as he lugs Aizawa’s duffel to the trunk of his car. “Oh man, Shouta, it will be so much fun to have you over, I can’t wait to show you our new digs!” He slams the trunk lid and climbs in behind the wheel, glancing over with a quick grimace when he spies the other teacher lingering outside the passenger door. “Right.” Dashing around to get the door, he swings it shut as soon as Aizawa is seated, then slides across the hood to get back in place, revving the engine to life before tearing out from the school’s garage.

Aizawa tenses as the rough drive knocks him about, trying to brace against the floor and the glove box with his legs, in lieu of a seatbelt or grab-handle. He glances over at his old friend, catching on to a bit of the chatter, “Our?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, mine and Midnight! Between her paychecks and mine, we managed to get one of the classiest suites you can FIND in this town!” Yamada flashes a proud grin and tilts his sunglasses against the red glare of the setting sun. “You might not see her tonight, though, she usually gets in pretty late, unless her extracurricular schedule has a gap in it. She’s a harsh mistress when it comes to keeping up with household chores, but Worth. It. when it comes to bringing in the hot guys~”

Shouta chuckles softly and shakes his head, thankful for a commute which is less than half the time he’s been dealing with on the subway- any longer as Mic’s unwitting passenger, and he would surely have suffered a stress fracture to the knee keeping him in place against the dashboard.

The apartment suite in question is every bit as classy as Hizashi had described; the penthouse of a thirty-story building, it’s surrounded by exterior walls made of nearly nothing but windows, showing off a fantastic view of the downtown nightlife on every side. The furnishings are sleek and modern, the giant plasma TV surrounded by racks of movies and albums alike, the kitchen large enough to cater out of, and the two bedrooms decked out in tasteful decor with a king-sized bed in each- a four-poster canopy bed, in Midnight’s case. Even the bathroom puts others to shame, with a jacuzzi-jetted tub, an overly-lit mirror above a sink nearly covered in various beauty and grooming products, and a high-tech washlet which features far too many little fiddly buttons and options, a far cry from the basic one Aizawa had been able to use on his own in Toshinori’s modest apartment. “Sooooo, what do you think?” Present Mic flashes another grin and twirls his wrist playfully, indicating the whole suite in one gesture.

Aizawa humors him with one arched eyebrow, “It occurs to me that with as much as this place costs? For the same amount, you two could probably afford a proper house.”

“House schmouse,” Mic quickly dismisses the idea with a wave of the same hand, “That’s no fun at all. Come on, let’s get you settled in.” After a quick snack of red bean dango and a few leftover pieces of sushi, Hizashi digs a lightweight blanket out of the linen closet and throws it over Aizawa, stretched out on the big puffy sectional couch in the sprawling living room. The erasure hero sighs as he listens to his host wash the gel out of his hair for the night and then head to bed, eventually letting his tired eyes drift along the city lights visible through every window wall around him, illuminating the suite quite sufficiently even without the overhead light fixture.

Aizawa groans grumpily and tries to bury his head under the blanket for a bit of peace and darkness, halfway considering calling Mic back out from where he’s probably already gone to sleep. The couch, while seemingly plush and extravagant, is hardly better for sleeping on than the pull-out mattress he’d spent the previous two nights on, the light snack of starch is no dinner, and he’s still dressed in his work outfit without a shower. Shouta squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath, reminding himself that this is about the same as what he’d been living with for a long time now, but... a twist in his gut forces him to admit that at this point, he’d rather just swallow his pride and go home.

Eraserhead takes pause at that thought, suddenly wondering when ‘All Might’s apartment’ had somehow become home.

Chapter 15 (Rated X) - Chapter 16

[comebeonetwothree]

Blog #4: Red Rocks and More Red Rocks

06/16/2021

This blog was probably the most challenging to write yet, considering we have just been hiking a lot and seeing a fuck ton of red rocks everywhere.

They all look different, but they are all just red rocks. Round, sharp, big, small, dirt-like rocks… its all the same, but different.

Throughout all the states we have seen, the terrain has changed drastically as we pass over each border. New Mexico was straight white desert land, Texas was flat as fuck with windmills everywhere, and Arkansas was even more flat but without windmills.

Colorado, however, was very different throughout each region. We started in sand dunes and deserts and worked our way up to the mountains with lots of rain and snow run off. Then being in Colorado Springs, there was a mix of desert and moist mountains, plus some massive red rocks.

Traveling into Utah, there was not much difference in terrains, just some different shades of the red rocks.

Zion National Park was the ultimate red rock arena. Ironic, since we started off seeing Garden of the Gods -both are red rocky parks- but completely different.

Who

Who are the New York girls…

This chapter of traveling includes less new friends, but more last-minute links with old pals from college. It seems like it was just yesterday we were out in Oneonta… oh wait.

Myrene was a family friend of Mary. She opened her house up to us three, as a nice break up between campsites.

We got to wash our clothes and shower; you’ll never know how satisfying a shower is until after living without one for a few days.

Her house was in Colorado Springs, about 30 minutes away from Garden of the Gods.

They chefed up for us the first night with a little surf and turf; steak and salmon with a bombass salad.

Thanks, Myrene.

My dear friend Dee Jay, also known as, Daniel Joseph McDonnell, aka DJ, happened to be camping out in the same area as us in Blue Lakes Colorado. However, due to of lack of service, we had no idea.

Being in such close proximity of us, he sent it to Utah to come hang and meet up with his friend Kailen.

Kailen visited Oneonta this past semester. After meeting him, I mentioned this trip.

He was so welcoming to take us out with him while in Salt Lake City, and give us a locals only tour.

Upon arrival in Orem, Utah, Kailen gave us some good recommendations for hiking and an invitation to a house party being thrown that night… a house party in Utah??? Yah, not what we expected either.

At the party we caught up with DJ and his buddy Brad who was on the cross-country excursion with him.

Brad was a cool quiet dude; he goes to Buffalo State for engineering. He is also in classes to become a pilot…pretty dope.

At the party, we were constantly being asked if we were the girls from New York. Yes, yes, we are.

I guess everyone else there was a part of a friend group or Mormons.

What

What are you doing here…?

Bottom line, there is a fuck ton of red rocks, if you couldn’t tell from the beginning of this.

While in Colorado Springs, we got to experience the Garden of the Gods. It is this beautiful State Park with crazy large rock formations. They were smooth red rocks.

Before the sun set, we drove down the block to a LEGAL marijuana dispensary and acquired some flowers ;)

One pre-roll, and two chocolate bars later we returned to the Gardens of the Gods for a fiery sunset.

The atmosphere around the area already appears to have a sunset hue throughout the day, guess why??

Yup, the red rocks.

But it gives the sunsets this crazy enhanced color, with a little joint it make the sunset even more spectacular.

The following day in Colorado Springs, we went to visit this town that the locals call, “the town stuck in time,” also known as Manitou.

It was this super cute hippy dippy town with herbal Apothecary’s, glass shops, and bohemian little boutiques.

After, we stumbled across this crazy dope bar in Downtown Colorado Springs. It was an instillation art museum bar, and the main exhibit at the time was based on the Netflix original The Queens Gambit.

This giant bar had about seven different bar areas within the one location. Each spread out and each with their own vibes and aesthetics.

The vibes ranged from the specific beers they had on tap and the cocktails they offered, to the wood used for the bar top and lighting. There was even an upstairs with neon paintings, where you were provided with 3-D glasses to get the full effect.

There was an outdoor area with cornhole and an indoor game room with every board game you could imagine.

I could live in that bar forever… I peeked on a Wednesday night <3

In Utah, we rented a cute barn Air bnb for three nights, in a lovely air-conditioned upstairs unit.

We cleaned all our camping dishes as soon as we arrived, utilizing the water as much as possible.

The following day we went on this lovely hike to see some great views, and yup, you guessed it… some more red rocks!!!

After the hike in 100-degree weather, we decided to look for the nearest body of water to submerge in.

We went to Utah Lake State Park, a body of water that does not exceed 9 feet at its highest water level (and it stains your skin).

I thought I’d seen the nastiest water in the Hudson River, but nope, this shit was so dirty I could not see my toes when the water level was at my ankles.

Post standing in the water for 20 minutes questioning if we should go in, we indeed did not fully submerge, thank god because Maya informed us Utah often dumps sewage in the lake to dispose of it.

I instantly felt like I was in the lake in the Simson’s movie that stored Spidey Pig’s halo of shit.

That night we went to the Utah house party. We had no idea what to expect going in. Usually, house parties are small gatherings, but here we were the bitches from New York.

A small gathering is indeed what it was.

The following day we set off for a hike to some hot springs. Hot springs are natural hot water pools often off the side of a river or creek.

These hot springs were different from the ones we saw in New Mexico, it was about a mile long of multiple hot pools. The farther up we went the hotter the springs got.

After hiking two miles in 105-degree weather, the heat from the water was our enemy. It also smelled like rotten eggs?? I guess they forget to warn you of these things before you start the hike.

Post hike we picked up some Chinese takeout food and went on our way back home to pack up for our departure.

Driving to Zion area, we passed some new textured red rocks, these were sharper and more linear.

We spent two days there, because it is near impossible to see the whole park in that heat, let alone in a day.

At nights, we would cook dinner on our portable propane stove. The first night we chefed up turkey burgers, with sauteed onions and zucchini. The second night we made camping mac and cheese… boxed mac, cheddar hot dogs, and grilled chicken with a side of roasted veggies. The last night we ate the left-over chicken in a southwestern salad wrap.

Cooking in the woods is probably my favorite part of camping because you reinvent ways to create easy meals that satisfy your every need.

Where

Where to next…

Colorado Springs was a gorgeous area with a very large city and hikes everywhere. It was the best combination of hmm I want to go out on the town for some drinks, and hey let’s get lost in the woods and hope a bear doesn’t attack us.

The quote, “take a hike!” really applies here. You can get annoyed at someone in a bar and say, “take a hike” and it is very possible for them to just walk outside and take a fucking hike.

Post springs, we hit up Utah.

We set off on our 9-hour drive to Utah!! The home of Mormons and more red rock mountains.

In Utah there is a surplus of children. I know this sounds like it would be anywhere like the baby boom, but this shit is super locational.

Specifically in Orem, which is right outside of Salt Lake City, their target audience in stores is children and parents.

The Walmart there was divided up between 25% of food items, 25% household items, and 50% baby accessories and food.

While out on the town, basically every person has a baby or kids in bulk. About 5-6 is the average amount of kids per family.

Within Utah we stayed in Orem and Virgin (which is right outside of Zion National Park).

The town of Virgin was exactly how it sounds, prudent, quiet with little to no action.

While camping there for three nights, we traveled to Zion National Park for the day. Zion was this gorgeously large area of BIG red rocks.

So, my question is, why is that one area of red rocks considered a national park? What makes that area better than the other red rock areas for the national parks to take ownership of it?

When

When the fire starts to burn…

While in Colorado Springs for two nights, we caught up on laundry and energy, in a nice, air-conditioned house.

We drove to Utah and stayed there for six nights, three nights were spent in a loft Air bnb, and the other three were spent camping out in the desert in our tent, while DJ and Brad slept in their hammocks.

We were lucky enough to get some shade within the average 100-degree weather of the deserts. But not lucky enough to have a campfire, since there was a fire ban in effect, due to the lack of rain fall which hasn’t happened in weeks and wont for longer.

We are now back on the road…

Why

Why is it so hot out…?

I never thought I would enjoy a super-hot atmosphere, but with dead heat like this, it doesn’t feel too bad… plus my tan is coming in faster than ever before.

The weather consists of dry heat. So dry and hot that you kind of feel cold sometimes. It’s the kind of heat that makes you sweat, but the sweat is evaporated off your body before you realize it exists.

It’s not too bad… next week it will be 116-degrees in Utah. I don’t know how people live here without pools.

How

How you doinnnnn…

Being that bitch from New York comes with a lot of questions… How did you guys plan this? Why now? Where to next?

All I can say is we just out here doing our best… we made it this far, wish us best of luck and follow my blog for updates

[hookysblog]

USA/Canada Part:3

 I reach Rock Bottom.....AGAIN!

REPUBLIC, NEW ORLEANS

An interesting city, I always shudder when I see the Dome downtown tho’, after hearing the stories of life just after Hurricane Katrina. A lot of homeless people here too. It immediately strikes you in every city we visit how many there are. From New York, stretching to San Francisco, Detroit being particularly bad hit, they are everywhere;(

Ah well…there but for the grace of god eh people? Hotel is nice and close to the gig and after an early night I am able to hit the gym, which is nice. Another gig off the list today, and I must admit this is a long tour and I am feeling it very much. I suppose that’s the problem of having so much on at home with the Legal cases, such a shame it ruins everything. When they said,

‘Cocaine is god’s way of telling you you’ve got too much money!’

They definitely should have said Litigation! Jesus!

Anyway nice walk to the gig and we are off. Gig goes well until the JD set, when two kids start pogoing and an older lady at the front takes offence and goes mental, punching one of these guys twice in the face, as fast as Jason Statham! Must be one of these Hockey moms we hear about. It calms down but she shows no remorse even when I warn her to take it easy. What a girl! She looks like Sarah Palin on steroids. Apart from that the gig goes well, strange how I am starting to recognise a lot of the audience members from when we have played a place before…my memory seems to be improving…must be all the exercise. I walk home with Andy Poole, particularly nice in the light of the Supermoon we’ve having at the moment. Bed is welcome. Early-ish start to…..

 TERMINAL WEST, ATLANTA.

 Getting a bit fed up with airports I must admit. Longing for a train station;)

The only fun to be had here is, Pottsy having lost his passport, has to use his driving license to travel, and it singles him out as being foreign and ‘Of special interest’ (I always said he was special;) so he gets a ‘special’ very intimate pat down which is funny to watch, his facial reactions being very interesting to the shall we say…probing;) Nice quick trip and after doing my laundry (again) we are back at another gig. This goes very well from start to finish, with an older audience than usual. Another sell out, which as the guy said, ‘Pretty good for a Tuesday night!’ Glad to get back to bed….knackered! Later start today, which is nice and the last flight for a while too.

 PLAZA LIVE, ORLANDO.

I have been here many times with the kids over the years, so it seems like an old friend. I used to think it was hilarious when a huge plane load of English families after no sleep on the flight, would arrive and get taken straight to the hire car place and given a left hand drive motor, then being let loose on America’s roads, sleep deprived, jet lagged, with a car full of screaming children. Watching them from a safe distance, go the wrong way round the roundabouts was my favourite (I was lucky, I had driven here a lot). I look out of the Gym window onto Orlando downtown, and it is very pretty. But again, has it’s own fair share of wandering homeless (at least it’s warm here I suppose:). It feels to me like there is revolution in the air. The divide between rich and poor seems so marked. They co-exist at the moment but it makes you wonder? It really does;(

The gig venue tonight is where poor Christina Grimmie got shot by an obsessed fan, and it’s only when it is drawn to my attention, that I realise how many mentions of guns we have, in this particular set. New dawn fades, Perfect Kiss, love Vigilantes, 1963, in particular. Our own fault, The Hacienda’s legacy I suppose;(

It’s a big hall this one, it goes well, not great, but we play tight and after a dedication to a new ‘Friend of Bill W.’ on New Dawn Fades we are done. Crawl to bed. Rest in peace Christina.

 CULTURE ROOMS, FT, LAUDERDALE 18/11/16

It is 10 years ago today that New Order split up, in Buenos Aries, Argentina.

I do wonder if they’ll ever get back together? But to be honest we are more at each other’s throats now than we were then;( Ah well, got a much better anniversary coming up on the 27th! Nice drive, and our driver is Keith who used to engineer at Amazon/Parr Street Studios in Liverpool. A lovely man, who came to Orlando, Florida to engineer a Deep Purple album for three months. It took 15! He met a girl and never went back. Can’t say I blame him, the place and the weather is lovely. Gig is great from start to finish. Fantastic.

 RITZ THEATRE, TAMPA

Another lovely drive! So strange watching the Alligators sunning themselves on the waterways by the side of the Freeway. We stop for a ‘Bojangles’ chicken dinner (on my recommendation) I thought it would bring back great memories of my first time in New York in 1980 when I lived on it for days (wonder if I put that in the book?) but today it is shit! Absolutely inedible! Good thing Terry Mason wasn’t here he would have been devastated. Meet Tony Mikaledes with his partner Mary for dinner, which is nice. Tony was a commercial/indie Dj in Manchester and then went into promotion, working for Island Records and Factory Records and managed my Revenge project for a short while. He has lived here for years and loves it. Ybor City District where we are is ‘Rockin’ with a great atmosphere. Another great gig from start to finish and we have great fun watching the trannies making there way to The Showbar next door (Chicks with Dicks our Crew used to call them;)!

ORANGE PEEL, ASHEVILLE.

Early morning and the two flights to get here wears us out.

Pottsy has still not got a passport, so is still travelling on his driving license, legal but gets that extra security from the TSA again. Today again, nearly every ‘Nook and Crannie’, poor devil. This is a nice place, very small town America, but can you believe it? Boasts the Moog Synthesiser factory. Robert Moog invented his synthesiser in the mid 60’s and the factory is still here in Asheville. Barney loved the Moog sound always has. From the first time Martin Hannett introduced us to via his old Moog Modular system for Joy Division’s Unknown Pleasures album.

As soon as we got one ourselves in 1981, it was used to great effect on Power, Corruption and Lies, Blue Monday, Lowlife etc etc., and many, many others, I bet he still uses one today;) We have a lovely trip round the factory and it is great to see how many new ones are being manufactured and shipped. If your wondering why I look weird in the photos, it’s because I have my gym kit on….honest!

CAT’S CRADLE, CARRBORO.

Nice drive makes a lovely change. This is a lovely town and a great gig we have played a few times before. Tonight is no different and another ‘Sell out’ greets us very, very warmly. Gig goes very well from start to finish. We are getting very professional if I say so myself. Flying tomorrow so rush to bed for some much needed shuteye;)

 HOWARD THEATRE, WASHINGTON.

Short flight to another strange place for us, at the world famous 9.30 Club we first played as Revenge, then Monaco, then The Light twice, but never did well, not much reaction? So much so that we have not been back here for 5 years;(

Thankfully, tonight could not be more different. We smash it! This is a wonderful old theatre, which was used to for all the old soul acts, James Brown et al. Washington seems to have been gentrified since the last time we were here, in 2011, it was rough, which is strange for the Capital city but I am sure Trump will sort that out even more now eh readers?;) One thing he may never sort out is the Rats! My abiding memory ever since the 90’s at the 9.30 is that the place teemed with Rats, and tonight is exactly the same. As we smoke outside they are everywhere and fearless (No cracks about being in good company with the Politician’s, please). Sign for some lovely people outside and then back to bed.