#I drew them once 5 years ago and then never again. whoops

[missholoska]

Your Adult Chara makes me think that they act like a sad dramatic wine aunt who has always the widest stories, the wisest advice and a drink in their hands (it's hot chocolate) in their mid 20s, is it accurate or am I being insane?

100% accurate, chocoholic auncle chara is the role model the children deserve 👍

(the ghost in question was frisk, they're just saving that detail for the end of the story)

[girlmeetsliv3]

Sandman II

Hyung Line X Reader

Genre: Mystery, Psychological Thriller, Horror

Rated: M

Word Count: 4.2K

Release Date: February 26, 2021 @ 5 p.m. (GMT-5)

“Three years ago, the town was rocked by the disappearance of YN YLN. A bright young girl who had dreams of attending university and becoming a nurse. YN was a kind, shy, studious girl who kept to herself and never caused any troubles associated with teens her age. So imagine her loved ones surprised when she disappears one night from bed - never to be seen again. The strangest part was that all her belongings had been taken, all the photos with her disappeared, and all her social medias deleted. But perhaps most peculiar was the wet sand found at the foot of her bed.”

Warning: Brief mention of death and suicide.

             The first words out of Kim Seokjin's mouth when they reached the car, after having been escorted through the back entrance to avoid the press, were "I'm sorry." YN hadn't even known how to react before Seokjin launched into a full-blown ramble, "I'm so sorry about that YN. I just - I have been so worried. We've all been, and we thought you - but now you're here. They didn't even tell us even though we're listed and to just think about how alone you've been. How confused you must feel -"

           YN placed her hands on top of his which rested on the shift gear, “It’s okay Jin. I understand.” She smiled at him tenderly before her sister’s words flashed through her mind, ‘Isn’t Seokjin the best?! He’s the only man you can truly rely on.’ Instantly YN took her hands off him, folding them on her lap. Now was not the time to dwell on those things. If Seokjin noticed the sudden shift in the air he didn’t comment on it, simply stating: “You’ve always been so understanding.” Before focusing on the road and turning the engine on, driving away. As they exited the parking lot, YN saw all the vans from the news outlets parked outside. Some she recognized, others she didn’t, but what she did notice was a large sign being held up by one of the reporters. It read: Sandman victim finally returns.

           It was as much a shock to me as it was to everyone when Seokjin and I started dating. He wasn’t my type. I can’t say for sure what it was that drew us together - maybe loneliness - or maybe I just liked the way people stared in shock at the fact that someone like him was with someone like me. That didn’t matter though, Seokjin and the others were always there. They were whatever I needed them to be. They would do anything to make me happy, but I wasn’t the only one they treated as special.

           When the car approached the front gate of Nagwon villas YN frowned, “Weren’t we going to the hospital?” The thought of being poked and prodded like a rag doll wasn’t a pleasing one, but she knew disappearing for three years and not remembering anything didn’t bode well. The only thing that could give a hint at what she’d endured, and why she’d forgotten, was her body. Seokjin shrugged, “I know you aren’t a big fan of doctors, so I asked Namjoon for a favor.” Namjoon? She wasn't sure she was ready to see Namjoon or any of them for that matter. She hadn't even thought about seeing Jin until he showed up. ‘He’s like something out of a fairy tale, isn’t he? A knight in shining armor.’ YN shook her head, don't think about her or you'll start crying like a child again. Everyone in her family had always called her a crybaby, teased her for not being able to hold her emotions in. Right now, though, she felt less like a newborn and more like an overflowed dam. About to break at any second.

           “Are the others going to be there?” Is he going to be there?

           “No, Hoseok is out of town. He should be coming back tomorrow though; I wasn’t sure if you wanted him to know you were back but it's all over the news.”

That wasn't who she was talking about and they both knew it. Still, if Seokjin was being ignorant then it was for a reason; so she went along with it. "Shouldn't it be Namjoon's dad?"

Seokjin glanced at her from the corner of his eye, “Namjoons a doctor now, babe. It’ll be him you’re seeing.” Perhaps still sensing her hesitance he continued, “Don’t worry his family has a private practice in their house for situations like this.”

“You’re all still friends?” She asked, looking outside the window at the passing houses. They passed several houses she recognized, having been inside a couple of them. Nagwon kids always threw the best parties; likely due to their houses being huge and the large amounts they could spend on booze. Her sister would always drag YN to one when she was stuck babysitting, at first she’d just sit around on her phone. Things became easier when they started hanging out with the guys though: there was always Hoseok to crack jokes, Namjoon to talk random things about, and Seokjin to offer whatever it was she needed. Yoongi was always there too, but they wouldn’t talk much just sit in silence.

“Of course, why wouldn’t we be? The best of friends.” There was no sarcasm or humor in his voice, he meant it. Maybe he truly didn’t care? Or three years was a long time to hold onto a grudge especially when the two at-fault for their problems disappeared from their lives. That’s probably why. With YN and her sister out of the way, things had gone back to normal for the men. Nonetheless, it felt like nothing between Seokjin and YN had changed, but that couldn't be true. It's been three years. That statement was difficult for her to wrap her head around, but it didn’t make it any less true. It had been three years and yet Seokjin acted like they hadn’t spent a single day apart. Her mind filled with questions and doubts, so much so she couldn’t help but ask.

“Did we hang out the night I disappeared?”

Seokjin took his hands off the wheel, she hadn’t even noticed the car had stopped, the look he gave her was a mixture of incredulity and hurt. “No, we didn’t. You told me you didn’t want to see me again.” His voice was tense, ears getting red the way they did whenever he was upset. “Don’t you remember?”

I did tell him that. She hadn't meant it of course, but YN tended to lash out when she felt cornered. Thinking back now, she remembered her cruel words how she had blamed Seokjin for something that was both their fault. The pain on his face and the desperation in his tone as he begged for her to forgive him, only for YN to kick him out and shut the door.

"I forgot. I'm sorry, Jin." She pressed her fingers into her palm, hoping the pain would take things off her mind.

“Hey.” Jin’s fingers gently gripped the bottom of her chin, “It’s okay. I forgive you, let’s just not talk about it again okay?” He pressed a quick kiss to the side of her head.

YN breathed deeply before unlocking the door and getting out. The Kim's large beige mansion stared down at her - it was the first time she’d been there, and the nerves were eating her up. Namjoon will probably have a lot of questions too. She had barely managed to get through one of Officer Taehyung’s questions before having a panic attack, YN had no idea how she would brave against Namjoon. With nerves clouding her senses she failed to notice the black motorcycle parked on the curve, slightly obscured by the shrubs. Had she YN would have avoided walking into a trap.

"Heard you got your ass whooped by Min." Jungkook laughed, as he sat on the edge of Taehyung's desk. "Did he take you over his knee and make you count to ten?" At that, a couple of others nearby chuckled. Taehyung rolled his eyes, "If he hears you, he'll take you over his knee." Jungkook shoved him softly, though 'softly' in this case meant Taehyung almost fell off his chair. Deciding to ignore him this time, he focused once again on the small font on his computer. Several minutes passed before Jungkook spoke again, "Is this about YN? If you're looking through the case files you won't find anything useful. Trust me, everyone in this room has gone through it multiple times."

There was a reason there was press lined up outside, nothing sold quite like a morbid story. ‘Girl disappears from her bed in the middle of the night with no trace behind’ had a nice hook to it. Taehyung had already been in the academy when it happened, but he was still shocked - especially once he found out it had happened in his hometown. Nothing ever happened in this town, they called it paradise for a reason. Yet someone had broken into the YLN family home and stolen a girl straight from her bed, nothing left behind but a bit of wet sand.

“It doesn’t hurt to look again, plus now we might get somewhere that she’s back. Find out who did it.” Taehyung scrolled down and started looking at all the pictures, he’d have to swing by the evidence locker later to see what they still had left physically.

“I’m just surprised the sister didn’t do it, given everything -”

Taehyung spun around quickly in his chair, “Don’t say that. Minsuh loved that kid, she’d never do anything to hurt her.”

“Yeah well that’s not what I heard,” Jungkook said matter-of-factly. “I know it isn’t good to speak ill of the dead, but Minsuh wasn’t as dignified as her name suggested.”

Taehyung turned away from the young cop, “Look you’re wasting my time and I have to focus on this case. YN’s going to come back tomorrow and we need to build a timeline, can’t do that without all the facts so just go away.”

Jungkook sighed, “Sorry man. I know the two of you were close,” Jungkook had seen how uncomfortable Taehyung had gotten when YN brought up him dating her sister. “But you know I’m not the only one that thinks so. Regardless, everyone knows it's not true now so there’s that.”

It doesn’t matter, Taehyung wanted to say, she died with everyone in this town thinking she was a murderer. Nothing will ever change that. Instead, he remained quiet, eyes focused on the computer screen. Gaze focused intensely on the pictures of YN’s bedroom as if they would wield together a logical story that would explain where she’d been this whole time.

Everyone in school had a crush on Namjoon. Smart Namjoon. Sweet Namjoon. Dimpled cheeks Namjoon. Girls and guys would swoon over him, talking about how they would love to feel his chest or sit on his thighs. They were all fools. Ah, yes, Kim Namjoon may look harmless but it's always the quiet ones you have to look out for.

It truly was a private practice, equipped with all sorts of equipment one might find in a typical emergency room. YN wondered why they would ever need something like that. Maybe high clientele? Though the closest things to celebrities that lived in this town were both Seokjin and Namjoon's families, then Jung's, and the Min's. Namjoon wasn't there when they first arrived but appeared quickly enough, the gentle smile on his face reminded YN of simpler times. "How are you?" It dawned on her then that was the first time she'd been asked the question. She'd been plagued by 'where were you?' 'how are you alive?' and 'I'm sorrys' since she'd woken up. No one ever thought to ask how she was.

“I’ve been better.” YN answered softly, afraid that if she spoke anymore, she would break down again. The men in the room seemed to read between the lines without her elaborating further. Seokjin squeezed her hand, “Well, I’ll give you two some privacy. I’ll be right outside if anything happens, okay?” Before YN could respond Jin once again kissed her forehead before walking away. Leaving her alone in the stark white room with Namjoon, who leaned against a medical bed. His left hand patting the space beside him, “Let’s talk YN.” She grimaced slightly. “You’re in a safe space YN. You know me I would never do anything to hurt you and Seokjin is right outside if you need him. We’re your family.”

Family. They had been a sort of family, the five of them: always hanging out, sharing stories, meals, and memories. It didn't matter that she was much younger or that the only reason she was tolerated was that Minsuh was dating Seokjin. They had always been kind, always been loving, always been there. Even when her actual family wasn't. They’re all I’ve got… at least until dad comes. Once she sat down the doctor offered a genuine smile, it reminded her of all the times the two would stay up late studying at the library. A warmth that eased away from the chill she'd had all day lead to the first genuine smile on her face, “Thanks Namjoon.”

“I told you to call me Joon remember?” His broad shoulder playfully brushed YN’s, before he began conducting his examinations.

      “You know being clandestine isn’t your strong suit.” Kim Seokjin leaned against the black LeoVince Racer waiting for his friend to exit from the back of Namjoon's private practice. Min Yoongi looked like he hadn't slept for days and had the corners of his lips turned upward in a way that was half-way between a snarl and a smirk. "I'd beg to differ." Yoongi responded, approaching the man as he adjusted white medical papers into his jacket's hidden pockets.

Seokjin eyed them carefully, “If you’re caught with those you could face serious trouble.”

Yoongi laughed, “Who’s going to catch me? The sheriff?”

           Seokjin rolled his eyes, empty threats and warnings weren’t going to change anything. “What do the papers say?” He tried to grab them, but Yoongi blocked his hand easily. Maneuvering Seokjin off his bike so he could get on it.

           "Ask the doc or her. She doesn't keep secrets from you." Yoongi's eyes were cold and his voice lacked the playfulness present before. Seokjin knew better than to press his buttons any further, "Go before she sees you." Not that it mattered much, YN would be face to face with all of them soon - a reunion was inevitable. Nonetheless, Yoongi was a sore spot for her; the more Seokjin could delay their meeting the more things could go according to plan.

        “So you’re officially a doctor?” YN asked as Namjoon finished up drawing the last of her blood. They'd done all types of x-rays, physical, and psychological examinations to check her well-being. No words had been shared between the two, but the silence was beginning to bother her.

“Well, yes and no. Still must finish my residency, but I have most of the hours done.” Namjoon replied nonchalantly.

Whenever the subject had come up before Namjoon had dreaded having to take over the family business, feeling it was a role he was being pushed into. Guess things have changed. “I thought you didn’t want to be a doctor.”

He shrugged in response, “I guess I finally understood why my dad loved it so much. Medicine, biology, psychology, chemistry are all things that are useful.”

“You became a doctor became because it was useful? That doesn’t make much sense.” YN chuckled as Namjoon placed a bandage on the inside of her arm. He chose not to reply immediately, instead, holding up a lollipop that was inside his pocket. She took it with little thought. “Little makes sense in life. Human beings are just inherent paradoxes.” Minsuh always said that. It was one of the things the two sisters never agreed on. Minsuh always argued that people could still technically be considered ‘good’ no matter what they did. YN disagreed. Can’t do bad things and still be a good person. Namjoon clapped his hands together, signaling they were done and proceeded to help YN off the bed.

“Thanks, Joon.” She shot him a smile which she hoped looked more sincere than it felt. Though tensions didn’t run as high with Namjoon as they did with the others, it didn’t mean it was smooth sailing. Namjoon, like always, understood exactly what she meant and didn’t push. “Of course, YN. Anything for you.” With the promise her results would be ready in a couple of days, he sent her back on her way.

When she exited Seokjin was waiting outside with a furrow on his brow. Now what? YN didn’t know where else to go from here, what else to do, it felt like she’d hit a roadblock. I could go back home. Was that place even home anymore? Without her family, furniture, memories – could she return, or would it be too painful? Was she even allowed to return? It had looked abandoned when she’d been inside, so certainly YN wasn’t trespassing.

“It’s okay YN. You can stay at mine until we figure something out. I wouldn’t want you out of my sight anyway, it’s dangerous.”

It didn’t sit right with her to rely on Seokjin so much – or be under the same roof as him – but she would be lying if she said it didn’t ease her anxiety. “You’ve already done so much. I couldn’t ask that of you.” Her hands were shaking as she said the words, but even if she wanted to say yes immediately. YN couldn’t be selfish.

“No, I haven’t. Trust me.”

Before YN could ask what he meant Seokjin took hold of her wrist gently pulling her to the car.

Jung Hoseok. Lovely Hoseok. Funny Hoseok. Sweet Hoseok. The boy whose smile lights up the sky and everyone just gravitates towards him. No one could ever dislike him. Mr. Popular always putting others before himself. Dear sweet Hobi is an angel sent from heaven, but he isn’t as innocent as he seems. People tend to forget Lucifer was god’s favorite before he fell from the sky.

“Honestly was it really necessary to put on this whole show?” Hoseok wiggled his wrists causing the handcuffs to jingle against the table. Taehyung’s face remained stoic as he proceeded to read from the file. “A bit strange isn’t that YLN YN returns when you just so happen to out of town, Mr. Jung.” His eyebrow arched highly, Hoseok would’ve laughed if not for the situation he was in. “No it isn’t. I take a family trip around this time every single year detective. I told this to the sheriff three years ago and I’ll repeat this now.” He leaned forward the mirth gone from his mouth, “I had nothing to do with what happened to YN. I wouldn’t hurt her or anyone else for that matter.” Hoseok sighed, leaning back on the uncomfortable chair. “Look officer, I know its procedure and the prime suspect is always the boyfriend, but it wasn’t me.”

Even if Taehyung doubted that with every fiber of his being, he had nothing else to go off on. Jung Hoseok’s alibis were airtight, had always been, not to mention it would be extremely out of character for him to harm a bug – much less orchestrate something to this degree. It had been reckless to ask for him to be picked up from the city, but today had been a long day and there were just too many coincidences for the investigator to ignore. “Very well Mr. Jung. You’re free to go but I suggest you don’t leave town on another family vacation any time soon.” He reached towards his belt, taking out the keys and uncuffing Hoseok. Taehyung was on a tight schedule anyway; it would only be a matter of time before the sheriff returned from his lunch break. Seeing his son’s best friend in handcuffs would only cause Taehyung to be even more reprimanded.

With the cuffs off him, Hoseok stood up, stretching his lithe limbs. "You used to call me Hyung remember? Back when you were desperate for Minsuh and you to be a thing." Taehyung recalled having felt the need to please her friends to get her to look twice at him. Where’s this coming from? Hoseok looked down at him with cold eyes, "You know we never blamed you for how you reacted to things ending Tae. Heartbreak can make a man go crazy after all." The tension in the room was palpable when suddenly a smile broke out on Hoseok's face. "Sorry, it was silly of me to bring that up. We were all kids after all." With that he walked away from the desk and opened the door, turning around just enough to wink at Taehyung before the door closed completely.

Hoseok felt his phone vibrate inside his pants and rolled his eyes, without even looking he knew who it was. Taking the phone out, he swiped right and immediately spoke. “Yah, you won’t believe what just fucking happened. Where are you anyway?”

“Sorry it isn’t much.” Seokjin apologized as he handed YN the pile of clothes. “Tomorrow we’ll go shopping for essentials.” YN shook her head, “Thanks, I don’t need much. My dad shouldn’t take too long in coming to get me anyway.” She placed the clothes on the banister in the bathroom, content to finally be able to shower and become clean. It had been a long day, some soap and water might not wash the pain away, but she could pretend it would. There was another thing weighing on her mind, a thought that would simply not go away. For as kind as Seokjin had always been with her, even he had his limits. This behavior felt a bit out of character with the person she knew – the one she remembered.

“Why are you doing all this Jin?”

The man in question froze as if stunned, "What do you mean?" His dark brows furrowed, his lips turning down into a grimace.

“Going to see me, Namjoon, letting me stay over. All of this,” she gestured to the bathroom which had been prepared with candles, bath bombs, and calming music. It’s out of character for you. Kim Seokjin had never really been the romantic type, caring yes, but not sentimental. “Is it out of guilt?” Is it out of pity? YN may not remember what happened the night she disappeared, but that summer would forever remain ingrained in her head. "Do you blame yourself for what happened?" Or are you doing this because you feel responsible? Which one was it? Maybe all of them combined?

Seokjin ran a hand through his hair, “Yes.” Without elaborating anymore, he walked out of the bathroom shutting the door behind him.

             When YN walked out of the bathroom she felt much better. All of the day’s events had worn her thin and she was ready to head straight to bed, but not without seeking Seokjin out and confronting him. Yes? Yes, to what exactly? Everything? She hadn’t been able to find the house slippers she’d borrowed, so she traveled through the house and down the stairs barefoot. Barely making any sound. She could hear loud audio coming from the living room and voices on the other side where the library was. Though she could recognize Seokjin as one of the voices, her feet dragged her to the living room, nonetheless. Deeming it better to wait until he was done than interrupting what sounded like an important conversation.

           The couch had been changed into a leather sectional angled towards the screen as had more of the décor. It looked less like a family home and more like a bachelor pad now if YN was honest. Seokjin the bachelor. He had always had someone attached to his side whether it be a dancer, cheerleader, private school girl, and eventually her sister. What about you? YN shook her head, wanting the thought to disappear as quickly as it had appeared. The television distracted her once she picked up on what was being said. It was a newsreel showing a bleached blonde with shiny hair and pouty lips holding a microphone. Behind him was YN’s home, or what used to be, in the dead of the night it looked eerie. After basic introductions the news anchor began speaking:

           “Three years ago, the town was rocked by the disappearance of YN YLN. A bright young girl who had dreams of attending university and becoming a nurse. YN was a kind, shy, studious girl who kept to herself and never caused any troubles associated with teens her age. Imagine her loved ones surprised when she disappears one night from bed - never to be seen again. The strangest part was that all her belongings had been taken, all the photos with her present disappeared, and all her social medias were deleted. Perhaps most peculiar was the only substantial evidence found by investigators was wet sand found at the foot of her bed.”

           “Try as they investigators could find nothing that could tell them what had happened to YN. Then a year later tragedy struck once more when on the anniversary of YN’s disappearance, YLN Minsuh – her older sister - took her and her mother’s life in a murder suicide. YN’s father who was present that night managed to survive. Many people took this to be an admission of guilt on the sister’s part, for the two had never had the best relationship. Though with no note, the case had no choice to remain open. Thankfully for a miracle would occur. Almost three years to the day, YN has returned to the exact spot of her disappearance. Residents and audiences nationally are overjoyed, and hope justice can now be served. Stay tuned as this tragic twisted tale continues to unfold. We’ll now switch back over to Bo for sports.”

           A piercing wail left YN’s mouth as she collapsed to the floor. Immediately, she was scooped off the ground into a warm embrace. “Jin?” She cried, but when she met the eyes of her savior the round hazel she was expecting was instead met with sharp feline ones. "Yoongi?!"

Tag List:

@saxpam24 

@cherriejams @electr1c-angel @uppiespuppy @illnevertrustmyselfagain

@dionysus-png @sugashaye​ @purpuravm​

[miracleonice87]

’tis the damn season

an Auston Matthews song fic

a/n: based on the absolute masterpiece that is ’tis the damn season by Taylor Swift from evermore. This one was not on my WIP list but came over me as soon as I heard the song when the album dropped. also have no idea how it became my longest piece yet, by far (as in 12k+ whoops). obviously, I do not own any of the music/lyrics to this song nor any other I write about.

summary: Auston Matthews and his ex-girlfriend are reunited in their hometown years after their difficult breakup.

warnings: swearing, alcohol, allusions to sex, a delicate balance of angst and fluff. a bit of a slow burn, if you want to call it that.

_____

You might have been one of the few people on the planet who disagreed with the phrase, “There’s no place like home for the holidays.” At least, for the last few years, that hadn’t exactly been your sentiment.

But, you were home anyway, after a few weeks of your mother’s guilt tripping and your father’s repeated phone calls. And, admittedly, you were enjoying your quiet time at home with your parents.

After helping your mom bake a few dozen cookies for the Christmas Eve party they were throwing tomorrow night, you wandered upstairs to your childhood bedroom to change out of your flour-covered attire and maybe squeeze in a nap. An undeniable perk of staying with your parents during the holidays — so many opportunities to sleep. As you pulled on a well-worn, long-sleeved ASU t-shirt you found hanging in your closet, your phone rang.

You groaned and swore to yourself that if it was your editor again, you were quitting. She’d already interrupted your time off at least once throughout each of your three days at home thus far — your first week of vacation in the two and a half years you’d been with the fashion magazine. You rolled your eyes and reached for the sounding device on your bed, then recoiled when you saw the contact name — or rather, initials — on the screen.

AM

Oh, god.

Even worse, the years-old contact photo popped up behind the name — a picture of the two of you lying together on the shore on your vacation four years ago, right after the draft, when you both still held onto the naive belief that nothing that had just happened in his world would change things between the two of you.

“Shit,” you whispered, covering your mouth while anxiety coursed through your veins.

You couldn’t just not answer. Right? The two of you were on decent terms, though you couldn’t quite remember the last time you’d spoken — probably seven, eight months ago. You had no good reason to ignore his call.

And after all... you were the one who had ended things.

You cleared your throat and, trying to coach yourself into mustering up some semblance of courage, quickly repeated, “Okay, okay, okay, okay.” Then, like ripping off a bandaid, you hurriedly tapped the green button and pressed the phone to your ear.

“Matthews,” you greeted curtly — tentatively.

“Kels. Come over,” Auston said abruptly, though you could hear the smile in his voice. “I know you’re home.”

You squinted and glanced around your room, racking your brain as you tried to figure out how exactly your ex-boyfriend knew your current whereabouts.

“What?” you asked, puzzled, not to mention slightly shocked that he was even interested in seeing you in person — though some part of you was, indeed, grateful for that. “How did you even know I was in Scottsdale?”

“Uh, your Instagram story, my dear,” he said, obviously amused. “You posted this morning from that new coffee shop between the Methodist church and our old school building. Remember?”

You rubbed a hand over your face, suddenly regretting adding him to your close friends list on Instagram six weeks ago after a few glasses of wine with your girlfriends.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, eliciting a chuckle from Auston.

“Yeah, don’t flatter yourself thinking I sit around and stalk you, sweetheart,” he teased. “I thought about replying but I didn’t wanna slide into your DMs and look like a fuckboy.” He paused, and you opened your mouth to make a halfhearted wisecrack that you didn’t truly mean, but before you could speak, he added, “Plus you probably get so many DMs, I’m sure mine would just get lost in the shuffle.”

Again, you rolled your eyes. “Matthews,” you repeated, whinier now.

“C’mon, Kels. Just come over,” he whined back. “I just got in last night. I’m staying at my parents’ house. My sisters nearly busted down my door when they saw you were back in town, plus I know my mom and dad would love to see you.”

Suddenly, two decades’ worth of memories that you had long ago pushed to the back of your mind flooded all at once to the forefront of your consciousness. Sleepovers watching Disney Channel movies and eating peach rings with Alex and Brey. Brian scooping you up in his arms after a nasty tumble off your bike on their street, propping you on the kitchen counter as he bandaged the scrapes on your knees, Auston never leaving your side nor letting go of your hand. Road trips with Ema to watch Auston play in countless tournaments, with you doing homework in the front seat while Ema sang along to the radio. Matthews family dinners eating Ema’s famous chicken tortilla soup. Vacations and carpool and pickup basketball games and shopping for prom dresses and just the mundane, everyday routine you had been part of for so many years.

And those were just the memories that involved his sisters, his parents. You didn’t dare let your mind uncover the buried memories of him, and him alone.

You missed them. Sometimes you missed them all so much that it made your heart physically ache and your stomach drop and your mouth go dry.

So, you drew a long, deep breath, and against your better judgment, eventually said, “Okay. Fine. But you have to send me your parents’ address. I haven’t been to the new Matthews McMansion.”

Auston huffed on the other end. “So mean to me.”

_____

It was certainly a far cry from the modest old ranch-style house where Auston had spent his childhood.

As you pulled up to the sprawling estate in the bougie part of town and cut your engine, you whispered, “What the fuck am I doing here...”

And still, after a quick check of your makeup in your rearview mirror, you got out of the car, closed your door and pushed your sunglasses to the top of your head, sighing as you took in the four vehicles parked in front of yours in the roundabout driveway, none of which you had ever seen before. Audi, Mercedes, BMW, Porsche. Well, you could guess which one was Auston’s.

You walked up the stone sidewalk and slipped your aviators into your purse — it was only then that you noticed that your hands were trembling.

You cleared your throat and exhaled sharply, willing your nerves to subside, as you arrived at the door and pressed the button on its frame, sounding an elaborate chime inside.

“I got it,” you immediately heard a familiar voice call, and you took a startled step backward as you saw his figure approaching through the decorative glass panes outlining the doorway. As he pulled open the door, the flutter you’d tried your hardest to avoid feeling for three years took flight once more in your belly.

“Matthews,” you greeted again, arms crossed in front of you in hopes of hiding your shaking hands.

“Why’d ya bother to ring the doorbell, you nutjob?” Auston asked with a broad smile.

Before you could throw a snide remark back at him, he pulled you into himself, one arm snaking around your mid-back and the other hand cradling your head to his chest. Inadvertently, you exhaled contentedly, and you swore you felt Auston tighten his grip on you then. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you let yourself relax into him for longer than you had intended. He just felt so… familiar. Broad. Strong. Comforting.

He was just… Auston. A thousand things had changed for the two of you, but the way you felt in his presence hadn’t changed since you were a little girl.

You inhaled his cologne, and you noticed that he was doing just the same — breathing in your long-worn Chanel No. 5 perfume, the same kind he used to save up all year to buy you each Christmas.

At that memory, you snapped back to reality and extricated yourself from his embrace, leaving him looking slightly disappointed, though still pleased with your greeting.

“Hi,” you spoke simply as you stared up at him, then chuckled at how stupid that sounded.

“Hi,” he mimicked, head bobbling and eyes widening, causing you both to fall into a giddy fit of nervous laughter over nothing at all.

Just then, you saw Ema’s head pop out from beneath an arched opening toward the back of the house — probably leading to the kitchen, you assumed. Ema was always in the kitchen.

“I thought I heard your laugh,” she sang. You couldn’t help but beam, and Auston smiled and moved out of your way so that you had a direct pathway to his mother. Taking advantage of that, you made a beeline for the petite woman you considered your second mom, already feeling emotion bubbling up in your throat as tears blurred your vision.

“Oh, mija,” Ema said, her voice tight as she met you in the middle of the grand entryway and gathered you into her arms. “Te extrañamos,” (we miss you) she said sincerely.

Auston cupped the back of his neck and quickly looked away then, fearful that he may just shed tears of his own.

You sniffled and murmured, “Los extrañé a todos mucho,” (I missed you all so much) into Ema’s shoulder as she smoothed her hand lovingly over the back of your head.

When you finally parted, moving past the brief sadness of the reunion, Ema still held tightly to your hands, extending her arms so that she could see you better.

“You look more beautiful than ever!” she exclaimed, and you dropped your head bashfully at her compliment. “California is treating you well.”

You nodded. “For the most part,” you remarked with a sigh. Ema glanced quickly from your face to her son’s and back again, deciding not to dwell for too long on that loaded response.

“Well,” she pivoted with a click of her tongue. “You look great. Now come, come! I know Auston’s going to want to steal you away from me, not that I blame him, but I just put on some tea, so let’s sit and have some first.”

“Ma…” Auston protested lightheartedly. Ema wagged her finger at him. “Shh! Mijo! My long lost daughter has returned. Give me ten minutes for a cup of tea with her.”

Auston’s lips parted at her use of the word “daughter,” not that he should have been surprised by it, and you tossed him an animated shrug as Ema pulled you down the hallway back from whence she came. You were right — it was the kitchen, and it was a spectacular one at that.

“Holy…” you trailed off as Ema patted one of the leather barstools at the enormous island in the center of the room. You took a seat, pulling your cross body bag from your shoulder and placing it on the island, and commented, “This kitchen is incredible, Ema. I’m sure you love spending time here.”

Ema nodded and excitedly launched into stories of using all the appliances and gadgets she had never owned before, walking back to the teakettle on the stove as Auston sat down on the nearest barstool, feeling as though he could simply be dreaming, hallucinating, that you were here, sitting with him in his parents’ kitchen. But when you noticed him taking the seat next to yours, you tossed him a classic Kelsey smile and nudged his shoulder with your own, and he felt just slightly more confident that this was reality. Unable to resist your magnetism, which hadn’t faded with time but seemed instead to have only grown stronger, he squeezed your knee beneath the countertop, just as Ema approached with a cup of tea in hand for you.

Choosing to react instead to Ema rather than her son, you grinned and thanked her, feeling Auston’s eyes on you as you lifted the mug to your lips and took small sips, Ema still prattling on happily from the other side of the kitchen. You eventually cast a sidelong glance Auston’s way, accompanied by an amused smirk, the combination of which left him beaming as he looked away from you and back toward his mother, who now approached with two more cups of tea.

“Thanks, Ma,” he said as he wrapped his hands around the mug she offered him.

“You’re welcome, mijo,” Ema replied. “Now Kelsey, honey, how long are you in town?”

“Uh, just until the day after Christmas,” you replied, swirling a finger along the ceramic rim of your mug. “This is the most time I’ve taken off since I started at the magazine,” you admitted with a hint of embarrassment.

Ema nodded. “Your mother said you haven’t made it home for a while. I know they keep you pretty busy there. Is that why you don’t visit so much?” she asked unassumingly.

Auston dropped his head and shuffled his feet awkwardly against the tile floor, and your eyes flickered to him as you racked your brain for an answer that wasn’t a complete lie but also didn’t unmask the whole truth — which was that being in a town that held so much history with your ex was simply too suffocating to bear, even for a quick visit with your parents. So, you typically just stayed in California where you could throw yourself into your work as a fashion writer at a well-known publication and operate under the illusion that you had moved on. From Scottsdale, from Auston, from your life before Los Angeles.

And especially from Toronto.

But the problem was, when the night fell and the lights all faded and you were left to face the truth, you knew in your heart that that’s really all it was — an illusion.

And from 2,500 miles away, Auston knew it, too. He knew it because he was living the same lie.

“Uh, yeah,” you replied sheepishly. “That’s the gist of it. Just, uh, just hard to get away sometimes. My parents usually come out to visit me instead since their schedules are, uh, a little more flexible.”

“Right,” Ema said skeptically as you took a long pull from your mug, despite the hot liquid singing your tongue and making your eyes water. “Well, either way, it’s so good to finally see you here,” she added warmly.

“It’s good to see you too,” you breathed, honesty dripping from that answer.

Auston finally looked at you again, giving you an understanding smile. Even that smallest of gestures made you dizzy.

“So,” you said as you moved away from the topic, sitting up a bit straighter. “Where are the girls? Where’s Brian?”

“Golfing,” Auston answered. “Like always,” he added with a chuckle.

“Why am I not surprised?” you teased, making both Ema and Auston laugh.

“They begged Auston to come with them, but he turned them down,” Ema informed you. “And now we know why.” She lifted her eyebrows and took another sip of her tea as Auston shook his head.

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” he joked. “But no, they’ll be back soon. They can’t wait to see you.”

You brightened at that, not having seen the Matthews girls in nearly as long as it had been since you’d seen Auston himself, finding it easier to breathe when they weren’t nearby, reminding you of him with their every mannerism. And yet, you’d found that starving yourself of their friendship and their company ached nearly just as much.

“I can’t wait either,” you said through a distant smile.

“And Dad will probably cry more than Mom did when he sees you,” Auston predicted, lifting his mug. Ema swatted at his arm.

“Don’t start with me!” she warned. “I happened to see you choking up out there, too.”

You turned to Auston and raised an accusing brow at him. He simply chuckled into his tea and looked away, and the three of you sat in silence for a beat.

“Come on,” he finally said as he rested his mug on the island, nodding his head in the direction of the sliding glass door at the back of the house. “Lemme show you the patio.”

You nodded, knowing full well that showing off the backyard was not the real reason he was inviting you outside. Despite that knowledge, you hopped off the barstool, put your mug in the sink, and kissed Ema on the cheek as you passed her.

“Thanks for the tea, mamacita,” you said with a smile, squeezing her shoulders. “Anytime, mi amor,” she replied, sending a wink your way as you turned to follow Auston.

He slid open the door and motioned for you to step through it first. When he saw his mother watching you through the kitchen window, he gave her a knowing smirk, and she put her hands up in innocence. But as she watched you two walk out onto the patio through the glass, she breathed a silent prayer to any higher power who would listen that maybe, just maybe, you would finally come home.

Not to Scottsdale, no. Home to Auston.

Meanwhile, you were trailing your hand along the hammock near the pool, taking in the scene and trying to remember to breathe. When you heard him close the door, you turned back to Auston, your eyes floating around the backyard.

“Nice setup they’ve got back here,” you grinned, Auston chuckling with his hands shoved into the pockets of his shorts.

“Yeah, it’s even nicer in the summer,” he commented. You nodded, stepping closer to the pool and lowering yourself to sit on the edge, patting the space next to you as an invitation for Auston to do the same.

“We have chairs, ya know,” he grumbled as he took a seat. “Not all of us like to sit on the floor all day doing yoga.”

You sneered at him. “Oh, yeah, that’s what I do all day long,” you said sarcastically.

“Well, you used to, anyway,” he mumbled.

You gulped as visions of him watching you do precarious yoga poses on the living room floor of his apartment flickered in your mind’s eye, and then, once again, you moved right along.

“So… how’s it going, Matthews? How’s life?” you prompted, not even sure if you truly wanted to hear the answer to your inquiry.

He stretched out his long legs so that his feet were dangling above the water as he wondered where to even begin.

“It’s… it’s good,” he said. “Overall. It’s nice to be home for a few days. Needed that. I missed it. Missed my family. Missed…” he stopped himself, “…other things,” he added under his breath.

You chewed the inside of your cheek and decided to avoid the path he was taking this down. “How’s hockey?” you asked instead.

Auston shifted noticeably at the mention of his career, still painfully aware that, despite the successes it had brought him, it had ultimately caused the demise of your relationship.

“Hockey is… hockey,” he said. “Honestly it’s good on the whole. But the team’s not having the greatest year so far, which is rough.” You nodded, knowing better than most that the Toronto media operated at a different level of intensity and scrutiny than that of nearly all other markets, especially when the Leafs were losing, and especially when new blood was added into the equation, like Auston’s had been when they drafted him.

Like yours had been when you moved there with him.

The spotlight they shone on you — and the subsequent attention you received from so-called fans who took to the internet to question your intentions and integrity — had been far more than you bargained for.

Just as you were about to ask about how the guys on the team were faring, Auston spoke again.

“I think about calling you every time we come to LA, Kels,” he said, fixing his eyes on the neighbor’s house in the distance because he was simply unable to look at you while he admitted it. With a sniff, he added, “I’m not gonna lie about that.”

“Why don’t you?” you asked after a beat, maybe unfairly, studying his familiar profile. His features were the same, of course, but he looked… more mature. Older. Wiser. All that jazz. Auston shrugged, still not capable of looking at you.

“Just didn’t think you’d want me to,” he answered dejectedly. Your heart sank into your stomach. Given the things you’d said when you left him nearly three years ago, you could hardly blame him for that one.

“Well,” you started with a sigh. “I guess we could call it even then, because I think about coming to see you play every time you come to LA. Or Anaheim. Or even Vegas. And obviously Phoenix.”

“Well why didn’t you just call me asking for free tickets then,” he said in a tone that he tried to disguise as facetious, but you heard the hurt seeping into his words. “Everybody else I know in any NHL city does.”

You felt a fierce sense of protectiveness then, clenching your jaw as you tried to calm your irate thoughts. You watched him pick at the sleeve of his black Raiders crewneck and felt deeply for him — this man you’d loved since he was a little boy.

“Do they really? Still?” you asked in monotone.

Auston nodded, squinting in the sunlight. “Yup,” he answered, popping the ‘p.’ “Every game.”

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered, covering your eyes with your hand and pushing into your temples. You blew out a long breath. “Fuck. I’m really sorry about that. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but I… it just sucks.”

Auston shrugged. “It’s not your fault,” he stated. “Sometimes I do it, sometimes I don’t. Kinda depends on whether the person’s actually talked to me lately.”

You nodded as he chuckled sadly, and you felt your chest tighten. “Well,” you began, clearing your throat. “I guess I wouldn’t qualify then because we haven’t talked much.”

Auston looked at you with intensity surging in his deep brown eyes, and you wanted to look away but found that you couldn’t.

“You always qualify,” he said seriously. “You’re one of the only people that qualifies.”

You bit down, hard, on your bottom lip and grappled internally with the weight of his comment. Then he said sarcastically, “Besides, I know you’re only after my money. I mean, you forced me to buy you that Louis bag the week after I got drafted.”

Your jaw dropped at his joke, and you scoffed indignantly. “Oh, yeah, the one you finally had to hide in my closet after I kept sneaking it back into your car because I wanted you to return it?” you corrected. “Yeah, ya caught me. You know me, Aus. Such a gold digger.”

Auston had started laughing halfway through your quip, but stopped suddenly. You gave him a questioning look, and he paused before answering.

“You called me Aus,” he stated with a smile he tried and failed to hide. “You went back to calling me Matthews after we broke up. But you… you just called me Aus again.”

“Yeah, well...” you grumbled, “Don’t get too excited.” You tossed him a smirk and he mirrored it, basking in the comfort of the moment.

“So whaddya think of the place? Not bad, right?” he finally asked, glancing around the property, back at the house, then settling his focus back on you.

You shrugged. “A little gaudy for my taste, but...” you began, and Auston shook his head bemusedly, knowing he set himself up for that one.

“No, it’s great. I can see how much your mom loves it. In all seriousness, I think it’s amazing, everything you’ve done for your family. Your parents. It’s pretty incredible,” you said earnestly. “I don’t think I said it enough when we were together, but, I’m really proud of you, Aus. And I don’t just mean about the hockey.”

Auston nodded soberly, turning his head to look you in the eye.

“I know you don’t,” he said quietly. “Thanks, Kels. It means a lot coming from you. More, uh… more than you know.”

And then, before you could think twice about doing so, you reached out your hand to rest atop his, feeling its familiar warmth as your fingertips grazed the raised veins there. Auston swallowed hard, blinking at where your hands now met, and slowly wrapped your fingers in his, giving them a squeeze. You exchanged long stares before you eventually slammed on the brakes in your brain and carried on.

“So, you just casually hang out with Justin Bieber now?” you asked, reaching your palms behind you and leaning back. “And the wildest shit is that I saw it first when he posted it, not you.”

Auston chuckled, looking down at his slides and — ironically — Drew socks combo. In his signature way, he halted his laughter on a dime and his face turned somber as he said dryly, “Yeah, I’m like really famous now, yanno?”

You sighed in annoyance, rolling your eyes as you looked skyward, feeling Auston’s gaze turn to you. You let it go for a few moments before shifting only your eyes toward his.

“What?” you asked accusingly. You could tell by the faraway smirk on his face that he was lost in a memory.

“Remember you had posters of him hung up all over your room in like middle school? From Tiger Beat magazine and shit? And now I play video games and mini sticks with the guy,” Auston said with a chuckle.

“Yeah, and if you ever tell him about that, I’ll end your life,” you threatened, shoving at his arm and attempting to ignore how much his biceps had grown since you last touched them. And then you were slamming the door shut on a rush of memories of having him beneath your touch — some innocent, but most intimate.

Auston saw it in your eyes — the place you went for a moment — as you dropped your hand back to the concrete beneath you. He knew where you went because, so often, he went there, too.

He held your gaze and promised, “Your secret’s safe with me. You know that.”

Only a hint of a smile graced your lips for a fleeting moment as you ran your fingers through your hair. Suddenly, you felt the heaviness of the history between the two of you closing in — smothering you, like it always did. Auston watched helplessly, wishing it didn’t have to be this hard.

And then, in a flash, like he so often did to save you from your swirling thoughts, he casually changed the topic as he commented, “Your hair’s shorter. You look like your mom. In a good way.”

Blushing, you breathed a laugh through your nose. “Thanks,” you said softly. “I think it’s the highlights, too.”

“It is,” Auston confirmed, and then — damn him — he reached out and looped a lock from the front of your face between his thumb and forefinger, the way he had done a thousand times before, usually mid-conversation, always absentmindedly. This time, you knew, as you forced your eyes to meet his, it was a bit more calculated. “I really like it,” he told you.

You nodded, searching his eyes to try and determine whether he had any idea what this — this moment, this visit, this day — really was.

“If you’re gonna ask me what we’re doing,” Auston spoke, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth for a second, “then I have to tell you I have no idea.”

Again, damn him. After all this time, it was like he still lived inside your brain and had read your every thought like the morning paper before you even had the chance to convey it. Which used to save you in a lot of ways. Now it felt kind of… intrusive. But somehow you didn’t mind.

“I had no idea what I was even gonna say when I called you. All I know,” he continued, still flipping the strand of hair around his fingers, “is that I really wanted to see you, and that I was really happy when you came, and that I’m really enjoying this time with you.”

You nodded, and as he pulled his hand from your face, his thumb brushed your jawline just slightly, and that touch alone sent a bolt of lightning through you. Auston smiled softly as he said barely above a whisper, “Okay, now it’s your turn to say something.”

You heaved a sigh, tipping your head back with eyes closed and soaking in the sunshine. “I don’t expect you to know, Aus,” you finally spoke. “I was just so... so shocked, I guess, that you wanted to see me. It’s been so long, I just... I didn’t know when I would see you again.”

“We’ve talked though,” Auston pointed out with a sigh to match yours, pulling a knee to his chest and wrapping his arms around his bent leg. “FaceTimed. Texted.”

You rolled your head toward him. “It’s not the same,” you reasoned softly, hesitantly reaching out your hand to tuck some of his black hair behind his ear. He licked his lips swiftly and placed a peck to your thumb before you slowly withdrew your hand.

“You’re right,” Auston conceded. “Definitely not the same.”

“Uh, sorry to interrupt...”

You were snapped out of your private moment by one person’s voice and another person’s squeal behind you.

“Oh, my god!” you yelled as you shot up from the side of the pool, Alexandria and Breyana already scampering toward you from the back door.

“It’s about goddamn time you came back to us!” Alex shrieked, wrapping her arms around you tightly. “I missed you, little sister,” she cooed, rubbing her hands across your back, and you hummed in agreement.

“I missed you, Al,” you replied, kissing her temple as you stepped back to greet the youngest of the Matthews clan.

“And you. My baby!” you exclaimed, pulling Breyana into your arms. “The true star athlete of the family,” you teased as she squeezed your waist.

“Damn straight,” Breyana giggled. “I missed you, Kels. I can’t believe you’re here!”

You pulled away, glancing behind you as you saw Auston slowly approaching out of the corner of your eye. “Me either,” you admitted, eyes widening dramatically as the girls snickered at you. “How was golf?”

“Brey smoked us, no surprise,” Alex replied. “But shut up about the golf. Tell us what’s going on with you two.”

“Alex!” Auston warned, shooting her a glare. “Please don’t.”

Alex gave him her best older sister roll of the eyes and crossed her arms over her chest as Breyana looked between the two of you.

“Nope,” Alex refused. “Not until you tell me what’s up. C’mon, spill.”

“We’re just...” you began, swiveling to look Auston’s way as he smirked down at you, happy to let you flounder in this one all on your own. “Visiting,” you finished, nodding once at Alex, pleased with your choice of verbiage.

“Honestly, you guys…” Breyana lamented.

“Visiting, huh?” Alex echoed, growing even more suspicious. “Yeah, okay. Sure. Wear protection. Anyways, uh—“

“Alex!” Auston repeated, this time through clenched teeth. “I swear to god...”

“Anyways, like I was saying,” Alex continued. “Your parents invited us all to their house tomorrow night for the Christmas party. I didn’t think you were gonna be there — does this mean you will?”

You nodded, causing Alex to clap excitedly. “I’ll be there with bells on,” you confirmed. “I already made my shortbread cookies.” All three siblings moaned in delight at the mention of your famous treats.

“Hell yeah! Plus that means we won’t be the only ones escaping to the balcony to drink,” Breyana commented.

“Brey, you’re like twelve,” Auston taunted, earning him a sharp elbow to the ribs from his younger sister. “You don’t get to drink with us.”

“Whatever,” she retorted. “Like you guys weren’t sneaking Mom and Dad’s liquor when you were younger than me.”

“Anyways,” Alex said yet again, clearing her throat. “We’re gonna go back inside now and shower, and just, uh, leave you guys to whatever it is you were doing beside the pool there. ‘Kay? ‘Kay. See ya,” she sang, spinning Breyana by the shoulders and guiding her inside, both girls whispering and giggling all the while. “Kels, I’ll call you tonight — you can tell me all about it!” Alex called over her shoulder, sliding the door closed.

You turned to see a pink tinge to Auston’s cheeks as he muttered, “Sorry,” with a dry laugh. You shook your head.

“No, don’t be,” you insisted, waving him off as you took a seat at the glass picnic table beside you, Auston following your lead. “It wouldn’t be a visit to the Matthews house without Alex torturing the both of us,” you teased.

Auston nodded. “Very true,” he said, and you knew he didn’t want to stop there, but he couldn’t seem to find what he did want to say next.

Instead, you ventured, “So what are your—”

At the very same time, he started, “Kels, would you maybe—”

You both chuckled at yourselves, locking eyes. This certainly wasn’t the first time this had happened in conversations — far from it. And usually, you were about to say the very same thing.

So, you motioned for him to speak first.

He toyed with the band of his watch as he said nervously, “I was just gonna say, uh, would you maybe wanna go to dinner with me? Tonight?”

You sat back in your chair, smirking, fully aware that you were teetering on a damn fine line.

“I was hoping you might say that.”

_____

An hour later, after reuniting with Brian (Auston was right — he cried more than the rest of his family combined when he hugged you), you headed home to change for dinner. As you pulled away from the Matthews house, you were thankful that Auston had offered to follow you in his own vehicle so that he could drive you to dinner, which in turn gave each of you a few minutes to breathe.

Surprisingly, your mother didn’t seem at all shocked to see the guest you had brought back with you. You had told her that you were going to visit the Matthews’, not specifying which member of the family had invited you, though she could venture a guess. When she watched two vehicles pull into the driveway side by side, she inhaled an excited gasp, a smile overwhelming her features as she came to meet you at the front door, just as you laughed at a lame joke Auston cracked about your driving.

Your mother nearly tackled him in a hug, which he warmly returned. He shared a similar bond with your mom to the one you shared with his, which was yet another piece that fit perfectly into the puzzle that was your relationship. So many pieces fit, and so few didn’t, but that still didn’t make things whole.

But, you ignored that thought — and so many others — as you left the two to chat, bounding up the stairs to change, now grateful that you’d brought more than one nice option to wear to the Christmas party tomorrow, considering the rest of your suitcase was filled with comfy loungewear.

How could you have ever planned for this?

After touching up your hair and makeup and putting on the more understated of the dressy outfits you’d brought, you returned to the kitchen where your mom and Auston stood huddled at the counter, near empty glasses of red wine in front of them both.

“Already boozin’, huh?” you teased as you folded your arms in front of you. They chuckled, and Auston glanced at you over his shoulder with a smile. When he laid eyes on you, though, he stood straight up and turned to face you, making no attempt to hide his stare, even in front of your mother. Without taking his gaze off of you, he threw back his final sip of wine and blew out a flustered breath. You knew you were blushing, so you walked past him to your mother, pressing your cheek to hers for an air kiss so as not to mess up your lipstick.

“Sorry to take your favorite boy away from you, but we should head out,” you announced as you looked back at Auston. He cleared his throat, walking to the other side of the countertop to hug your mom again, thanking her for the wine and something else that you didn’t quite catch.

He followed you down the hall, his hand ghosting along the small of your back as you reached for your purse on the coat rack. You looked back and blew a final kiss to your mom, who waved as she watched Auston open the passenger door of his car and help you in — both of you giggling as you crouched into the low-riding vehicle in your skirt and high heels. Like a mom of a young teen, she stood at the window and watched the two of you drive down the block and out of sight, hands clasped together wistfully as she turned back to finish placing the final decorative touches in the living room ahead of tomorrow.

Just a minute later, your dad came through the door from the grocery store, calling for her, sounding nearly breathless.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, smoothing the silk ribbon wrapped around the banister.

“Marie… did I just see Auston driving Kelsey down the road in a Porsche?” he gaped, his brow furrowed, thumb pointed over his shoulder.

She laughed, looking downward as she nodded.

“Yes, you did,” she confirmed, then looked at him as she felt tears welling. “Jack... I can’t say for sure, but I think maybe the girl is finally coming to her senses.”

A smile spread slowly across your father’s face and he came toward your mother, wrapping her in a hug.

“Well…” he began, kissing her temple. “Then maybe we’ll get our Christmas wish after all.”

“And what’s that?” your mom asked.

“For her to be happy again.”

_____

“You look amazing, Kels,” Auston said seriously from the driver’s seat. “Gorgeous.”

You gave him a coy smile and briefly inspected the outfit he’d chosen before leaving his own parents’ house.

“Thanks,” you said softly. “You don’t look half bad yourself.”

Auston grinned and decided he would take that.

Ten minutes later, he was pulling up to the restaurant you had already known he’d had in mind when he asked you to dinner, without even needing to discuss it. The same Italian restaurant where you’d celebrated infinite birthdays, anniversaries, Valentine’s Days, and other milestones. You fell into easy conversation during drinks and appetizers before Auston told a comical story about his teammates which led to an in that he knew he needed to take. 

“They miss you, you know,” Auston stated cautiously between bites of his shrimp scampi. “Mo. Mitchy. Especially Steph.”

You folded and unfolded the seams of the cloth napkin in your lap, considering your response.

“I miss them, too,” you eventually murmured. “So be real with me. You really like it there now?” you leveled with him.

His demeanor shifted — in a good way — as he replied. “It’s honestly great. I mean, you’d love it there now, Kels. I swear,” Auston said, shaking his head in wonder. “’M not just saying that. I mean, the hype is still there, yes, but it’s not at the level it was when I first started. Mitchy and Mo and Willy and I, all us guys who kinda started out together, we’ve all sort of found our groove with the media and stuff, and for the most part, it’s great. I have a feeling it’ll just keep getting better, too.”

You watched his eyes light up as he spoke about Toronto, relief and happiness washing over you. It didn’t seem so long ago that Auston was curled up on the couch, near tears, head in your lap, feeling incapable of living up to the expectations set for him — almost buckling under the immense pressure, the likes of which he had never felt before.

You let out a teary chuckle, swiping at a teardrop on your cheek that had fallen as he answered, taking you by surprise.

“You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear that, Aus,” you told him, holding your hand over your heart as it soared within you.

Auston nodded slightly, and his lips twitched into a sad smile. “There’s still something that doesn’t feel right though,” he confessed, though it didn’t feel much like a secret. “Still something missing.”

“And what’s that?” you asked timidly as you lifted your wine glass, excited for and fearful of his answer at all once.

“You.”

Forcing yourself to swallow your merlot so you didn’t spray it across the table, you put your fist to your mouth, holding it there while you attempted to process his latest, and most brazen, admission.

“I mean… look, there have been a few others,” Auston continued with a mindless shrug. “But never anything serious, and never anyone that I’m not constantly comparing to you in every possible way,” he told you, rolling his fingertips on the table and focusing on his hand as he spoke. “Feel kinda bad actually, because I know they all thought it was something more than it really was, and then I was always the one to break things off. I didn’t purposely lead them on, I just... once I got into it, I realized my feelings just weren’t in it.”

You opened your mouth to speak, hands limp in your lap, and then closed your lips in a tight line as you mulled over his words. You inhaled a shuddering breath and looked down, feeling the same shame that had overcome you countless times before come back again.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered without lifting your eyes.

“Kelsey…” Auston spoke firmly. “Look at me. Please.”

You did as he asked, lips pursed, and were met with his adoring, enchanting gaze, always too forgiving of your faults and mistakes.

“It’s okay,” he promised sincerely. “I understand. Trust me on that. I’ve always understood where you were coming from, but it seemed like there was just… just nothing I could do about it. Nothing I could do to make you stay, or to bring you back. That’s what made it so hard. That’s what still makes it so hard.”

You nodded. “Well — what you’re doing right now — whatever this is… it’s working,” you divulged, knowing this was a dangerous game and no longer caring.

“Is it?” Auston asked, a full-blown smile appearing now on his lips. Those lips you missed so damn much.

“Yeah,” you giggled, both of you grinning. “God, I missed your smile, Aus.”

“My smile?” he asked incredulously, then scoffed. “Your smile fucking breaks my heart, Kelsey,” he told you in his deepest tone, biting at the inside of his cheek as if he was trying not to lean across the table and kiss you full on the mouth right then and there.

And now, as you saw that look in his eye that you knew so well, you knew two things.

One, you were fucked. And two, you were in desperate need of a minute.

“I, uh, I gotta run to the ladies’ room,” you told him, standing, feeling unsteady as you pushed in your chair. Auston nodded knowingly and said, “Take all the time you need.”

You brushed a hand over his shoulder, the other holding tightly to your crossbody bag, as you attempted to walk in a straight line toward the restrooms across the restaurant floor. You were only one glass of wine deep, yet this night was making your head feel as fuzzy as if you’d just done a row of shots. Once safely inside the bathroom, you tossed your purse on the counter and held tightly to the sink to try and settle yourself, taking deep breaths in an attempt to control your racing pulse.

Just then, you heard a toilet flush, and your sense of solitude was quickly shattered when you saw a familiar blonde figure step out of the bathroom and lean closer upon recognizing you.

“Kelsey!” she exclaimed, moving toward the sink.

“Holly! Oh, my god,” you laughed as you squeezed her upper arm.

“Here, let me wash my hands and then I’ll give you a real hug,” she promised as you both giggled.

You had been a cheerleader throughout high school, and Holly, a year your senior, had been captain the year before you took on the title. Though you two weren’t particularly close, you had always looked up to her, and you’d kept in touch for a couple of years after you graduated before mostly falling off, save for the occasional hype comment or story reply on social media.

“How are you, girl? You look gorgeous!” she said as she threw her arms around you.

“So do you! I’m doing well, thanks. Home for the holidays,” you offered as she stepped back and nodded.

“Yeah, that’s great! Me, too,” she replied, then smiled mischievously at you. “To be totally honest, uh… I saw you when you were being seated. I didn’t wanna be weird or like, intrude, or anything but… I saw you come in with Auston. Are you guys like… back together?”

“Huh? Oh, no, no,” you laughed nervously, feeling yourself blush under her questioning. “We’re not back together. Just, uh, just two old friends, uh, catching up, ya know?” you reasoned nonchalantly as you reached for your bag.

“Oh. Right. Well... ‘tis the damn season, am I right?” Holly said with a chuckle, her own cheeks slightly flushed as she feared maybe she had made you uncomfortable by addressing the elephant in the room.

“Right,” you nodded cordially, then took a step toward her and patted her hand, wanting to make sure she didn’t think you were upset by her comment. “It’s so good to see you, Hol. I’m gonna head back out there—“

“Kelsey, wait,” Holly said urgently, grasping your arm before you could turn away from her. You blinked at her several times, glancing between her grip and her face as you waited to hear what had gotten into her.

“I just have to tell you... for what it’s worth, you guys still look so happy together,” Holly said. “Even if that’s not what this is. I just... I wanted to tell you that. As someone who has known you both for a long time, Auston never smiles as much as he smiles when he’s with you. It’s just nice to see.”

You gaped at your old friend, speechless, and she scrunched her nose at you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cross the line, I just...” she trailed off.

You shook your head, forcing yourself to act casual. “No, no. Not at all. It’s okay. Thank you, for telling me. I just, I gotta run,” you said, leaning in to hug her again. “Bye, Hol. Have a merry Christmas.”

“You too, Kels. See you around,” She smiled as you moved toward the bathroom door. With one last polite nod at her, you exited and escaped to your seat.

As you reached the table, you had to physically restrain yourself from reaching out and running your hand along the back of Auston’s neck and affectionately trailing your fingertips over the short hair there, as you had done for so many years when approaching him and sidling up to him. Instead, you smoothed your hand over your dress and sighed as Auston turned his head to look at you, grinning as he watched you sit.

“You get lost?” he teased. You chuckled, throwing your hair behind your shoulders.

“Something like that,” you muttered, immediately reaching for your glass of wine, which you could tell had been refilled in your absence. Auston hummed in acknowledgement as you took a long sip, watching you all the while.

“One more glass and then we get outta here?” Auston suggested as you set the glass down. You only nodded.

_____

“Remember when you had that old truck, with the tires that were always muddy, and we used to just ride around Scottsdale all night long?” you asked Auston, both of you reminiscing about days gone by after leaving the restaurant.

Auston nodded, running his pointer finger across his upper lip, the other hand on the wheel, as he watched the memory projecting in his mind.

“‘Course I do,” he told you, and you didn’t miss the way his tone changed when he did, making you smirk.

“So, where to next?” you prodded. “Back to Casa de Matthews?”

He shrugged ambiguously, but secretly, he knew just what he wanted to do. “We could just ride around. Like we used to. If you want. I mean, there’s no real reason for us to rush back to our parents’ houses, right?” he said with a snicker.

This could get messy as the mud on the truck tires, you thought, but your response was already tumbling from your lips.

“Okay,” you said, smiling at him. “I’d say let’s go drive through the rich neighborhoods and look at Christmas lights like we used to, but that’s where you and your parents live now, so...” You clicked your tongue and Auston rolled his jaw, acting completely offended to hide how much he had missed you chirping him. The way it melted him.

“We’re still going,” he insisted, turning the wheel at the next intersection and pulling a U-turn. “We’ll just, uh, we’re just gonna maybe skip a couple neighborhoods, that’s all.”

You laughed — a real Kelsey belly laugh — and Auston watched as you lit up his world yet again. He didn’t even need to see any Christmas lights this year. He had all the light he needed right next to him.

Minutes later, he passed the usual first turn on your holiday lights tour and you furrowed your brow.

“Aus, where are you going? I wanted to see Ranchero Nuevo first. We always start there,” you reminded him.

“No, what’s the actual first thing we do when we go see Christmas lights?” Auston asked, pulling instead toward the strip mall at the next light. When you saw the green glow of the Starbucks sign up ahead, you smiled as it dawned on you.

“Get hot chocolate,” you said fondly. Instead of answering, Auston simply sent a soft smile your way. “You’re the greatest,” you lauded, igniting a pride that burned bright in Auston’s chest.

“Anything for you, babe,” he said before he could even realize what he’d just done. He snapped his head your way and saw that you were trying your damnedest not to smile.

He was completely taken aback as you quipped, “You can call me babe for the weekend.”

Auston did a double-take and then nodded once at your phone in your hands, which had just lit up with two missed calls and a particularly accusatory text from one Alex Matthews that you decided you would have to tend to later.

“Write this down,” Auston instructed curtly.

“What do you mean?” you laughed, holding your phone up curiously.

“I want proof that you just said that to me,” he deadpanned, jutting his chin toward your glowing screen and sending you into a fit of laughter.

After you’d both recovered, Auston picked up your drink — large peppermint hot chocolate, like always — and a coffee for himself, and you set off to wind your way through the same neighborhoods you had driven through countless times, admiring most of the decorations and poking fun at the gaudiness of some, laughing all the while, without a care.

As he pulled into a neighborhood you knew to be just a stone’s throw away from where he had recently purchased a house, Auston took a deep breath, fingers gripping the steering wheel rigidly, and decided to take the leap and say what had been circling through his brain since you’d stepped foot in the vehicle after dinner but had only just now worked up the nerve to say.

“What if we didn’t go back to our parents’ places tonight?” he asked abruptly, the words sounding much more jumbled and rushed than they had in his head.

You chuckled anxiously, staring straight ahead. “What do you mean?”

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and pressed on. “Hear me out. What if we just went to my place for the night instead? I don’t mean to like… to hook up, or anything,” he assured. “Just to be together. I just… I really fucking missed you.” 

Uh, whoops. He hadn’t exactly meant to slip that last part in there, but it was too late to turn back now.

There was a lengthy pause and the car was frighteningly silent as you weighed your options.

“Well...” you eventually said, nibbling on your bottom lip. “If it’s okay with you, then it’s okay with me.”

“Yeah?” Auston asked immediately, searching your face for confirmation that he had just heard you correctly. He couldn’t believe that this — any of this— was really happening.

You nodded.

“Yeah. And… Aus?” you spoke.

“Yes, Kelsey?” he asked softly, joy radiating from his whole being and seeping into his words.

You leaned your head back against the seat and reached to wrap your hand around his on the center console.

“I really fucking missed you, too,” you told him.

_____

“Why did you agree to come with me tonight anyway, Kelsey?”

You and Auston were each almost a full bottle of wine deep by the time he asked this, inhibitions now lowered. He’d barely finished giving you the tour before you were both so palpably overwhelmed by the reality of being alone together in his house, with so many feelings buzzing about frenetically, that you took the liberty of pulling a bottle of red from the wine fridge and asking for glasses and a corkscrew. Auston forked them over without question, and now you were deeply entrenched in the process of examining old battle wounds that had never quite healed.

“Because I missed you,” you answered truthfully. “And also because I owed it to you to accept your invitation when you took a chance by reaching out.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Kels,” he claimed, taking a swig.

You picked up your glass and passed by him as you began to pace the tile floor, unable to just be still during this exchange — this conversation that had been a long time coming.

“I do, though,” you argued. “You gave me everything. Everything. And I still left.”

Auston squeezed the stem of his wine glass so hard he feared he may just shatter it.

“I don’t want you blaming yourself for the things I put you through because of my career choice,” he said firmly, a hand splayed against his chest as he accepted the responsibility, just like he always did.

“But you didn’t choose to have the media posted up outside our apartment every day. You didn’t choose to have strangers stalking me and my family online. You didn’t choose to have them calling me a distraction and a leech and a gold digger and a wh—“

“Don’t say it,” he warned as he lifted a finger, referencing the specific instance of the smearing of your character that had left you broken enough to start packing your bags.

“Okay,” you conceded quietly, knowing just how sick that one word had made him. “But listen. Yes, you chose to play hockey. But you didn’t choose all that shit that came along with it. You didn’t know! Hell, you didn’t even get to choose where you played. But even so… honestly, I used to blame you for everything. Because back then, it was just easier for me to deal with it that way.”

Auston’s head hung between his shoulder blades as he leaned his palms against the bar, reliving the very same pain that had eaten away at him for the past three years, especially the acute ache that had come in the weeks immediately after you left.

“I know you did — blame me, that is,” he said softly. “And I understand why.”

You took slow and deliberate steps back to where he stood and rubbed your hand soothingly across his broad back, feeling the way his muscles relaxed under your touch.

“Hey… look at me, huh?” you asked, gently guiding his face toward yours with your fingers. “I don’t blame you, Aus. I don’t,” you assured, your eyes piercing into his. “Not anymore. I’ve grown. I know I did this. I know it’s my fault that we’re like this. I mean, fuck, I broke my own heart, and I know I hurt you. I just... at the time, I didn’t see a way forward on the road we were on.”

Auston’s mind was firing on all cylinders as he tried desperately to compute what he’d just heard, convinced he was gathering more from your words than you meant for him to.

“And now?” he ventured.

He watched as your pained expression turned to one of, dare he even think it, hope.

“I still see it, Aus,” you said. “I still see us ending up together. I know it’s out of the blue, but…”

“It’s not though,” he said, cocking his head a bit to punctuate his point. “I know it doesn’t make much sense, any of this, but… to me, it’s not out of the blue. I’ve wanted this for so long,” he told you. “And I just need you to know that. Regardless of what happens next.”

“Auston, you and me together… that’s the only thing that makes sense. That’s all that’s ever made sense to me,” you said, clarity washing over you. “But I just, I wasn’t ready. And I got so scared that I wouldn’t be able to handle your life that I… I just ran.”

“You can run, Kelsey,” Auston said softly as he, yet again, twirled a strand of your hair around his finger. “But only so far.”

“Yeah…” you whispered. Then, without hesitation, you grasped his chin between your forefinger and thumb, turning his face to yours and studying his brown eyes just for a heartbeat before pressing your lips to his.

And for now, that was all that needed to be said.

_____

You hadn’t slept together. But you had slept together.

Too much crying and laughing and kissing and rehashing and wondering aloud had left you both emotionally drained and physically exhausted, and after dragging yourself into the master bathroom to throw on a crewneck and a pair of  Auston’s sweats, you’d promptly fallen asleep in his arms, a smile on his features even in sleep.

The next morning it occurred to you, with your cheek pressed against his bare chest and your legs entangled with his, that Auston’s bed — whether here, or in the house where he grew up, or in Toronto — was the warmest one you’d ever known. Though you could tell by the sunlight flooding the room that it was late in the morning, you couldn’t bear to move away from him. 

Soon, he, too, began to stir. As he squinted in the daylight and peered down at you, he closed his eyes once more, a peaceful grin on his lips.

“Oh, thank god that wasn’t just a dream,” he whispered. You chuckled, your fingertips lazily drawing shapes on his pecs as you nuzzled your head further into his neck.

“Nope,” you established. “This is very, very real.”

You lay in quiet thought for a moment before adding softly, “But what happens now?”

At that, Auston’s eyes opened wider this time, a slight panic visible in his face.

“Well,” he began, smoothing his hand over your head and kissing your hair. “What happens now is that we get some coffee.”

You sighed at his attempt to make light of the situation and pushed yourself to sit straight up in bed, cross-legged in front of where he lay on his side.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” you spoke, your fingers pulling anxiously at the bedsheet below. “Yesterday was like a fever dream and now... now we have to face reality.”

Slowly, Auston sat up, too, and pulled you into his lap, allowing you to rest your back against his torso as he gathered your hair at the nape of your neck in a makeshift ponytail.

“Everything that happened yesterday was reality, baby,” he insisted, kissing the crown of your head.

“Our feelings, yes,” you allowed. “But not the rest of it. I mean, fuck, we’re both leaving town in —“ you glanced at the bedside clock and were shocked by the 11:27 that stared back at you, realizing you’d practically slept in half the day — “48 hours. And then what? I go back to LA and you go back to Toronto and we just wonder about—“

“Baby, stop,” Auston begged as he turned you to face him, bringing your forehead to his lips. “Take a breath,” he said, stroking your jaw with his thumbs as he looked down at you, concern etched into his features. “We don’t have to figure all this out right this minute. In fact, we’re not going to. For right now, let’s just let this be what it is. And you have to try and stop spinning your wheels so fast. You’re gonna burn a hole in my floor,” he joked, kissing your nose.

You chuckled sadly, holding his wrists. “You’re right,” you eventually told him. “We’ll figure it out, somehow. I know we will,” you sighed, frowning. “First things first though, I have to get home and help my mom get ready for the party tonight.”

Before you could get out of bed to start gathering your things, Auston circled his arms around your hips and kept you in his lap. “Wait, gimme a smile first,” he requested.

You looked up at him and offered a tight-lipped smile, still distracted by the future of your relationship teetering precariously in the balance.

Auston shook his head. “That’s a fake Kelsey smile,” he accused, accurately. “Don’t even try me.”

With another deep sigh, you muttered, “You’re the only soul who can tell.”

“Who can tell what?” he asked, hugging you tighter.

You looked up at him for a moment, feeling more seen than you had in years. “Which smiles I’m faking,” you said quietly.

A pleased smile twitched at the corners of Auston’s lips before he pressed his mouth to yours.

_____

Auston walked into your parents’ house that night with his understated charm and a devastating ensemble of a maroon suit, white shirt with the top few buttons undone, and black loafers, looking every bit the GQ model he was once upon a time. With two bouquets of red roses and a bottle of champagne in hand, he knocked on the glass and your dad met him enthusiastically at the door.

“What’s the occasion?” your dad then chuckled, a bit puzzled. Auston glanced to where you stood near the staircase, waiting to greet him, and smiled.

“These are for your daughter,” Auston said as he grasped one bouquet. “And these are for your wife,” he said as he gestured toward the other. Your dad raised his eyebrows, looking between the two of you pensively, and let out a loud laugh. “Well, how thoughtful! And the champagne?” your dad asked as Auston stepped toward you and tucked one bunch of roses into your hold. He kissed your cheek chastely and turned back to your dad.

“Well, you never know when you’re gonna have something to celebrate,” Auston said with a smirk. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and your dad clapped Auston’s back appreciatively before leaving the two of you to your moment.

“Thank you, for the flowers,” you said softly, staring up at him. “They’re beautiful.”

“You’re welcome,” he said with a nod before your aunt and uncle suddenly appeared in the doorway, loudly greeting you and pushing their way toward you for hugs as Auston gave them their space and waited for you to become available again.

His patience lasted all of five minutes as he made vague pleasantries with the handful of guests who had already arrived, before he was approaching you again, eager to do what he really came here to do and unable to wait a moment longer. As you turned away from a brief conversation with a longtime next-door neighbor, Auston gently grasped your wrist as he said hastily, “Can I see you outside for a second?”

You didn’t have much of a choice as he led you hurriedly through the formal living room and out the French doors to the balcony, closing them behind you and backing you into a corner, hidden from view.

“Aus, what are you—“

He pressed his body into yours, nudging you back against the rail as he took your face in his hands and kissed you hungrily.

“Doing,” you whispered when he let up, completing your earlier thought as you pressed your fingertips against your swollen lips and looked up at him, your cheeks reddening.

“That,” he answered simply with a small smile. “And I wanted to give you something...”

He patted his pockets to determine where the object was, and your eyes widened.

“Auston, no!” you exclaimed, squeezing his elbows in an attempt to stop his search. “You can’t. I didn’t get you anything. I —”

“Kelsey, are you crazy? Yes, you did,” he said firmly. “Time with you. You gave me time with you. That’s all I’ve wanted for the last three years. That’s more than I could have ever asked for.”

There was nothing you could say then, nothing that sounded worthy enough to hold any significance in such an already meaningful vignette of the two of you. Auston took your silence as his opportunity to pull a mid-sized, square, red leather box from the pocket of his suit jacket, the name “Cartier” imprinted in gold script on the lid.

“Auston, stop,” you warned in a whisper, knowing what was inside and knowing that you would be rendered completely incapable of walking away from him once he offered this gift to you, knowing what it signified for both of you. He shook his head, knowing that your request was an empty one. He propped open the box and placed it on the small wrought iron table in front of you on the balcony. You couldn’t peel your eyes from it as your mind raced with questions.

“How... where... we slept until noon, Aus,” you stuttered. “All the stores were closed. Where did you even buy this?”

He pursed his lips and nodded once, then put his hands into his pockets and admitted, “I’ve had it for almost three years, Kels.”

You blinked again and again, not processing what he’d just revealed.

“I’m sorry... what?”

“I bought this for you for Valentine’s Day three years ago,” he continued. “I bought it and I hid it in my closet and I was gonna give it to you but we broke up on —“

“January 30th...” you whispered. Auston’s brows knit together in agony, and his throat constricted.  

“You remember too,” he stated quietly.

“Yeah. Yeah, I remember a little too well,” you said, sniffling as you glanced down at the box again.

Suddenly, your mind drifted back not to that fateful day in his apartment in Toronto, but instead to lying on your stomach as a kid in your family room, flipping through the pages of your favorite issue of your mom’s old Vogue magazines, as Auston used a yardstick and a Nerf ball as makeshift hockey equipment, taking shots at your couch again and again while you soaked in the photos of beautiful models, trendy clothing, and expensive jewelry, as visions of working at a fashion magazine someday twirled through your daydreams.

“Whatcha readin’?” a ten-year-old Auston inquired as he dropped next to you to take a break from his game.

“Vogue,” you answered, turning another page. “Like usual.”

Auston nodded, spotting a pretty woman in a tight black dress and commented, “Cool,” with a laugh. “If you could have anything in that book, what would you pick?”

Ever the master of sass, you rolled your eyes.

“It’s a magazine, Aus,” you corrected with venom in your voice as Auston rolled his own eyes. “But, if I had to pick... I know just what I want,” you informed him, leafing through the issue to get back to an ad in the front. When you finally found what you were seeking, you plopped the magazine down again, smacking your hand onto its glossy pages.

“That,” you said, pointing to the gold bangle. “It’s called the Love Bracelet. It says that it gets bought by somebody you love and then they have to use a screwdriver to put it on you.”

“A screwdriver?!” Auston asked incredulously. “Wouldn’t that hurt?”

You giggled. “No, silly,” you drawled. “It doesn’t hurt. But then the person who loves you is the only one who can put it on you or take it off you. You can’t do it by yourself.”

Auston nodded. “Cool,” he repeated, more seriously this time. You sighed wistfully as you gazed down at the bracelet.

“Yeah, but it’s a whole bunch of money, and my dad said he isn’t buying it. He said maybe my husband will get me one someday,” you said sadly. Auston watched your face drop, then, he got an idea.

“How about this,” he offered, nudging you with his elbow. “If I get famous for playing baseball, or hockey I guess, and I make a boatload of money, then I’ll buy you that bracelet. ‘Kay?”

You blushed, hunching your shoulders as you were slightly embarrassed by your best friend’s offer. Still, you loved Auston, and you knew he loved you. He was the only person you wanted to get that bracelet from, except for like, your mom or dad.

“Okay,” you agreed. “You promise?”

Auston dragged his index finger over the left side of his chest. “Cross my heart,” he confirmed.

This time, it was your turn to say, “Cool.”

“I asked my mom to hold onto it,” you heard him telling you now. Now that you’d become the people you’d said you’d be. Now that you both had grown into the farfetched dreams you’d shared as children. Now that you’d come back home — back to one another. Now that he was here, in front of you, again. “I just couldn’t bear to take it back, even though I honestly never thought I’d get the chance to give it to you.”

You were shaking your head endlessly, attempting to stop tears from streaking your face. “I can’t believe this...” you said, awestruck.

“I don’t have to put this on you right now,” Auston said, swallowing his own tears he felt creeping up on him. “I just want you to have it. It’s yours. You should keep it.”

With a few swipes at your undereyes, you rubbed away the wetness on your hands and then extended your left wrist to Auston. A smile flashed briefly across his lips before he set them in a straight line once more.

“Are you sure?” he asked, caution in his voice.

You pulled him in by his waist, beaming, before you answered.

“I’ve played this out basically every night since I left,” you told him. “Even when I was with somebody. I just followed the path my mind was taking me all the way to the very end, until there was no place left to go. And it always leads to you. It always leads me home.”

Auston pulled you into a searing kiss, both of you smiling into it, before he squeezed your hand and reached for the box, carefully disassembling the bracelet so that he could put it on you at last.

“All day I’ve been thinking about what I said earlier. About running,” you spoke as Auston worked on securing the bracelet. “I started running and running and it’s been such a mess since then. Nothing about the past three years made any sense to me. And then I saw you, and… it all made sense again. You and I were the only thing that ever made sense to me,” you told him, your voice wavering as he twisted the final screw into place, lifting the inside of your wrist to his lips and placing a warm, reverent kiss to the skin there, his eyes never leaving yours as he did. “So I’m done. I’m done running, Auston. I can’t run anymore.”

“You have no fucking clue how long I’ve waited to hear you say that,” Auston admitted, touching his forehead to yours before leaning back. “So, to your earlier point... what the hell are we supposed to do now?”

You ran a frazzled hand through your long hair and bit at the inside of your cheek as you formulated your response. “I mean, I have to go back, Aus. I’m working on a really big project...”

Your words put him into a tailspin of his own this time, watching the dreams he had let resurface over the last two days come crashing down in front of him all over again. You were eluding him. Again.

His ears were buzzing so loudly that he barely heard your next words.

“But maybe after that... I could come and spend some time in Toronto?”

Auston pulled his tongue away from the roof of his dry mouth and pleaded, in a voice barely above a whisper, “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t say that unless you really mean it,” he said, desperation in his tone.

“I mean, really, I don’t have a choice,” you pointed out with a breathy laugh, your fingers tracing the cold metal of the bangle around your other wrist. “I don’t see any other way that this ends. Not after this. This perfect fucking weekend. I mean... do you?”

“No,” he quickly retorted. “No, I don’t. I was just scared that you... that this was going to be it for you. That we would have this incredible time together and then it would just be another chapter in the Auston and Kelsey history book.”

You smoothed your hands over his lapels, allowing your body to fully relax into his.

“Auston, this... this is different,” you said somberly. “Before, it all just felt like too much. I got scared. We were so young, Aus. I mean, we’re still young, but we were babies. And now... I’ve realized that dealing with the press and the social media and the fans... it’s worth it to me. I’ll never like it. But I love you. And that’s enough. That will always be more than enough for me — being with you. And I’m so sorry that it’s taken me this long, that it took me finally coming back home, to realize that.”

“Don’t be sorry, Kels, please,” Auston whispered, one hand clutching at your hip, the other tangled in the hair at the back of your head as he held onto you with everything he had, knowing he was ready to do so for as long as you would let him. “Just... just say it again, baby. Please?”

“I love you, Aus,” you whispered, tears falling freely down your cheeks as he pressed his forehead to yours. “I’m never gonna stop.”

“Don’t stop,” Auston pleaded, nuzzling his nose against yours before pressing his lips to your mouth. “Don’t ever stop. Promise?” he asked, his voice gravelly.

“Cross my heart,” you whispered, drawing a pretend line across your chest before cupping his cheek and kissing him tenderly.

[poeticandvaguelysweet]

Prompt #219 - TBAH: It’s a Girl!

@all--the--dancers : Owen finding out that their fifth and final baby is FINALLY a girl! 

I asked Majella last week if I wrote one thing that night what would she want it to be. This was her choice. It took me like 5 days to finish it. Whoops. 

AO3 - To Build a Home

IT’S A GIRL!

They needed a new bed. Claire decided, thinking to herself as she lifted her eyes from the tablet in her hand. Something bigger than the king they already had, enough to fit another child comfortably and then some. Not that she was planning to fill their bed with any more babies. Her hand stroked her rounding stomach. Last one. And then she could get back to her job and a life free of carrying Owen’s heavy babies in the pit of her tiny pelvis.

Five was enough. Five wasn’t even supposed to happen. They should have stopped at three but when the ovum split, creating to perfectly identical little boys their plans at a small brood instantly grew. Owen got a vasectomy a little under a year ago. Fate wasn’t in their favour when he couldn’t keep his hands off his wife in the advised window leading to their fifth child rounding out her stomach. The vasectomy was supposed to prevent that from happening … Claire still wasn’t over being bitter about it. They were looking forward to another little life. A final chance to kiss those baby years goodbye before they settled into Bernie’s incoming adolescence.

Currently, their bed was full. Bernard, Hunter, Marshall and Ryan all sprawled across the covers this way and that as their little faces relaxed in sleep. Owen was still reading beside her, black-rimmed glasses perched on his nose as he read something about a hover car racer Bernie was enthralled with. It had become a nighttime ritual, Owen reading to his boys, Claire trying to get work done as sleep usually claimed her with the calm of her husband's warm voice.

Her iPad had locked itself ten minutes ago as she watched small chests rise and fall, her twin boys cramped into the space between herself and Owen, their bodies pressed together, thumbs in their mouths. They never forgot that they were twins but it startled Claire sometimes when their minds and bodies mirrored the other. Hunter had set himself up on the end of the bed, stretched from end to end while Bernard occupied the space between his parent's legs were the twins weren’t yet tall enough to fill. He was the only one still awake and fighting it as Owen continued to read about Jason Chaser none the wiser to his sleeping audience.

Bernard was gone within another page, eyes closing and staying that way for good. Claire felt her heart clench, chest tight as she watched her sweet boys finally sit still and remain quiet. The twins beside her were grunting in their sleep but that was nothing to the constant noise that rattled throughout their home. Four boys. She couldn’t believe it. If they had known that’s where their life would have led all those years ago, she would have thought it all an erratic fantasy.

It was true. Owen Grady and Claire Dearing had gotten married, built a home and brought four wild little boys into the world. She knew the gender of their fifth child, wasn’t supposed to but their well-meaning neighbour had let it slip.

Katie had offered to throw Claire a gender reveal party. She was high on the idea, excited and a little mournful that it was the last baby her friends would have. They had four boys and like with each pregnancy, there was a fifty-fifty chance the baby was a girl. It was all Owen wanted, more than anything in the world, was to have a baby girl of his own.

In confirming a few ideas she had, Katie had let it slip. The secret she knew. The gender of Baby Dearing-Grady #5. Claire tried to forget it, tried to pretend she hadn’t heard. But the confirmation had been stuck in her head for two days and it wouldn’t die out.

Watching her boys and listening to her husband Claire couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed. The tears burned her eyes, her lungs seized, holding onto her breath a little too tight. He was a good dad. Their boys were noisy but patient, kind, empathetic. They were going to grow into strong young men that would continue to cherish those in their lives. Owen deserved so much for the effort he put in. He deserved the little girl he had been dreaming about long before they met. His dreams had altered, his need for a daughter growing now that his wife was a dynamo, Owen once explaining that he just needed a piece of her that would grow to look and be exactly like her mother. He never wanted the world to go without a Claire Dearing.

She had argued that their boys could do that. She saw herself in their hearts and their minds. They caught his sense of humour but it was her quick wit mixed with it. Claire had warned that there was a chance — if they had a daughter — that she would turn out exactly like her father or be an amalgamation of them both. He was willing to risk that chance.

She loved him for that.

It wasn’t until Owen finished the chapter that he noticed she was quietly crying beside him.

‘Whoa, hey, what’s wrong?’ He asked, all concern, book tossed to the floor with a quiet thud as his hand found her arm over the body of their youngest sons.

‘You’re such a good dad.’ Claire could barely see his face through her blurry blue eyes. A sob was climbing its way up her throat, the woman desperate for it not to break and wake her sleeping sons. ‘It’s a girl.’ She told him so quietly Claire feared it was all in her head. Owen blinked when she did, eyes clearing to catch the shock on his face. He didn’t move. ‘Katie accidentally let it slip.’ The silence continued. ‘You’re getting your baby girl.’ Her eyes watered again, voice wet as a small cry slipped free.

She could hear Owen gaping, mouth opening and closing, unable to find the words until both his hands were on her face and his lips on hers. She didn’t know how he did it with the small bodies between them but he was kissing her, ferociously, their faces wet and tasing of salt.

‘Yeah?’ He asked the only thing he was capable of. Claire nodded. ‘I — I can’t —‘ He trailed off, hands squeezing her face before they fluttered down her arms, gripping here and there. She wanted to remember the look on his face for the rest of her days but Claire couldn’t see him between her tears. She felt his hands, one holding steady on the roundness of her belly that was starting to make her fear their child being another big boy. His other hand tugged at her shirt, pulling it over her prominent bump so his fingers could have contact with her skin. His lips were on her stomach in a heartbeat, peppering all over the way he had done a hundred times over the last eight years. ‘A girl?’ He asked again and she nodded. ‘Claire, I — I love you so much, babe. I love our boys. I would have loved another one. But, a girl?!’ His words stopped, choking sound filtering from his throat before it turned into a cry. ‘I’m so glad we fucked up and got another chance at this.’

She hit him at the mention of their misinformation concerning his vasectomy, her small fist landing against the side of his arm as hard as she could swing. Owen barely moved. Claire hardly cared. She had done the one thing she thought impossible; Claire Dearing had rendered her husband speechless for longer than thirty seconds.

‘Mama?’ It was Hunter’s concerned voice, Claire wiping the tears from her eyes as she looked over at her second boy, sitting up on the end of the bed. She felt the twins stir beside her, their grizzles growing louder as Bernie was quick to follow with bleary-eyed confusion. She couldn’t be upset that they were awake, they needed to be moved into their own beds eventually.

‘It’s okay.’ She told them, Marshall and Ryan wiggling past their dad to climb into their mother’s lap, fitting themselves around her growing middle.

‘You’re getting a sister!’ Owen told them, a smile splitting his face in half as he pushed his weight against the mattress and bounced with complete glee.

‘We were supposed to wait until Katie’s party.’ Hunter told them, confusion knitting itself between his eyebrows, the boy deflated, almost disappointed. Claire nodded, small laugh on her lips. Bernie drew their attention, eldest boy sitting in the middle of the bed, lip curled, fingers pressed to his mouth. His tears were hot and heavy, slipping down his cheeks as his throat crackled.

Claire reached for him, immediately trying to soothe her eldest boy as she asked if he was okay. ‘I really really wanted a little sister.’ He cried, leaning into Claire’s touch as he shuffled over to bury his head against his mother’s neck. Claire’s hand slipped through his dirty blonde hair, catching the long strands that were in desperate need of a trim. Marshall grunted, elbow sliding back into his older brothers ribs as Bernie shoved him back, quietly reassuring the youngest of his place in the sibling hierarchy. The oldest Grady boy was as rough and tumble just like the others. He started the game, but once the others came alone it was evident to Owen and Claire that Bernard was the softest of their boys. He took his role as eldest seriously and used to nurture his brothers and well as discipline them. However, he wasn’t afraid to get rough. If they hit him, he would hit them back, would yell at the same pitch, would get agitated and impatient all the same.

Owen reached a hand between the two boys, separating their small fight before it got to hands-on, shoves turning into fists until their mother got hurt in the process. He couldn’t count on two hands the number of times they had each gotten a strong fist to the face.  

He was beyond ready for a little girl. Something calm and sweet in the midst of all this chaos.  His body was still shaking with the news. Maybe Claire was right. Four kids were enough. Three was where the line should have been drawn but twins weren’t something he thought to plan for. ‘C’mere, Marsh.’ He reached for the boy, plucking him right from Claire's arms as Owen bounced him on his hip. ‘Are you excited?’ He asked the boy who only rested his head on Owen’s shoulder.

‘Brother.’ He told him, pointing at Ryan who was climbing to a wobbly stand on his mother’s legs, hand on her chest to steady himself.

‘That’s your brother, yeah.’ Owen confirmed, kissing the boy’s head as he held a flat palm out for Ryan, the boy wobbling towards it before Owen scooped him up with his empty arm. ‘You’re gonna get a sister.’ He was crying again, voice unaffected as the tears steadily fell down his face. ‘Do you think that’ll be fun?’ The twins nodded, blonde curls bouncing on their heads as Owen turned to his wife to catch her watching them with awe.

‘We’re crazy.’ She told him, voice quiet, barely there in what had been the snoozy bubble of their bedroom. Five kids. Four boys and a little girl. There had been a point in her life where Claire was sure she wouldn’t have any children, let alone four with their fifth on the way.

‘You’re just figuring that out?’ Owen flashed her a grin. He was standing by Claire’s side of the bed, a toddler on each hip as he bounced them steadily, boys mirroring each other with blonde heads on his shoulder.

Claire shook her head. ‘Oh no, I figured that out when I let you keep Daisy.’ The cow that was currently out to pasture on their property, happily munching on the grass — and the daisies the boys liked to feed her — often found resting near the fence that bordered the chicken coop. Claire Dearing realised she lost the plot when it clicked that her husband had slowly integrated her life into farm living.

The boys loved it. She couldn’t really complain. That, or as his Mama said, she was so often pregnant most of her complaining was focused on swollen ankles and growing bellies that she didn’t have time to notice he had turned the city girl into a country mouse.

‘We need ice-cream!’ Owen announced, sounding exactly like her hyper boys in the middle of the afternoon. Claire shook her head but Owen wasn’t looking, his eyes were jumping from each boy’s face and back again. ‘And milkshakes! Strawberry milkshakes!’ That got their attention, Bernie and Hunter, on their knees, bouncing on the bed and ready to leap right off it.

Claire’s voice was low when she caught his attention just to level him with a stern look. ‘It’s bedtime.’ Owen laughed, waving her off like all four boys hadn’t just been asleep, almost ready to be carried off into their beds.

‘We’re having a girl, Claire! It deserves a milkshake.’ His face was drawn in serious lines other than the smile her husband couldn’t subdue. There would be no arguing with him.

‘You have to put them to bed.’ She warned. ‘And all tummy aches and tantrums tomorrow are yours and yours alone.’ Owen nodded eagerly. He had already been waiting on her hand and foot since she told him they would be having a fifth baby. Bedtime and tummy aches were nothing new to his routine.

‘I’ll bring one up for ya.’ He grinned, bending to kiss his wife’s cheek as Bernie jumped off the bed, his feet hitting the floor with a heavy thud as Claire cringed for his ankles. Marshall was placed on his feet as Ryan clung to his father’s shirt, refusing to let go while each boy followed him out of the room like eager little ducks. What was better than dessert when they should be sleeping?

Claire sighed, hands running over her rounding belly she had started to think would be another boy. She was going to get up, follow her husband and her sons when the sheets rustled beside her. Hunter had stayed behind.

‘Don’t you want to go make milkshakes?’ She asked, smile soft and encouraging.

Hunter shrugged, fingers twitching in his lap as his mother watched him carefully. ‘I don’t want a milkshake.’ He told her, face almost drawn in a full frown. ‘I don’t want another baby.’ It was the first she had heard those words. At six months pregnant, it was a little late for Hunter to voice disapproval. Claire needed that voice months ago when she wasn’t sure if they were making the right decision or not. Hunter’s disinterest in another sibling wasn’t completely out of the blue. If she had looked, it had always been there. When they told the boys she was pregnant again he had sighed deeply, disappointed and tired before he pulled away from everyone and went to his room. With four boys, they were already struggling to keep on top of them. Her mother's guilt kicked in, terrible feeling stirring in her gut when she realised they hadn’t been checking in on the boy's feelings as thoroughly as they ought.

‘It’s not so bad.’ She told him, unsure of what to say. Their numbers grew quickly and before now neither of their older boys had protested. ‘You won’t have to share a room.’ She told him, nudging the boys' side and hoping that was enough to convince him. ‘What are you most worried about?’

The boy watched his fingers in his lap, unable to look at her. ‘You’re gonna be with the baby all the time and not us and … and … and we won’t get to see you cause they’re sleepin’ or eating and that uses up all your day.’ He stopped, breathing through his open mouth as his fingers tugged on the string in his pyjama pants.

He was only three when the twins were born and despite being completely blind sighted by double the number of infants Claire and Owen both thought they managed newborns and their older two sons well enough. She couldn’t quite put her finger on whether Hunter was talking from experience or simply expressing what he feared would happen.

‘It will be like that sometimes. Babies need a lot of attention especially when they first come home. But, Scooby,’ the use of his pet name pulled the boys' attention. ‘I promise dad and I will make time for each of your boys individually, okay?’ She waited for his nod. ‘If you’re feeling left out you need to tell us, okay?’ Another nod. Satisfied, Claire pulled the boy to her side, giving him a tight squeeze and a kiss on the head. ‘Lets go make sure your father and brothers aren’t destroying the kitchen.’ She gave him one last squeeze before they both got up, Hunter close to her side as they followed the sounds of the blender and laughing little boys.

[squirenonny]

How you even get people interested your fics, asking for a friend thanks

Aw, man, isn’t that a question for the ages?

So I’m gonna preface this by saying that there’s no magic quick-fix to attract more readers (however much we all wish there were.) Writing for the big ships or posting a fic featuring a popular trope/AU when it’s popular is going to get you more readers than writing niche fics, but chasing trends isn’t going to make you happy and it might even hurt the quality of your work. When you post and whether there was some big fandom or IRL event that drew attention away from the newly published pages (or flooded them, burying your fic under ten pages of Klance week ficlets or whatever) can also play a big role.

Secondly, and I know you’re probably not going to like hearing this, try not to worry too much about numbers like hits/kudos/bookmarks/reviews. They don’t mean as much as you think, and they aren’t a reflection on your skill as a writer or the value of your story. The best thing to do is to find some other way to measure success–maybe it’s how many words you’ve written, maybe it’s whether you stick to a consistent update schedule. Maybe it’s reaching that scene you’ve been dying to write for forever. But make sure it’s something that’s in your control, because depending on the faceless masses for validation sucks, and you deserve better.

Okay, on to some advice for attracting readers.

1. Rework your summary. Confession time: I hate writing summaries. Hate it. I’m already not good with short form and trying to sum up a story in a hundred words or less is even worse. But it’s one of the most important skills for a writer to learn, since it’s your one shot to get people interested enough to click that link. If you’re stuck, here are some suggestions, with examples of how I’ve used them for my own stories.

Pick a (short!) excerpt from your piece. Maybe a brief exchange of dialogue, maybe the opening line, maybe something else. It should be something that doesn’t require context to understand and that makes people want to find out what happens next (or what led up to this moment.) Example:

This psychic—Lance the Lucid, according to the posters, and Keith wasn’t even going to comment on that—was a charlatan, plain and simple, and Keith kind of wanted to punch him. Sure, Lance knew how to put on a show, but Keith doubted there was anything more to the act than charm and dramatic flair.

Pidge sighed, catching Keith’s eyes. “At this point, they’re pretty much our only hope.”

If you’re writing an AU, especially a canon divergence AU, put the focus on what you’re changing. Example:

Shiro used to dream of Earth. That was before the Arena, before Haggar, before he joined the Galra army. At least he has an ally, a Galra officer named Keith. Together they plan to bring down Zarkon’s empire from the inside.

Matt never thought he’d see his family again. Then he crash-lands on Earth and Pidge rescues him from Garrison custody. But his homecoming is short-lived. Now the Holt siblings, along with Lance and Hunk, must find the Voltron lions and free the universe from Galra control.

Or: Galra!Keith, double agent!Shiro, red paladin!Matt, black paladin!Allura, full series AU.

If you’re writing something tropey, or a twist on a cliche, maybe highlight that. Example:

[following a short description of plot] Canonverse Soulmate AU with romantic and platonic soulmates (and some gray areas in between)

Sometimes the simplest thing to do, especially for shorter stories, is to do a one-two punch in your summary. The set-up and the punchline. The scenario and the twist. The status quo and the catastrophe. Think “Long ago, the four nations lived in harmony. Then, everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked.” Or better yet, the next part of that intro–defining the Avatar and then hitting us with “and then he vanished for a hundred years whoops.” Whatever you do, keep it short. Example:

When Keith was seven years old, he spent a year in La Quinta with a boy named Lance, the best friend he ever had. Ten years later, Lance and Keith reunite at the Garrison–only Keith doesn’t remember who Lance is.

The most important thing to keep in mind is that shorter is (usually) better, but you want to include enough to hook readers’ attention. It’s hard, I know, but keep working at it and it’ll get easier. Seriously–write five completely different summaries for your fic, all under 100 words. Give yourself a 5 or 10 minute limit for each so you don’t agonize too much. Set them aside for a while, then come back and see what works. Or write a list of all the things you’re most excited about in a given piece, cut out any major spoilers, and try to work one or two of the others into your summary.

2. Be strategic about your tags. If you’re posting on AO3, use tags people are going to search. Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, any tropes that feature prominently, any relationships (especially gen ones) that are a major focus. Be wary of overtagging–Shatt shippers, for example, know all too well how common it is to search for Shatt and turn up only Klance fics with a passing mention of Shiro and Matt going on a date. But plenty of people search for specific tags in trying to find new stories. Use that.

Similarly, if you post on Tumblr, use your tags efficiently. The first five tags on a post are the ones that the post will show up in (i.e. if you have a tag tracker or go to tumblr.com/tagged/____) Tumblr’s search looks at the first twenty tags, I believe. So use your first five tags for either the most popular or the most niche aspects of your fic. (i.e. tagging it “klance” will have a larger potential audience, though it’ll get buried pretty quickly; tagging “matt holt” or “shatt” gives you a much smaller potential audience, but one that’s more starved for content so will probably click your link at a higher rate.) Prioritize, and leave your organization tags/tag commentary for after.

3. Your first chapter should pack a punch. This one may be a little harder to put into practice if you have an existing fic you’re trying to drum up interest in, but it’s worth keeping in mind. If your summary and tags get people through the door, your first chapter (in a multichapter fic)/your first few paragraphs (for any fic) is where people decide whether or not this is worth reading. Goals to strive for:

Your first line, or at most your first paragraph, should hook reader’s interest. It should ask an implicit question–what’s happening? How did we get here?

(the equivalent of) Your first page (a couple hundred words, tops) should establish the situation and forward momentum. Diving straight into action with no context can be confusing, but lingering too long on exposition can make people tune out before they get to the good part. I’ve heard it said that the first 250 words should establish three things: character, context, and motive. Who are we focused on, what’s happening right now, and why does it matter? There are exceptions to every rule, of course, but make sure you know why you’re deviating if you decide to do so.

Your first chapter (assuming you have more than one) should leave people wanting more. Don’t leave them in the middle of the set-up, or they may not be motivated to continue. But don’t give them everything they need to see where this is going, or they won’t bother waiting to find out.

**Update: There’s now a follow-up post talking a little bit more about how to start a story, with examples!**

4. Persistence is key. Out of all the advice I can give you, this one’s going to be the hardest to follow, I’m sure. It can feel like you’re throwing words at a void and getting nothing back. Sometimes you have a real slow start. Sometimes you’re writing self-induldgent rarepare stuff, and it seems like you and two other people are the only ones who ship it–and those other two never comment.

The thing is, writing fic (especially as a newcomer or writing niche fic) is like playing Marco Polo at a death metal concert. Not only are you shouting into a sea of noise, but you’re also trying to find the relative handful of people who are going to answer. But here’s the thing: if you yell “Marco” once and get no response, then go home, you’ll never find those other people. If you keep yelling–maybe stay in one spot and yell over and over, maybe wander around calling out every so often–you’ll find someone, and then you’ll find someone else, and then maybe someone else will start shouting with you and find three more people. It starts slow, but it builds momentum.

In terms of fic, though, what does that mean? It means keep writing. Maybe keep hammering away at this one fic–excellent if it’s something you’re excited about, something you need to write no matter what. You keep putting it out there and you’ll start to beat back the wave of random chance that conspires to bury your fic because of weird posting times or an onslaught from a fandom event.

Maybe write a bunch of shorter fics, participate in bangs and exchanges and other events. You might hook readers with your Klance soulmate AU that you did for a secret santa, then tempt them into trying your other stuff (true story.) You might make friends by chatting in a big bang’s discord, and they can help you write more attention-grabbing summaries, or can signal boost on Tumblr. (Or just be that one person who stans your writing and keeps you motivated through low hit counts on AO3.) Or you might just hit a whole bunch of people’s rarepair/nich buttons and start building a following that way.

Or maybe it means going a little more off the rails. Try a different fandom. Write original fiction. Write an 80k Marauders-at-Hogwarts fic for yourself, edit it, and only then start posting a chapter a week so you can grow your reader base without the low number of comments chipping away at your motivation because joke’s on you, hit counter. I already have the next chapter done. And the one after that, and all of them, so they’re still coming even if no one’s reading. ha-ha! (Also a true story.)

Look, the point is, building a reader base is hard, and it’s frustrating, and a lot if it is based on luck and fandom trends, and you’re always going to want to get caught up in the numbers. Even once you have readers, you might get frustrated because the tropey shipfic with a shoddy plot that you BS’d your way through has ten times as much love as the lovingly crafted, well-plotted AU that you’ve poured literally thousands of hours into. Because writers are all starved for feedback, and with the exception of people lucky enough (or unlucky enough) to hit a fandom sweet spot and get shot straight into the realms of That One Fic Everyone Knows About–with the exception of those freak accidents of fate, the people who have sizable followings are almost always people who just plain love to write and do it regardless of what anyone else says or does.

So don’t write for the readers. Write for yourself first, and love what you write. Write stories that need to be told. Stories you can’t bear not to tell–because when you care that much about a story, it shows, and when the right people find your story, they’re going to love that you love it. Trust me. The right people are out there. You just have to keep shouting until you find them.

[rainforest-rosegold]

Day 5: Time

Read it on AO3!

Commander Katie Holt, the Galaxy Garrison’s foremost researcher and programmer, tapped away at her computer in her office with the lights off, as was the case more often than not.  Gone were the days of charging across the universe as a Paladin of Voltron.  Now her job was to update Earth’s sadly lacking technology enough for her home planet to connect with the rest of the galaxy.  Her job was interesting enough, she supposed, and it was definitely important, but even twenty years after the end of the war, it still felt like a bit of a letdown.

Knock.  Knock.  Knock.

“Go away!”  Whoever it was, they could wait until her current project was finished.

“Commander Holt, this is important!”  Iverson.  She wondered what the headmaster of the academy could possibly want with her.

“Come back tomorrow,” Holt griped.

“But Piiiidge!” whined a younger voice -- the one voice at the Garrison that could have changed her mind.

“Fine, you can come in,” Holt relented.  “Just keep it short, and leave Iverson outside.”

The door creaked open, and in came a boy of fifteen with a slight build, dark skin, pure white hair, and triangular violet markings edging his eyes.  Though small for his age, he was already taller than Holt.  Closing the door behind himself, he got straight to the point.  “You haven’t been using your communicator, have you.”  It was more an accusation than a question.

“I had to take it apart temporarily to study the components,” Holt apologized.  “Why?”  It seemed a strange question when she hadn’t heard from the Castle in years.

Alex Kogane held out his own Altean communicator.  “Mom needs you.”

Immediately Holt was on high alert.  Taking the communicator from Alex, she brought up the holographic screen to see Allura looking very agitated indeed.  “Hello, Pidge,” said the princess.

“Allura,” Holt greeted.  “What is this about?”

Allura cut straight to the chase.  “We need Voltron.  There’s no time to explain.  We’ve been trying to get hold of you for days.”

“We?” Holt inquired, expecting it to mean Allura, Keith, and possibly Coran.

Allura pressed a button and the camera zoomed out to reveal Keith, Coran, Hunk, Lance, Shiro, and even Matt.  “Yes.  We.”

Holt scowled.  “Voltron is in the past.  I don’t have time to chase down my teenage years when I have an important project to finish.”

Allura opened her mouth to protest, but Keith beat her to it.  “This isn’t about you.  This is about the universe, which needs saving again.  It’s not up for debate.”

Holt sighed.  “Okay, but just this once.  What are your coordinates?  I can have a ship there within a few days.”

“We don’t have time for that,” Allura insisted.  “Lance?”

“Already on it.”  Lance winked at her, as smooth as ever, and headed for the Blue Lion’s hangar.  “See you soon, Pidgey-Pidge.”

Holt shut off the communicator.  “Thanks, Alex.”  Alex nodded and opened his mouth to say something, but Holt cut him off.  “You’re not coming.”

“Why not?”

“If Allura needs Voltron, that means it’s dangerous out there.  Besides, you’ve got school to think about.”

Alex set his jaw stubbornly, and Holt was reminded forcefully of herself at that age.  “That never stopped you.”

Holt laughed aloud.  “True enough.  Fine, take it up with your parents.  I won’t stop you.”

After what felt like a year but was probably only five minutes, an alarm began to blare.  Holt burst from her office, followed shortly by Alex, and charged through the halls down to the main level and out into the desert surrounding the Garrison.  Military personnel had surrounded an alien craft with an unusual design -- it was styled after a robotic blue lion, of all things.

The Lion’s mouth opened, and Holt burst through the line of soldiers to run in.  “Commander!” one of them cried.  “What are you doing?”

“No time to explain!” she called cheerfully over her shoulder, feeling more alive than she had in years.  Alex pounded up the ramp after her, and Blue’s mouth closed, depositing them both in the cockpit.

“Hey, Pidge,” Lance said with an enormous grin.  “Long time no see.”

Holt found herself at a loss for words.  What do you say to the sweetheart you haven’t spoken with in two decades?  “It’s Commander Holt these days.  Or Katie.”

Lance laughed and launched Blue, leaving the soldiers open-mouthed on the ground.  “You’ll always be Pidge to me, and I think the rest of Team Voltron agrees.”

“I call her Pidge,” Alex offered, and Lance seemed to notice him for the first time.

“You little sneak,” Lance accused, smirking.  “Looks like you’re just as much of a rule-breaker as your old man.”

“And that’s a problem why, exactly?”  Alex looked exactly like Keith always had whenever he did something impulsive.

Lance took one hand off the controls to give Alex a high five.  “It’s not.”

Holt -- or Pidge, now, as it seemed she was returning to her past -- leaned over Lance’s shoulder to watch what he was doing and felt a rush of nostalgia.  “Earth has advanced a lot, but I don’t think it’ll ever have anything as elegant as the Lions’ technology.”

Lance glanced away from the controls for a moment to meet Pidge’s eyes.  “It has you.”

Oh.  Pidge hoped she wasn’t blushing.  “Picking up right where you left off, I see,” she commented, trying to maintain her composure.

“Of course.”  Lance’s tone was equal parts earnest and mischievous.  “Why, is there a problem with that?”

Pidge allowed herself to lean into him, resting her head on his shoulder, but gave no reply.

Alex eyed the pair of them.  “Is this… are you two… why did nobody mention this?”

Pidge pulled away.  “It’s nothing.”  I have a life, and it doesn’t have room for romance in it.  She tried to ignore the hurt expression on Lance’s face.

Tension hung in the air for the rest of the ride, and Pidge was extremely relieved when they finally docked at the Castle of Lions and headed up to the bridge to meet the others.

“Pidge!”  Pidge barely had time to prepare herself before Hunk enfolded her in a tight bear hug.  “It’s been so long!  How are you doing?”

As soon as she could breathe, Pidge gently extricated herself from Hunk’s grasp.  “I’m all right.  Hey, everyone.”

Her friends chorused a greeting.  Aside from Matt and Shiro, whom she saw regularly at family gatherings, it had been years since she had seen any of Team Voltron, which she now realized was a mistake.  “It’s been way too long,” she commented regretfully.

Suddenly Allura’s eyes widened.  “Why did you bring Alex with you?”

Alex answered for himself.  “I wanted to come home.  Besides, don’t you think I could learn more from Dad and all of you than the Garrison, anyway?”

Allura and Keith exchanged a glance.  “He’s got a point,” Keith finally conceded.

“Is dropping out of the Garrison just the popular thing to do these days?” Shiro complained.

Matt nudged his husband.  “Not everyone can be you.”

Before the team had a chance to get caught up with each other’s lives, Allura spoke up.  “I hoped I’d never have to say this again, but the universe needs Voltron.”

“Is it the Galra again?” Hunk asked.

Keith shook his head.  “Of course not!  The Galra are some of our greatest allies!”  He took a deep breath, then continued in a calmer tone.  “An inter-reality rift appeared in the Phrygis Quadrant a few quintants ago.  Only Voltron can close it.”

“How can you be sure of that?” Matt inquired.

“Because only Voltron can get close to it without being vaporized,” Keith explained impatiently.

“So let me get this straight,” said Pidge slowly.  “You want us to form Voltron for the first time in twenty years and try to figure out how to deal with something that has obliterated anything that gets close?”

Allura nodded grimly.  “If you’d rather not, I’m sure we can find someone else to--”

“Sounds like fun.”

“I’m picking up some unusual flares of quintessence,” Pidge reported.  “We must be getting close.”

“Any sign of those… creature things that infected Zarkon and Haggar?” Lance inquired.

Pidge frowned.  “I don’t know if Green’s sensors can detect those, which kind of makes no sense now that I think about it.  I’ll have to make some modifications…”

“It sounds like you’re planning on staying with Voltron from now on,” Lance commented, his voice heartbreakingly hopeful.

“I meant for the next Green Paladin,” Pidge clarified, even though she hadn’t.  Focus.  Just one mission, then the era of Voltron is over for good.  She had been relieved to be done at the end of the war, but now the thought made her sad.

“Everyone be on guard,” Shiro warned.  “It’s been a long time since we’ve formed Voltron, and we don’t know enough about what we’re dealing with to rush in headlong.”

“Looking at you, Keith,” Lance joked.

“I dunno,” Hunk protested.  “I think being married to Allura has mellowed him out.”

“If anything could mellow Keith out,” Pidge countered.

“Would you stop talking about me like I’m not here?”

“Everybody be quiet!”  The voice was Allura’s.  “We’re getting close.”

“Close enough to see it,” Keith pointed out, and Pidge realized he was right: through her viewport she could see a distant but rapidly approaching patch of brilliant light.  As they drew closer, she began to discern dark, indistinct shapes flitting across and through the patch of light, which she realized was easily the size of the teludav they had created to transport Zarkon’s flagship all those years ago.

“There’s no way we’ll survive getting close to that in our Lions,” said Shiro, and Pidge’s heart thrummed with excitement as she realized what he would say next.  “Form Voltron!”

It felt as natural as it had twenty years ago, the five Paladins perfectly in sync with one another.  A thrill ran through Pidge as her Lion, now in arm form, clicked into place in the mighty defender.  She heard Lance let out a whoop of pure joy.

“I’m a leg again!” Hunk cried delightedly.

Its separate parts moving in perfect harmony, Voltron soared forward toward the rift. As they approached, the dark shapes coalesced into a purplish blob that seemed to suck all the light from its surroundings.  The blob darted toward Voltron, slicing at it like some ghastly self-propelled weapon.

“Form sword!” Shiro commanded.  Pidge heard Keith plunge his bayard into the special slot in his Lion that always appeared when a weapon was needed.  The hands joined together for a moment, a blade of energy appearing between them and swiftly hardening into Voltron’s deadly weapon.  Keith swung the blade at the dark entity, creating bright flashes wherever blade met beast.

As Voltron’s left arm, Pidge wouldn’t need to be completely focused on the battle unless the shield was needed, so she used the time to study the rift, sifting through all the information she had stored in the Green Lion’s computer as a teenager.  The information on rifts was sadly lacking.  The rift where they had discovered the comet made from the same material as Voltron had been quite small, and had closed itself as soon as the comet was removed.  King Alfor had closed the rift on the Galra home planet by destroying the planet itself.  Neither option seemed viable, and Pidge cursed under her breath.  If only they had more information!

Pidge’s attention snapped back to the present as Voltron was thrown backward by the rift creatures.  Forming the shield to give herself a bit of extra time, she hastily explained her findings.  “Any ideas?”

“You’re supposed to be the idea guy,” Hunk protested.  “Lady.  Whatever.”

“We don’t have enough information!” Pidge practically snapped.

“Actually, I think we might.”  She could hear the faintest hint of Lance’s characteristic smirk in his voice.  He proceeded to present a plan that was so crazy, it just might succeed.

Pidge spoke without thinking.  “Lance, I love you.”

Stunned silence.

After a tick that stretched into eternity, Shiro broke the tension.  “What are we waiting for?  Let’s do it!”

“We’ll finish this conversation later,” Lance declared.

Keith’s bayard was already active, of course, but at a signal from Shiro, each of the others inserted their own bayard into the slots to form Voltron’s largest, most powerful sword.  With a bit of experimentation, the Paladins found that if they swiped from the rift outward, it widened, but if they sliced inward, it left streaks of darkness where regular space returned.  A few slashes severed the rift into three separate scars in the fabric of space, each small enough to pop closed on its own within five ticks.

“You’re a genius, Lance,” Keith declared, then added, “Wow.  I never thought I’d hear myself say that.”

“Woohoo!  Lance saves the day once again!”

“Do you want me to take you back to Earth, Pidge?”

Pidge wasn’t sure.  She appreciated Allura’s offer, and now that they had closed the rift, the option was definitely on the table, though she wasn’t sure how much it appealed to her.  “I don’t know,” she finally said.  “I mean, aren’t the others going back?  Hunk has his restaurant, and Shiro and Matt have built a life together…”

“I’m staying here,” Hunk asserted.  “Can you believe that for most of his life, Alex has been eating either food goo or what passes for food at the Garrison?  I mean, that’s just criminal!”

“I eat real food whenever we stop on a planet,” Alex protested.

Hunk waved him off.  “Details.”

Matt put a hand on Pidge’s shoulder, and she was glad to have her brother there.  “Shiro and I will go wherever you do,” he assured her.  “I went three years without my sister once, and I’d rather not repeat the experience.”  Shiro nodded in agreement.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?  Like, alone?”  Lance seemed impervious to the significant looks everyone was giving him and Pidge as they left the bridge together.

As soon as the door shut behind them, Pidge stopped and turned to face Lance.  “So, what did you need?”

“Earlier, when we were closing the rift… you said you loved me.”

Pidge nodded.  There was no taking back what she had said.

When it became obvious that she wasn’t going to say anything, Lance continued hesitantly.  “Did… did you mean it?”

Pidge paused, considering the question.  In the old days of Voltron, the answer would have been an easy yes.  Now, though, she had her job, her duty to her planet… Do I have anything holding me back that truly matters to me?  With no small amount of surprise, she realized she didn’t.  “Of course I meant it.”

Lance still looked nervous for some reason.  “In that case, I have a question for you-- something I wish I would have asked you twenty years ago.  I feel like I lost twenty years of my life not asking, and it’s high time--”

“Lance.  You’re rambling.”

“Sorry.  Anyway…”  Lance dropped to one knee, and although she had sort of guessed it was coming, Pidge’s breath caught in her throat.  “Pidge -- Katie -- will you marry me?”

Pidge opened her mouth to respond and found herself blindsided by a sob.  Laughing and crying all at once, she pulled Lance to his feet and into a hug.  “Yes,” she murmured into his shirt, so softly even she could barely hear it.  “Yes,” she said, pulling back to meet his ocean-colored eyes.  “Yes!” she cried, so loudly and enthusiastically she felt sure the whole galaxy could hear.

Lance cupped her face in one hand, closing his eyes and leaning down to press his lips to hers.  Threading her arms around his neck, she kissed him back, and if Zarkon himself had come back from the dead and tried to attack her, she wouldn’t have noticed or cared.  This was right; this was home, and maybe it was twenty years too late… or maybe, just maybe, it came right on time.

[oh-mother-of-darkness]

asks (30)

@novelty--night said: 

Can you recommend any angsty dick Grayson fanfic?

I don’t really read other people’s fanfiction, so I’m afraid the only ones I can give you are mine :/ 

Those are here: 1 2 3 4 5

You might ask Dawn for some others? I think she would know

Anonymous said: 

Hi! I absolutely love your work. Can you please say anything about Steph? Maybe interactions with the Dead Robin Society? Please? Thank you! Your blog is AMAZING!!!!

The Steph content is here:

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 (hc)

1 2 3 (fic)

I’ll go ahead and save the ask for the next time I have Steph ideas :)

Anonymous said: 

I would very much like to join your ace crime-fighting squad, but I am rather tall and not good at concealing myself should hiding be necessary. What should I do?

Hm well we do have several non combat positions available in the organizational sector if that sort of thing interests you, but our standard training program includes a week of camouflage and concealment instruction, so I’m sure we can find some way to accommodate you.

I would also note that if you meet the (single) requirement for membership, you’re already largely invisible soooo

kpopfreaksgeneral submitted: 

Something good that has happened to me

So, short story before all this: i’m 20 years old with autism, and I’ve dropped out of highschool (or i think the danish equvilant to that) when i was about 16-17, because I struggled with keeping up with homework. I was thrown around in the system for years, not getting meds, not knowing what to do.

Last year, I was told about an educations program which is targetted at young people with autism. Basically, it’s made to be suited around how fast you learn, how many hours you can work a day and how you will function most optimally when working. It’s within a certain supermarket chain’s stores that I’ll be taught working in.

So far, it’s going great, I get to work, get taught in it, do something and I’ll have a secured work place afterwards, all over Denmark as long as it’s in one of the chain’s stores.

Also, I’m back on meds, not the some one’s as before, but I got my med’s back.

That’s really great!! I’m glad things are falling into place for you!

Anonymous said: 

something good, besides the obvious of seeing u on my dash: it was really nice and sunny today for the first time in a really long time and it was so warm i laid out in the sun with my roommates dog for a bit just to hang

Ooooh that sounds really relaxing

Anonymous said: 

I got full mark and a bonus for a subject I didn't study well for.. I'm grateful and I think I should study next time so I deserve it XD

Whoop for grades coming out better than expected :)

@shieldshawk said: 

I got kissed by a dog named Sirius Black. Because the people who come to my store are awesome nerds.

!!! Congrats on living the dream

Anonymous said: 

I was on a date that had gone sour this weekend, and I was ready to go back home and call it a loss. When! My friend called me and told me she got into a study abroad program and wanted me to come over and get drunk with her! We had a great time!!!

That sounds like fun! Sorry bout your date ://

@nightwing1536 said: I watched Gordon Ramsay make donuts on YouTube today so that was pretty good

nightwing1536 said: It's awesome whenever I get new glasses cause then oh shit things are clear again!!

nightwing1536 said: Finding Teen Titans and getting into DC Comics was a great thing for me

nightwing1536 said: Once I made myself hot chocolate when I was alone and it was really nice

nightwing1536 said: A lady I don't know very well asked how I was doing once because I was sleeping in my old teachers class room that she sometimes popped into and she was worried so that was a great reminder

nightwing1536 said: I got a pair of really nice dentist people when I had to get root canals! Only two. But they were so nice as my usual dentist guys are mean.

nightwing1536 said: I'm friends with the dentist root canal people now

nightwing1536 said: Eating corn is always a good thing that happens for me

nightwing1536 said: My teachers influenced made me know I'm more than what everyone else thought of me to be. Made me like art as one once said "...your art is really unique, don't ever give up on that." It was a girl with a mole smoking a cigarette. Terrible picture that I let him have but it means a lot to me

nightwing1536 said: Another teacher, the teach I hang with that's now my old teacher, tapped on my desk when I had him first time(known him before ish from club) and he said "If you wouldn't mind drawing me something so I could put it up on my wall? Your style is very unique and I like it." Not sure what my style was besides melting creatures and whatnot but it was nice, gave it to him at the end of the year and he says its nightmare fuel <3

nightwing1536 said: Another teacher told me I was good enough to be in her AP ceramics class, simply because of my dedication to it. I had never taken ceramics before and only ever made a few things in her club. She and I aren't very close this year but I wish we could have been. I'll write her a letter, it's what I did for all my teachers before.

nightwing1536 said: In 8th grade my science teacher said I had potential, I didn't care much at the time but he was a huge inspiration for me to live and continue. He was the first teacher I ever drew anything for, a pic of himself, I remember his head was too pointed in the picture.

nightwing1536 said: Finding you was a good thing too

That’s a lot of good stuff! Thank you <3

@silly-fuzzy-babies replied

Bill Potts on Doctor Who saved my entire life

Oh man I need to catch up then!

@cannibalfood replied

Im almost done college, just have exams left then i graduate, my gpa so far is 3.7, not great, but I'm studying hard for exams

Listen I think most people would agree that 3.7 is a reaaaaally good GPA. Congratulations!

@therealstephaniebrown replied

Well! I'm going in on May 4th to get a new tattoo! A really beautiful thigh piece. I also got in to see a doctor and am starting to take better care of my mental illnesses. Three medications so far to help balance things. Oh, and my boyfriend is flying out to Cali with me to meet my family so he can finally propose to me cx I hope you're okay <3

WHOA CONGRATS!! I’m doing okay now. I wasn’t so much last night, but I’ll be fine

@freres-toujours replied

I got the new Mass Effect game when it came out and I've been slowly working my way through it. I finished off a planet today, and this one was particularly satisfying.

I’m glad you’re having fun :)

@another-nameless-person said

I’m gender neutral and was really scared when I found out I was pregnant(months ago) that my family would treat my gender identity badly but…. They’re surprisingly concerned if they are being rude in any way? My mom even offered to buy me a binder for after I have my baby? Also, they’re all excited for my baby to grow up having someone as open about gender, sexuality and equality raise them? Which is a HUUUGE step for my family. So that’s really something that is really good until next month and I finally get to see my daughter :D

HOLY SHIT YOU’RE HAVING A BABY!!!! I’M SO EXCITED FOR YOU!!! CONGRATS!

@entrthematrix replied

I have been really sick these past two weeks and have not able to stomach any food so I've been on a liquid only diet. But, I had my first bit of real food for the first time yesterday and wasn't sick after, it is a real sign that I am getting better now.

Oh man I’m glad you’re getting better! That sounds terrible

@thelittlechibi replied

We recently released one of our birds into the wild, but he keeps hanging around the house, and last night he landed on my lap out of the blue. Ruined it by having a go at my face and leaving a scratch over my eye, but it's nice to know he's still safe and chill with us.

Whoaaaa that’s super interesting

@pallet-45 replied

I met you!! Ahaha wow that was lame

Aw thanks Danny <3

@minami-the-door-lord:

I saw a stray cat. It let me pet it.

Yoooo that sounds great I would love to pet a cat today

@richardgrays0n replied

One of my best friends just had a baby! And I got to meet him and hold him. He's adorable and so tiny. So very tiny. I love him already and I'm super proud to be his honorary aunt.

!!!!!!! Y’all I love babies so much

Thanks, guys! Y’all are really kind and helpful, and I super appreciate it <3

[ecotone99]

In the pines

Unfinished short story me and two friends are working on. We have never done anything like this want some feedback or help from more experienced writers.

Zachariah entry 1:

I’m gonna try to make what may be the last gather mission from the base, for liquor and ammunition. Lord knows, we will need both. We’ve already been rationing out the wild game as sparingly as possible. We hope to receive word tomorrow from General Lee regarding our next movements.

Silas may succumb to dysentery, poor fella, I told him not to drink from that stale creek because we are fresh out of shit paper. Who knows how long he will make it....

Alec entry 1:

To whom it may concern: Zachariah, Silas, Wyatt, and myself drew straws to see who would make the supply run. Turns out I’m not as lucky as my Mary belle once thought. I am writing this because I fear it may be the last time I can get this off my chest before we all soon catch what many are calling “the whooping willy”. I have slipped into a dark void and have been slowly poisoning the rest of the crew without their knowledge. I don’t know what has come over me but I have never felt so much joy and pure ecstasy in my life. I am actually glad I drew the short straw because it will prove easier to poison zachariah, Wyatt and Silas all the easier. If I make it back I will write again.

Zachariah entry 2:

To those who may come after:

I have a grave sense that brother Alec has taken a turn, towards Satan. He enjoys the nightly fires more and more, he doesn’t eat, and barely gets any sleep. He just walks through the forest at night babbling and laughing amongst the pines. I was cautious on the nigh of last when he brewed the coffee, smirking while Silas and Wyatt drank up. While it’s not known to all, I do not drink coffee, I just enjoy the feel of the steeped brew upon my face as I hold the cup close. Breathe in the warm robust coco fragrances, I find myself at peace.

Cautious I am, very cautious of Alec.

Alec entry 3:

For reassurance: I made it back to camp in one piece but I’m afraid Zachariah is on to me. The poison in his coffee seems to have no effect on him. He stares at me as if I’m a stranger even though we have known each other for quite some time. He looks at me like I’ve gone mad, I’ve been going on long walks with Mary belle in the woods but he claims Mary belle passed a fortnight ago. I know she’s there! She has to be how else would I know that Silas and Wyatt are planning on betraying me. It was her idea after all to start poisoning them! Mary Belle knows best she always has. She’s real. I know she’s real.

Zachariah entry 3:

Day 9:

As we approach what seems like an eternity, Day 14 isn’t so far off, or is it? We have remained together isolated in this vast loblolly pine forest. The hunting excursions produce less and less game each day. Are we depleting the resources we once knew to be surplus? I fear the coyotes have gotten wind of our fresh quail harvests, establishing a pack to hunt what is left. Could we be next? Silas and Wyatt have taken a terrible turn, alas, they will be nothing but table fare for those who gain the trail of our scent. Alec has grown a deep paranoia for myself as I always watch his moves carefully. This very well could be my last transmission should all the Wild Dogs get to me first.

Alec entry 4:

Day 12?

With each passing day I fear I may be losing my wits. My walks with Mary belle are becoming longer but I am beginning to think she is nothing more than a mere hallucination. The evidence of my insanity is becoming clearer and clearer in my eyes and of the crew. But what do I care, they are the ones who will suffer HA HA. Silas and Wyatt are on the verge of death and have never looked more appetizing. MAry belle said it would not be wise to eat unhealthy men but what does she know she isn’t even real! Strong willed Men can last 30 days without food but I crave to be a satisfied man instead. I don’t want to become a cannibal but I need something to alleviate the hunger. Maybe just a piece of the thigh! He won’t even notice if i am Quick about it. Zachariah even has a good family seasoning stored in his nap sack. I just can’t let him see he is not as open minded as I.

Cam entry 1:

Journal entry 1:

I don’t know how many days have gone by since the last contact with civilization. A week, two months, maybe even a year...at this point the days seem to blend with each other. every day the walls start to get closer and closer while I sit and stare into a never ending Tree line. My mind is breaking as I continue to grow weaker and weaker. Went down to the river around dawn (i think) today to harvest a meal when I noticed smoke over the horizon pouring into the sky. The voices in my mind tell me I shouldn’t but Deep down in my gut I know I must travel towards it. It’s my guiding light, the savior, the North Star telling me to follow... to warmth, safety... human contact. I return to the hunt, gather my wares and set off for the smoke

Zach entry 4:

Day 14:

As I sit by this fire; under the incandescent stars, I cannot help but to question, why is it that we are seeing with our own eyes, these troublesome affairs? My dear friends, Silas and Wyatt, lost their battle with what we believe to be Whopping Willy. They were both great men, friends, and soldiers. I do not know how I will bare having to write dear Sarah Anne and Ada Mae in regard to the passing of their beloved husbands. I plan to give them the proper burial at dawn. I have my thoughts on this wretched disease. Something so strange and so destructive, could NOT come from these here States of America. Perhaps a foreign invader has come to see the end of the world that is it to the West. I ask to my Lord above, “I hope you can provide us solution to this issue and that you ease my troubled mind for a nights rest”. I must get some sleep for my mind and body are beginning to slow like molasses on a frozen January morn. I shall return to write in a few days, hopeful that I make it until then.

Alec entry 5

Journal:

Journal:

Zachariah wouldn’t even look me in the eyes anymore. I didn’t blame him though. He did bare witness to me eating Wyatts rotting flesh throughout the night. But at last the hunger was gone. Mary belle said I shouldn’t eat meat infested with maggots but I thought they supplied a good seasoning HA HA especially with zachariahs bbq rub.

We had kept the fire all through the night and our days were spent mostly squabbling and drinking whatever bourbon and ale we had left. Sometime that afternoon we heard the crackling of sticks in the woods nearby. Mary belle! I thought. I knew it was her who else it could be. I took off into the woods

Cameron entry:

I don’t know how many days have gone by since the last contact with civilization. A week, two months, maybe even a year...at this point the days seem to blend with each other. every day the walls start to get closer and closer while I sit and stare into a never ending Tree line. My mind is breaking as I continue to grow weaker and weaker. Went down to the river around dawn (i think) today to harvest a meal when I noticed smoke over the horizon pouring into the sky. The voices in my mind tell me I shouldn’t but Deep down in my gut I know I must travel towards it. It’s my guiding light, the savior, the North Star telling me to follow... to warmth, safety... human contact. I return to the hunt, gather my wares and set off for the smoke.

Zach entry:

Day 14:

As I sit by this fire; under the incandescent stars, I cannot help but to question, why it is that we are seeing with our own eyes, these troublesome affairs? My dear friends, Silas and Wyatt, lost their battle with what we believe to be Whopping Willy. They were both great men, friends, and soldiers. I do not know how I will bare having to write dear Sarah Anne and Ada Mae in regard to the passing of their beloved husbands. I plan to give them the proper burial at dawn. I have my thoughts on this wretched disease. Something so strange and so destructive, could NOT come from these here States of America. Perhaps a foreign invader has come to see the end of the world that is it to the West. I ask to my Lord above, “I hope you can provide us solution to this issue and that you ease my troubled mind for a nights rest”. I must get some sleep for my mind and body are beginning to slow like molasses on a frozen January morn. I shall return to write in a few days, hopeful that I make it until then.

Alec entry:

Another Journal:

Zachariah wouldn’t even look me in the eyes anymore. I didn’t blame him though. He did bare witness to me eating Wyatts rotting flesh throughout the night. But at last the hunger was gone. Mary belle said I shouldn’t eat meat infested with maggots but I thought they supplied a good seasoning HA HA especially with zachariahs bbq rub. We had kept the fire all through the night and our days were spent mostly squabbling and drinking whatever bourbon and ale we had left. Sometime that afternoon we heard the crackling of sticks in the woods nearby. Mary belle! I thought. I knew it was her who else it could be. I took off into the woods.

Alec entry:

Another Journal Entry: As I crept into the woods I finally laid my eyes upon what was making the disturbance in the shrubbery. It was a man, a young man probably doesn't even remember the storm of 63. He was of short stature and didn’t look to weigh anymore than a hay bail. Who could he be? Our rescue? Or an enemy soldier? Could he have the whooping willys? I knew I had to keep my distance while remaining unseen. He was slowly approaching our camp with his long rifle shouldered (looked about the size of him). As we looked upon the man i couldnt help but wonder what he might taste like, Wyatt was three days dead when i ate him this looks like fresh meat ( I feel ashamed of this but my mouth began to water like a leaky faucet. Am I becoming a cannibal?) I told mary belle to shutup but I must have been too loud as the man unshouldered is rifle spotting me immediately. God damn you mary bellle and your fucking yapping. Woman could never keep her mouth shut. He told us to come on out now before theres any trouble “Ole cameron is the sharpest shooter on this side of the missouri”, I told him me and mary belle didnt mean no harm we just havent seen good folk in a while. He looked at me as if I was crazy everytime me and mary belle would engage eachother in our squibbling and our squabbling. I needed to get him into camp without sounding suspicous I had to tell him about Zachariah losing his mind in the woods and eating Wyatt, hes gone stir crazy you see he is a violent man with the devil in his eyes. ( i know mama raised me not to lie but the devil runs through my veinsnow he speaks for me. I am beginning to lose track of who I really am.) The young man seemed to believe me so i began to lead him back to camp and to that loon waiting by the fire HAHA. The Always waiting, always thinking, always plotting...Zachariah.

Zach entry:

Day 15:

I woke this morn to a fresh frost lain upon my blanket, the fire still slowly burning as I stretched my legs and wiped my frothed eyelids. Today is the day I’ve dreaded for 20 years of my life, the day whist I must lay my dear friend Wyatt to rest. May his soul be found in the everlasting as his body now just a cold heep of flesh. As I clothe and properly prepare for the nip of the cool air, I hear something in the distance. Thinking it was the pack of Yotes returning to devour Wyatts corpse, I grab my rifle and head out to move this burial along. When I reached Wyatt’s cold limp body, something tragic occurred. He had already been picked apart like the last chicken leg in the slave quarters!!!! What CREATURE could have done such?! Vultures? YOTES!? I felt a sickness come upon me, a nausea into my stomach. I spewed like a hot pot of roasting Joe, last nights meal all upon the cold ground. I am distraught as I cannot give my dear friend the respectful and proper burial he needs. Alec is nowhere to be found... he has gone mad, I can since it. Perhaps, upon his return I shall inquire more about the animalistic way in which Wyatt’s body was disposed.. I hope I write soon.. until then..

Cam entry:

While I wander into the Wilderness, I began to grow weary as the wind was throwing the smoke of a fire into different directions. Sending me into a confusion i haven’t felt in many years and a sense of a aimless wonder. But wait....what was that? I noise coming from a bush of twigs and berries...I yelled at the creature and pointed my rifle towards the disturbance. A millions thoughts poured into my heads as I wondered what could this be...to my surprise a man. A short man with a bulldog like physic, with tombstones for eyes, his hands shook and he talked as though there was two or three people around. His words were not entirely English but he had a way with them as his forked tongue could twist and turn them into sentences. Cuts all around his hands and feet and a sense of mind lost inside him...bye bye land. He looked barely alive but yet looked as though he had a proper meal...my suspicion of him grew. He invited me to come to his camp and set up shop there. As much as I ran the thought in my head of denying this man I knew he could be useful...for now. I followed suit with him to the “camp” as I figured this was where the smoke in the sky had made its home. I gripped my rifle tighter and tighter as we walked through the thicket, headed for an uncertain future but the only future worth taking... I must continue on.

Alec Entry:

As Mary Belle, Cameron, and myself emerged from the woods and into the sunlight I couldn't help but feel a sense of euphoria rush through my veins like mercury rising in a thermostat. I looked towards camp, noticing a cross made from two oak twigs on top a hill of freshly dug soil. I knew Zachariah had buried Wyatt, a friend we both once knew. Mary belle was worried my actions may have been discovered by our nosey friend. But Zachariah did not suspect any the wiser upon our arrival. Cameron introduced himself as a lonely traveller simply looking for companionship and a warm meal. (I intend on making him my warm meal HAHA). Zachariah was suspicious of this newcomer; he never trusts new comers, he hardly trusts me that ignorant fool. I'll eat both of them if I get a chance. What am I saying, I can't eat these people am I as crazy as they think I am. Coffee Coffee I need hot coffee!

Zach Entry:

Day 15 (cont..)

It is not normal that I double my entries in my dear journal, but today I have no choice. As I prepared Wyatts resting place in the cold damp crust of the Earth, I was interrupted by a loud laughter. Appeared unto my eyes were not 1, but 2 able bodies, trouncing through the pines towards camp. I quickly grabbed my rifle as I did not know if it were friend or foe. It was Alec, and a stranger. I gazed upon them to find the craziest look in Alec’s eye as he introduced his new “friend”. The young buck went by the name of Cameron. From the Ozark Mountains in Show Me state of Missorrrruh. This BOY could not be older than 19. Fresh from his mother's tit, I could still see the milk on his lower lip. This boy held onto his rifle tighter than Alec used to hold his dear Mary Belle, may she rest in peace. Cameron couldn't really tell us how or why he was rambling around through the forest, which raised my suspicions of him. Alec took him into camp as if this stranger was one of us, what fool Alec! We DO NOT KNOW THIS CHILD! Nevertheless, I continued to strike the soil, digging a proper hole to bury Wyatt. The day has grown old and night is shortly upon us. Perhaps with that rifle he clings to, Cameron has a steady and accurate hand, we need more meat. I think I will inquire to the young fella that we should embark on a hunting expedition as the evening falls, I shall get to know who Cameron really is. Lord, keep me safe during these uncertain times. Until I write again..

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Fantasy Over/Under: Picking sides in the Ameer Abdullah debate

Who knew Ameer Abdullah would be the subject of so much fantasy discussion? (AP)

Fantasy is a speculative game. Predict the future, and you look like a genius. Don’t, and you’re painfully human. Gazing into the crystal ball, here’s our view on three intriguing August over/unders.

[Now’s the time to sign up for Fantasy Football! Join for free]

Strangely, Ameer Abdullah is quite possibly the most divisive player currently in fantasy drafts. His zealots shout “MID-DRAFT STEAL” while skeptics preach “AVOID.” Where do you stand in the controversy? Will the Lions RB BREAKOUT or BUST in 2017?

Brad – BUST. For some unexplained reason, fantasy Twitter is willing to die on the Abdullah hill. When his name is brought up in conversation, tempers, over 140 characters, immediately flare. Though in line 200-plus carries, it’s somewhat maniacal to believe he’s this year’s Melvin Gordon. Outside of the alleged increased workload and film dissector comps to Devonta Freeman there is little to no evidence a statistical explosion is imminent. Zero.

The last time we saw him over a measurable sample size, as a rookie in 2015, he blew the pants off no one. On 143 carries he forced a mere 12 missed tackles, played a minor pass-game role and struggled protecting the football. His resulting 0.08 tackles avoided per attempt ranked No. 118 at the position. Not exactly a leg churner either (2.0 YAC in ’15), Abdullah lacks the essential talents all successful running backs need – jukes and power. Hurting his cause, he also isn’t the preferred short-field receiving option. That gig belongs to Theo Riddick, and to a lesser extent, Golden Tate. Throw in the possibility Zach Zenner may steal goal-line touches and the fact Detroit’s offensive line was dreadful in run-blocking last year (No. 30 per Player Profiler) and he’s not a recommended buy at his inflated top-60 price. Over 16 games, you’re looking at maybe 1,100 combined yards with 4-5 touchdowns.

Dalton – BUST. He’ll cede goal-line work to Zach Zenner and third-down work (and most of the team’s receptions out of the backfield) to Theo Riddick. So where’s the upside? We are talking about a back coming off a Lisfranc tear, which is about as serious of an injury as it gets. He’s totaled four touchdowns in his career and when he last played a full season, he was ranked No. 63 in fantasy points per opportunity (0.66). The Lions haven’t finished in the top half of the league in rushing yards per game since 1998! Averaging a rank of No. 27th in the NFL over that span. Abdullah is coming off a major injury, is stuck in a poor situation, and it remains to be seen if he’s even any good. I’ll pass.

Liz – BREAKOUT. I’ve been pounding the table for an @Ameerguapo bounce back since June. Owners whooped up ALL the noise (pun intended) for two straight years, and now they’re turning on their boy. That’s fine. They can have their recency bias and I’ll take the discount on an RB2.

Abdullah may have lost the fantasy community’s faith after underwhelming in back-to-back campaigns, but the Lions remain staunchly in support of their former second round pick. Management did zero to address the position during the draft, choosing to focus primarily on the defense. With little competition behind him, Abdullah figures to be prominently featured. In fact, the team’s website estimated a 200 carry season, which would come out to 12.5 rushing attempts per game. Totally believable considering he averaged 10.7 attempts per contest as a ROOKIE.

Back to health and showcasing impressive burst, Abdullah is Detroit’s “guy” (which RBs coach David Walker confirmed last week). He even received first-team reps (over “Doc” Zenner) at the goal-line a week ago. Sure, the offensive line is still in flux, but the additions of Ricky Wagner and T.J. Lang should help. Abdullah’s athletic ability in tandem with his situation could earn him 1,200 combined yards and 9 total scores this season.

FILL IN THE BLANK. The one player you currently own the most shares of is _________.

Dalton – BRANDIN COOKS. I get there’s risk with any wide receiver switching teams, and the Patriots aren’t exactly predictable. Moreover, his speed lends itself best for turf, and it’s usually not the greatest idea to upgrade someone leaving the New Orleans offense. But Cooks has been given rave reviews so far, and joining New England could easily prove an upgrade (for as good as Drew Brees is, rarely have his receivers seen even 150 targets throughout his career, as he loves to spread the wealth). The Patriots traded a first-round pick for Cooks, who’s easily the team’s best (and only?) deep threat. Cooks finished with the sixth-most fantasy points per target (2.11) last year despite seeing a modest 11 in the red zone (he hauled in 10 of them). I’m grabbing him anytime he falls to me in round two.

Liz – JAY AJAYI. Picking from the 10-12 spot in twelve-team exercises, I’ve been hitting RB hard, nabbing Ajayi and Fournette seemingly back-to-back. My adoration for the rookie in Jacksonville is well documented, but slotting in Ajayi as my RB1 has me smiling bigger than FILA execs after checking Bey’s IG account.

Leading the league in yards-after-contact per attempt last season and managing the fourth most breakaway runs, Ajayi proved to be one of the most powerfully elusive players in the game. Averaging 4.9 YPC against a base front (56.5%) and 5.0 YPC when facing a light front (40.8%), Ajayi should continue to dominate with Jay Cutler under center.

Defenses will have to account for Cutty’s canon in tandem with downfield weapons Davante Parker and Kenny Stills, which should keep lanes relatively open for the team’s 6-foot-tall and 221 pound running back. Ranked inside my top-ten players at the position, Ajayi’s dual-threat ability, in tandem with the lack of depth on the roster, make him a no-brainer selection in the first round.

Brad – TYRELL WILLIAMS. The cold shoulder Williams has received is dumbfounding. With rookie Mike Williams already shelved for the year, the overlooked wideout is set to build on his breakthrough 2016 (69-1059-7, WR22). In that out-of-left-field campaign, he finished No. 8 in yards after catch, No. 11 in contested catch rate and No. 12 in red-zone receptions. Yes, Keenan Allen and his jelly knees are back in the mix and Hunter Henry’s presence is expected to grow, but Williams should entice 21-23 percent of the targets share. A more versatile version of his predecessor Malcom Floyd, he’s a bargain buy at his mid-80s ADP (86.7, WR41), a weapon who could easily match or exceed last year’s production. Based on the above info, I strongly feel I’ve rooked the competition by consistently grabbing him in Rounds 8-9.

Cleveland coaches have tossed out numerous superlatives to describe Duke Johnson’s summer performance. Assign a PERCENTAGE CHANCE the RB leads the NFL in receptions.

Liz – 5 PERCENT. It’s entirely certain that Johnson will exist as the Browns’ slot receiver, with Corey Coleman and Kenny Britt manning the outside. However, he’ll have to average more than 6.5 catches per contest for an entire sixteen-week season to top 104 grabs. For reference, similarly skilled Theo Riddick averaged 5.5 receptions per start last year. It’s not impossible, but Hue Jackson is also never going to put the ball in the air as frequently as Jim Bob Cooter.

A running backs specialist, Jackson has never been either the offensive coordinator or head coach of a team that closed out a season among the top-ten in terms of pass attempts. With uncertainty and youth under center, the Browns figure to be a run-first operation again in 2017. Johnson is likely to surpass his 61 catch floor, but I’d be shocked if he tops 70 receptions by winter’s end.

Brad – 17 PERCENT. David Johnson and Le’Veon Bell are the odds on favorites to take the RB receptions crown, but Duke is in the Danny Woodhead-Bilal Powell-Christian McCaffrey-Theo Riddick tier of dark horses. He’s explosive, elusive and deceptively powerful, a player overshadowed by Isaiah Crowell. Not convinced? Gaze at his secondary profile from last year and a number of stats jump off the screen. He ranked top-five in breakaway run rate, yards after contact per touch and juke rate. If coaching staff claims he’s set for an increased role come to fruition and his opportunity share upticks from 35 to 40-45 percent, he has a true shot at 70 catches. Keep in mind Cleveland will face several negative game scripts once again. He likely won’t set the position pace, but he’s a much cheaper version of Woodhead (102.1 ADP vs. 64.8) capable of 1,000 combined yards with 3-5 TDs.

Dalton – 15 PERCENT. I’m guessing this means leading in receptions among running backs, because otherwise I’d give Johnson a less than one percent chance. He’s averaged 57 catches during his two years in the league, and it sure sounds like Cleveland plans on expanding his role in 2017. Isaiah Crowell is very solid, but the Browns are going to be playing from behind the vast majority of the time, and Johnson had just two drops on 74 targets last season. He also finished No. 2 in JUKE RATE among all backs in the league. So he definitely has a chance, but it’s tough to go much higher than 15 percent against the field.

Follow our fearless forecasters on Twitter Brad (@YahooNoise), Liz (@LizLoza_FF) and Dalton (@DaltonDelDon)

[ecotone99]

[MS] In the Pines

Me and two friends made a short story complied of our individual journal entries. It’s unfinished and our first time writing outside of school let me know What y’all think.

Zachariah entry 1:

I’m gonna try to make what may be the last gather mission from the base, for liquor and ammunition. Lord knows, we will need both. We’ve already been rationing out the wild game as sparingly as possible. We hope to receive word tomorrow from General Lee regarding our next movements.

Silas may succumb to dysentery, poor fella, I told him not to drink from that stale creek because we are fresh out of shit paper. Who knows how long he will make it....

Alec entry 1:

To whom it may concern: Zachariah, Silas, Wyatt, and myself drew straws to see who would make the supply run. Turns out I’m not as lucky as my Mary belle once thought. I am writing this because I fear it may be the last time I can get this off my chest before we all soon catch what many are calling “the whooping willy”. I have slipped into a dark void and have been slowly poisoning the rest of the crew without their knowledge. I don’t know what has come over me but I have never felt so much joy and pure ecstasy in my life. I am actually glad I drew the short straw because it will prove easier to poison zachariah, Wyatt and Silas all the easier. If I make it back I will write again.

Zachariah entry 2:

To those who may come after:

I have a grave sense that brother Alec has taken a turn, towards Satan. He enjoys the nightly fires more and more, he doesn’t eat, and barely gets any sleep. He just walks through the forest at night babbling and laughing amongst the pines. I was cautious on the nigh of last when he brewed the coffee, smirking while Silas and Wyatt drank up. While it’s not known to all, I do not drink coffee, I just enjoy the feel of the steeped brew upon my face as I hold the cup close. Breathe in the warm robust coco fragrances, I find myself at peace.

Cautious I am, very cautious of Alec.

Alec entry 3:

For reassurance: I made it back to camp in one piece but I’m afraid Zachariah is on to me. The poison in his coffee seems to have no effect on him. He stares at me as if I’m a stranger even though we have known each other for quite some time. He looks at me like I’ve gone mad, I’ve been going on long walks with Mary belle in the woods but he claims Mary belle passed a fortnight ago. I know she’s there! She has to be how else would I know that Silas and Wyatt are planning on betraying me. It was her idea after all to start poisoning them! Mary Belle knows best she always has. She’s real. I know she’s real.

Zachariah entry 3:

Day 9:

As we approach what seems like an eternity, Day 14 isn’t so far off, or is it? We have remained together isolated in this vast loblolly pine forest. The hunting excursions produce less and less game each day. Are we depleting the resources we once knew to be surplus? I fear the coyotes have gotten wind of our fresh quail harvests, establishing a pack to hunt what is left. Could we be next? Silas and Wyatt have taken a terrible turn, alas, they will be nothing but table fare for those who gain the trail of our scent. Alec has grown a deep paranoia for myself as I always watch his moves carefully. This very well could be my last transmission should all the Wild Dogs get to me first.

Alec entry 4:

Day 12?

With each passing day I fear I may be losing my wits. My walks with Mary belle are becoming longer but I am beginning to think she is nothing more than a mere hallucination. The evidence of my insanity is becoming clearer and clearer in my eyes and of the crew. But what do I care, they are the ones who will suffer HA HA. Silas and Wyatt are on the verge of death and have never looked more appetizing. MAry belle said it would not be wise to eat unhealthy men but what does she know she isn’t even real! Strong willed Men can last 30 days without food but I crave to be a satisfied man instead. I don’t want to become a cannibal but I need something to alleviate the hunger. Maybe just a piece of the thigh! He won’t even notice if i am Quick about it. Zachariah even has a good family seasoning stored in his nap sack. I just can’t let him see he is not as open minded as I.

Cam entry 1:

Journal entry 1:

I don’t know how many days have gone by since the last contact with civilization. A week, two months, maybe even a year...at this point the days seem to blend with each other. every day the walls start to get closer and closer while I sit and stare into a never ending Tree line. My mind is breaking as I continue to grow weaker and weaker. Went down to the river around dawn (i think) today to harvest a meal when I noticed smoke over the horizon pouring into the sky. The voices in my mind tell me I shouldn’t but Deep down in my gut I know I must travel towards it. It’s my guiding light, the savior, the North Star telling me to follow... to warmth, safety... human contact. I return to the hunt, gather my wares and set off for the smoke

Zach entry 4:

Day 14:

As I sit by this fire; under the incandescent stars, I cannot help but to question, why is it that we are seeing with our own eyes, these troublesome affairs? My dear friends, Silas and Wyatt, lost their battle with what we believe to be Whopping Willy. They were both great men, friends, and soldiers. I do not know how I will bare having to write dear Sarah Anne and Ada Mae in regard to the passing of their beloved husbands. I plan to give them the proper burial at dawn. I have my thoughts on this wretched disease. Something so strange and so destructive, could NOT come from these here States of America. Perhaps a foreign invader has come to see the end of the world that is it to the West. I ask to my Lord above, “I hope you can provide us solution to this issue and that you ease my troubled mind for a nights rest”. I must get some sleep for my mind and body are beginning to slow like molasses on a frozen January morn. I shall return to write in a few days, hopeful that I make it until then.

Alec entry 5

Journal:

Journal:

Zachariah wouldn’t even look me in the eyes anymore. I didn’t blame him though. He did bare witness to me eating Wyatts rotting flesh throughout the night. But at last the hunger was gone. Mary belle said I shouldn’t eat meat infested with maggots but I thought they supplied a good seasoning HA HA especially with zachariahs bbq rub.

We had kept the fire all through the night and our days were spent mostly squabbling and drinking whatever bourbon and ale we had left. Sometime that afternoon we heard the crackling of sticks in the woods nearby. Mary belle! I thought. I knew it was her who else it could be. I took off into the woods

Cameron entry:

I don’t know how many days have gone by since the last contact with civilization. A week, two months, maybe even a year...at this point the days seem to blend with each other. every day the walls start to get closer and closer while I sit and stare into a never ending Tree line. My mind is breaking as I continue to grow weaker and weaker. Went down to the river around dawn (i think) today to harvest a meal when I noticed smoke over the horizon pouring into the sky. The voices in my mind tell me I shouldn’t but Deep down in my gut I know I must travel towards it. It’s my guiding light, the savior, the North Star telling me to follow... to warmth, safety... human contact. I return to the hunt, gather my wares and set off for the smoke.

Zach entry:

Day 14:

As I sit by this fire; under the incandescent stars, I cannot help but to question, why it is that we are seeing with our own eyes, these troublesome affairs? My dear friends, Silas and Wyatt, lost their battle with what we believe to be Whopping Willy. They were both great men, friends, and soldiers. I do not know how I will bare having to write dear Sarah Anne and Ada Mae in regard to the passing of their beloved husbands. I plan to give them the proper burial at dawn. I have my thoughts on this wretched disease. Something so strange and so destructive, could NOT come from these here States of America. Perhaps a foreign invader has come to see the end of the world that is it to the West. I ask to my Lord above, “I hope you can provide us solution to this issue and that you ease my troubled mind for a nights rest”. I must get some sleep for my mind and body are beginning to slow like molasses on a frozen January morn. I shall return to write in a few days, hopeful that I make it until then.

Alec entry:

Another Journal:

Zachariah wouldn’t even look me in the eyes anymore. I didn’t blame him though. He did bare witness to me eating Wyatts rotting flesh throughout the night. But at last the hunger was gone. Mary belle said I shouldn’t eat meat infested with maggots but I thought they supplied a good seasoning HA HA especially with zachariahs bbq rub. We had kept the fire all through the night and our days were spent mostly squabbling and drinking whatever bourbon and ale we had left. Sometime that afternoon we heard the crackling of sticks in the woods nearby. Mary belle! I thought. I knew it was her who else it could be. I took off into the woods.

Alec entry:

Another Journal Entry: As I crept into the woods I finally laid my eyes upon what was making the disturbance in the shrubbery. It was a man, a young man probably doesn't even remember the storm of 63. He was of short stature and didn’t look to weigh anymore than a hay bail. Who could he be? Our rescue? Or an enemy soldier? Could he have the whooping willys? I knew I had to keep my distance while remaining unseen. He was slowly approaching our camp with his long rifle shouldered (looked about the size of him). As we looked upon the man i couldnt help but wonder what he might taste like, Wyatt was three days dead when i ate him this looks like fresh meat ( I feel ashamed of this but my mouth began to water like a leaky faucet. Am I becoming a cannibal?) I told mary belle to shutup but I must have been too loud as the man unshouldered is rifle spotting me immediately. God damn you mary bellle and your fucking yapping. Woman could never keep her mouth shut. He told us to come on out now before theres any trouble “Ole cameron is the sharpest shooter on this side of the missouri”, I told him me and mary belle didnt mean no harm we just havent seen good folk in a while. He looked at me as if I was crazy everytime me and mary belle would engage eachother in our squibbling and our squabbling. I needed to get him into camp without sounding suspicous I had to tell him about Zachariah losing his mind in the woods and eating Wyatt, hes gone stir crazy you see he is a violent man with the devil in his eyes. ( i know mama raised me not to lie but the devil runs through my veinsnow he speaks for me. I am beginning to lose track of who I really am.) The young man seemed to believe me so i began to lead him back to camp and to that loon waiting by the fire HAHA. The Always waiting, always thinking, always plotting...Zachariah.

Zach entry:

Day 15:

I woke this morn to a fresh frost lain upon my blanket, the fire still slowly burning as I stretched my legs and wiped my frothed eyelids. Today is the day I’ve dreaded for 20 years of my life, the day whist I must lay my dear friend Wyatt to rest. May his soul be found in the everlasting as his body now just a cold heep of flesh. As I clothe and properly prepare for the nip of the cool air, I hear something in the distance. Thinking it was the pack of Yotes returning to devour Wyatts corpse, I grab my rifle and head out to move this burial along. When I reached Wyatt’s cold limp body, something tragic occurred. He had already been picked apart like the last chicken leg in the slave quarters!!!! What CREATURE could have done such?! Vultures? YOTES!? I felt a sickness come upon me, a nausea into my stomach. I spewed like a hot pot of roasting Joe, last nights meal all upon the cold ground. I am distraught as I cannot give my dear friend the respectful and proper burial he needs. Alec is nowhere to be found... he has gone mad, I can since it. Perhaps, upon his return I shall inquire more about the animalistic way in which Wyatt’s body was disposed.. I hope I write soon.. until then..

Cam entry:

While I wander into the Wilderness, I began to grow weary as the wind was throwing the smoke of a fire into different directions. Sending me into a confusion i haven’t felt in many years and a sense of a aimless wonder. But wait....what was that? I noise coming from a bush of twigs and berries...I yelled at the creature and pointed my rifle towards the disturbance. A millions thoughts poured into my heads as I wondered what could this be...to my surprise a man. A short man with a bulldog like physic, with tombstones for eyes, his hands shook and he talked as though there was two or three people around. His words were not entirely English but he had a way with them as his forked tongue could twist and turn them into sentences. Cuts all around his hands and feet and a sense of mind lost inside him...bye bye land. He looked barely alive but yet looked as though he had a proper meal...my suspicion of him grew. He invited me to come to his camp and set up shop there. As much as I ran the thought in my head of denying this man I knew he could be useful...for now. I followed suit with him to the “camp” as I figured this was where the smoke in the sky had made its home. I gripped my rifle tighter and tighter as we walked through the thicket, headed for an uncertain future but the only future worth taking... I must continue on.

Alec Entry:

As Mary Belle, Cameron, and myself emerged from the woods and into the sunlight I couldn't help but feel a sense of euphoria rush through my veins like mercury rising in a thermostat. I looked towards camp, noticing a cross made from two oak twigs on top a hill of freshly dug soil. I knew Zachariah had buried Wyatt, a friend we both once knew. Mary belle was worried my actions may have been discovered by our nosey friend. But Zachariah did not suspect any the wiser upon our arrival. Cameron introduced himself as a lonely traveller simply looking for companionship and a warm meal. (I intend on making him my warm meal HAHA). Zachariah was suspicious of this newcomer; he never trusts new comers, he hardly trusts me that ignorant fool. I'll eat both of them if I get a chance. What am I saying, I can't eat these people am I as crazy as they think I am. Coffee Coffee I need hot coffee!

Zach Entry:

Day 15 (cont..)

It is not normal that I double my entries in my dear journal, but today I have no choice. As I prepared Wyatts resting place in the cold damp crust of the Earth, I was interrupted by a loud laughter. Appeared unto my eyes were not 1, but 2 able bodies, trouncing through the pines towards camp. I quickly grabbed my rifle as I did not know if it were friend or foe. It was Alec, and a stranger. I gazed upon them to find the craziest look in Alec’s eye as he introduced his new “friend”. The young buck went by the name of Cameron. From the Ozark Mountains in Show Me state of Missorrrruh. This BOY could not be older than 19. Fresh from his mother's tit, I could still see the milk on his lower lip. This boy held onto his rifle tighter than Alec used to hold his dear Mary Belle, may she rest in peace. Cameron couldn't really tell us how or why he was rambling around through the forest, which raised my suspicions of him. Alec took him into camp as if this stranger was one of us, what fool Alec! We DO NOT KNOW THIS CHILD! Nevertheless, I continued to strike the soil, digging a proper hole to bury Wyatt. The day has grown old and night is shortly upon us. Perhaps with that rifle he clings to, Cameron has a steady and accurate hand, we need more meat. I think I will inquire to the young fella that we should embark on a hunting expedition as the evening falls, I shall get to know who Cameron really is. Lord, keep me safe during these uncertain times. Until I write again..

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