#I have literally had trouble walking across my own single story home with the assistance of knee braces and a cane

[lichennthropy]

pain flare up. can’t bend knees. knee braces get sweaty cause it’s hot out. lost my cane. have to walk to work and back home. Suffering rn

[barbenheimer-core]

AUDERE EST FACERE !

하나. chanel : part four — 3k words

Wangja crossed the street with a bag of two steaming bowls of ramyeon and red ginseng, speeding up his pace to prevent the noodles from getting too soggy while he walked the path over to his shop where he had left Ahyeong at, sighing as he thought about the new addition to the cast.

When he had walked into his store last night, he was not expecting a stage to commence immediately upon entering the lounge.

Thank the writer (this was the first and last time he was going to say that) that their conversation and actions had already been written out, or else the shop owner would've been gawking at the new girl for the entirety of the stage.

He had been immensely startled back then; it was unusual for him to not know the timing and plot of every stage because he always made sure to check the comic that permanently resided in a small, hidden corner of his shop every single day.

But when he had browsed the comic as soon as Ahyeong had left, he had been bewildered at the sudden shift in the book's contents.

The cast page had been altered to feature four main characters instead of the original trio, and as he had turned the pages, he had noticed the new stages being inked with interactions that had never been present as of before.

To think that an already complicated web of troubling relationships had not been enough for the writer, they had proceeded to add a love square to the mix.

Wangja grimaced at his creator's choices in life. They had definitely been influenced by someone to do so if it had been so last minute.

But one thing was for sure; out of all the stories that the writer had put him in, this was by far the most interesting.

"Ahyeong-ah! I'm back!" he yelled into the air as he stepped in, his voice echoing in the shop.

The silence was his only response.

Confused, he stepped through the streamers that decorated the lounge's archway, eyes searching for the girl while he set the food down on the coffee table next to the abandoned copy of Shiver.

"Ahyeong, are you here-"

He stopped abruptly, gaze finding the peach cover of True Beauty toppled upside down on the floor in front of a shelf he swore no one would notice.

With dread in his mind, he picked it up, turning it around, only to be faced by the drawn version of the person he was looking for.

Oh no. She'd seen it.

If Gilyeong had to describe his sister at that moment, he would've said she looked like she'd risen from a grave in a zombie apocalypse movie.

She looked dead. Alive, yes, but dead.

Like someone had told her whole life was a lie.

When Ahyeong had arrived back home from wherever she had dashed off to during the morning, she had looked like she'd gone through the five stages of grief, questioned the meaning of life, and ran a marathon through the streets of Seoul by how hard she was breathing.

He had almost asked her if she was okay, but that would've come off as him being "concerned for his dear sister," as Eunjung had so uselessly put it, and he hated proving people right. And besides, Ahyeong was clearly not okay.

"Oye, grinch," he called out across the table after seeing her actions.

She looked as if she hadn't even heard him. No annoyed flinch, no irritated twitching of her eyebrow; no reaction at all. Just her mindlessly trying to eat soup with chopsticks.

Eunjung looked at her with an extreme amount of concern.

Gilyeong almost puked at the feeling of worry in his gut.

Ahyeong was functioning on auto-pilot, her consciousness having taken a backseat as the only thing that moved her was sheer muscle memory.

She couldn't even remember how she had come back to her house, however, the stinging in her legs informed her of how she had deserted the shop and ran all the way back home, much to Driver Kwon's horror.

Her head felt empty.

Being in a comic? As a bully? That had to be the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard, or read, about herself.

It did not make sense. She was quite literally a model student, with a record as clean as glass. Being reduced to the likes of a bully? Impossible.

And then the derealisation came in.

This probably wasn't real after all. Maybe it was just one big practical joke blown out of proportion.

Yeah, that was it, she concluded as she finally became aware of her surroundings, dropping the chopsticks in her hands with a confused look and picking up a spoon to continue eating her soup, unaware of the small breath of relief from across the table.

That weird paralysis thing hadn't happened since the other day anyway, so she was probably going to be okay.

TURN.

What a fucking lie, you're kidding—

The doors to the house banged open, harshly knocking against the walls and startling the occupants of the dining room.

Song Hwayoung came inside the house, immediately making Eunjung receive her in a hurry and assist her with taking off her coat and setting her a pair of slippers.

Ahyeong was panicking. Why now? The universe was being unnecessarily cruel. Her body felt like a rock, cemented into the ground. The air got colder, the lights felt different, brighter somehow, as if someone was shining a spotlight down on her family, as if a grim situation was about to ensue.

Ahyeong almost got up to greet her mother, but sat back down after seeing the subtle shake of Gilyeong's head, who hastily looked down at his empty plate after Hwayoung came to sit at the head of the table.

Her mother looked like she had been trying to bottle up her anger the whole day, and the cap was finally about to burst.

Ahyeong felt unsettled at the sudden change in demeanor. Her mother had never gotten this furious before, ever. She attempted to stand, but she was glued to her seat and could only watch as Hwayoung glared daggers at Gilyeong.

She threw a stack of papers in front of Gilyeong, who shrunk into his seat when he saw its contents.

"What is this?" Hwayoung inquired, trying her best to appear calm.

The young boy mumbled a reply in a voice so small that it was barely audible.

Hwayoung flared her nostrils, "Say it louder!"

Both siblings flinched at the volume. "My report card," the youngest said shakily.

Why was her mum flipping over a simple report card? It's not like grades mattered—

"Even I know that it's a fucking report card. What I want to know is why your grades dropped to C's and D's and why the hell you're failing in math?"

Ahyeong's eyes widened, either involuntarily or of her own free will, she didn't know. Hwayoung cursing at her brother and raging over his academic report? That was quite literally the opposite of how her mother was. Hwayoung was supposed to be the sweetest person she'd ever known, understanding and supportive through every endeavor.

For a moment she considered if her mother had been replaced by a clone of a crueler version of her. With the bullshit that was happening to her right now, the theory did not even feel that far-fetched.

At Gilyeong's silence, Hwayoung scoffed, "All of this was happening and you didn't even bother telling me? I was in a phone call with your friend's mother who told me her son had scored first place but when she mentioned how you weren't even in the top ten do you know how humiliated I felt?"

She stood up abruptly, throwing her chair back, which was immediately caught by Eunjung, and scowled at the boy, not a single trace of warmth in her eyes that her daughter was familiar with, "What an embarrassment to the Song name. At least your sister fares better than you."

With that, she stalked away, heels clicking against the marble floors as she retreated to her room.

TURN .

Ahyeong got up as soon as she could control her movements, rushing over to Gilyeong whose eyes had become red and puffy as he sniffled.

She pulled him in between her arms, and he shook uncontrollably, Eunjung watching the ordeal with downtrodden eyes, wishing she could help.

This was far beyond what she thought would happen. No, that woman could not have been their mother.

As she put her brother to sleep that night, she came to a solution.

Stepping into the elevator to reach Cloud9 Officetel's terrace the next day, her resolve strengthened.

This nightmare was ending, one way or the other.

Jugyeong was quite possibly living the worst nightmare she'd ever had.

The world was too cruel. Beauty was only on the inside, they said. What a horrible lie.

She had been humiliated beyond measure. All she tried to do was convey her honest feelings to quite possibly the only person who had ever been genuinely kind to her. She would've been fine if Wang Hyunbin had simply rejected her and decided to stay as friends. But for him and Semi to destroy her pride and self-worth like that? Because of how she looked?

She felt her eyes burning with warm tears before they cascaded down her cheeks, the cold wind at the top of the building harshly biting at her skin and rattling her bones.

She shivered.

Cold, it was too cold. What a day to die.

Jugyeong's hands hovered over her phone's screen as she stared at her mother's contact. Would her family even mourn her? Good riddance, they would probably think.

But she had to tell someone, and even if her mother was harsh with her words, she still loved her. She had to tell her the reason why she was about to jump off of a building.

Just as her finger leaned down to press the call button, the door to the rooftop opened, and Jugyeong jumped in shock, turning around to see who had come in.

She did a double-take.

Was God personally consenting to her taking her own life? Because she was pretty sure he had sent down an angel to escort her soul into heaven.

Her glasses had been abandoned on the bench she'd been sitting on from when she had been trying to wipe her tears, so she couldn't really see the person properly, but even with bad eyesight, the stranger looked almost ethereal.

They were dressed in a black dress and heels, as if they had gone to a funeral, or were planning to go to one.

They stopped upon seeing Jugyeong's disheveled self.

Was God finally being kind to her in her final moments?

Mind in a haze and not thinking straight, Jugyeong broke down yet again.

Ahyeong was startled at the girl crying in front of her. She didn't think there was going to be someone else up there other than herself.

When she looked closer at the girl who was sobbing uncontrollably in front of her, she noticed who it was, immediately taking a few steps back on instinct.

Moon Gayoung? Why was she in a school uniform— oh.

You've got to be kidding me.

What luck she had, walking right into the girl this world literally revolved around.

She felt something pulling away at her in the back of her mind, sending warning bells down her spine, saying she wasn't supposed to be there. But why?

Ahyeong's heart almost burst out of her ribcage when Jugyeong threw herself at her, clutching almost painfully at her waist and sobbing into her dress.

She froze at the sudden contact, arms awkwardly hovering over the girl's shoulders.

Jugyeong had probably not recognized her yet, because there was no way she was hugging her future tormentor just like that.

"Th-thank y-y-you for c-coming," the girl said between choked breaths, "F-for being- for being here in my—" she struggled to say the words, "—my final moments."

Ahyeong stilled at that.

By the time her words had registered, she already knew what was happening.

This was the scene from the drama, she remembered, when Jugyeong had tried to kill herself because of the incident at school.

How ironic. Ahyeong almost laughed at her situation, they were here for the same fate for almost the same reason. Both didn't like the world that they lived in.

But for the Song girl, this was a test, really. A theory she came up with in the dead of the night.

The sensation of falling, that knee-jerk reaction, and the feeling of finally waking up from your dream. That was what she was hoping for. She wasn't here to die, she was here to go back to living her own life.

But the girl who clung to her was dead set on ending things, and frankly, that was a dreadful thought.

Ahyeong had no intention of leaving her as she was, be this a fictional world or not, Im Jugyeong was a human being who deserved a lot more than she got.

"Were you going to jump?"

Jugyeong's thoughts came to a halt as the Angel asked a question, the oddly familiar lilt of her voice bringing a strange mix of foreboding and warmth in her gut.

Still shaking, she only nodded against her shoulder.

"Why?"

"Because-" she sniffled, tightening her arms around them, "because everyone hates me," her voice faded at the end, and her wobbly knees gave in, making her sink into the hard floor and dragging the person along with her.

This time, the Angel wrapped her arms around her, rubbing soothing circles into her back.

"Jugyeong, things may seem horrible for you at the moment, and you have every right to be upset over what was said and done, but it is impossible to know answers to such questions when you're so overwhelmed."

The words cut through her haziness, her cries slowly stopping as what they said registered in Jugyeong's mind.

"You don't really want to die, do you?"

It felt weird, being told such things by a stranger.

Maybe deep down she had already known, but her despair had overtaken her senses and disregarded her common sense.

"Why were you really about to call your mother?"

Because she was hoping someone would stop her. To make sure someone really did care about her despite appearances.

The Angel patted her back, and slowly pulled away, only to firmly place their hands on Jugyeong's shoulders.

"Your family's waiting."

She didn't need to be told twice.

Maybe God was kinder than she thought.

It was getting dark now.

The cold evening air nipped at her skin as Ahyeong stood on the edge, heels digging into the concrete as she gazed down below.

What a hypocrite she was, telling all those things to Jugyeong.

She'd sent her home with a taxi after their ordeal, and Jugyeong had not even looked at her once through the whole thing.

She didn't know why.

The road was buzzing with activity, cars zooming past on asphalt, people walking home on the footpaths, vendors selling seasonal goods by the side.

It seemed to be a normal day.

She wondered how the rest of their day would go if her body suddenly flopped down there.

Gooseflesh rose on her arms. All of this was too real.

She slapped herself, the stinging spreading through her numb skin and making her wince in pain.

What was she doing? Was she really about to jump off a building just to test a theory out?

What if it failed? The pain in her cheek would pale in comparison to what would happen should she fall.

And the people waiting for her back home, thinking she was off paying her respects to an old friend. Gilyeong and Eunjung would be destroyed.

Ahyeong stepped back. No, she couldn't do this. She wasn't planning on dying today. Or anytime soon really.

She'd just have to get used to living here—

TURN.

Song Ahyeong stepped closer to the edge of the building, awaiting her doom.

What the fuck!? She didn't want to die, shit, shit, shit—

The LED screen behind her lit up in hues of pink and purple, colorful shadows falling on her dress that did nothing against the frigid wind.

Jung Seyeon's face graced the billboard in the distance, an ode from the people to celebrate the day he was born, and an apology for being the reason he died.

One more step and she would fall. No, no, one more step and she'd fall—

Ahyeong leaned forward closing her eyes for the last time.

NO!

And so, she fell backward.

Wait, backward?

TURN.

Ahyeong barely registered the iron grip on her wrist before it was tugged hard, her stiletto losing its balance and twisting her foot at an unnatural angle.

She widened her eyes as her vision blurred, surroundings moving too fast, and braced herself for the impact on the rough concrete.

It never came.

Instead, she fell on the person who had taken the liberty of pulling her back, and subsequently saving her. Groaning, she raised her head, squinting against the bright light of the advertisement.

"What a relief," Suho breathed out.

The ColorBeauty commercial cast the glow of its neon colors over their faces, and as the faint melody of Seyeon's voice filled the silence in the air, Song Ahyeong knew that somehow, she had fucked up.

masterlist

© 2021 Alfia Sheikh, All Rights Reserved

[dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice]

You could do it with: IDW: Megatron, Ultra Magnus, Max, Rung and Bayverse Optimus?Thanks! You have a good day! :D (2/2)

HI I’M BACK FROM THE DEAD. MY GHOST LITERALLY WROTE THIS. I know it’s extremely late but my writers block has been hitting me during the pandemic while I’m stuck at home so hopefully I did this ok.

@bellisimapormesana

Character wasn’t stated so I’m defaulting to a cybertronian! Reader.

IDW Megatron

He feels you.

Seriously, this poor mech is as pessimistic as you’ll ever get.

Don’t make me bring in the depresso espresso memes.

It took you a while to warm up to those who were pesistant in becoming your friend (I’m looking at you rodimus), so getting anywhere with him is going to take forever.

If your not at Swerve’s cracking jokes and getting into crazy shinanegans while Ultra Magnus just sits there with his helm in his servos, you’re either alone in your berth room or wandering the many halls of the Lost Light.

Normally Megs is too deep in thought to pay attention to notice most walking by, but his optics will set on you when he almost walks into your frame sat on the floor. But you’re too busy observing the stars outside one the windows to acknowledge him.

You would expect him to take a least a few times of running into you to actually realise that your processor was currently far away from being a happy place, but like I said, this guy’s been through shit.

One single look at you. And he knows.

The way your optics are dimmed already give off the tell tale sign that your mind is wandering places. Like, there’s a whole universe right in front of you, galaxies and technicolour planets passing by, you should be dreaming of the adventures you will have, yet you sit here, frame slouched, with a solemn empty look across your face.

Everything seems to stop still for Megatron as he stands there. Memories and nightmares flashing across his processor, bringing back glimpses of emotions that he wished to never feel again.

Everything about you screams loneliness, and he feels his spark shatter at the sight of you.

There is no way on Cybertron that he will let you experience the depression he did.

He won’t force any means of physical comfort upon you, since you could just push him away so easily if you wanted to.

All you hear are a shuffle of pedesteps and a gentle thump as he sits himself beside you, glancing at you once without uttering a word.

Through that single glance, he showed you that he understood, and reassured you that you’re not anywhere near alone in this universe. And he had your back.

Ultra Magnus

When you first boarded the Lost Light, you had blended in amongst the crowd and didn’t really speak up much.

Therefore it took Magnus quite a while to find out who you were.

The poor mech didn’t really have much time to make many friends, since he was too busy either speaking about statistics, or chasing Rodimus throughout the ship to try and prevent any disasters from taking place.

The first time he really noticed you is when you actually started to hang out with Roddy and the rest of the main crew.

He would see you dissappear around corners as you tried to avoid ending up in trouble with your fellow pranksters, or sitting at the bar as Swerve proceeded to die of hysterics at the joke you cracked.

He also saw you exit Rung’s a couple of times as he went in.

The first time he exchanged a conversation with you was at the bar with everyone else.

You were sat between Rung and him as you fiddled with your servos. He noticed that you were quieter than usual as you stared at the half empty energon in front of you.

He hadn’t had the slightest clue of what to say to you as you sat there. He was just downright confused as to why you weren’t being as loud as the others.

Suddenly a thought came to his mind as he recalled something.

While you were well known for being slightly disobedient when you joined Rodimus on his adventures, he was mildly surprised at how well your reports were laid out. You may be a funny prankster but your reports came on the dot, full of the right amount of detail that Magnus would be satisfied with.

So while it may had not been a great way to greet someone, he brought you out of your silent state by praising you on how well your reports were.

You looked up at him, slightly taken aback at the sudden gesture, but you returned it with a small smile and a quiet “thank you”.

He didn’t know straight away of you pessimistic states and episodes, but it didn’t take him a while to realise it either.

He would notice there would be times you would seclude yourself to a quiet space, and he would notice your seat to be empty at meetings every one in a while.

He’s a busy mech, so he can’t always pay attention to you, but in his free time, or when he is walking the halls, he would see if you were on your own or not.

He’d find you at a window or an empty room, and gently ask if you would like to accompany him in going over statistics or organising some files.

“Isn’t Roddy meant to assist you in that?” “Yes but he never does it properly and disappears within five minutes.”

Some things he offers to do with you may be boring, but it’s enough to keep you distracted and on the plus side you get to spend time with your favourite Magnus.

Fortress Maximus

He’s the type of mech to observe people, especially you, from a distance.

While others seem boring or just make him nervous, you’re the one who seems to catch his optic the most.

Because you confuse him.

One minute you’re laughing tears of lubricant out of you optics with Drift as Ratchet storms in, covered helm to pede in pink glitter glue, then the next you’re sat in the dark confines of your berthroom, the only light provided is a dull blue hue from the data pad you’re reading off, eyes absentmindedly scanning across, but never actually taking the words in.

It takes him a small amount of time to properly realise how deep of a state of pessimism you were in when you were experiencing these episodes from time to time, and somewhat understood how you felt, since this poor mech is one sensitive bby once you delve down deep enough.

The next few days are spent with Max confining himself to his own berthroom, making some begin to wonder where he had disappeared off to. Some thought he was just distancing himself (like me because of shitty corONA). But instead his was carefully thinking out some form of plan to try and eventually manage to keep you as your happy self 24/7.

He - somehow - convinced Red Alert to allow him access to a weeks worth of some security clips and gathered a basic routine of when the pessimistic mood would begin to set in by the way your body language started to shift slightly and slowly but surely, you drifted away from the crowd and eventually found yourself in the confines of your berth.

He’s not a stalker I swear.

He sensed your shy nature, and being a somewhat shy bean himself it took him a few minutes of mental preparation, but he managed to stop being a wallflower at Swerve’s when he spotted you come in.

You avoided the eyes of most as you were just there to grab some energon and whisk away back to the earth story you were reading in your berthroom. You eased your way through the small crowd, cringing at some of the loud laughs that reached your audios.

Reaching a clearing in front of the bar, you were about to open your intake to ask for a drink, when you felt a large presence loom behind you.

Turning around cautiously, you were met with a white and blue chest plate.

Your attention was taken away from the loud noises as your audios picked up a quiet “hello” as you looked up to meet a pair of nervous red optics.

Max knew he was big, even for a cybertronian, so he was concerned that his large presence gave off an intimidating demeanour, and it would scare you away.

However, much to his surprise and luck, you gave him a small smile and gave a quiet greeting in return.

You two spent the next few hours in a secluded booth in the corner of the bar exchanging mutual conversation while sipping on different concoctions of Swerve’s drinks.

You were enjoying the new company, basking in the presence of a fellow awkward cybertronian you could relate to. You found it cute as you found him staring at you, only too look away while staring down at the drink in his hands.

On the other hand, Fort Max was internally proud of himself managing to keep you from the depressing depths of your berth and also of you not avoiding any form of social contact for the night.

This carried on for a few months or so. Max kept up the effort to watch over you, becoming alert if you would suddenly leave in the evening or if there was nothing on. He would take another route, and catch your attention before you reached your room, gently asking you to join him on some sort of activity. Whether it was crafting something Rung recommended, or going star gazing.

In some way he would coax you out and put a smile on your face.

IDW Rung

You think you can get away from the observing eyes of god Rung the therapist?

After one appointment with you he could see that you weren’t as happy as you presented yourself to be.

There’s nothing much to say for this guy except for the fact that you keep going to these sessions with him.

You may not want to tell him everything but he tries his best to try and show that he understands you.

Instead of these meets going the same as most others, Rung will have you stay for longer and make it more interactive with things such as making crafts such as model ships, and also will tell you a story about each one.

Hell, he would sometimes book appointments for you, mostly in the evening when you weren’t busy.

You enjoy the company, but it also means poor Rung actually has a friend that talks to him more and frequently visit him.

You’ve never gotten his name wrong once.

And that puts a little smile on his face each time.

If he finds you in one of these states, he won’t say much at first. Just gently holding your servo as you both sit by a window until he quietly begins to tell you a story to get your mind off any negative thoughts.

Bayverse Optimus (aNgRy MaN)

Bruh

He feels you too

He’s lost too many friends he considers family

Has been known to go into pessimistic states himself

But doesn’t know if anyone else experiences these things like he does

When he watches you around base he sees you having lots of fun with the younger bots, pranking Ratchet or practising you abilities in the field with Ironhide.

In his attempt to make sure that no one really finds out or suffers when he’s in this depressive mood, he tends to worry about it in the dead of night when nobody is around.

Or so he thought.

He has takes up the opportunity to walk around base during the late hours, sometimes to sit and take in his surroundings while trying his best to push any bad thoughts to the back of his mind whilst he stargazes.

Only to find that looking at the stars reminds him how far away he is from home, since when he looks up, none of the flickering dots are familiar, and another wave of sorrow hits him.

This would happen almost every nights, unless he needed to rest up for a mission.

One night he was doing the same, recalling both good and bad memories, when his audios picked up a quiet screech, like metal on metal, from behind somewhere.

While it may have just been the wind, Optimus knew he needed to be alert for any surprise attacks from the Decepticons, so he got up as quietly as he could and spent the next couple of minutes attempting to locate the source of the noise.

Another very similar noise had led him up to the roof, but at their point he still didn’t know if this was a threat or not, so he cautiously lifted his helm over, a servo hovering over his blaster.

What he didn’t expect was to spot your silhouette in the moonlight, sat on the edge, staring into space, a solemn look on your face.

He was taken aback slightly at this sudden sight of you, since you were normally so bubbly, and had managed to bring out a low chuckle in him every once in a while.

Relaxed that it wasn’t Ravage skulking around, he was still concerned about you.

He would sit next to you and spend the next hour or so speaking quietly with you, finding out and understanding why you seemed so down.

While he wouldn’t mind staying out here with you for the remainder of the night, you both knew Ratchet would scold you both for not recharging properly, so he took you down silently to your berth, and stayed by your side until you were in deep slumber, then return to his own berth.

This happened almost every night, just the both of you basking in each other’s presence and company, and pointing out Earth constellations into the early hours of the morning.

Enjoy :)

Oppy out.

[bladekindeyewear]

HS^2 bloggin’ mainline 2020-04-02

Alright I’ll fix the broken images later right now lets goooooo read the updaaaate I’ve been only spoiled on the chapter title

I don’t even wanna guess.  Jake?  This makes me think of Jake for some reason, even though that doesn’t make much se-- oh right the Vriskas are locked in a school closet with a dead clown.

> CHAPTER 7. Distress Call From the Closet

Yep.

Also, this is how a car design looks when it was invented to have its first appearance be it flying with a human named Tavros looking out from an open side door.

(I’m not ENTIRELY against designing something for its immediate-art-use-purpose first and functional or historical-origination thought later, but usually when you make it that obvious that that’s what your doing it’s best to make that fact funny.  Like the Conveniently Shaped Lamp.)

Also I appreciate this using of Candy as kind of more lighthearted breaks in the action?

> (==>)

I thoguht that protruding fang (?) was drool for a second and wondered what the fuck they were up to in this closet all of a sudden.

Vriska, thriving on it, has not felt so decadently alive in a very long time. Tavros has never in his tragic existence felt so close to death, which is surprising to him.

Vrissy is trying her best not to grapple with any cosmic truths at the moment, since she’s getting a phone call in the middle of hiding for her life.

Vrissy’s implied to be somewhere in-between all that by this joke.  I bet she’ll be comparing herself to Vriska and Tavros alike throughout this mess, wondering where on the spectrum she lands and being ashamed of it AND both of them regardless.  Vriska Original had a ghost version who went on a fair bit of a Page dress-up thing and personality shift, so maybe we could expect Vrissy to struggle with being caught in the middle of the scales... or does that qualify as overthinking it classpectways?

VRISSY: Yeah Harry I would say we are Extremely Aware of the Situ8ion. VRISSY: As it Unfolded the fuck all around us.

Good Christ, Vrissy’s selectively-capitalized Kanaya-isms continue to be cute.

Oh, he’s on speakerphone.

> (==>)

Yep, telling Rose and Kanaya would be the smart thing to do, but it isn’t the Them thing to do.

--ROXY’S PLACE?!??  Hoo boy.  On the other hand, though, we get more Roxy, so it evens out.

Also, I like how Harry Anderson has to spell out Harry Anderson’s entire name for his Harry Anderson chat tag every single time.  Harry Anderson.

> (==>)

Part of the reason, Tavros thinks, that he’s been so game to continue on with the worst plan anyone has ever concocted, is that the more bullshit they endure, the longer they can put off actually doing anything that matters.

If he’s getting sprayed with a sprinkler and getting clown feet in his face, it’s a farce. It can’t hurt him. But if they get to the part where he’s shoving the uncooperative weight of his uncle’s corpse in an incinerator, he will stop floating in protective semi-consciousness above his body and it will all be real.

Ouch.

Can’t one of you assholes just captchalogue him?  Or did you leave all the appropriate-strength moduses at home?  Even you Vriska??

Oh, right.  Everyone knows and you can just leave him here.  Good call.  I mean you don’t really have to worry about forensic evidence with the pictures circulating.

> (==>)

VRISKA: 8ye 8itch.

Oooh!  That feels satisfying!  Yeah, tell off Gamzee’s corpse!

...Wait.

If they just leave Gamzee there, Jane can revive him, can’t she.

Fuck.  Maybe it’s up to Jake to try and stop that.

> (==>)

Karkat and Meenah resistance-time, then, with them presumably hearing about this development on the internet.  Wow, Meenah’s horns are getting long fast.  Plus a hint more of her grown-up self’s height.  I didn’t think she’d keep maturing so fast with her absurd lifespan ahead of her.

Oh shit, I didn’t see at first--

Right, Candy might still be lighthearted compared to the broader plot just due to lowered stakes, but it’s still the Carpet-Bombing-and-War-Filled Shituniverse.

Trolls are made for the battlefield.

From the moment a troll oozes out of the mother grub’s pulsating sphincter, through the trials of the brooding caverns, across the brutal day to day slog of Alternian society, all the way to their Ordeals, to the sucking void of space. They are bred for nothing but endless war.

But Commander Vantas...Commander Vantas is different.

Is... is Meenah narrating right now?  Because fuck.

Or so all the pamphlets say.

The actual Commander Vantas has blisters on his heel and has been taking pot-shots at scouting drones for the last six hours. He could use a bath, honestly.

Or is this one of the trolls on the side narrating who’s kind of internalized the stories of trolls’ prior warlike nature?

> (==>)

MEENAH: yo nubs is that u MEENAH: pretty rank KARKAT: OH MY GOD. KARKAT: I FLATLY REFUSE TO BELIEVE THAT YOU CAN SMELL MY NATURAL MUSK OVER THE STENCH OF BLOOD AND BURNING FLESH.

I guess it probably was Meenah narrating, then.  Unless it’s a really biased alt!Callie doing the talking.

MEENAH: didnt i warn u bout thinking tho? KARKAT: GOD DAMMIT MEENAH, DON’T MEME AT ME.

I don’t know what meme this is and I really don’t want to know.

They have had this argument more than once. In fact, both of them could play either side of it. Karkat has done his time in the field, of course, leading small guerilla operations to free prisoners and sabotage Crocker’s supply chains, but Meenah and the rest of the council is right. Which is why he’s here, instead of at the front lines with his rebels, where he belongs.

His true value is his face. His symbology. At the end of the day, he is a fucking ad campaign.

...is KARKAT narrating here???

SWIFER: boss check the news!

Oh shit, right, Swifer is in the resistance in Candy instead of just a breeding assistant in Meat as the bonuses remind us.

KARKAT: OH FUCK. MEENAH: what KARKAT: JESUS CHRIST. MEENAH: nubs i swear 2 god KARKAT: IT’S GAMZEE. KARKAT: HE’S DEAD. MEENAH: oh MEENAH: well shit KARKAT: I CAN’T FUCKING BELIEVE THIS. MEENAH: u okay KARKAT: NO!

Huh.  Them’s some complicated feelings that could fall in basically all directions at once.

Also, I can’t believe Karkat has hung around humans enough to fully internalize the full-throated exclamation “JESUS CHRIST”, which wouldn’t even really be a thing on Earth C with people who aren’t from Earths B or A.

MEENAH: u outlawed fishpuns i gotta make my own fun

How could you, Karkat.

KARKAT: AND I GUESS IF YOU CALL AN OBSCENELY PUBLIC PALE ACT, PERFORMED IN A FUGUE OF DESPERATE PANIC INTENDED TO PREVENT HIM FROM MURDERING ALL OF MY FRIENDS INSTEAD OF JUST HALF OF THEM ��A THING”. KARKAT: THEN YES, I GUESS WE HAD A THING. KARKAT: BUT IF YOU’RE ASKING ME IF I’M SAD THAT HE’S DEAD? KARKAT: ABSOLUTELY THE FUCK NOT.

Okay, I’d hoped not, good...

KARKAT: THAT’S NOT WHY I’M SAYING FUCK A BUNCH OF TIMES. MEENAH: u need a reason to say fuck a buncha times KARKAT: SHUT UP. KARKAT: LOOK AT THE PICTURE.

--Right!  That’s a good reason to not be okay.

KARKAT: I DON’T THINK SO? I CAN’T SEE HER EYES IN THIS PICTURE, BUT SHE’S COVERED IN BLOOD, AND SHE’S CARRYING GAMZEE, SO SHE’S CORPOREAL AT LEAST.

I love this form of analysis somehow.

KARKAT: OKAY...HERE. OH. OF COURSE. CROCKER IS CLAIMING HER SON WAS KIDNAPPED AND FORCED TO PARTICIPATE. KARKAT: AND THEY’VE NAMED ME AS THE MASTERMIND. MEENAH: well we woulda taken credit for it anyway so this saves us the time MEENAH: thanks jane owe u one

Meenah isn’t the “concerned” type.  Lemonade out of lemons.

> (==>)

That middle tweet is my favorite.

Oh dear, “#GamzeeAnon”...

KARKAT: SHIT. OF COURSE THIS WOULD HAVE TO DO WITH FUCKING SERKET. KARKAT: LITERAL MONTHS OF PLANNING, HOURS AND HOURS OF LOGISTICS, AND ALL OF IT GOES UP IN SMOKE BECAUSE OF ONE SPIDERY ASSHOLE. KARKAT: SHE *WOULD* FIND SOME WAY TO WRECK MY SHIT FROM BEYOND THE GRAVE.

indisputable

KARKAT: NOW? KARKAT: NOW WE PIVOT FROM THE SUBLIME TO THE RIDICULOUS.

Um...

What does that mean?

I’m having a lot of trouble not only understanding the basic meaning of what he’s saying, here, but understanding why KARKAT of all people would employ it.

......it’s a meme, isn’t it.  Gotta be.

> (==>)

(Ooh, an eyepatch designed to invoke a Strider-shade.  Nice.)

KARKAT: I NEED TO TALK TO EGBERT.

But....... why??

> (==>)

Oh right, cause his son’s girlfriend is involved.

> (==>)

Oh my goooood what a pair of John and Roxy caaaars! :D

He is too busy with these mental gymnastics to notice his father’s car parked outside.

Ah right.  John’s... not on the best terms with him, I recall that.

> (==>)

Ohhhh myyyy goooood what an image!!!

John, Roxy, and Harry Anderson proceed to have the tail end of a conversation they had before, in another medium.

What the fuck!?  Harry had that conversation WHILE this dead body situation was going on?!  Let me reread that linked bit...

(And she has such a somber smile on her face, but given the conversation content it’s not surprising.)

Harry Anderson looks at the two of them all teary and laughing and hikes his bag higher on his shoulder, shifting his weight. Roxy sees a muscle tighten in his jaw. Her beautiful, smart boy. She wants to run over and hug him, to protect him from the possibility of pain at talking to his father, but she doesn’t. She knows how much he’s wanted this, no matter how much he jokes about it.

She looks back at John, and sees her own awe mirrored in his face. She wills him not to cry, not to fall back on his self-imposed suffering and blame loop. Something about the last hour must have done the trick, though. John stands up, brushes his hands on his jeans, and walks, back straight, toward his son.

JOHN: hey harry anderson. JOHN: it’s really, really good to see you. JOHN: do you wanna go for a drive?

The muscle in Harry Anderson’s jaw clenches a few more times, but when he smiles, it is genuine.

HARRY ANDERSON: yeah, dad. HARRY ANDERSON: that could be cool.

Oh son of a bitch.  Well isn’t that entertaining.  Harry you’re just going to ditch your friends for I’m kidding, this is life fulfillment you’re aiming for, of COURSE you’re going to agree.  (Too bad bringing the current situation in is gonna throw a wrench in things.)

> (==>)

Oh right, that means more of THIS Vriska and THIS John.  They’ve had a good start talking already, I wonder what more they can learn from each other.

HARRY ANDERSON: but no worries, i asked my mom to pick me up some snacks so she’ll leave to go to the store in a sec. HARRY ANDERSON: just sneak in after she leaves and hide in my room, and i’ll be back in a bit.

Harry you enormous shortsighted asshole.  And John’s about to learn all this from Karkat over the phone to blow his cover.

> (==>)

aaaaa roxy art i cannot :D

Wonder if her stealthiness attunement is gonna catch them in the act?

> (==>)

From this jealousy bit, I wonder to what degree Earth C humans are used to Troll quadrants and their various interplay mores.

> (Room: Examine yourself.)

Oh, a proper room introduction for Harry Anderson!  Very fashion-focused, very liking the spotlight--

Oh wait, shit.  This is traditionally where classpect associations are hinted more obviously than anywhere else.  Time to stop holding back on the classpect stuff and take in every fucking word with capital-C Classpect fully in mind.

A bedroom stands empty. There is no boy standing in this bedroom, or indeed anyone else. However, if the boy whose bedroom it was were here, one might remark that his name was HARRY ANDERSON.

And FUCK, one might say, does he like MUSICAL THEATER.

Spotlight, definitely.  But is it for the attention? The possibilities? The acting?

He has been in his fair share of school plays, but he has LOFTY ASPIRATIONS to STAR in bigger and better productions. He especially appreciates modern MUSICAL REMAKES of classic OLD EARTH MOVIES. It's a craze that not everyone is happy about, but in the absent boy they have found a DEVOTED FAN. There is also just enough overlap between his taste and his father’s to allow for SOMEWHAT STILTED CONVERSATIONAL BONDING from time to time.

Hmmmm.  Is it about the majesty of important works of media (I see “Pokémon” and “Alien vs Predator” up there...), or is it about the fact that they’re remakes of past works?  Those are a lot of awards and stage lights now that I zoom in to look... and hats... hats could be important......

The boy who is not yet here has also been known to dabble in ACCESSORIZATION. He could be described as a COBBLER ASPIRANT, a NEOPHYTE MILLINER, or even a BIT OF A WHIZZ WITH A NEEDLE AND THREAD.

Oh, interesting!  Not just putting out different outfits, but making them?  And Milliner is hat-specific creation...

His mother got him his first SEWING MACHINE when he was 10, to keep him from using hers all the time. His looks are HAND-CRAFTED, often IMITATED, but never DUPLICATED.

Space is obviously possible from sewing, but-- A focus on uniqueness!!!  The broader theme is getting VERY specific.  You might feel where I’m leaning already.

His COSTUMES appear in various AMATEUR PRODUCTIONS, the devising of which takes up most of his FREE TIME. His friends are usually LESS APPRECIATIVE of his attempts to dress them up than he would like, though.

Holy fucking shit.  He dresses up and makes unique HATS for his friends and others.  Specifically so they can use them as COSTUMES to act parts!!!!

And the other unique thing mentioned about him here took the time aside to note how he appreciated the intersection in personal interests between him and his father for it.

So you all know what I’m thinking, right?  HATS???  It’s got to be Heart, isn’t it.  Maybe even a Page of Heart, with his long-off aspirations and talent for arming others with it.  Any other additive/giving class might do the trick, too, like Sylph or possibly Maid.  Knight could technically still fit pretty well, but I feel Page is better given what little we know so far, what with so much outward focus bleeding out.

(You can comb through the saga on my infamous hats tag or the summary on the Aspect Duality post, but the gist is that hats (and others’ clothes, but especially the hats. even shoes -- SO many shoes in that picture!) represent the gist of an expressed identity, personal uniqueness whether innate or affected ala a costume.  Nepeta, Dirk, Terezi, and even Stitch have given us examples, some of them deeper than we realized, MOST of them probably overthought bullshit like I thought when I first created the hats tag and started tracking the wonderful importance of hats. ¬_¬)

I’d like to see anyone else’s interpretation. (EDIT: One more potential Nep-allusion in this room.)

> (==>)

Oh nooooooo!!!!  Tavros’s sprite is the saddest looking thing I’ve ever seen!! D:  Like a mix of Jane and Jake that thoroughly regrets his entire existence!  Which he practically does!  D:  Why the Caliborn-like clothes though?

(Some hint at “how different alt!Callie’s Caliborn must have been” like the commentary suggested exploring in fanfiction?  Was the suggestion meant to divert attention from the idea that it’d be addressed in the plot?  Andrew pulled that trick a time or two, why not these authors?)

Also:

Pffff.  Vriska just accessorizing immediately--  Oh, wait.  That might just be a bandana she had at some point coated in Gamzee’s blood. 

Tavros is looking at the news on a borrowed phone -- nice call on disabling the tracking on yours, Tavros.

> (==>)

TAVROS: It’s getting a bit surreal to see my, uh,, frozen mask of horror on every news site,, TAVROS: It’s a good shot of you,,, though, Vrissy, VRISSY: It really is Shockingly well composed.

Heheheh.  It’s fun that Tavros knows exactly what Vrissy/ka would care about.

And yes, Vriska is over there trying out ALL the bandanas.

> (==>)

VRISSY: Oh, is trying on all my 8oyfriend’s accessories not passing the time well enough for you? VRISKA: Desper8 times call for desper8 measures, Vrissy. VRISKA: And this is some dire shit.

They stare each other down. Did she mean the fugitive situation, or Harry Anderson’s fashion choices? Vrissy feels silly wondering this, but despite the situation they’re in, she can’t help but feel more acutely anxious about Vriska’s presence.

She likes her life, and she trusts her own choices. But now, looking at everything from Vriska’s vantage point, it all feels silly. Unimportant. Childish.

She can’t tell if she wants Vriska to rip in to Harry Anderson or if she wants her to stay silent. To put off the moment where she has to defend him or join in.

Real interesting.  Like she’s caught between these worlds after all.

> (==>)

They say it was a long drive, but...?

...WOW.  What a chill, disinterested-looking affect his sprite makes for.  Huh.

He kisses Vrissy’s temple and she leans in to the warmth of him.

HARRY ANDERSON: aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. HARRY ANDERSON: so sorry it took so long. HARRY ANDERSON: can’t rush a heart to heart, you know how it is.

Stop making me deliberate whether you’re trying to drop teasing Heart-aspect hints.  You already know I’m going to be obsessively scrutinizing every word of dialogue around Harry to see if it fits, story. No need to rub it in.

VRISSY: You actually had a Heart to Heart with your dad? How many times did he Cry?

I DIDN’T EVEN READ THE NEXT LINE QUIT SAYING HEART TO HEART YOU EVEN GAVE IT PROPER CAPS THAT TIME

HARRY ANDERSON: but god, it was a mess. i had to keep talking to keep him from looking at his phone or turning on the radio. HARRY ANDERSON: i may have told him more about my deep passions and emotions in the last hour than the whole rest of my life combined, just to keep him from hearing the fucking news.

Holy shit.  You exploited conversation about your deep passions and interests for a separate goal???

Aaargh!  Classpect everywhere!  I’ve relapsed!!!  D:

> (==>)

JOHN IS SO HAPPY

John Egbert has not had a day like this in a very long time. He can barely keep track of this series of epiphanies he’s having. He stretches out on his couch to relax and process the gifts of advice and connection his friends and family and ex-family have just given him.

OH RIGHT TIME TO RUIN IT WITH MAXIMUM SHENANIGANS

JOHN: hey karkat! great timing! JOHN: so much just happened and im kind of reeling about it. KARKAT: YEAH NO SHIT.

Ohhhh.  Much of the time I hate dramatic irony, but those moments before someone is about to be let in on the discrepancy... oh man I love that.

JOHN: is something going on? i just spent the afternoon with my son, and i think he would have told me if something was up with his friends? KARKAT: OH MY LUSCIOUS SHITTING CHRIST JOHN LISTEN TO ME. JOHN: listening!

"Luscious”??  Did they try to type “Lusus” and get autocorrected?

Who’s writing Homestuck on their phone???

> (==>)

J...John?? Are you okay?? XD

This picture.  These two paragraphs.  I fucking love them.

(Wow, being closer to the “canon” story due to ridiculous shenanigans right after his back-to-back self-insights and outlook changes have really been healthy for him huh.  He can probably sense HS^2 reaching him out here.  And you can see the helpless comedian his probably-still-depressed ass became on Earth B in his reaction here. EDIT: Also, how appropriate that even by DYING, the Bard of Rage managed to fulfill his role and shatter the last vestiges of John's narrow-outlooked despair?)

John can’t answer. He can’t speak. His body has given itself over to the long-lost feeling of manic euphoria. It had felt like Harry Anderson was holding something back on the drive earlier, but he had already told John so much. He hadn’t wanted to press for more.

Yeah... after what John’s gone through across his life and session, finding out Harry managed to hide THIS for a whole car-ride is the best sort of punch-line for him.

John can’t breathe. Something is happening. Something is finally fucking happening, and he’s finally awake enough to appreciate it.

--yep.  I was just guessing earlier, but this kind of confirms it’s in part a closer-to-relevance, closer-to-canon feeling bleeding in.  Something is happening that’s important enough to SHOW onscreen and not skip over.  I guess he really does like being anchored in Light after all.

> (==>)

John wheezes himself into relative calm. He has to get Karkat to understand. He clears his throat and breathes.

JOHN: karkat, this can be how we win. JOHN: i know what we need to do.

...holy SHIT.

Karkat, how did you know calling JOHN about this would work out this well??

John actually taking confident action to solve a problem, in a way that isn’t going to end up depressing like his attempt to provide Tavros escape in the Epilogues... this should be interesting.

See you next time.  (I had to image-fix some stupid linked hat posts for this blogpost and I’m out of energy, so I’ll fix the other old post I promised that asker to fix in like, a day or two; I’ll post when I do.)

[healinghurtssometimes]

The Cycle (Pt. 1)

I’m not really sure where to start, so I’m going to opt for my current situation and how I got here. This blog isn’t meant for attention, but rather a way for me to get my experiences out in the open. Maybe some people will find this, relate, and somehow become my tribe. Let me tell you, I need good people. If you stick around long enough, I’m certain you’ll quickly start to see that. With that being said, I’m going to start with a very rough outline of the past 14-15 months.

For just a brief back story, I got offered the best paying job I’d ever had in January of 2017. A lot of stuff had happened (which I’ll cover another time) and I would have been stupid not to take the job when it was given to me. After 2 years, I got my Real Estate License since the company required it for all Property Managers, and I got promoted. The problem was that we were used to running our office with 3 Admins - one had been taken to fit a different role months earlier and still hadn’t been replaced, and I was the second one to be moved while the company STILL did not make an attempt to refill those roles until AFTER my promotion was finalized. I got stuck doing my job as an Admin AND my new job as a Property Manager with all training put on hold until those roles were filled, while also being expected to heavily assist in training the new Admins they hired since I had been there longer than the last Admin standing and was damn good at my job.

I then spent months filling multiple roles, being asked to train people coming into the new roles (including another Property Manager when I STILL wasn’t trained), and being asked regularly to go out of my way to do things face-to-face with/for my residents that was not being asked of my peers (many of which took up a substantial amount of time, like delivering portable AC units and having to walk through someone’s whole house with our Field Manager for maintenance complaints that I had no authority over). I BEGGED for help getting the new Admin team to fulfill the tasks I was trying to delegate to them, begged for training, begged for clarity on expectations that were never laid out. I begged for help for 6 months, and was consistently met with “we don’t have the resources,” “we aren’t properly staffed,” “there isn’t time,” etc. I was buried up to my nose from the day I took the position, and not one person agreed to help me dig myself out of the dirt. Instead, they buried me and then fired me for not being able to fulfill the role to their expectations (while the other two Property Managers weren’t expected to do ANY of the extra stuff they’d put on me to deal with). That was early September 2019. I filed for unemployment, and my now-former supervisor dug up information from my role as an Admin that had been approved by the District Manager at the time until they both got in trouble for letting me slightly stagger my schedule to make sure I could take care of my kids and be able to pay my rent after a HUGE change in the custody and child support of my children (a situation I’ll cover at another time). I didn’t get the notice letter for the unemployment appeal meeting until after it had taken place, about a week before Christmas, at which point I was VERY depressed, stressed, and couldn’t begin to fathom taking on a multi-million dollar company on my own. I now owe the state almost $900 in “overpaid unemployment benefits” that I have yet to be able to pay back.

I spent the next few months trying to find another job. Hoping to find something still in the world of Property Management, even if it wasn’t the same role or anywhere near the same pay or if it didn’t come with the same benefits. The company I worked for is well-known and very disliked by the ENTIRE property management community in the area I lived in at the time. They’re a very young company that is buying up houses left and right and helping make rent prices SOAR for those that aren’t able to buy a house (or just like renting instead of owning the home they live in for whatever reason) - they make it their goal year over year to increase renewal rates as much as they can get away with, knowing many people won’t do the research, question their numbers, or walk away from their house...they’ll just pay the rent increase and keep moving through their complaints of how high their rent is for the lack of improvements the company makes and their poor excuse of a maintenance department that’s directed to penny-and-dime every vendor and look for any reason the resident could possibly be held responsible for higher priced maintenance items. They’re in 20 different states and their maintenance department for their entire operation runs out of ONE state with a local “liaison” at each office that’s function is only for vacant homes. Hopefully they’ve changed some of this in the past year, but I don’t have any reason to believe they would have made things better for anything outside of their own bottom line. I won’t use their name because I don’t want to get sued, but if you know, you know.

I had to take the name of the company off of my resume, replaced with the word “Confidential,” in order to start getting call backs for interviews with other property management companies...all of which ended up being for apartment complexes where I was used to single-family and the two worlds are vastly different from one another. I had ONE company that actually offered me a job sometime around October/November 2019, and it turned out to be an absolutely awful situation to be in. They lied about what they offered for health insurance in my interview, treated their residents like garbage, their property manager played favorites and treated other staff like they were incompetent toddlers, leasing staff and maintenance weren’t allowed to communicate with each other outside of breaks and absolute emergencies, and operated with a LOT of drama. One situation got brought into our leasing office (while open to the public) where their outsourced IT guy and management proceeded to yell at each other in the lobby, calling each other things like “fucking liars” and just generally making a big scene, which made me incredibly uncomfortable to be around. I was already dealing with not having my much-needed anti-depressants and anti-anxiety medications, and the way this company was operated was making my already spiraling mental health WORSE. So after a few weeks, I left knowing that they were not a good fit for me nor I for what they apparently needed. I applied for literally hundreds of jobs, got a few interviews, and never got offered another position.

All this time, I’m just trying to figure out how I’m going to pay my rent (my now ex-boyfriend’s parents were paying our $1500 monthly rent and all of our utilities at this point so we wouldn’t get evicted with my kids), how I’m going to pay my phone bill or my car payment, dealing with being uninsured and ashamed of the situation I was in, debt piling up all around me with no way out of it, no health insurance, battling withdrawal from my heavy dosage of SSRI drugs. I know I haven’t talked much about them here, but all of this was really starting to affect my children - who were only 5 & 7 at the time - which was really making the entire situation SO MUCH WORSE to deal with. I was self medicating with marijuana and was high 98% of the time, or in the process of getting high. While weed by itself is not an addictive drug, I developed a dependency on it like I had come to depend on my mental health medications, because it was numbing the reality of the situation I was in and helping keep me somewhat functional and kept me from falling deeper into the darkness as my world crumbled around me.

At the end of January, I finally decided that I couldn’t justify staying in the place I’d lived my whole life anymore. I had lost my job, all of my income, my health insurance...I was on the brink of losing my car, my relationship was failing due to financial strain (though I was also done with the relationship beforehand and started cheating on him before I lost my job anyway and was really only with him at that point for convenience...not a moment I’m proud of by any means), I wasn’t able to support myself or my kids and was no longer able to hide the situation from them for what it was. The only thing I was able to protect them from was KNOWING I was always high, which I’m sure from my own experience with my parents, they’ll end up figuring out when they’re older and weed is legal across the board. So I started thinking “what’s next, how do I change this situation?” 

By January 2020, I’d been back in contact with an old high school boyfriend for a number of months. Not only was he an old boyfriend, but he was also one of my best friends in the whole world. I trusted him with every fiber of my being, he is the only soul that knows me the way he does, and he has stuck by my side through all of the mud trudging I’ve gone through since I was 15 other than our own disastrously messy breakup. He was roughly 400 miles away from my hometown, and was the only viable option for me to ask for help in the form of a roof to look for work and try to get myself back up on my feet. So I took my kids to their dad (who is a very petty and ugly human) because he is/was at least financially stable, packed a few things, and went looking for work 400 miles away. 3 days in, I was offered a menial serving job...but hey, working on 6 months of no consistent job or income, it was better than what I was working with back home. I started that job the end of February. For anyone that’s been alive this year, you know what’s coming next...4 weeks later, the restaurant was shut down for COVID lockdowns, and I immediately started looking for another job to take on once those shutdowns were lifted. So now, I’m 400 miles away from my kids and my family, and I’m also unemployed.

I thought I found one doing leasing with an apartment complex. I got the job offer, the offer letter, was working on finalizing a start date even though some of their requirements were ridiculous (like not being able to how any semblance of a tattoo or piercing not in your ear and only being able to wear black and white on the job). Then I asked what they were doing to protect their employees, residents, and potential residents from COVID. I lost that opportunity for asking questions, because they were the ONLY complex locally that was not observing any pandemic-related precautions, and had referred to a colleague as a “titty baby” for simply asking them to step up their game by providing hand sanitizer and a thermometer for their offices. I opted not to go back to serving over precautions for COVID so I could still go home and see my kids again at my dad’s house, as my step-mom was dealing the return of her Breast Cancer after nearly 2 years in remission and no way of getting treatment until the doctors decided it was safe again for her to be in a hospital or cancer treatment center.

Realizing now that I’ve only gotten to sometime around April/May, I’m going to leave this post for now and come back for a Part 2. If you’re still reading this and are planning on returning for the next installment, thank you for taking this journey with me as I lay my life out one piece at a time in the hopes of healing.

[kdlovehg]

Twelve times the season - a festive everlark fic.

Hey, i’m back, how y’all doing? I didn’t realise that the last time I published something was over a year ago and recently I got notified that @everlarkbookclub added one of my stories - which I really should update - to their suggested fic recs so thankyou for that. So impulsively I thought dang I kinda miss writing so here is chapter 1 which will also be posted on ao3 and fanfiction.net. This fic will be 10-13 chapters all completed by Christmas day. Its unbeta-ed and the tense may seem odd as I literally started it last night so please forgive me and um merry Christmas, and happy holidays. Additionally if I can find my last contribution to mores2sl then I'll have that posted before Christmas. XO

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

Summary:

No matter how welcoming Peeta Mellark is, there is one person who does everything she can to ignore him, and when the young woman is caught stealing from him, he decides to make a little challenge of his own. There's less than 12 days till Christmas and Peeta decides to use her as his chance to win a sponsorship, by making his community aware of the little conniving Grinch. But when things start becoming more than friendly Peeta has to decide, should he continue this little game, or admit to his neighbour all the secrets he's shared with the community? And even then, will she accept him as the man she’s come to know once her real identity is made public? For this year only, maybe the Grinch could find a friend after all.

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

Chapter 1

Katniss stepped into the elevator, eager to scurry off to her job, but just as the doors were about to close she heard a man call out.

"Hold it please!".

Impulsively, albeit unhappily, her arm shot out preventing the doors from sliding shut and she knew that without a doubt that her silent ride down to the foyer would no longer be an option. Glancing up she held back a groan when she saw the man who lived across the hall come racing towards her, his face slightly red after going from a walk to a sprint. She keeps her head up, eyes locked on a patch of drywall that he ran past. Hopefully he'd take the hint. There was no chance that she was going to speak to him today - or anyone else for that matter. Unfortunately this situation was all too familiar as she had bumped into this particular man several times in the past few months since she'd moved into her apartment. Yet, regardless of her obvious disdain, he would still make a point to stop whatever he was doing in order to pet her dog, Mutty. He was the only good thing she'd inherited from her Uncle, Haymitch, after he was forced into early retirement and had to move into the assisted-living complex due to an alcohol problem. Every time the young man would chatter away, stroking the dog who traitorously loved the attention, and Katniss, who hated having to even speak to her family some days, would respond with one word answers. On a good day she would be able to get away with just a nod or a noise from the back of her throat. He never seemed to mind though. Now Katniss didn't hate the man, he was just... too much. Too much noise. Took up too much space, and the innocence in his smile just seemed over the top. No-one should be that happy all the time.

Now, granted, she found him attractive. She didn't see the point in lying to herself, but there were plenty of good-looking men out there, but he was... different. For some reason his chirpy nature didn't make her want to ride up to the top of the building and jump off. She'd never do it of course. He just seemed to be more of an inconvenience than the others. That she could handle. Regardless none of this mattered. She knew better than to get involved with someone like him. He was trouble - maybe not the fast-driving maniac who's in and out of prison kind of trouble, but trouble nonetheless. Even his name would make people smile when they'd say it: Peeta. Oh good morning Peeta. Thankyou for helping me Peeta. You're so sweet Peeta. There was always a compliment attached to his name. But it was fine. Katniss could handle the happiness, just as long as it didn't disrupt her normal routine. Mornings were for silence.

"Thanks", he said breathlessly as he stumbled into the elevator, his coat flapping around as he turned to stand next to her. The spacious box seemed way too small all of a sudden. "I'm running late, but I think you can see that". He choked out a laugh as his breathing returned to normal.

For the second time that morning Katniss presses the close button and the doors finally slide closed with a whoosh. She stood quietly, hoping that he would be as content with the silence as she was. But alas, like every other day, she was wrong.

"Didn't I see you running with Mutty the other day?" he asked.

She shakes her head, refusing to look at him. He didn't see her... well perhaps he could have but she wasn't going to admit it. He would only see it as an opportunity to talk more.

"No? You sure? I'm pretty you I saw you."

She clenches her hands into fists, willing the elevator to hurry up.

Fortunately, the elevator stops just seconds later, opening up onto the foyer. A new record.

"You aren't much of a morning person are you?" he queried as he stoops down to collect his newspaper. She waits for him to stand up straight - there's no chance she's going to try and squeeze past him and risk making contact. He tucks the paper under his arm and heads toward the door. She quickly leans down and grabs her own paper. Why is he still talking? They stroll forward and are welcomed into the daylight by the cold breeze that was common to District twelve. The sound of rain pattering on the roof means it going to be another wet and chilly day. Lovely. Katniss' office at the Justice building was within walking distance, and one of the reasons why she even chose to move here. Peeta matches her step for step until he reaches the entrance to the train's platform, where thankfully, he stopped.

"Have a lovely day", he called out as she continued walking.

Katniss would, especially now that she was alone again. Perfect as always.

//////////////////////////

"Uh. Excuse me?". Peeta Mellark stood in the foyer the next morning, shocked that his neighbour would steal his paper so casually. It's not like she didn't know that he was standing directly opposite her. He crossed his arms, and waited for an explanation. Unfortunately his nice demeanour meant that his stance wasn't very threatening.

With a huff, Katniss glanced up, clearly unimpressed. No matter how nice Peeta was, she always seemed to be the most unpleasant person to be around. Everything was so unforgiving. Not a single greeting was ever returned. She hardly even acknowledged his existence.

"I believe that's mine". Obviously he knew it was. His room number was clearly written on top of the paper, and yes it was a little smudged but it was still easy to read.

Katniss rolled her eyes and annoyed, Peeta thrusts out his hand. "My newspaper, please". He could be polite but there was no need for her to try to take advantage of him. He knew what she was doing. She knew what she was doing.

Peeta held back a comment as she hesitated. Really? She's going to act annoyed when she's the one being inconvenient. How typical. Not an ounce of remorse. The woman never seems ashamed of her actions.

"Someone took mine" she stated. Oh how kind she is. Perhaps she thinks he should even go on and do the same to someone else. As if that would even give her the right.

"Well that's unfortunate but what's mine is mine. I'm not taking from someone else". He clicked his fingers, ironically feeling slightly guilty for the action. She does get on his nerves.

"Fine". She shoved the rolled-up paper towards him, hitting his forearm rather than his palm, before carelessly reaching down to grab some other unsuspecting owner's paper. What nerve!

"You really just did that". Peeta stood speechless. What audacity! That's hardly fair.

Katniss mumbles under her breath and steps past him, heading straight towards the door, her bag in hand. She doesn't hesitate this time around.

This had happened before and now he knew the culprit. He was living opposite to a thief. Wonderful. For a moment he wondered what else she might have taken, if not here then in the markets perhaps? And this close to Christmas, too, when its a time for the community and friendliness. She's just gotten colder with the weather. No wonder she doesn't speak a lot. Who knows what secrets she's trying to keep.

Peeta and Katniss often left for work at the same time and this week alone he'd bumped into her four times, each time silently wishing that she'd get up just a little bit earlier and get the elevator before him so that he wouldn't have to see her. Yet of course even that thought made him feel slightly guilty. He'd always offer a smile or a wave. Anything to set a good mood for the day, she was just never having it.

Peeta waited until his train had pulled away from the station before crossing the carriages. His best friend, Finnick, was usually in one of them, it was just a guessing game as to whether they'd see each other or not as the man was usually leaving work and heading home. They had opposing schedules ever since they'd attended college together. Finnick had graduated earlier with the aid of his father's finances, whereas Peeta's had dried up quickly, so he was forced to take night classes and work full-time, which was never ideal. He supposed he could have gotten a loan from the Capitol but seeing his classmates struggle to pay theirs back he figured he'd just avoid the help altogether. Of course that meant his food studies course took longer to complete but at least he now had a job he liked. Not loved. Not yet at least. Being a fishmonger wasn't his ideal job but when in high demand they paid well.

"Ah you won't believe what happened", Peeta said as he dropped into the seat next to his friend.

"Trouble in paradise", Finnick joked. He'd known about Peeta's neighbour for months and enjoyed poking fun at him any chance he got.

"She's a thief Fin, quit smiling. She tried to steal my newspaper".

"No", Finnick said dramatically.

"I caught her doing it. She didn't care at all. I got mine but she just went and nicked someone else's". He paused until his friend had stopped smiling. Peeta didn't see what was so funny. "And she was rude again. I couldn't even get a hi out of her. She's ruining Christmas Fin".

Sensing that his friend was getting upset Finnick tried to redirect the conversation. "Well what do you know about her?".

Peeta considered the question for a moment. "Well she has a gorgeous dog that she takes on runs with her". He doesn't add that he only knows about her dog because he saw him. She would have never told him otherwise. She clearly didn't like small talk, or being personal. Communication just didn't seem normal to her so after a while Peeta got the message. He'd still be civil though, that's how his father raised him.

"Maybe she's shy, I don't know, she might just be an awkward one Peet".

"I don't trust her". Peeta knew he couldn't always act the fool. Some things just had to be seen as what they were. Granted she was kind of cute, but he was raised on respect. Besides she just seemed so uptight all the time. Being outdoors was the only time she looked even slightly comfortable. Her hair would always be down and her shoulders would seem more relaxed.

"I mean why does she even hate me? What did I do wrong Fin? Nothing that's what".

Finnick sighed and glanced out the window, watching the forest fly by. "Do you like her?".

"Focus on the trees".

"You're too old for this Peet. Twenty-eight isn't young no more. Its about time you got over Madge".

"Don't bring her up", Peeta said quietly as all the bad memories tried to pour back in. That was over. Finnick knew that. Peeta just didn't have the time to date, it was always work and volunteering and whilst surviving on a few hours of sleep wasn't the worst thing to him, it wasn't something he particularly enjoyed.

Besides, he had a bigger challenge on his hand.

The column.

He's gone through six weeks of training and two interviews so far. He was so close to getting the sponsorship he needed to start his own company. Last he'd heard he only had one competitor left and they'd started out as twenty four. The idea was that both candidates would need to write a column which would be added to the local newspaper. Something to build interest because if you can't capture an audience for free then what chance do you have with a business where you rely on customers. Then whoever got the most attention would get the sponsorship.

"I don't think she's that bad Peeta".

"Everdeen's cold Fin. Real cold", Peeta said wrapping his coat tighter around him as the brisk air slipped through the cracks in the windows and leaked into the carriage. "If you saw her walking down the street towards you, you'd run into the road to avoid her". The more Peeta thought about it, the worse she seemed. All her faults were quickly returning to his memory. Rude. Arrogant. Impolite. He doubts she's smiled once since moving into his apartment block. The only redeeming feature about her was her pet, and he'd have to almost force her to let him spend just a few seconds with the fella.

"You're just playing it up Peet. She took your paper. That's it. I'd just let you have mine if you were that desperate".

"No Fin, she's deadly. I see it in her eyes. Those grey empty pools. Dark and distant, no life in them at all". Peeta knew that perhaps that was a stretch and it was definitely far from his jolly nature, but he hadn't seen anything that made her appear nice, and he was tired of offering people the benefit of the doubt. There had to be a good reason.

"Then show her a good time".

"Excuse you?", Peeta said. His friend couldn't be insinuating what he thought he was.

Finnick laughed at the man's shocked expression. "Not like that - not yet at least", he added teasingly. "Just show her what she's missing out on. Kill her with kindness so to speak".

"There's no point".

"There's less than two weeks till Christmas Peet, c'mon. You can be nice for a little longer. Just track your progress or something. Maybe you could even get her to smile once". Peeta sat silently, pondering the idea. Track your progress. Write it down. He'd never even considered it before, maybe that's why he wasn't noticing anything different about her. Besides, he needed an idea for his column. Perhaps this was it. Sure he may have to exaggerate here and there but it was worth a shot. Anything for that money.

"But it hasn't worked so far", Peeta added pathetically. He knew that if this were going to work he'd have to see Katniss a lot more often and he was sure she wouldn't be pleased about that idea - and neither was he to be honest. She'd just dampen his mood even more.

"You don't know till you try Peet. If it works, great, if it doesn't then oh well".

Maybe Finnick was right. Peeta was known for making people happy. He could do it for just a little longer, and he could even get a following if it worked. He was great with words so it shouldn't be too hard to garner a following.

"I suppose...".

Fiinick chuckled and gave his friend a nudge. He didn't even have to ask. He knew Peeta was already considering it. The man would do anything to start his own bakery.

The train slowed to a halt as they arrived at Finnick's stop. He smacked his friend on the leg as he stood up. "Just give it a go Peeta. And if no-one likes it then I'll nick all the paper's and read it myself".

"Thanks for the support", Peeta said with a small chuckle. He watched as Finnick, steeped out of the carriage and left the platform without looking back. He was right. Dealing with seafood all day wasn't Peeta's idea of a good time. He'd rather the scent of freshly baked loaves and gingerbread instead of saltwater.

What else did he have to do anyway? His parents were often too busy with his older siblings and their children, so it wasn't like he was going to be spending time with them this Christmas. Besides, he had other commitments. He had the orphanage he volunteered at. Since it was the holidays they had been trying to start a choir and whilst Peeta knew singing wasn't his forte, he was happy to help in any other way he could. They had one special performance coming up this weekend so there was no way he was going to miss it. His boss had even caved enough to change his working hours for the two days.

Peeta stared out the window as the train sped back up. He admired the twinkling lights that had been wrapped around bushes and lampposts. He really did love the holidays. It was one of his favourite times of the year and if he just remembered that then maybe he could make it through the upcoming days with Everdeen.

////////////////////////////////

As Peeta stumbled into his apartment that evening, he kicked off his shoes and slammed the door shut with a thud. He was cold, soaked and had to wait over an hour for his train. His feet hurt from standing the whole way, and his arm ached from having to hold onto the bar above him. He should have just done overtime, at least then he would have left with a little more money in his pocket.

Too exhausted to cook, Peeta thrust his arm into the back of the kitchen cupboard, past the herbs and spices until he could find one solitary can of chicken noodle soup. Usually he would never even consider eating something that wasn't fresh but the thought of spending an hour cooking and then having to clean up afterwards made him decide that just once was fine. It wouldn't become a habit.

He quickly heated the soup on the stovetop and took it over to his television. It wasn't until he'd sat down that he realised that he'd taken the pot, rather than just pour the soup into a bowl, but it was too late to get up now. It simply wasn't worth the hassle. He caught the last few minutes of the news and flicked through the channels until he arrived at the music station. Surely a little song or two would help lift his spirits. Perhaps he'd even hear some of the carols that the children were going to perform over the weekend.

As 'Silent night', filled the air, Peeta slurped on his soup, wincing each time at the noise. He really should tidy his apartment up. He could even pic a song or two to listen to whilst washing up. That always makes it more enjoyable. Maybe he'd even sing along - quietly.

Three thumps at the door, echo into the room. Goodness, he hadn't slurped that loud had he? Surely the rain would have covered any noise he made.

The sound of a fist hitting his door again, makes him put down his pot and head over to the door, an apology already on his lips.

He swung the door open and fixed his mouth into a smile at the sight of the familiar brunette. Lovely. He should have known.

She glares at him, as if his mere presence is upsetting to her.

"What can I do for you Miss Everdeen?" Peeta asked. Kind. Pleasant. Forgiving. Detached. The mention of her first name might even rile her up at this point.

She continued to scowl, clearly not sated but his cheerful approach. It was a shame. Peeta was sure she'd look lovely if she'd smiled once, but he'd never dare to ask her.

"Is your room infested with bees or something? Cause that's what it sounds like".

"What are you on about?".

"The humming? Could you be any louder?". Peeta furrowed his brow. Was he humming along? In between slurps perhaps? Yes it was possible but he didn't even notice. And how would she hear such a thing? Its hardly a loud noise.

"Quiet. Just be quiet. Its really not that hard", Katniss hissed out and accompanied it with a fake laugh - the kind you would get from someone who hated their job as a cashier.

Who was she to demand things from him? No please or thankyou, not even a sorry for interrupting. She simply didn't care. There was no shame.

"So would I be wrong in thinking that a lovely lady such as yourself dislikes a few festive carols?". Katniss quietly cursed under her breath. How blunt did she need to be for him to take the hint? And who was he to call her a lovely lady? They weren't even friends.

"Just be quiet", she stated, ignoring his comment about whether she liked the songs or not.

"Please".

"Huh?".

"Please be quiet" he finished with a grin.

Katniss tutted and rolled her eyes. "Whatever". The man was ridiculous. She wasn't a child, she knew exactly what she was saying. Before Peeta could respond she span around and stomped into her own apartment and slammed the door shut.

"Well then", Peeta said as he closed his own door. That was terribly rude. He didn't owe her anything when she behaved like that. The longer he thought about it the more appealing she became as a topic for his column. Yes. He wouldn't regret this.

Inspired he grabbed his notepad and sat down at his dining table to start on the first draft of his column. He tugged his coat off in an effort to get more comfortable. It was fine. Finnick had his back either way. Peeta scribbled down his title 'Twelve times the season', and made a note to write in cursive for when he submitted his piece for the paper.

Twelve times the season

December 14th

I'd like to introduce you to a friend of mine: scrooge. Or perhaps the Grinch is a more fond name for the lovely lady. I'm sure you've seen her around but if you've been fortunate enough to receive a nod from her I must assure you, that you are one of the lucky ones. Now granted I'm unaware of her stance on Christmas but from my few experiences with her I have determined that the festive season is not for her. Unfortunately for her she selected the apartment opposite me and thus, seems to enjoy pointing out how much of a nuisance I am to her. She clearly is not a happy woman, but alas I have managed to learn one more feature about the lovely lady.

For she is simply... a thief.

Who'd have guessed it. In our own community nonetheless. She was caught by yours truly, swiping my newspaper and if it couldn't get any worse she paid me a visit this evening. To discuss the weather, or perhaps the decorations in the streets? Certainly not. She simply demanded that I quiet down my humming. Can you believe it? I would never do such a disservice to my other neighbours above and below me. I'm sure they were enjoying my small racket.

Now when I spoke of her, who shall not be named, to a dear friend of mine he told me to essentially one up her. And thus people of District 12 I have taken on the impossible task of bringing joy to this 5 foot 5 Grinch, and she will leave Christmas as the elf to my Santa Claus. And that, twelve, is my promise to you.

[writeyourownlifestory]

L I G H T S U P

Chapters: 3/20 Fandom: IT Rating: M Warnings: No warnings at this time Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Beverly Marsh/Ben Hanscom Additional Tags: PunkRocker!Eddie, Writer!Richie, Beveddie!Friendship, No Clown Written by: myself & @ahardlife​ Tag list: @richietoaster, @beproudtozier, @that-weird-girls-blog, @s-onora, @s-s-georgie, @bellarosewrites, @iamcupcakefrosting, @reddieonwheels, @ghostnebula, @madidraw @madi-main, @gazebobullshit, @thoughtfullyyoungduck​, @airbenderking

Puff piece writer Richie Tozier is given the chance of a lifetime to interview his celebrity crush: Dr. K, the lead singer of punk rock band, Trashmouth. Dr. K is about to release his first solo album and Richie wants to get all the dirty details. But all is not what it appears to be and the two realize they know each other from a different time, in a different place, when they were both very different people.

Chapters One, Two 

Kill My Mind - Louis Tomlinson 

You kill my mind Raise my body back to life And I don't know what I'd do without you now

Kept me living From the last time From a prison of a past life On a mission just to feel like When you kissed me for the last time

While he may not have been the most studious of those who worked at Paper Boat magazine, Richie was anything if not professional. He stayed up throughout the night as he pieced together the interview to send to Bill. He wanted to ace that job, mind you. Even if he just did fluff pieces and bullshit reports, he always made sure his work was coherent and easy to read.

When the following day came, he made his way back into the studio, clutching a large coffee with a double shot, recalling what the singer said again and again.

What the fuck did he mean by it was nice to see you again?

He thought about all the people he had met throughout the years in the industry and nope. Dr. K wasn’t on that list. He had been a fan of Trashmouth since he was a junior in college, there is no fucking way he would have forgotten meeting him even if it was early on in his career.

As he made his way to his cubby, he stumbled into Georgie, who was adjusting his camera and making his way down to the designated photoshoot area.

“Jesus, you look terrible. What happened to you?” Was the first thing he asked him.

“Thanks for the support, little man. I appreciate it,” he commented with a chuckle. “I had to edit the interview and it took longer than expected.” He admitted sipping at his coffee, trying to make it seem casual.

He also stayed awake, examining the selfie he had taken moments before the bombshell. He had seen Dr. K’s face nearly every day for the past eight years. Richie was very sure if they had met before, he would have recognized him.

You don’t just forget about meeting a fucking rockstar even if you met them before their star status.

“Oh, right,” the guy nodded, going back to set his camera. “He’ll be here in five. The singer guy. His assistant just called me,” he informed.

Sometimes he forgot that Georgie was nearly ten years younger than Bill. Still in college with a lush career on his shoulders all thanks to his brother’s connections. He would be jealous of the little fucker if he wasn’t such a damn sweetheart.

“Cool. Cool cool.”

“You can come along if you want. No one is allowed access other than me and Bill, but since you’re doing the expose on him, I don’t see why you shouldn’t be there too.”

“Oh. Right. Thanks.”

And he was panicking again. He really shouldn’t be because like Georgie said, he was just a singer guy. Except he wasn’t. He was Dr. K. Lead -- former -- lead singer of Trashmouth. A band that meant more to Richie than he is proud to admit at this very moment.

As they made their way down to the secluded area, Richie’s mouth started watering. Was that normal? He’d have to check with a doctor. A real one. True to words, Dr. K and Beverly arrived a few minutes later with Bill in tow. Georgie greeted them kindly, while Richie just stood off awkwardly to the side, staring out at him like a psycho as Georgie explained what they wanted him to do.

It wasn’t going to be anything wild. Richie had seen other promotional photos of the man and while some of them helped him get through some very lonely nights, this wasn’t going to be like that. They weren’t giving him stupid props or greasing him up.

He would wear the clothes he came in with (black jeans and a black and white checkered button-down), and Bill would talk to him throughout it just to keep him confident and relaxed. It was pretty standard with Paper Boat. They wanted real people so having a photoshoot that was more photoshopped than anything wasn’t their cup of tea.

Giving Georgie a minute to set up, Richie watched as Dr. K approached him, that particular smile sitting so comfortably across his lips. It only made Richie more nervous.

“Hey Richie,” He greeted him casually.

“Hey! Hi. Good morning,” He rambled out, his hand still clutching his coffee. “Excited for the shoot?”

“Nothing new to me to be honest, though I do appreciate your boss not lathering me up in lube.” He admitted with a small shrug.

“That was a great shoot. I mean, I doubt it was comfortable and it had to be a bitch to wash off, but ten out of ten stars for me.” He mentioned, rolling on the balls of his feet. He was teetering. Waiting. Waiting for what though? If he didn’t spit it out he would miss his chance and then the mystery would only continue. “Hey, can I ask you something real quick?”

“Shoot.”

“Yesterday, at the interview before you left, remember? You- you said it was nice to see me again,” he started, pausing as Beverly came over, passing Dr. K his own cup of coffee.

Richie took a slow sip of his mouth, hoping to quench his throat that was suddenly very dry.

Dr. K thanked her, sipping at his cup as Beverly left them again. “Mhm, I remember.”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about it and honestly dude, I don’t remember ever meeting you.” He finally confessed. “Did we like, have a class together in school? I highly doubt it because you were touring while I was getting my bachelor's, but I really can’t find you anywhere in my mind. And trust me, I would remember someone like you. Cute, and sexy, and talented. You’re like a triple threat and I have like, seven shirts with your face on it, plus multiple pictures of you in my apartment, and I’ve seen you perform sixteen times in the past eight years, and I should stop talking now because Bill is literally right there and told me I shouldn’t embarrass myself and me-“

Dr. K started laughing then, soft and sweet. His smile only grew and those dark eyes shimmered almost lovingly. “Beep beep, Richie.”

And after that he was whisked away by Georgie. They didn’t apply much makeup other than some powder to help with the shine. Richie was left standing like a fool, watching as Dr. K was placed where they wanted him and Bill began talking to him as the photoshoot began.

“Beep beep?” Richie muttered aloud, trying to remember where he heard that before.

Until it clicked.

“Beep beep, Richie!”

Richie laughed aloud, turning back to make sure the other boy was still behind him. It was summer and they were kids, which meant they were going to do whatever the hell they wanted to do without a single care in the world. Their town was small and boring, so what else were two ten year old kids supposed to do? Sit at home and watch cartoons?

They rode their bikes around town, finally making it to the standpipe where they could have a bit of privacy. They went there more often than not, as it was the only place in the whole damn town that wasn’t a waste of space.

They hurried inside, just as they had so many times before. As children, preteens, and then finally teenages. Sure, two ten year olds running a muck was pretty annoying, but it was the thirteen year olds that caused the most trouble, with their potty mouths and terrible ideas.

Richie lead the other boy inside, sneaking through the rickety door and up, up, up the stairs until they reached the very top. It was the only place high enough where you could see beyond Derry. See the horizon as the sun set down and actually know there was more of this world than just their shitty town.

“All right, Rapunzel! I’ve brought you back to your tower, far away from that terrible, terrible witch that kept you captive!”

“That’s not even how the story goes, dumbass.” The other boy laughed.

His words were meant to be cruel, but they weren’t. And his gaze wasn’t one of disdain but appreciation. Richie adjusted his glasses, moving closer to the other boy. “Either way, I’m still the prince charming, here to save the beautiful prince.”

The other boy rolled his eyes fondly.

“If your mom puts you under a sleeping spell, I’ll have to be the one to kiss you awake.” Richie announced.

“Wrong princess, Richie.”

“You do look rather sleepy, Eds. Maybe I should try it now? Just for practice?”

“Beep beep, Richie.” The other boy replied, pulling the taller boy in to kiss him softly.

Richie hurried out of the studio, going up the stairs and out onto the street to gather from fresh air. He felt a tightness in his stomach that he hadn’t dealt with in a very long time. He was sweaty and jumpy as people moved along the street beside him. It was as if he had seen a ghost and in some ways, he had.

There was only one person in his life who said those words to him; the mocking clown nose sound that would be used to sensor him or shut him up.

It was him. After all these years. After all the nightmares. After all the therapy sessions he finally walked back into his life.

Eddie Kaspbrak.

They had been friends since kindergarten. Best friends almost right off the bat. Eddie was a shy kid who didn’t do well with crowds and Richie was a class clown who was shunned from all other cliques due to how obnoxious he was even from an early age.

They were two people who didn’t belong in the small town they were trapped inside. Two boys who shared common interests and scars, and more importantly, secrets.

Eddie Kaspbrak was the reason Richie turned into such a basket case, so afraid to come out of his shell and be proud of who he was.

And it was Dr. K that helped Richie step out of the darkness and into the light.

Now it appeared they were one in the same.

There was no other way around it. Nobody else had ever said such a thing to him. “Beep beep” had been their thing, the thing Eddie would say to get him to stop talking back when they were just kids. There was no possible way anybody else would know that.

After finally realizing he wasn’t happy with the life had been living Richie went to therapy where he basically cried out every sad story he had to tell. In the end the therapist suggested he reach out to his old pal. Richie looked him up on every social media account he could but there was no sign of him anywhere.

It was like he didn’t exist anymore.

In the back of his mind Richie thought the worst and he had good reason to. Things didn’t end well for them back when they were kids. They were torn apart due to the prejudices of society and the pure hatred from Eddie’s mother. He always wondered what happened to his friend, especially since it was very clear that he and Eddie were more than friends.

There was a time when he used to think they were fucking soulmates. It was silly to think and he was just thirteen when those thoughts popped into his head into his head but back then he didn’t care.

It was just him and Eddie against the world. But the world ended up winning in the end.

Richie left the studio then, unsure of how he was supposed to carry on with the rest of the day with the knowledge he now had. He had practically gotten sick of it, thinking back to his childhood and how terrible things had turned out for himself.

He felt sick, like every time he got nervous about something. He felt sick and scared and happy? All of a sudden. Yes, he went to therapy because he thought his best friend was gone for good. Shit, he even called to as many conversion camps he could find information about across the country. Really, Sonia Kaspbrak would do anything to keep her son for herself.

And now Eddie was back in his life. How could he not see it? He went to sixteen concerts, got a poster of the band in his house, he even got cold showers courtesy of Dr. K. It was going to be a whole lot to process it. Process, first of all, that Eddie was alive. Two, that he was in his life again and even remembered him. And three, that he was Dr. K.

What. The. Fuck.

Richie went home hoping to collect his thoughts though it didn’t turn out the way he hoped. He was going absolutely bonkers trying to control all these new revelations that were coming his way.

He tried to get his mind off it; even jumping into the shower hoping the warm water would make him feel like a normal person again but that was all for nothing.

He had to talk to Eddie. Obviously he remembered him. Remembered the things they used to say to one another. He felt like he was going out of his mind.

Looking at the clock, he swore sharply. He would be gone from the studio by now. Richie was mentally kicking himself for running away but it’s what he did best.

There had to be another way. He was desperate but he didn’t want to give up that easily.

So he called Bill, hoping to use his small amount of improv and acting skills to get him in good. “Bill! Buddy! Shit man you’re never gonna believe this.” He spoke drastically.

He told Bill this wild story about how he was watching a documentary on Galaxy Quest that got him excited, resulting in him knocking over his coffee cup onto his computer, which short-circuited as he was editing the interview.

“I got it back up and rolling but I wasn’t able to save. Yeah, it’s gone man. All of it. I was hoping you had the number of his assistant so I could reschedule another one on one.”

“You gotta be more careful, Rich. MacBooks aren’t cheap.” Bill replied with a laugh.

He texted him the number of Dr. K’s personal assistant.

Easy as that.

Richie was ready to relay the whole story back to Beverly and when he did he thought that maybe it would be just as easy. Of course, it wasn’t.

“Mr. Denbrough asked enough questions during the photoshoot to qualify as an interview. Surely that shall suffice, Mr. Tozier.” She spoke coolly.

“It could but it wouldn’t answer the hard-hitting questions that our readers want to know about,” Richie replied. “Look it will only be a few minutes. I’ll even come to him if you give me the address.”

“I very well can't just give you the address of Dr. K’s home.” Beverly laughed off dismissively.

“Bev — can I call you Bev? — I need you to work with me here. I know I sound desperate and pathetic but I want you to know from the bottom of my heart, I am both.”

He wasn’t going to sugar coat it. He ran away because he was a weak bitch but he had to talk to Eddie about this. Needed him to fill in the gaps of their lives.

“Ten minutes, that’s all. I don’t want to waste his time, I just want to talk to him. You can even supervise if you’re worried I’m gonna jump him or anything.”

“You don’t give up easily, do you, Tozier?”

“Actually I’ve been known to give up very easily. It’s just different this time around,” Richie confessed.

The line was quiet for a moment; too quiet that Richie thought that maybe the call dropped. He pulled away to look but found Beverly continuing.

“He’s not at his current home. He’s staying at the Waldorf Suites until further notice.” She explained.

He told her the name that he was staying under and explained he would be there for the rest of the night. Richie looked down at the paper, his heart jumping in his throat when he saw the name he was currently listed under “Spaghetti” which just hit too close to him.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Mr. Tozier.” She warned lightly.

“I make zero promises, Ms. Ringwald.” He said before ending the call.

He jumped up from his seat then, rushing off to change back into his clothing so he could hit the road and get some answers.

[post-itpenny]

Breaking Down

Here we go onto the next part and our old familiar friend Angst. After this there will be a short break form the story, if anything but to stall having to write the end.

Tagging @grotesquegabby and @clownsgobeepbeep

Magpie came home.

She walked in through the front door of her home with Maggie who she then insisted returned to Billy’s manor.

“Your priorities have to change now poppy,” Magpie said with a small smile. “Go home to your fiancé and get some rest. You’ll need it soon enough.”

So Magpie was left alone, Honey and Brie having gone out somewhere with Trouble. Magpie was happy they were taking such good care of him, though it would have been nice to come home to everyone.

So she fixed herself a cup of tea and sat down at the kitchen table. Alone.

The shadows grew long in the evening light. Magpie fidgeted in her seat, she was so hungry. How was that possible after spending a week with all she could eat Joy?

But then again had she eaten?

Magpie stood up with a clatter as the chair fell backwards. Not bothering to correct it as she rushed out the door and into the twilight.

It felt odd putting on a performance, no assistant this time as she didn’t want Maggie exerting herself too much. 

Magpie spent the first half of her performance feeling every bit of a sham. She had wanted to recreate some of the spectacular sights she had seen on Blackwood’s planet and the audience did seem to enjoy themselves, but it just wasn’t the same.

For the first time ever, Magpie called for an intermission.

It was a gamble, people could wander out of the tent during that time and she would lose her meal. But backstage Magpie sat on the floor crying. Why wasn’t it the same?

Perhaps because her talents weren’t the same.

Magpie sat up in her revelation, Blackwood could create literally anything, but Magpie could not. She was limited according to adding the essence of life. The more sentient the more difficult, however after performing some of the acts and stunts she had seen on Blackwood’s planet Magpie realized something.

She definitely beat the elder when it came to imagination. 

Magpie was a picky eater, always had been. Her true dietary need was serendipity, an emotion she had found over the years was tricky to cultivate. To draw it out you needed a certain “pop” to what you gave the crowd. She didn’t need to make them happy, she needed to have them in awe.

Magpie wipes her eyes and rushed back out onto the stage ending the intermission without warning. She gave her best smile and snapped her fingers.

The Neon Circus was a favorite of hers. A lighted spectacle of a ghostly circus performing around her chosen audience in bright colors. The finale being a three tier carousel that appeared to be made of live animals that glowed in the darkness. Braver audience members would climb onto the ride. Magpie always liked this part, seeing people discovering their favorite animal and for just a moment being able to interact with a live version in a magical and unearthly way.

The animals weren’t real of course, but they were beautiful and easily deceived the crowd. 

In the end, the emotions of sudden good fortune and unexpected delight that the audience felt was so strong Magpie found she got her fill without even having to pick a single victim to take home to her dinner table.

It was good.

Magpie strolled home under the dim streetlights. She felt better, perhaps a good meal was what she had been needing.

“Weeell hello my Starshine.”

Magpie froze up before spinning around on her heels. Jack stood behind her, casually leaning against a wall. “Wonderful performance tonight. Gotta say though Pumpkin the first half didn’t seem like your usual flair.”

Magpie bristled, “You were there?”

Jack smiled and pushed himself from the wall. “Of course Sweetheart, you had been gone for a couple days and Ol’ Jack was worried.”

“Yo-you’ve been spying on me?”

Jack chuckled, “no just watching out for you. The bug and bird won’t ever let me come say hi you know?”

“So stalking?”

“I just like keeping tabs on my favorite girl.” Jack smiled as he approached her.

Magpie backed up, she wasn’t afraid of Jack, seeing him actually made her mad as hell. She was afraid of herself.

“Angel I’ve missed you,” Jack cooed, “You can’t say you don’t miss me-“

“I don’t.”

“You were never good at lying Angel,” Jack chuckled as he reached for her. “I know every inch of you, and I know how your pretty little heart works.”

Jack pulled Magpie to him and kissed her.

For a moment-

For only a moment.

Magpie let herself enjoy it.

She had not forgotten how good it was, how good a kisser he actually was. 

For just a moment Magpie let herself enjoy it.

And then she slammed her heel down onto his toes as hard as she could.

Jack shouted in pain before shoving Magpie back. She fell to the ground hard, her anger and hurt boiling over. 

“I hate you! I hate you!”

The streetlights flaired bright before shattering. The surge of electricity spreading into the city in seconds, knocking out the power. The ground around Magpie cracked and buckled, nearby trees caught fire. 

Through it all, Jack held his ground with a wicked smile, “no you don’t Starshine. You don’t hate me and you know that’s the truth.”

“Looks like she does dude.”

Jack looked up, behind Magpie stood a clown dressed like something out of the 90s. He grinned, showing a set of sharp teeth.

Jack stuck his hands in his pockets and chuckled, “nice set of chompers there Rex.” Jack sneered. “If you don’t mind this is between my mate and I.”

Magpie swiped at him with a long set of claws. Her body distorting into a thousand shapes at once. She came back together in a loud “snap!” As a wave of energy shot out from her like a ripple in a pond.

The wave spread across the city. Flat tires, stubbed toes, muggings and getting arrested, cooking fires, bone breaks, food poisoning, and one small child dropped their ice cream.

Alex casually watched his shoelaces untied themselves and with a small “pop!” One of the lenses from his sunglasses fell out of their frame.

Jack now looked nervous. As if he knew something Alexander did not. Magpie was curled up on the ground as if in pain. 

Alex stepped around her and up to Jack, one of his strange eyes visible thanks to the missing lens.

“Homeslice, if that wasn’t a sign she doesn’t want you around then I don’t know what is.”

Jack smirked and stepped closer, his chest almost touching Alex’s.

“Friend I’m not much in the mood for a challenge, but if a fight is what you want-“

“Chill my dude,” Alex chuckled, “I̷͉̖̠̺̳̳͜͝ͅ’̸̙̰̹̳̀̓͂͘͘̚m̸̲̰͖͈̗̼̐̂̀̃͌̋͋ ̷̡̧͉̲̦̩̟̫͋̀͂̀͆̕j̴̨͙͚̻̩̟̘̳̎ú̴̙̲̟̍s̶̯̗̎̄͐t̷͔̖͈͓͉͉̿̒̅̀̑ͅ ̸̝̞͌̈́̐t̶̲̘͙͓͌̌͜r̵̨͕̹̞͕̉̽̔ÿ̵̧̋̏͠ī̴͇͉̭͝n̴̤͍̫̆͋͒g̴̺͉̠̹̰̑̋̾̏͝ ̷͙̯̣̞͉̌̈̏̆t̵̢̛͕̘̩̰̳͚̹̓̐͛̇̕o̵̝͔͓̯͇̬̰̍̊̓̊͑ ̶͚̟͈̱̍̀h̸̝̏̀͌ã̷͓̥̭͐v̸̢̤͇̺̻́e̵͚̚̕͠ ̸̱̐͠ȁ̴̡̙̹͉̮̣̘̏̌̓̈́͝ͅ ̶̡̟̣͓̙̞͖̗̈̽͆̿g̴͕͓͇̥̟͕͍̈ơ̷̠̱̅͒͋ô̴̰̈́̾̆͂͒͠d̸̹̞͚̝̘̫̣̓̑̉̐͂ͅ ̵̺̟̬̞̯̻̋t̵̼͚̘̎͊̓̈́̂̅i̷̧̤̫͉̹͗͊̀͊̋̿͘m̵̞͖̦̭̣̈͜e̵̜̱̔̎͋̃̆͐̈́͝.̶͚͈͓̞̳͚̥̎͛̑”̷̫͖̤͊́̀̉̇

Jack stepped back with a slight look of alarm. The ground shook as another wave of bad luck flowed from Magpie and into the surrounding area. Cars crashed, glass shattered, fights broke out,lightning struck buildings-

A bird pooped on Jacks’ shoulder.

Alex started laughing, Jack looking at his shoulder in disgust. 

“Step off bro. Stop acting like your anything special.”

Alex turned to Magpie, ignoring an angry Jack.

“Sup chica, funny story but there I was at the club. Party getting real good and the power goes out. Not good for business you know what I mean?”

Magpie was a crying mess, Alex sighed and leaned against the wall to wait it out, Jack was long gone. 

“Yo that was pretty neat though, good luck and good luck huh?”

Magpie sniffled and looked up at him, “I’m sorry what?”

Alexander quirked and eyebrow, so she didn’t know then?

“Never mind, anyways you good now? Done going postal?”

“... what?”

Alexander grinned, “you chill?”

“What?”

Alexander laughed, “I’m just messing with you, but I do need you to turn back on the power, also you owe me a new pair.” He insisted as he held out his broken glasses.

Magpie half heatedly snapped her fingers and Alexander’s glasses repaired themselves. She then timidly pulled off her glove to inspect a tear in the fabric from when she fell.

“You pulled off a clown’s mask,” Alexander observed, “not the brightest idea.”

Magpie hid her hand behind her back. Alex chuckled, “you good chica.” Alex said as he pulled off his own glove to show a blackened hand. 

Magpie smiled bitterly, “does anything bother you? Also my name is not Chica Alexander.”

Alex chuckled and pulled Magpie to her feet, “It’s just Alex. No need to be so formal with me Pie.”

“But Alexander is a perfectly nice name and….. I’m sorry Pie?”

Magpie broke into a fit of giggles, Alexander looking down to watch his shoes magically retie themselves. 

“I’m not to sure of that one,” Magpie giggled as she snapped her fingers, restoring power to the city at last.”

Alexander grinned, turning to leave when a hand grabbed his jacket sleeve.

Magpie swayed slightly, as if exhausted. Her cheeks colored just slightly, “Alex I’m sorry to bother you more but could you please see me home?”

Alexander offered her his arm to lean on. “Sure thing, let’s bounce.”

“... What?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day it poured rain. 

Magpie sat out in the garden at a small table, seeming unbothered by the fact she was soaked. She had tried to contact James that morning. Saddened to hear how shaken he had been by coming to get Magpie from her elder’s planet. The D’Vitts were not happy, the fear that she had caused so much trouble… again… it sat in her gut like heavy stones.

She had not slept much, the confrontation with Jack… she felt like her insides had been on fire. What was that?

“This is more of duck weather than magpie weather don’t you think?”

Magpie looked over her shoulder to find Cecilio walking out towards her. Magpie snapped her fingers as a plethora of umbrellas appeared hovering above them, blocking out the rain. 

Cecilio sat down next to her and said nothing for a short time, looking down to notice Magpie had her hand out to him.

“Could I have one please?”

Cecilio frowned, “one what?”

Magpie gave him a rather pointed look, the request suddenly clicking as he pulled out a cigar and lit it before passing it along to Magpie and lighting one for himself.

Magpie took a long drag before allowing the smoke to escape her mouth slowly. “Thank you.”

Cecilio nodded, “didn’t know you smoked.”

“I don’t.”

Magpie tapped some ash off the end of the cigar and took another long drag. Cecilio shrugged and decided not to push the subject further. He was here for another reason anyways.

“So how goes it?”

Magpie did not answer, focusing on her cigar.

Cecilio tried again, “so that planet was crazy right?”

It rained even harder.

Cecilio sighed, releasing a puff of smoke as he did.

“Maybe I should go back.”

He turned to Magpie in surprise, “is that what you want to do?”

Magpie looked away but did not answer.

Cecilio pushed further, “it seems to me that a lot of people were worried about you. Why go back?”

Magpie put her head in one hand, “because I’m just trouble here. At least back there I didn’t bother anyone.”

“Who said you were bothering people?” Cecilio questioned. “If anything I think it would bother your friends a lot if you went back. Magpie that place was one giant venus fly trap and you know it. Do you really want to be like those people?”

“No.”

“You can’t just be happy and all sunshine all the time.”

“You can, you’re ex is dead.”

“Yeah and I about had a heart attack in the process of it, she didn’t go out easy.” Cecilio admitted. “I’m still in the Bad Ex Club with you.”

Magpie gave a tiny smile as she crushed the remains of her cigar under her boot. The rain letting up just a little. 

Soon the two walked inside and Magpie was surprised to find Belinda sitting with Magpie and a plate of brownies. 

Apparently Pepper had been upset from Blackwood’s planet as well much to Magpie’s unease.

But Belinda had wanted to check on Magpie and brought fudge brownies which helped a little.

Magpie was willing to admit the company was nice. She explained to the three of them how she had been feeling lately, had been feeling for a long time actually. Admitting that the appeal of a planet free from worry and sadness had gotten the best of her. She apologized several times and each time told to let it pass. Belinda was actually a very good listener, it was such a small act but it did help. 

Cecilio looked outside to notice it had stopped raining.

Also, there was one more cigar left in his pocket then he had otherwise thought, her looked to Magpie but she seemed preoccupied in teasing Maggie for eating three apples in a row. Cecilio looked back at the cigar and chuckled.

Huh, neat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That evening Honey and Brie came home with Trouble.

The little dachshund was in fits. Crying and licking Magpie’s face so intensely Magpie had to sit down. His little body wiggling as he wagged his tail as hard as he could.

Brie was very happy to have Magpie home, Honey was clearly unhappy.

“You promised to come back in three days, you were gone a week.”

Magpie flinched, “I know and I am sorry about that. I honestly lost track of time.”

Honey rolled her eyes and went to go sit on the couch, Brie joining her.

Magpie took a deep breath and sat down in the chair across from them.

“Please, let me explain myself.”

Honey shrugged but said nothing.

Magpie placed her hands in her lap, fingers nervously intertwined. “I have been… I… I have made a lot of mistakes that I spent a great deal of time paying for. I caused a great deal of grief for my family and had to pay a heavy price. I made the mistake of letting the wrong person have my heart and turn me into someone rather awful.”

Brie watched Magpie with a worried expression, Honey however seemed unchanged. 

Magpie continued, “I’m telling you this because even though I’m trying to move past all of that I still am not perfectly ok. My former mate still gives me a great deal of trouble and my family do not trust me… and some still want nothing to do with me. So when I was offered a chance to get away from my own problems for a short time I took it. However, I made the mistake of not considering the problems you two are dealing with.”

Honey quirked an eyebrow but still did not say anything.

Magpie took another breath. “I know you two are still hurt and I should never have left you even for a few days. That was not fair and when I realized my mistake I came home right away. I have come to care about you both greatly and I chose to make watching out for you two my responsibility, and I’m sorry. I can’t make any guarantees about what will happen in the future but I do want you to know that I do care about you both and you have a home here for as long as you wish.”

Brie was up and hugging Magpie, picking her up from the floor in the process. Honey stood up and smoothed out the wrinkles from her dress. “Okay, how about some tea and cake then?”

Magpie smiled, “yes that sounds lovely.”

[danceyreagan]

Isaiah Jesus~ First Date

gif not mine. Beta’d by @black-john-lennon

Here it is guys 2085 words of pure Isaiah and Mona

First Meeting  Second Meeting Third Meeting  Backstory  Backstory pt II

Part Four.  Moodboards.

Isaiah’s heartbeat nearly beat out of his chest. After speaking with Finn about the conversation with Mona in the jewelry store he reported everything back to Isaiah. “She likes you mate, I’m sure of it. It’s your job she doesn't like.” Finn also went on to inform him about the women he slept with at Mona’s work. Isaiah cursed himself, but wasn’t too surprised, he had terrible luck when it came to Mona and trying to win her over. Unsure of what to do next, he figured it was best to ask his father for advice.

“How’d you get mom to go out with you?” Isaiah asked his father late that night when returned home from preaching.

“I showed her respect and treated her like she was different, special even. If you want a woman to believe she’s important to you, you can’t treat her like anyone else on the street.”

That’s how he found himself, walking into Mona’s job, a single yellow chrysanthemum in hand, heart beating a mile a minute. His blood ran cold with nerves, his hands were clammy. He was prepared to make himself look foolish just for the prospect of a date. Taking His father's words quite literally, he opted for the less popular but equally beautiful flower because they were his mother's favorite, and the so often decorated his home as a child.

Entering the tailors, Isaiah spotted Mona sitting towards the back, fast at work on her sewing machine. He took a second to admire the sight. Her eyebrows furrowed, deep in concentration as she passed the garment through the needle. God was she beautiful.

“Isaiah?”  he heard a voice call from behind. He turned around to find Lucy, one of he poor unfortunate women he had the pleasure of sharing a lustful evening with.

 “Can I help you?” she asked.  Isaiah felt a twinge of guilt remembering how he ignored her after their night together.

“May I please have a word with Mona?” rolling her eyes Lucy walked past Isaiah up to Mona and whispered in her ear. She looked up and straight at the counter where she met eyes with Isaiah and smiled.

“Is everything alright? How are Tabby and Jeremiah?” Mona was genuinely concerned, she was sure something tragic happened. Why else would he come to her job,

Isaiah’s heart was in his stomach, and he was aware of six pairs of very sharp eyes staring daggers at them. He abruptly he shoved the flower in her hand and blurted his words out so quickly they came out as a jumble of sounds that were barely comprehensible.

“I was wondering if you would like you to go on a date with me on Saturday?” He gave her an awkward smile,snatched his hat off his head and turned his hat in his hands.  Mona’s bit her lip to try to keep her laughter in, but there was no hope. Her shoulders began to shake and her eyes watered, and before Isaiah had time to react she let out a deep guttural laugh.

“Im sorry, what?” She asked through her laughter.

Isaiah knew there was a chance for her to say no, but to flat out laugh in his face was just rude. He wanted to disappear. The floor could swallow him whole and take him to an eternity hellfire and that  would still be better than this.

“What’s so funny?” “

“You! You should see your face” Mona attempted to recreate the scene but she was laughing too hard. Isaiah couldn't help but smile to himself. The sound of her laughter was his favorite sound in the world.

“Stop laughing” he said trying himself to keep from laughing.

“Okay” Mona straightened up, wiping the tears from her eyes. “Sorry.”

“So?” He asked nerves still getting the better of him.

“So...yes. I’ll go on a date with you Isaiah Jesus”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The date was planned and Isaiah was ready. He was aware a lavish night on the town in some swanky club was not Mona’s scene. Besides, he wanted to have a quiet outing where he could conduct a real conversation. When he learned from his sister that Mona had never been on a horse, he arranged a date at Arrow House. With Tommy’s blessings and keys to the stables, he planned a short horseback ride to a small pond where they would have a picnic. Polly assisted by making the sandwiches. She was proud, it was more than her whore groping son and nephews ever asked from her.

“My God, you must really like her” She said as she packed the basket with sandwiches.

“Thank God you're not like my Michael. I’ll be dead in the ground before he ever settles down”

She made her way to the liquor cabinet and handed him a bottle of champagne and two glasses.

“For your nerves.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you scared?” Isaiah asked as he opened the stable door for her.

She looked beautiful. She wore a grey riding suit she borrowed from Tabby that Isaiah had seen a million times. However, on Mona it looked brand new.  She managed to make the semi cheap fabric look like it cost top dollar and her brown skin and eyes seemed to glow in the sunlight. The wind kicked up at just right moments allowing her short hair to billow behind her. Isaiah found himself mesmerized by her beauty with each passing moment.

She gave a tight lipped smile and slight nod in response.

“A bit yeah”

“You’ll be fine. I promise. Butterscotch here,won't hurt you.” He said motioning to the light brown horse with a white stripe running down his long face. The horse brayed and huffed as he led him out of the stable on to the open grounds of Arrow House.

“Take your left leg and place it here. He instructed pointing to the bottom of the saddle.

“As you pull yourself up swing your right leg up and over the saddle.”

Mona did as she was told and mounted the horse with ease. Isaiah went on to instruct Mona on how to direct the horse using the reigns. She was great at following instructions, and such a natural that he wondered if she was lying about this being her first time.

“You’re a natural” Isaiah encouraged as he looked up at Mona with a smile.

“I just have a good instructor,” she smiled back making eye contact with him. It dawned on her, this was the most time she had ever spent with him. It was second nature. She felt comfortable and safe. Besides, her nerves about the horse, she was completely comfortable in his presence.

Although Mona was doing a wonderful job, he still waited 15 minutes before mounting his horse and leading her to the picnic. Instead he walked side by side with her and butterscotch giving her instruction until she assured him she was confident enough to lead the horse on her own.

Once on his horse dark grey horse Storm, he instructed Mona to follow him. They rode around the grassy knoll for another 20 minutes before he led her to the pond where the picnic was set up.

“What’s all this?” Mona asked, she really was not expecting more. The lesson and horse riding was enough for her. She was pleasantly surprised at the thought and efforts he put forth to show her a good time.

Next to the pond was a large green quilt that was spread open on the grass. There was a woven basket and a bottle of champagne, two plates, and two champagne flutes placed on the edge. But to top everything off there was a single yellow chrysanthemum in a vase in the center of the blanket.

“Do you like it?” Isaiah asked cautiously.

As he dismounted Storm and tied his reigns to a branch. He made his way over to butterscotch taking the reins from Mona and giving her instruction on how to get down. Standing close enough behind her to catch her in case she lost balance.

Mona walked over to the set up, taking note of each item before turning to Isaiah who was watching her with anticipation.

“Yeah. it looks nice. Haven't tasted the food yet, so I'm not completely sure.” She smiled at him letting him know it was a joke.

“I went through all this trouble to poison you with sandwiches. You’ve figured me out” he said sarcastically.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mona was currently sat across from Isaiah wiping her tears from her eyes, clutching her side as he told an embarrassing story from his childhood. It involved him trying to hop a fence and splitting his pants right down the ass crack when him and Finn were trying to leave school early when he were thirteen. Isaiah couldn’t help but think how he wouldn't mind hearing that sound every day for the rest of his life. He was ok telling humiliating stories and embarrassing himself, if it meant he could see her smile. The way the corners of her eyes and nose wrinkled, with that extra sparkle in her eyes was enough for him to propose marriage there on the spot.

“You really do have the worst luck” mona laughed out finally composing herself. She was having a good time. A great time. Isaiah was not his jo, she learned that today. . He was a nice man. A gentleman, who so far treated her the way she knew she deserved. As the laughter subsided, they sat there for a few seconds staring each other in the eyes. Noting the awkward silence start build Mona decided it was her turn to try and make Isaiah laugh.

“Wanna hear a joke?”

Isaiah smiled and nodded. “Yeah, okay”

“What did the ocean say to the other ocean?”

“Hmm...dont know”

“Nothing, they just waved” Mona could barely get the words out over her laughter and Isaiah just sat there. Watching her laugh at her terrible joke. She had such a strong laugh. It was like it started all that way from the soles of her feet. She looked up noticing he was just smiling.

“What?” She asked,confused

“Nothing.”

Wanna hear another?

“Sure”

“Why do they put fences in front of graveyards?”

“Why?”

“Because people are dying to get in”

He turned his nose up in horror.

“Ah, thats just wrong”  he couldn’t help but chuckle at the fact that Mona was clearly tickled by her own terrible jokes. Right then a strong gust of wind kicked up, knocking over the empty glasses.

“It's getting cold. Come on, lets head back” he said standing up and reaching his hand out to pull Mona up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I had a great time.” Mona said making her way to her front door with Isaiah quick on her heels.

“You sound surprised”

“I am a bit yeah, I heard about you. Isaiah Jesus. loves to show women a great time.”

Isaiah felt the sting right in his chest as his heart fell to his stomach. And he looked down at his feet with a frown on his face.

“Sorry.” It was meant to be a joke, but it came out harsher than she expected.

“Well I was going to ask you for another date but I don't think I will now.”

“What makes you think I’d say yes?” She asked smiling and raising her eyebrows at him in question.

“Well you just said you had a great time.”

“I might have just been saving your feelings. Wouldn't want to make you cry and all that.”

“The date wasn't as bad as your jokes”

“Now you're being mean. My jokes were funny.”

Isaiah raised his hands in surrender. “Ok. Ok. It's just nice to know you're not perfect.”

“What do you mean? Of course I’m perfect.” She pushed his shoulder playfully, in response.

“So, how about it?”

“That depends”

“On what?”

“If you ask me nicely.”

“Mona, My Dearest , would you do me the honor of having dinner with me next Friday? He took a beat before he started up again.  I” promise I’ll laugh at your jokes.”

“Hmm.” Mona made show of her contemplation by tapping her finger to her chin. Then she surprised both herself and Isaiah and leaned forward and kissing him on the cheek, and turned to enter her home looking back once more with a smile on her face.

“Yes”

Isaiah smiled to himself as he turned to walk to his car.

“I’m gonna marry her” 

@allaboutjoecole  @twistedrunes @thewanderingblinder  @pb-bonniegold

Feedback is Always Welcome! Inbox Open. 

[jade4813]

The Princess and The Pirate, Chapter 2

Author Notes: Endless thanks to @valeriemperez for her help editing this story and assisting me in figuring out how I wanted this story to go! This will hopefully end up being the first in a planned Westallen Fairy Tale AU series!

Title: The Princess and the Pirate

Rating: PG

Synopsis: Princesses don’t fall in love with pirates, do they? Anything is possible in a fairy tale!A Cinderella/Princess Bride inspired Westallen AU.

Chapters: 2/?

Chapter 1

“This is a bad idea.”

Iris shook her head and forged on, ducking under a branch in her path. She was used to Caitlin’s overabundance of caution when it came to her schemes. “My father has always said that if I am going to be a good ruler one day, I need to understand the lives of my people.”

Lady Caitlin Snow, the closest thing she had to what could be considered a best friend, huffed, “I’m pretty sure putting on ill-fitting servants’ clothes and sneaking out of the castle to visit a traveling faire in the middle of the night isn’t what he had in mind.”

The princess tried not to grin. “Then he should have been more specific,” she said primly.

“Your Highness…” Caitlin began on a groan.

“I’m not ‘Your Highness’ tonight! It’s Anne, remember?” She saw the trepidation on her companion’s face and stifled a sigh. “Oh, come on. Nobody will know who I am. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Caitlin threw her an incredulous look. “Are you really asking that question? Let’s see…arrest? Exile? Death?”

“My father is not going to do any of those things,” she scoffed. “Since he’d have no doubt this was my idea, you’re not in danger of losing your position.”

Caitlin snorted. “He certainly wouldn’t do those things to you,” she conceded, ignoring the princess’s other remark. “You’ll just get a series of lectures.”

That more than anything caused Iris to pause in her tracks. She hated her father’s lectures, particularly when they came from a sense that she’d let him down. Maybe this was a bad idea. But, then again, she couldn’t stay locked up in the castle her whole life. Steeling her resolve, she lifted the hood of her cloak to cover her hair and pushed forward. However, in acknowledgment of her companion’s concern, she called over her shoulder, “You know, I’m sure I can manage on my own, if you want to head back to the castle.”

Caitlin lifted her chin. “No; if you’re going to do this, then we do it together.”

Iris threw her a quick smile. However, their conversation interrupted by the sound of music drifting through the trees. Her heart beating in excitement, she picked up the pace and headed towards its source, ignoring the muttered, “This is such a bad idea,” behind her.

“This is a bad idea.”

Barry adjusted the black cloth across his eyes and tried not to agree with the sentiment. “It’s going to be fine,” he reassured his friend.

Cisco threw him a skeptical glare. “Do I need to remind you of the incredible stupidity of what you’re about to do? Or what will happen to you if you’re caught?”

Barry snorted. “Some daring pirate you are,” he joked. “Didn’t you used to be the most feared man on the high seas?”

“Waging battle on the open ocean is one thing. Breaking into the palace? The most heavily fortified building in – quite literally – the entire kingdom? That’s something else entirely.”

Setting his jaw in a stubborn line, Barry replied, “You heard what Cynthia said. The Lord Chancellor has my parents’ rings. I need to get them back.”

“She also told you to take your appeal to the King. She’s confident that if you explain what happened to your mother and father all those years ago, he will listen. He’s a fair man.”

Barry shook his head. “I can’t take the chance she’s wrong about him.” Then, unable to meet his friend’s eyes, he bowed his head and brushed an invisible speck of dirt off his chest. “It – it may be the only thing of them I have left.”

His voice softening, Cisco clapped a hand on his shoulder and murmured, “Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?”

Barry shook his head. “No, you’re right. What I’m about to do is incredibly stupid, and if I don’t get killed doing it, I’ll probably need to make a quick getaway. You need to get the ship ready. You’ve always been the better sailor.”

Cisco grinned. “I’m also the better sword fighter, the better navigator, the better captain, and the better looking. I definitely pull off that whole Man in Black look better than you.”

Barry gave his friend a shove. “It’s getting late; I need to get in and out while everybody’s still asleep. And you need to go prepare the ship and you may not have much time to do it.”

“All right, all right, I’m going! It isn’t natural for man to be on land for this long, anyway. It’s too…solid.” He turned to leave but then paused and said quietly, “Just…be careful, okay?” The corner of his mouth quirked up, and he teased, “It took me a long time to train you to replace me as captain. I don’t want to have to go through that headache again. I’m enjoying retirement too much.”

Barry chuckled and shook his head, turning his attention to the castle in front of him. Thanks to Cynthia, he knew the guards’ and other servants’ schedules and was confident in his plan. Still, the thought of what he was about to do was daunting.

Then he remembered the sight of his mother, dead on the floor, and the look on his father’s face when the guards took him away for her murder – a murder he did not commit. He also remembered when his father broke out of prison and the two of them fled with nothing more than the clothes on their backs. And he remembered holding his father as he wasted away and died, never really able to recover from all that he had lost, particularly the woman he had so loved.

For almost a decade, Barry had thought his parents were totally lost to him. Then Cynthia Reynolds – Cisco’s long-time love, and the kingdom’s Mistress of the Hunt – told them of the rings she had seen when reporting to Lord Chancellor James Jesse. One ring caught her eye: a golden wedding band inscribed with a lightning bolt.

Barry remembered that ring well. He remembered the way the candlelight used to flicker across that lightning bolt when his parents tucked him into bed. His father used to laughingly call lightning his lucky charm – after all, he said, it had brought his beloved Nora to him. They’d first met while running for cover from a lightning storm.

At long last, he could have something of them back. Perhaps his plan was foolish, particularly since he was so close to getting revenge upon the man who had murdered his mother and set up his father to take the blame. But as foolish as it was, he couldn’t ignore the temptation to retrieve this one memento of his parents – a reminder of the happy life he had once led.

Barry adjusted the sword on his hip and then crouched and darted towards the castle. He was captain of the most infamous ship on the seven seas; if nothing else, breaking into the king’s palace would further cement his reputation as a daring reprobate and rogue.

Iris hummed happily as she made her way down the darkened hallway. Much to Caitlin’s relief, they’d made their way back from the faire safely – coming back sooner than Iris would have liked but quite a bit later than her companion would have preferred. Immediately upon their return, Caitlin extracted a promise from the princess that she would stay out of trouble for the rest of the evening (though, really, what trouble could she possibly get into?) and hurried off to bed.

For her part, Iris knew she’d never be able to sleep. She was still much too excited about all the wonderful sights and sounds of the faire. If only she could have stayed longer – or even convinced Caitlin of the relative harmlessness of a single dance!

So instead of heading immediately to her room, she decided to walk the halls of her home. With the vague notion that she’d stop by the library for a book – something boring enough to overcome the excitement of the evening’s entertainment – she meandered slowly in that general direction.

She was almost to the library when she heard a faint sound, almost too quiet to warrant notice. Except this was Iris’s home. She’d spent almost every single night of her life between these four walls. She knew the patterns of activity, the castle’s heartbeat day in and day out. This quiet sound, soft as it was, felt wrong.

Catching her breath, Iris crept forward to peer through the cracked doorway of the Lord Chancellor’s private offices. He had gone to bed not long before, assuming his usual pattern. In the dim light cast by the dying embers of the fireplace and provided by the wall sconces, she saw the figure of a man – a stranger. Dressed all in black, he was leaning over Lord Jesse’s desk.

Iris almost tripped on her own feet as she scooted backwards, out of sight. For a moment she stood paralyzed, uncertain of what to do. She knew she should go track down one of the guards, trust them to capture the intruder. It was certainly what Caitlin would demand she do, if she were here. But who knew how long that could take or what the stranger’s intentions could be? While she was away, he could escape – or, worse, sneak further into the castle and attack her father while he was asleep in his bed.

There was no way she could let that happen. Scooting as quickly as she could down the hall while remaining silent, Iris headed straight to the library. The sword presented to her father by his parents on his eighteenth birthday was mounted in a case above the mantle. It was a bit heavy for her, as she recalled, but it was better than taking on the stranger empty-handed.

Iris grabbed the sword and tried to ignore the pounding of her heart as she crept back down the hall. It occurred to her that she should be thankful that she was still in her servant’s garb. As foolish as she was for taking on the intruder by herself, whatever he intended, she would almost certainly be in far greater peril if he knew who she was. With the king’s only child hostage, her father would be willing to pay any price he demanded to get his beloved daughter back.

So, whatever she did, she had to be careful not to reveal her true identity. Iris rocked the sword in her hand, shifting its weight. Before she could second-guess herself, she stepped up to the door and threw it open. Stopping in the doorway, she held her sword up to glint in the candlelight spilling across her back from the hallway.

“Halt!” she cried. He jerked and looked up at her in surprise, and she realized she really should have thought about what she would say once she had gotten his attention. The interrogation of miscreants had never been covered in lessons with her governess, and she didn’t have the faintest idea how to begin. Feeling just a bit ridiculous, she set her chin at a defiant angle and demanded in a voice far more confident than she felt, “In the name of the King, I demand you stop what you are doing at once!”

Iris watched as the stranger looked up and then glanced around the room as though he had momentarily forgotten where he was. Then he straightened, and when he stepped away from the Lord Chancellor’s desk, she could swear she saw the glint of something in his hand before he slipped it into his pocket.

Then he grinned, and the sword in her hand wavered slightly. As forbidding as he looked dressed in his all black attire, there was something unexpectedly sweet about his smile. “The King?” he asked lightly, strolling towards her with his hands held up in a non-threatening gesture. “It doesn’t look like he’s here. I’m afraid I can’t stay, but give him my best when you see him.”

Iris didn’t waver. She kept her hand as steady as possible and her sword raised. “You can tell him yourself when he comes to visit you in jail,” she retorted.

He paused, his gaze flicking towards her sword. Slowly pulling his from its sheath, he raised it halfheartedly said in a soft voice, “I don’t want to hurt you.” He touched the side of his blade to hers, sliding it slowly down the length of her sword. The scrape of metal against metal echoed loudly in the small room.

“Perhaps I will hurt you,” she pointed out, giving in to temptation to return the smile he threw her at this response. Then she drew back her sword and struck, giving him no choice but to defend her attack.

The two shuffled back and forth in the doorway, moving together as if in a dance. Iris didn’t dare move too far from the entrance, knowing he would take any opportunity to pivot around her and make his escape. After a few minutes, he jogged a few steps backwards and said with a hint of surprise, “You’re pretty good at this! Does the king teach all of his maids to fight with a sword?”

“You never know when a bandit will break into the palace. It seemed prudent to be prepared,” she replied in a prim tone, hoping it would discourage any other questions.

Her opponent chuckled at her response, his eyes darting to the sword she still held. “What’s your name?” he asked, his tone curious.

Iris paused, debating how to answer. She was tempted to tell him that she’d give him her name when he gave her his, but that kind of verbal sparring could be dangerous. It could lead him to discovering her identity. Finally, she replied slowly, considering each of her words. “Who I am doesn’t matter. What matters is that I will do whatever is necessary to keep the King or any member of his house safe. Tell me what you’re doing here.”

She saw his eyes narrow behind the mask he wore as he threw her a considering look, and she ducked her chin slightly to hide her features beneath the edge of her hood. “Alright. Why don’t we make this interesting? If I disarm you, you tell me your name and let me go. And if you win…”

“When I win, you mean?” she interjected, though she wasn’t entirely confident she would. She’d been training to fight for as long as she could remember, but young Barry Allen had been right, all those years ago. Fencing and sword fighting were not at all the same thing. “Might I suggest you’ll allow me to escort you to the guards without trying to escape?”

The stranger grinned, pulling her away from the memory. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do that. I’ll tell you what, though. If you win, I’ll tell you why I broke in here, and then maybe you’ll see I don’t mean any harm.”

“You could tell me now,” she suggested, her voice soft, “and save us both the trouble.”

He shook his head. “It’s…personal,” he said. “So, do we have a deal?”

“I sup-” she began, but then he surprised her by lunging forward, taking advantage of her momentary distraction. Her sword jerked as he made a feint at her blade but then dodged to the side. Her hand was continuing the arc it had begun when she jumped in surprise, and Iris realized what was about to happen a second too late to stop it.

The tip of her blade slashed across his cheek, slicing a small tear in his mask as it grazed his left cheekbone. She cried out, her eyes wide in chagrin. When her hand loosened its grip slightly, he slid his blade along hers and gave it a slight twirl. Iris’s sword was wrenched from her grasp, sending it clattering to the ground, and he kicked it into the corner.

Realizing too late the trap she’d walked into, Iris gasped and scooted backwards, bracing herself in the doorway in what she knew would be a vain effort to keep him from passing. “I’m sorry,” he said, putting his sword back in its sheath, and Iris could swear there was real regret in his voice. It was only then that he raised his hand to his cheek, wiping away the blood, and Iris was irrationally grateful that the wound appeared to be superficial.

The man in black continued, “I hope I didn’t hurt you just now, but I really do have to go. Maybe someday, I can make you understand.” He hesitated and then added, his voice almost pleading, “I swear to you that I didn’t come here tonight to hurt anyone. I’m just… As good as you are with a sword, you’ve clearly never had to fight for your life before. I have. I came here tonight to retrieve something – a reminder of my life before I had to.”

Iris had no illusions that her standoff was anything but futile. She was tiny compared to him; he was at least a foot taller than her. She had no doubt he could just pick her up and move her if he so chose. But she also knew that, disarmed as she was, he could hurt her if that was his intent. Instead, he’d put his blade away and waited for her to move.

She realized she didn’t know him and had no reason to trust what he said, but even with the mask covering half his face, she could read the sincerity his eyes. In an odd way, she trusted him, foolish though that may be. He’d offered her some honesty; did he not deserve the same in return?

Iris lifted a hand to her hood and swept it back, revealing her face. It didn’t even occur to her that he might not recognize her; in her entire life, she’d only ever met one person who hadn’t.

She knew the second he realized who she was as his eyes grew wide and he straightened abruptly. “Princess –” he breathed.

Iris stepped back, moving out of the doorway so that he could pass. However, before he could leave, she said, “We had an agreement, and I will uphold my side of the bargain. I believe you when you say you aren’t here to hurt me or my father, so you may go. I – I’m sorry for injuring you.”

She waited until he stepped forward and began to brush past, and then she reached out and laid her hand gently on his arm. Though he could have shrugged her off, he froze. Very slowly, almost reluctantly, he turned towards her, his face only inches from her own. Iris found herself wishing she could see his face beneath the mask. “I don’t know who you are,” she breathed, “but whatever you believe the Chancellor has done, you can tell me. If you have truly been wronged, then I promise you, I will see justice done.”

He gave a slight shake of his head. “It wasn’t him. I don’t know what part he’s had to play in all this – at least not yet. But if he was in league with the man who was responsible, and that man realizes I’m onto him? He might get away. I can’t risk that. I will get justice, but I’ll get it my way.”

Iris scraped her teeth across her lower lip, wishing she could find a way to get him to trust her. Whatever he was after, she could tell the path he was on was a dangerous one. If only he could see that it didn’t have to be. Seeing both sorrow and anger in his eyes, she asked softly, “Justice? Or revenge?”

He shook his head. “Sometimes they’re the same thing.” Before she could argue the point, he placed his free hand over hers and urged, “Princess, please be careful. If the Chancellor has any connection to the man I’m after, then he can’t be trusted. He might be dangerous. How well do you know him?”

She wasn’t entirely certain how to answer, so she gave a slight shake of her head. “He’s – he’s been my father’s most trusted advisor for many years. For almost my entire life.” For her part, Iris had never truly liked him, but that was because she’d always suspected he viewed her as a pawn, rather than a person.

“Then I hope you will make sure you can trust him. For both of your sakes.”

He looked like he was about to say more, but at that moment, they were interrupted. “You, there! Release the princess!” They had lingered long enough to be caught by the guards making their hourly pass through the halls.

They both jumped, and when the man in black looked at her with wide eyes, she knew she had to do what she could to help him escape. “Go,” she murmured. “I’ll hold them off as long as I can.”

He gave her hand a slight squeeze before darting down the hall to the exit. It was only once he’d gone that Iris realized she’d never gotten his name.

[pa-awesome]

Small Lies That Escalated Into “This Is My Life Now”

• I was a new graduate student freshly arrived in the US and very poor, and I couldn’t afford a laptop, so the only way I could communicate with my family was to hit up the library and use a public computer to email with them. Eventually my girlfriend back home wanted to skype, and I wanted a little privacy for this if you know what I mean, so I set about finding the most private computer available to me in the library. On a recon mission the day before the Skype, I located a single computer in a conference room and the next morning got up at 7am to account for the time difference and walked into the conference room with my eyes totally focused on the computer. I’d actually walked most of the way in before I realized there was a group of people around the conference table having a ridiculously early morning meeting. The guy at the head of the table, apparently thinking I’d showed up for the meeting and that I was heading towards him, handed me a paper that said “agenda” and said he was so glad a graduate student had shown up, then launched into the most incomprehensible talk about electrodes and chemistry. Meanwhile I know my girlfriend is sitting halfway around the world thinking we’re going to have sexy time Skype and I’m blowing her off and I’m feeling desperate. But everything I knew about US culture was only based on movies, so I have no idea if I can just apologize and leave or what. I miserably sat down for the incomprehensible meeting, rehearsing all the excuses I can give my girlfriend when we talk later. I was barely paying attention. Eventually questions were directed at me and I confess that I’m a new grad student and I don’t know much about the equipment they’re talking about. Everyone excitedly tells me all about it and I still don’t totally understand what they mean, except I’m starting to get that they’re going on a research expedition to [an insanely exciting inaccessible dangerous place] and they’re building a piece of equipment to bring with them. By the end of the meeting I am part of the project. 6 months later I am in [an insanely exciting inaccessible dangerous place] helping to operate this equipment. I appear briefly in the background of a Discovery Channel documentary (only black guy within hundreds of miles so easy to spot). I happily transfer to this other lab and this other field for my fully paid and stipended PhD. I am considered a real go getter, mainly based on my arrival at an early morning meeting no one else wanted to attend. New major, new field, new life because I was too awkward to admit I had just been in the room to sexy skype with my girlfriend.

• My freshman year of college I was walking around campus when a very friendly looking girl waved at me. I’m awkward, so of course I waved back. The next week, the same thing. This began the weirdest saga of my life. For the next two years, we greeted each other as old friends every time we came across the other. She knew my name (somehow?), I never could figure hers out and it was WAY too late to ask. I just pretended I knew who she was and why she knew me. Finally, I joined the honors program and entered my classes for my thesis. Who should be in this class but mystery girl! I was horrified. I wouldn’t be able to pass it off anymore. First day of class we are all sitting there chatting and she greets me by name, again. I had finally learned her name from attendance, thank God. Someone asks, finally, “oh, so do you two know each other? Where’d you meet?” Silence. I stare at her. She stares at me. Finally she breaks down wailing. “I don’t know! I don’t know, okay, we’ve just been waving at each other for two years and it was too late to ask!” Shes standing in my wedding next spring as one of my bridesmaids and very best friends.

• So I’m a visiting nurse and started seeing a patient 3 days/week for wound care. He was a paraplegic and didn’t get out much or have many visitors. He offered me a cup of coffee one morning, but I didn’t know him very well yet and was uneasy about drinking something out of unknown person’s kitchen. Plus, we are really not supposed to, but I could tell he just needed a little company. I told him I drink it black to keep it simple, never planning to have another cup. Next day, I come in and notice a little sticky note on his counter that said “Remember to make fresh pot of coffee for Rachael”. It was so touching to me that I went early every single appointment from that day forward to have a cup of black coffee. I hate black coffee but I felt it was too late to tell him I liked creamer after all. I drank black coffee with him for 3.5 years and he became a good friend until he passed away…

• I was a simple retail employee, basically been doing it since I got out of highschool. Made the old college try but ended up not pursuing anything more than an AA. I worked with a lot of people I really liked and admired for one thing or another and I just wanted to fit in with them. Compared to the stories they told I always felt like I had done nothing with my life or time. One slow day stories are being exchanged and the conversation rolls back to me so I blurted out that I was a photographer in my off time and went on a long history about my years in photography with film and my own dark rooms. I told countless lies about the difficulty of transitioning from film to digital but still kept my old film cameras for certain types of shots. I fucked up. Of course everyone wanted to see my work, I weaseled and told them I would bring stuff in but of course had nothing to show. That night after work I went to bestbuy and maxed out my credit cards to get a lot of camera equipment, indent on a tirade of learning everything I could, signed up for community college courses on every type of photography I could sign up for. All so I could hide the mountain of shame I created. I started taking pictures every morning at dawn and every evening I could get out of work before sunset. I worked as an assistant to a wedding photographer for free for 3 months on top of all that to fill out a portfolio that hadn’t existed up to this point. Everyone was so happy looking at my work that I couldn’t bring myself to stop! I kept at it; I hiked trails that I didn’t think I could hike just to get that perfect hard to find view of a sunrise the next day, I started doing weddings and parties by myself for free to capture the perfect picture out of thousands so I could show it off, I started traveling the world so I could validate the photography adventures I told stories of. It’s been a spiraling mountain of lies, but at the end of the day I discovered my love of photography through them and now it’s my whole career. Three hundred sixty-five days a year and I have never been happier!

• When I first got Married back in 2005, my wife asked me if I like Creamy Peanutbutter. I knew she did, so I told her “Yeah that’s great!”. She buys creamy peanut butter, I buy creamy peanut butter. About 3 years ago, she’s doing some experiment or something with our daughter and she needed chunky peanut butter. I saw it in the pantry and exclaim “Oh chunky peanut butter, I love this stuff!” to which she responds “… You do? I’ve been buying Creamy peanut butter all these years because you told me that was your favorite” So long story a little shorter, we both prefer chunky peanut butter by a large margin, but had been buying creamy for ten years because we both thought it was what the other preferred. Reading that back, we’re pretty boring people. yep :D

• I told my parents i bought a duck when I was 20 to tease them. I found a picture online of one and sent it to them. Sadly, they believed me. They got overly excited about their “grand-duck” and told my whole family. I ended up buying a duck…

• I was homeless, sleeping under a bridge in charlotte near the music factory. I needed a job so I dressed as best I could, which wasn’t very well, walked into a bar on 7th and lied about my work experience. They gave me the job , I started working that day. They paid me cash after every shift. I worked there for three years, became the manager, and now I love cooking. Never cooked a day in my life up till that point. A lady, in her 50s,who was acting as the kitchen manager trained me. She knew I lied, but she also knew I was in trouble. I couldn’t even cut a tomato. She saved my life. She didn’t tell anyone and kept training me even though sometimes I’d piss her off but I always tried to do better. I got an apartment a month into the job using another cook to call the apartment and let them know how much I get paid cause they wanted that for some reason. I was getting paid $11 under the table so nothing was on record which is why he had to call. I worked as a line cook immediately. It was overwhelming. I’m not from the city and the work was fast paced. I would study on my time off by watching youtube and cooking at home.

• I was looking for a job and I didn’t want to be a fast food manager anymore so I fluffed out my resume with computer skills I didn’t have. I was contacted by a recruiter who asked me some questions to gauge my abilities and I straight googled the answers as he was asking them. When I went to the interview, the boss had all of these circuit boards sitting all over his desk. I recognized them as Raspberry pis from Reddit. So I asked what he was using them for. The rest of the interview was just this guy bragging about all of these projects he had going on. He might as well have been speaking Greek. I just feigned interest and said wow a lot. I’m hired. Who knows how this shit happened but I have literally googled every problem I have been given. Day 543, they still think I know what I’m doing.I’m making 1.5 times what I was making as a manager. I have a GED for christsakes.

• I have one. A good friend of mine did not have an umbrella on a very rainy day. One of her coworkers offered her a lift home. One lift home turned into two, then three, until he was shuttling her to and from work everyday for months. This coworker is also a very good baker, he would make these lovely cakes and pastries and offer them to her which she politely took, every day. Then one afternoon, on her way home, he stops and picks up his parents. He happily introduces her as his girlfriend. She was shocked by this title to say the least.They proceeded to invite her to a family gathering over the long weekend to meet EVERYONE. His parents, they were so nice, she accepted because she didn’t have the heart to embarrass the guy. She went to the gathering, met with other family members and he kept introducing her as his girlfriend. She never worked up the nerve to correct or stop him. Long story short they are now married.

• Not me but my Dad. We moved and he was convinced the postman’s name was ‘Ger’ as in short for Gerry. He greeted him by it, nearly every day for about 10 years. We even gave him a Christmas card which he displayed down in the sorting office. Fast forward and we have a temporary post man, my Mum asking him after a few weeks 'When is Ger coming back?’ This was met with stunned silence and a puzzled look, with a resounding 'Who is Ger? No one works in the locality by that name’ Turns out, his name is Declan and he was too nice to correct my Dad for close to a decade.

• I didn't want to go to dinner with the gang from work, including my boss, so I told them I was having dinner with my wife and her parents. I lied. I get home, wife wants to go out to dinner. So, we head to the restaurant, and just as we're getting near the door, I see the work gang with my loudmouth boss all piling out of their cars. What are odds of us picking the same restaurant? Shit. Busted. There was an old couple walking into the restaurant in front of us. I held the door for them, and insisted they join us for dinner. They were quite perplexed, but accepted my offer of a free dinner. It was the most uncomfortable dinner ever. They had no clue who we were, none of us had any shared interests... they rushed through dinner, thanked us, and got the hell away from what I'm sure they thought were a couple of weirdos.

• Told a small lie to a girl I was texting that I love running, dunno how it sold because I was fat. Started running the second after I sent that. 5 years later I went from 298 to 180. Not bad.

• This is one that doesn't bother me. I had a coworker with memory issues or dementia and he called me Kevin once in awhile, not my name obviously. It made me laugh and one of my coworkers started calling me Kevin and telling new employees that's my name. This was 3 years ago and it is still going. at the same time I told my son who thought it was hilarious, and somehow it morphed into me calling him Kevin, and my cat too. So I would yell downstairs, "Kevin, is Kevin down there?". My son told his best friend, and they started calling each other Kevin. Now when I see my son's friend I call him Kevin. for this story to come full circle, my son and said friend came to my office and I introduced them as my son Kevin and his friend Kevin. also my sister now calls my son Kevin.

• 40 years ago, when I was my final secondary school (high-school) year, I decided that I wanted to be a Civil Engineer and study Civil Engineering. My father, who probably had some doubts about my choice, arranged for me to spend a week in a civil engineering office owned my a friend of his. I spent a week there and definitely knew one thing afterwards - that I did not want to become a Civil Engineer! So... a couple of months later, I was walking through the centre of town and met the owner of the Civil Engineering company that I had spent the week with. He says: "Hey, 1000000CHF, how are you? Still planning on becoming a Civil Engineer?" I'm a bit flustered (as I often was at that age) and don't know what to say, so I say: "No, actually I've decided to study eh... hmm... Computer Science" (The 1st lie) He says: "That's great. A career for the future." We say good-day and go upon our separate ways. A few weeks later, while I'm actually sitting my final school exams, he calls me and says "Hey, 1000000CHF, I'm starting a computer company, would you like to join?" I say: "But, but... I'm about to start University to study Computer Science" (The reinforcement of the 1st lie) He says: "Great! We'll pay your University and you work all your spare hours for us." So I was trapped. Because of my lies I ended up studying Computer Science in a top University and getting a great degree and postgrad degree while earning a full income on the side (this was the 80s). But the silver-lining was that I actually fell into a career that I absolutely love and never want to quit. Forty years later I still get enthusiastic about interesting new technologies and have created two successful I.T. companies that are still operating. I'm actually in the process of creating another this month. Despite the management tasks, I still succeed in spending over 70% of my time doing what I love - developing modern, quality software. Clients and developers that work with me respect my opinions and are very often surprised at how I stay on top of the technology trends. But what I really derive my career satisfaction from is knowing that there are millions of people out there using software that I designed and wrote every day.

• One time when I was 17, I was hanging out at my then-girlfriend's house with her and her little sister. Little sister was watching Spongebob and they jumped up to go in the other room leaving me along to watch TV. Being polite, I didn't change the channel. In walks mom and sees me watching Spongebob and she asks me "Hey IHABTom, you like that show?" I reply, again trying to be polite, "Yep!" So every year since then I've gotten Spongebob SOMETHING from my now-wife's parents. I'm 33. I hate that sponge.

• In 4th grade I lied and said I was going to a track meet to impress some friends in class when the teacher asked if anyone was going. I went home and told my mom I needed to sign up for it. I was never good at athletics at this time in my life. I ended up going to the track meet, it was a 400m race I was entered in, I remember the moment the gun went off I immediately went into a mode I had never remotely gone into before, I was actually ultra competitive for once in my life. I was neck and neck with another kid for the first place spot the entire race, and going into the final stretch I felt like puking and every fiber of my body was burning and he was pulling away. Something came over me and I kicked it into psycho mode and pushed past him for the win and my legs felt like noodles and I collapsed and couldn’t get back up. That race qualified me for a regional meet, I did that one and won again in similar fashion, then went to the state meet and got my ass handed to me. That started me down a long line of running long distance which involved being one of the best in the nation in high school and getting a scholarship to run in college, and trust me the training at that level consumes your life (100 mile weeks), so it was definitely my life at that point.

• This is pretty harmless but when I first met my boyfriend he was telling me about his Star Wars Lego collection and I, being polite, said something like "Oh Wow, I love Lego." Because I did love Lego, when I was 10. This was about 5 years ago and I think adult Lego was just becoming a really big thing, with the Creator houses and modular sets. Anyway, he took this comment and ran with it, as all the little gifts he bought me for the first few years of our relationship were Lego based. A little cottage set, pretty cute. A rebuildable calendar, practical and cute. A house that's a pen holder, I'm ok with that. I would photograph the completed sets and put them on instagram and then other people started buying me Lego sets and minifigures. And before I knew it my entire living room was basically Lego. I did admit to my boyfriend last year that I wasn't as into Lego as everyone assumed - people send me links to the newest products and anything even remotely Lego based on Facebook. He knew, but enjoyed building sets with me anyway and I seemed to have fun doing it. Which I did. But at some point I just sat on my couch and looked at all these plastic bricks that I was surrounded with and asked myself how this even happened.

• Wasn't a drinker in high school so to shut down peer pressure I told them I was born with half a liver and drinking anything could make me very sick or kill me. The lie just became natural and followed me to college. Was out with some friends playing pool and decided to have a beer. When I came back, a buddy slapped it out of my hand thinking I was suicidal. Then the explanations began...

• I was really desperate for an A on my final project for Chinese so I asked my mom(who's a native speaker) for help. Well it worked, the teacher was impressed and I got the grade I wanted... but next year I had the same teacher and she had really high expectations. I end up studying for hours every day while asking my mom to help with my homework for months. Eventually my Chinese got to a point where my mom would look at it and almost always confirm that it was correct(and not grammatically awkward). So yeah. Learned a language to cover up cheating on a single project the year prior.

• My husband works as a data analyst and codes programs and apps for the business side of the company. Once they make an app, it needs an icon to go along with it when it launches. They usually use the company designer, but one day one of his co-workers submitted an icon design for their new app (one my husband had worked on) and others followed. People kept submitting art, so they made it a contest (no prize, just glory). When he got home, he told me about it and then asked if I was interested in joining. That night I did a quick design, he fell in love with it, and asked me to finish it so he could submit it. So I did... Time passed, my drawing won, and they made it the app icon. Eveything was great, until the day his team was in a meeting with the company VP. The VP had heard about the icon competition and asked who had submitted the winning app icon. One of my husband's co-workers quickly called out his name before he could say anything. The VP was impressed and then said that he deserved a reward (money reward) for his work. Surprised and too embarrassed to correct the VP, my husband just stayed quiet. Not denying the information made everyone believe he was the artist. He doesn't have an artistic bone in his body. When he got home, he told me the story and gave me the money for my work. I thought it would end there... but it didn't! When their next app was ready for launch someone asked him to make an icon for them because they loved his previous design. He could have put an end to the misinformation then but he was too embrassed, so he said yes. He got home and asked me to make the icon, he even said he would pay me. I found the situation hilarious so, after laughing at him, I agreed... plus I was getting paid. This has gone on for a while (about 3 years), I have made about 5 icons for the company under my husband's name. He has been pretty dedicated to keeping up the lie all these years. He has asked me about my process of thought when I draw, so he can tell his co-workers about his method. He asked me about my tablet and the program I use. He brain storms about the drawings with his co-workers and tells me what they want. And when I'm too busy to draw, he tells his co-workers how HE is too busy to draw. By now it's our little secret and it has turned into an inside joke. Right now I'm supposed to draw a new icon but I have been so busy that I haven't had time. So when I see him playing games or chilling on the couch I tease him by saying, "Shouldn't you be drawing right now?"

[appleblossomgirl0305]

Chapter 16 of Holiday is posted here and on AO3.

Aloha! So we've finally reached the end of this Holiday. I hope you've enjoyed reading it half as much I've enjoyed writing it. I want to express my gratitude to the @d12drabbles moderators who inspired this story with their weekly prompts and for creating a platform for new and experienced writers alike. And to @xerxia31, I owe you more than I can ever adequately express for your time, your incredible support, your excellent humor and genius assistance. And most of all for your friendship.

I've never finished a WIP before, so I'm pretty nervous about this chapter. Comments and feedback would be greatly appreciated. Seeds have been planted for an epilogue, proving that even when I finish something, I don't actually finish it. *Sigh*.

Thank you for reading and joining me on this Holiday!

After placing the cake carefully on the passenger seat, I jumped into the driver’s seat and tried to jam the key into the ignition several times before it finally slid in. I couldn’t get the damn seat belt on either and realized that I was essentially fighting against every inanimate object I came in contact with because my hands were shaking so hard.  I beat my palms against the steering wheel in abject frustration before giving up and resting my forehead against it. I slumped against the wheel and let the full impact of how much I'd blown it settle around me. I had exposed the fragile soufflé of our relationship to a drafty room, the delicate bud of our love to a hard frost, the spun-sugar confection of us to enough pressure for it to crumble and slide through my fingers. Whatever cheesy metaphor you chose, I had totally fucked up.

I forced myself to take several deep breaths. Being a total wreck wasn’t going to help me right now, I needed to get a grip before I got to Katniss’ house. I took a moment to hate myself for letting the evening go so tragically downhill. For not standing up for her in the way I should have. For letting her believe for even a single second that she wasn’t perfect.

I fought back my mother’s voice telling me I was a lost cause, that I should just tuck my tail between my legs and crawl back inside before I embarrassed myself further. But whether it was a lost cause or not, Katniss deserved to be fought for. So I sat up, started my car and drove to her apartment.

I had never been in her building before. The Seam was on the border between town and the forest. The woods were privately owned by an international logging company, so not many people had reason to go there. Though over the years, I had heard snippets of Katniss and Gale’s conversations about hunting trips beyond the fence. Imagined her there, walking silently among the trees, arrow notched, but bow loose at her side. There were so many things to learn and discover about Katniss, I needed more time. Hell, I needed a lifetime.

The light on the front of the building was out and the dark street felt perilous. I hated the idea of Katniss and Prim having to feel unsafe, particularly at their own house. I grabbed the cake and double-checked that the car doors were locked. The entrance buzzer didn’t seem to work, but an older lady weighed down with plastic handle-bags pushed her way through the front door with a grunt and I grabbed it and held it open for her. She eyed me suspiciously as she passed, and asked in a voice raspy with disuse, “Cake?”

I nodded, holding it in front of me for her inspection and she nodded, apparently deciding that a guy holding a cake didn’t pose enough concern to warrant further discussion. I nudged through the door, feeling like I’d make it through the first trial of my quest. I made my way to Katniss’ ground-floor apartment, wondering if the old lady would have let me in if she knew that the only reason I had Katniss' address at all was from surreptitiously peeking at her paychecks.

I took a moment as I stood at her front door and ran my free hand through my hair, hoping it wasn’t too messy. Taking a deep breath and making a quick prayer to Clementia, the goddess of forgiveness and redemption, I knocked.

I heard footsteps approach the door and stop at the threshold, presumably to peer out the peephole. I held my breath, hoping Katniss would let me in, let me explain. My heart was in my throat as the door swung open and I was met with Prim’s blue eyes instead.

“Hi Prim, is Katniss home?” I asked, brandishing the cake in offering.

“Hi Peeta, she’s not. Would you like to come in?” She sounded apologetic and I tried not to look disappointed.

I walked in feeling like a deflated balloon. I hadn’t really stopped to consider that she might not be home.

“I’m not sure when she’ll be back. She’s at the Hawthorne’s.” My expression must have shown my devastation as visions of Gale’s hands undressing Katniss, his lips sliding over her neck or worse, him whispering soft comforts into her ear as he wrapped her in his arms, made me feel faint. “To see Hazelle,” Prim added hurriedly. “She’s kind of a second mother to us.”

I nodded, unable to trust my voice and knowing that this information was still somehow a check in the Gale column of the imaginary ledger I assumed Katniss kept. A lovely mother was not something I had to offer. It was difficult to imagine that Hazelle Hawthorne would counsel Katniss to give me another chance. The realization that I could really lose her, maybe had already lost her, slammed into me so hard I nearly staggered backwards.

Prim reached out and took the cake from my hands and placed it on the kitchen counter. “Can I make you a cup of tea?”

I cleared my throat and nodded, “Yes, thank you.”

As she prepared the tea, I took a moment to take in the apartment. Katniss’ description had not been wrong. It was shabby and small and I could detect a slight smell of damp, but it was tidy and homey. It was also a treasure trove of Katniss-related information. There was a small bookshelf populated with various field guides (mushrooms, native plants, birds), some outdated medical textbooks that I assumed were Prim’s, a couple of cookbooks as well as a number of paperbacks by Whitman, Thoreau, Cather, Dostoevsky, Atwood, and Krakauer. I wanted to touch each one, run my fingers over the dog-eared pages and broken spines, to worship any object that had captured her attention and imagination.

The formica countertop that divided the living room from the tiny, dark kitchen was a horrible pink-beige with several prominent cracks scarring the surface. I couldn’t help wondering how many times Katniss had run her fingernail along those cracks as she scarfed down some insubstantial meal standing at the counter. I peeked down the dark hallway carpeted in dingy gray carpet that I assumed must lead to the bedrooms.

Prim slid a steaming mug of mint tea across the countertop to me. “Do you take anything in your tea?” she asked.

I shook my head and thanked her before blurting out, “I’m so sorry for what my brother said tonight. He didn’t mean it like it sounded, but I can’t believe I let you both leave thinking it did. I’m so sorry.” I had meant the apology for Katniss, but owed it equally to Prim.

“I know, Peeta. And I think Katniss does too, deep down. He just said exactly what she was afraid your family would think.” She shook her head giving me a small smile. “I’m having trouble figuring out what to say. Katniss is such a private person, I don’t want to say anything that will upset her.”

I nodded, completely understanding her conundrum, but desperate for anything, any crumbs of insight or information she could offer me on what Katniss might be thinking. I blew into my cup and waited while she sorted it out.

“I don’t know how much you know about us, but Katniss is a survivor. She kept our family alive, literally, after our dad died and our mom succumbed to depression. She hasn’t given herself much room to enjoy life. I don’t think it is a betrayal to tell you that she has trouble trusting anything good.” She grinned up at me over the rim of her cup as she added, “And you, Peeta Mellark, seem too good to be true.”

I sputtered out an incredulous laugh and she shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “If I hadn’t spent years watching you stare at Katniss from afar looking utterly smitten every time, I’d be skeptical too. Did I mention that Katniss is also completely blind to the obvious?”

Despite still feeling sick with worry that I’d blown it, I found myself smiling back at Prim. She really was as sweet and lovely as Katniss said she was.

“So what can I do?” I asked, feeling like the entire world rested in Prim’s response.

She shrugged and took a tentative sip of her tea. “You give her some space. You leave her messages letting her know how you feel, but not pushing her to respond until she’s ready. You leave her that amazing-smelling cake, minus a piece for her sister.” She winked at me, then continued, “I know it sucks, but a lifetime of living with Katniss has taught me that giving her time to sort out her feelings is the only way. She processes her emotions at a glacial pace, but she usually comes to the right decision for what she needs. And I honestly think that you're what she needs, Peeta. I hope she allows herself to give things with you a chance. I think you’re just what the doctor ordered.”

I took several scalding gulps of tea to keep myself from begging Prim for the Hawthornes’ address and tracking Katniss down to plead her forgiveness and her favor. But I knew Prim was right and that I was lucky to have gotten her advice.

She picked up my empty cup and placed it in the sink before turning and adding, “I’m sure she would hate that I’m telling you this, but I’ve never seen her like this before, Peeta. I’ve caught her scrolling through pictures of you two on vacation more than once. She’s talked about your adventures and your friends and you practically nonstop, which is unprecedented.”

Relief and hope coursed through me and I offered Prim a shaky smile as I assured her, “I promise not to tell. And I can’t thank you enough.”

“I’m heading back to school tomorrow. Just give Katniss a couple of days to sort through things at her own frustratingly slow pace.” She squeezed my arm, before adding, “I promise I’ll put in as many good words for you as I can. It might not seem like she listens to me, but I swear she does sometimes.”

“Are you kidding,” I asked grinning, realizing that maybe even Prim didn’t know all of Katniss’ feelings, “You’re her very favorite person in the world.”

She laughed, “It’s a pretty short list, but I’d wager that you’re near the top too.”

Impulsively, I leaned over and hugged her, feeling a thousand times better than I had an hour ago. “Have a safe trip back to school, Prim. Promise to come into the bakery next time you’re home, I owe you big.” She laughed and promised she would.

Walking back out to my car, I couldn't help wondering what my life would have been like if I’d had a sister as wonderful as Prim.

When I got home, I texted Katniss that I was desperately sorry about how our night had gone, and that I hoped she’d give me a chance to explain. And that I missed her and wanted to see her whenever and wherever she would allow. I stared at my phone, gripped tightly in my fist, willing it to light up with a response from her. It didn’t. Sighing heavily, I plugged it in to charge and closed my eyes.

Despite my exhaustion, I knew sleep would be elusive tonight. I followed my exhausted brain down into the depths of my worst fears and anxieties. All the dark, dank chasms with slimy walls and perilous pitfalls that assured me that I would never be happy, never be able to make anyone else happy, that I would always be alone. I knew these labyrinthine tunnels by heart, but there was no way out until the sun came up. So I tossed and turned until morning, extraordinarily grateful for first gray rays of morning light.

There was still no response from Katniss the following morning. After the twentieth time I had obsessively checked my phone, Rye asked, “Did you talk to her?”

I shook my head miserably.

“So it’s not over, you may still be able to fix it?” he asked.

I shot him a withering look, expecting to find his signature cocky smirk, but finding a cautiously hopeful one instead. I didn’t trust him, but I could feel myself wanting to, wishing that I could. I shrugged and he clapped me on the shoulder as he pushed past me into the walk-in.

There was still nothing from Katniss as my shift ended. The thought of hanging out in the apartment made me feel like the walls would crush me. Despite my exhaustion, I pulled on my running shoes and headed out for some fresh air. The relief once I got outside was immense and immediate. I took several deep breaths, feeling the constriction in my chest lessen as I took the first few jogging steps.

I started out on my usual route, past Katniss’ building, with equal parts hope and worry that I would run into her. I knew I couldn’t force things between us, and that she would likely attribute a chance encounter in front of her building as more stalking than fate. So instead of turning east to stay within the boundary of the town, I kept going north towards the meadow.

As my feet rhythmically slapped the pavement, I felt my muscles relax into movement and the tight knot of my thoughts untangle a bit.  The burn of my lungs was demanding enough to pull my attention from the repetitive cycle of anxious thoughts. As my feet marked the transition from the taut slap of the pavement to the quiet thud of the packed earth of the park trail that snaked through the meadow on the border of the woods, the one thought that I worked so hard to suppress came bubbling up out of nowhere. Okay, not nowhere, from that deep, dark place where every insecure, self-loathing thought dwelt. And that shameful truth was this: No one had ever truly loved me. And even worse, maybe no one ever would.

I realized something I had always known but never consciously acknowledged, I had always hoped that if Katniss, the epitome of strength and beauty and self-sufficiency and defiance could love me, it would override all of the other loves I'd been denied: my mother's kindness, my father's loyalty, my brothers' kinship. It would make those missing pieces matter less. It would redeem me.

But the truth was, the lack of all of those things sucked. Their absence had stunted me, deprived me of a sense of security my entire life. But I didn't have to keep letting it. A light went on somewhere deep inside me. It was small and dim, but it illuminated a place where some of my nightmares lived and it wasn't as dark and ghoulish as I would have thought. I wasn't irredeemable and Katniss wasn't my savior. I still wanted her more than anything in this world, but even if she didn't want me, I wasn't worthless. Maybe this just wasn't our time yet, maybe I just needed to give her the space I had promised, but never really understood the need for.

And while it was true that no one had ever truly loved me, for the first time in my life I realized how fucked up that was. Everyone deserved to be loved. I deserved to be loved. I looked out over one of my favorite views, over the misty pond and woods beyond, and let that sink in. I realized that’s what it must feel like to love yourself. To be outraged on your own behalf for the unfairness of your life, to feel a blazing recognition that you deserve more.

I slowed my pace to a walk, hands on hips, breathing hard. I stood at the fence line and stared into forest beyond. As my heart rate slowed and my breathing evened out, I let my eyes blur the riot of green and imagine the Hawaiian forest speeding by Finnick’s car window. I closed my eyes and imagined the perfume of overripe earth, of tropical blossoms, of the sea.  I let the memories wash over me - the silkiness of Katniss’ hair as it slid through my fingers, the throaty sound of her laughter, the exact color of her eyes with the technicolor sunset reflected in them. I pulled up the picture of her on my phone that I had taken at the airport on our last day, that incredible orchid tucked behind her ear, her eyes luminous as a small smile played on her lips. I clutched the screen to my chest letting all of those precious memories overwhelm me. I would've given anything to have any one of those days back. Her smile, her sun-kissed skin, her eyes like wisps of smoke. I wanted to fall head first into the past. But even as that hypnotic pull of the gilded past beckoned, I recognized it for the trap it was. It was time to fight for a future.

I took a deep breath and allowed the smell of pine forest and sweetgrass flood my senses. Those experiences had existed, we had shared them. And whatever came next, good or bad, they had meant something. But we were here now and as much as I wanted to give up and crawl under the covers and daydream horrific punishments for my brothers’ behavior, this wasn’t hopeless. The fat lady had yet to sing and I still had time to become the man Katniss Everdeen deserved.

Maybe it was the runner’s high and the sunshine or the infusion of hope, but I felt some of those raw, empty places inside of me fill up and heal over. I felt a foreign resilience flood through me. Certainty was its own kind of strength. I loved her. I’d be here, waiting for her when she was ready. But I would live my life the best I could until then.

I jogged home, feeling fortified and knowing what I would do when I got there. I would do the things that made me feel like my best self. I would paint. I would experiment in the bakery and take whatever I baked to the Boys and Girls Club for their after school program. I would hold on to this hopeful feeling with both hands for as long as I possibly could. Because, after all is said and done, hope is all any of us really have.

I spent the afternoon making various types of cheese buns. The one with the swirl of pesto was the most promising one. I imagined that this would be a perfect morning treat to try out on Katniss given her preference for savory breakfasts. I loaded up the truck and headed over to the Boys and Girls Club to drop off my the best batches.

Vic, Gale’s youngest brother worked there and was shooting hoops with a bunch of kids as I pulled the trays out of the truck. He broke off and grabbed a couple of the older kids to come over and help me unload.

“Hey, Peeta, it’s been awhile. What’d ya bring us?” he asked, inhaling deeply over a tray that a tall, dark-haired girl had grabbed from me.

“Hey, Vic, good to see you. I hope you guys like cheese buns.” I handed the next tray to him. Despite my initial aversion to him due to the uncanny resemblance all of the Hawthorne brothers shared, Vic had always been a good guy. And if anyone understood about not being judged by their brothers’ actions, it should be me.

“If they taste anywhere near as good as they smell, I do now!” He handed the tray over to another one of his charges before grabbing a bun and shoving it into his mouth. He let out an exaggerated, “Mmmm,” shaking his head in appreciation. My heart swelled.

I grabbed a box of day-old bread to leave for any of the families that needed it, and Vic and I walked in side by side.

He finished chewing and said, “I heard you and Katniss had a really good time in Hawaii.”

I nodded, not sure what to say. “It was an amazing trip.”

He nodded, clearing his throat, “Yeah, Prim told me.” I glanced over at him and caught the flush in his cheeks at the mention of her name.  I knew that look. I knew it very well. It was surprisingly companionable to see Vic visibly smitten. Seemed I was in good company.

I bumped his arm lightly with my shoulder and said conspiratorially, “Those Everdeen sisters are something else.”

He shot me an equally sly half smile and said, “Yeah, they sure are.”

I stuck around long enough to see the kids devour the cheese buns in a delighted feeding frenzy. It felt good. There were very few things that were more satisfying than feeding a throng of ravenous teenagers. My mind flashed back to Katniss throwing her arm around Konani’s shoulder and comparing her appetite to that of a teenage boy’s. Before my mood could turn wistful, I grabbed the empty trays and headed out.

Walking back to the truck, I glanced up and saw Marvel across the street. Though we’d texted a couple of times, it was the first time I’d laid eyes on him since the night I’d helped him into his town car and accepted the tickets that would change everything. As I raised my hand to wave to him, a gorgeous dark-haired woman stepped out from behind him. I watched, my hand frozen mid-wave as he leaned over and kissed her before slapping her ass and ducking into a waiting town car.

I don’t know why I was so surprised. Glimmer had been the worst fiancee imaginable, running off with Marvel’s best man was beyond shitty. She didn’t deserve mourning or wasted regret. But I couldn’t help the indignant shock that he could have moved on so quickly, not to mention looked so carefree about having done so. I thought about how you can stand next to someone, you can share experiences with them, hold their hand through parts of their lives, letting them skim across the surface of your heart without really sinking in, and then change partners and start over. That’s how most people lived their lives.

Every relationship I had ever been in before I left for Hawaii had been like that, temporary and insubstantial. But I understood in that moment, or maybe I’d always known, that I wasn’t really built like that. I had just been booking time until Katniss noticed me. A life with Katniss was my only real option. Now that I understood how good it was possible to feel with the right person, how complete I could be with her, there was no going back. She had germinated in my heart that fateful kindergarten day and her love had grown like Maleficent’s   thicket of thorns around my heart. I had tended those thorn bushes, weeding, watering, sharpening their thorns. There were no other choices now. I would have to figure out how to make this work or accept a lifetime alone.

Despite the nagging exhaustion from my bad night that made my limbs feel leaden and clumsy, I loaded a ladder on the truck and headed back over to Katniss’ building. I worked fast to change the lightbulb over the front entrance. I had a sneaking suspicion that Katniss would consider this overstepping my bounds. The old lady from last night sauntered by with her plastic bags and gave me a nod of approval. I couldn’t do anything about the streetlight, other than put in a call to the City, but I felt better knowing that I had chased away at least a little of the darkness in Katniss’ life.

The sun set on my drive home, coloring the sky a soft peachy-orange amidst the wisps of gray clouds. A pale imitation of a sunset by Hawaiian standards, it was lovely all the same. I fought the creeping anxiety that set in as the sky darkened into night.

I couldn’t bring myself to eat the leftover lasagna for dinner, so I scrambled a couple of eggs and ate them with one of the pesto cheese buns I’d made that afternoon. It was good, but I had to force myself to taste it. My incessant yawning announced that this long day was coming to an end, and despite the fact that I had kept busy enough all day stay a few steps ahead of the despair that was licking at my heels, I was dreading the moment when I would run out of road and have to be still with my thoughts. When I would have to go to bed alone.

There was still no word from Katniss at bedtime, so I sent her another text wishing her sweet dreams and begging her to call me. Despite being nearly incapacitated by fatigue, I dreaded closing my eyes. I tried to take some deep breaths, to assure myself that I was being ridiculous, that maybe tonight would be better. But I couldn’t help worrying about what was awaiting me in the depths of my subconscious.

Bolting upright, I found myself momentarily blinded by the sharp glare of the sun reflecting off of the water. I quelled the panic surging into my throat. As the world came into undulating focus, I understood that I was suspended over the water by some sort of platform. Some twenty yards away there was a metal walkway leading to a metallic sculpture where a battle was raging.

Katniss! I knew she was there, but couldn’t see her. Terror ripped through me when I took in the mayhem unfolding around me and realized I couldn’t find her. Spotting her on the walkway, I was overcome with relief that she appeared to be safe and intact. Finnick was swimming out to me and I went limp as he towed me to Katniss. She kissed me and handed me an arsenal of weapons I wasn’t sure what to do with, but that I tucked into my belt.

Once we reached the beach, I just wanted to collapse into the sand and hold Katniss until this mayhem stopped. But I knew we couldn’t, we weren’t safe, the only option being to head into the jungle. The foliage was thick and the earth beneath our feet black and spongy. Despite the tree cover, the heat was relentless and I was drenched in sweat as we climbed.

Monkeys appeared as if from nowhere, a shrieking mass of orange fur that converged on us, fangs bared, hackles raised, claws shooting out like switch blades. I hacked and slashed, trying to reach Katniss.

But she was lying on the ground, an unbreakable glass wall between us as she screamed and writhed, tormented by winged demons disguised as birds. I slid down the wall, pressed my face next to hers and prayed for it to end.

I woke up sweating and shaking, the sheets balled in my clenched fists, her name lodged in my throat. I was in agony without her. I missed her terribly, achingly. I said a prayer into the darkness that she was alright, that she’d talk to me today. I grabbed my phone off the floor beside the bed and sent her a quick text telling her so. It was all I could do right now.

Feeling completely wrung out, I forced myself out of bed. I groped my way down the hall in complete darkness. I was used to starting my day in the dark, but this was early even for baker’s hours. After a long, hot shower that made me feel at least halfway human, I dressed quickly and headed down to the bakery to get a headstart on the morning chores. I preheated the ovens, turned out the dough that had proofed overnight and began to knead it. The warmth from the ovens and the rote activity loosened my mind and muscles and I felt a little better. I loved these peaceful moments when I had the bakery to myself. Maybe someday I’d open my own bakery and do something I loved in a place that wasn’t built on a foundation of pain and bad memories.

My mind began to run with ideas about how to get myself unstuck. I needed to move out. It was so obvious, I was shocked I hadn’t realized it earlier. I would probably need to take on another night at Abernathy’s to afford it, so I added talking to Haymitch to my mental to do list. Before I knew it, I’d formulated a plan and had several sheets of cheese buns that I slid into the hot oven to bake. Maybe if I just went ahead and got my life together, then by the time Katniss was ready to talk with me I’d be ready to share it with her.

Trudging out to the dumpster in the predawn light, I almost walked right past her. She was huddled on the bench outside the bakery peering out at me from under a knit cap. She looked so adorable and so miserable, I instantly wanted to pull her into my arms.

As soon as I had convinced my sleep-deprived brain that she was not a mirage, I ran the few steps that separated us, reaching for, but not actually grasping her shoulders as I knelt in front of her, afraid of what could have brought her here at this ungodly hour of the morning. “Katniss, what are you doing out here? What’s wrong?”

I took in her messy braid snaking out from under her hat, the dark circles under her red-rimmed eyes. I ran my thumbs over her cheeks and asked softly, “Are you okay? Is there anything I can do?”

She tipped her head forward, pressing her cold nose into my neck before mumbling, “I couldn’t sleep.”

“I’m sorry.” I said, meaning so many apologies at once. I waited for her to continue but she just sighed into my skin. Then, because I couldn’t help myself, I added, “And I’m so happy to see you.”

Though mostly healed, the the cut on my knee hurt as the sidewalk asphalt dug into it, so I pulled away to sit on the bench next to her. I could feel the frustration rolling off of her in waves and wasn’t sure what she needed from me. I reached for her hand and asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

She let me take her hand, but didn’t look at me or say anything. I took the opportunity to say what had been eating at me since she stood up from my dining table. "Katniss, I'm so sorry about dinner. My brothers were horrible. And I was a coward and an idiot. I should have fought for you while you were there. I was so shocked, I just froze. I don't even know what to say." I hung my head, too ashamed of my failings to meet her eyes.

She shook her head dismissively, like that wasn't what she wanted to talk about, but she said absently, “I've seen your mother, her pinched face and mean words, I always figured she was the worst of it."

"Oh, she is. My brothers aren't the best, but... Let's just say we were forged by the same hammer."

"Your dad?" She looked so perplexed.

"He's an incredibly kind man. He's just never really been able to stand up to her."

"So he's never stood up for you."

"Ah, no, not really." I cleared my throat, willing my voice not to crack. No one had ever talked to me about this before. And as humiliating as it was on the one hand, the relief of Katniss caring was almost overwhelming.

"And both those big brothers who should have protected you, not only didn't, but made things worse." She wasn't asking and I was too choked up to answer. The whole sorry story of my life was laid out before her. How each of my family members had appraised me and found me wanting. Worthless.

"You've been let down by so many people." She wove her fingers with mine. "And yet, you're so kind."

I looked over at her, tears of relief gathering in my eyes, making the world shimmer. That she didn't lump me in with them, that she could see me differently, that she was holding my hand. My heart felt as if it was trying to reach her too, and would beat through my chest if necessary.

She shook her head. "I always figured you had it so easy. But really, we just had it hard in different ways."

"Makes your apartment seem like less of a big deal, right?" I tried for levity, but the tears were still blurring my vision and my voice fell flat.

"It certainly puts it in a different perspective,” she said ruefully. “I've always known your mother was awful. But even though my mother was awful in a different way, I've always had Prim. We're a unit. She's the cornerstone of my family. Having her has made everything else bearable. Worthwhile, even. It kills me to think about how alone you've been."

The lump in my throat kept me from responding, but I squeezed her hand. She continued, “I’ve had depend on myself for most of my life. I’ve had Prim, and she’s great, but that isn’t really what I mean…” She huffed out a frustrated breath, then continued, “And I figured I always would be. Alone. It’s safer that way. I’ve figured out how to keep my head above water and that was the best I could hope for. But since I’ve gotten to know you.... Well, I’ve started to hope for more. I can’t seem to help myself. I want to be with you.”

I was stunned, afraid to move and shatter the perfection of this moment. The perfection of her saying these words to me. She glanced up at me, searching my eyes, looking for all the world like she was worried about how I’d feel about this confession.

In that moment, I had never been more grateful or loved anyone more. I couldn't help myself, I pulled her into my arms. I felt like every conversation, for the rest of our lives, should happen with my arms encircling her and her head resting on my chest, so she could hear my heart as plainly as my words. She scooted up tightly against me and allowed herself to be swallowed in my embrace before pulling back slightly. She met my eyes and there was still a question in hers.

“I gotta be honest, I’m not really seeing a problem here,” I offered, sniffing a little and clearing my throat. “That’s actually kinda the best news I’ve ever heard.”

Scowling, she stared at our clasped hands. “The problem is, I can’t sleep without you. I miss your arms, your warmth, your heartbeat, your,” she huffed out a breath and gestured towards me, “You.” She looked upset as she finally met my eyes and said defeatedly, “I miss you.”

My heart felt like a sparrow caught in the rafters and I wanted to spring off this bench and break into song, but she still looked so miserable. Instead I asked, “Why is that a bad thing?” I couldn’t keep the joy exploding within me off of my face much longer, my eyes felt squinty with the effort to keep from grinning like a manic fool.

“I hate wanting things.” She scowled and my heart sang.

“You really want me?” I asked teasingly, nudging her with my nose.

“It isn’t funny, Peeta,” she murmured, her scowl deepening.

"I'm not laughing. Honest." But I couldn't keep the grin off my face. “These,” I held out my arms to her, “are yours anytime you want them.”

“You can’t promise that.” She looked so sad and uncomfortable, I was dying to gather her to me and hold her forever just to prove how possible it was. But I took a deep breath and tried to quell some of the elation that was filling my chest at the knowledge that Katniss missed me, had wanted me when I wasn’t there. At the possibility that she would want me tonight. She pushed me back a few inches and looked straight into my eyes. "What if you change your mind. What if you leave."

I barked out a laugh, I couldn't help it, it was such a preposterous proposition. "That's impossible."

She pulled away, scowling. Not understanding that I was as serious as a heart attack.

I grabbed her hand to keep her facing me. Running my fingers down the length of her braid, I whispered, "Katniss, It’s not like that for me…” How could I explain this to her? Simply seemed best. I shrugged and continued, “I'm here for as long as you'll have me."

“I’m not easy. I’m grouchy and demanding and solitary in my ways,” she warned.

“I don’t want easy.” Taking my life in my hands, because she still looked as prickly as a porcupine, I kissed her nose. “I just want you. Snarling wildebeest and all.”

She sighed, "You say that now..."

"I don't know what to say to make you believe it, but I want this. I want you. Always."

"How can you know that?" she demanded, looking upset.

"Because I know” I said, shrugging. “I've always known. I guess you're just going to have to trust me."

"I'm scared." It was almost a whisper. I tipped her head up so she'd meet my eyes.

"I'm gonna do everything I can to make you understand every day just how much I'm not leaving." It was all I could say right now, all she was ready to hear. I couldn't keep the stupid grin off my face.

"You're ridiculous, you know that right?" Her mouth was still trying to scowl, but her eyes were smiling.

"Yeah. I can't help myself around you. You're just gonna have to get used to being adored." I shrugged, it really was out of my hands. “And while you’re right, I don’t know what the future has in store exactly, what I do know is that I just want to spend every last minute of the rest of my life with you.”

Her eyes softened as she looked up at me. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She fell into my arms and pressed against my chest. Nothing had ever felt better than her arms wrapping around my back as I pulled her snugly to me. I buried my nose in her hair, inhaling the heavenly scent of her.

“So,” I asked, trying to keep the naked hope out of my voice, “your place or mine tonight?”

“Mine,” she mumbled into my shirt, “less brothers.”

“Good point. See I knew you were more than just a pretty face.” She pulled away to shoot me a scowl before burrowing back into my neck and inhaling deeply. “If only you were good with a bow, you’d be the whole package,” I joked.

She pushed away from me before pulling my arm back around her. “Don’t make me show you my bow skills, Mellark.”

I chuckled and kissed the top of her head. I was literally on the verge of tap dancing. And I had no idea how to tap dance.

I heard the relentless chime of the timer from inside as if it were a mile away. Finally, my mind grasped the meaning of the incessant noise and I cringed.

“What?” she asked, concern etched around her tired eyes.

“Oven timer,” I groaned, hating to move a muscle for fear I would break the magical spell that had allowed me to dream this up this reality. “The cheese buns will burn.”

Her stomach growled audibly. “Can we go in?” she asked, her eyes sleepy. “I’m cold and tired. And now I’m hungry.”

“Absolutely. That’s one of the perks of dating a baker. And since we generally fall asleep by 8:30 at night and get weirdly competitive about baked goods, you have to take advantage of whatever perks you can.” I waited to see what she would say about me casually slipping in a dating reference like it was no big deal.

She stood up and grabbed my hand, leading me back toward the alley door, “Speaking of falling asleep early, what movie do you want to watch?”

I squeezed her hand, “Whatever you want.”

As if on cue, the sun lit the sky and the first pink rays of morning light streaked across the sky, echoing off the gray clouds and gilding her in a golden glow. As she reached for the door, I stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. She glanced up at me, her eyes like silver mirrors reflecting the rosy blush of sunlight.

"Let me get that," I said, clearing my throat to cover the rasp in my voice. I reached around her, grasping the door handle in one hand and lacing my fingers through hers with the other.

"Okay." Her smile was small and a little shy, but it was mine.  It was passion fruit cocktails and technicolor sunsets and Narnia all rolled into that magnificent quirk of her lips. And I was willing to work for another one every day for the rest of my life.

She stopped just before she stepped through the door, her eyes luminous as they met mine. “So we’re really gonna do this?”

“Yes,” I said, “we really are.”

~Fin~