#I need to speed eat and pass out so I can wake up early (ish) and try to work on it before tomorrow's QSMP event

[shikai-the-storyteller]

I've been doing so much research for my Fit disability fic (mostly research about prosthetics) and I've been doing a lot of research about hearing aids too, completely forgetting I have an Actual Person In My Life who uses hearing aids who I could straight up ask about stuff.

[fandomout]

Chapter 5- Remembering the fall of Sokovia

Gif credit itsvaguleyimaginaryme

Chapter- 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

If you want to be tagged, let me know.

Story Description-Wanda has used you to bring back her brother. She erased your memory. Can Wanda keep this up and end it without anyone getting hurt?

Prevuous Chapter Description- Wanda's getting exhuasted going back forth with herself. Having talked to Vision is anything clearer? Pietro and you spend some quality time, which makes him question you and Wanda.

You woke up early that morning after having had enough sleep. You get ready for the day and go to get some water in the kitchen area. It’s so quiet, so you tiptoe your way around. You reach the fridge and open it while hunching down to get a bottle of water. Bottle in hand, you close the fridge only to almost immediately drop the bottle as Pietro speeds up in front of you. You jump back and hold your hands out in defense. Pietro smiles and laughs out and comments, “Sorry. It was too easy. Jumpy this morning?”

“Yeah right you're sorry. You wouldn't have done it if you were.”

“Good point.” You shake your head at him and sip your water. He tipped himself back and forth on his heels and toes and commented, “Glad to see you. I’ve been waiting for someone to wake up for what feels like forever.”

“What have you been doing?”

“Nothing much. I saw the sunrise, fed some birds, watched some tv, and ate early breakfast.“

“You’re joking. Sunrise?”

“Yeah. It was beautiful. You should really see it for yourself.”

“Did you even sleep?”

“I only needed the 4-ish hours of sleep. I don’t know just how it’s been for a while now.”

“Have you ever been like this before?”

“Well no not like this...I don’t know. Lately, I just find it hard to sleep.”

“Any reason why?”

“Not that I know of yet.”

“Maybe you need to change your sleep routine.”

“Doubt it’ll help.”

“Just-”

“You always seem to be worrying about us, huh?”

“What?”

“You’re always taking care of us. Since I’ve met you, it’s all you do.”

“I guess.” You shrug. He steps uncomfortably close and adds, “I get how you’d be like that to Wanda being friends and all, but me?”

“You what?”

“You like me, huh?” He smiles and quirks his head to the side. You feel your body heat up at the sudden demeanor he takes on. “Shall, I take your silence as an agreement?” You're not sure how to answer and just state, “You’re being weird.” You move away from him and are about to turn on the tv when he takes the remote from your hand.

“How about we go pick something up to eat for when Wanda wakes up. I’m tired of staying inside.“

“I don’t know. I think we should let Wanda know first.”

“We didn’t last time we took a stroll.” Your mind drifts to the feeling of the spark, and you feel a small shiver run from the nape of your neck that traveled to the middle of your back and stayed there. It caused a tension that you tried to rub out. Pietro took it as worry and stated, “I get that you worry what she’ll think. She can't end up that worried though. We’ll obviously be in the area. We should let her sleep.”

“We should let her sleep. What if we get lost?”

“We won't. Me and Wanda have been traveling around to all kinds of places. We can make our way around.”

“Alright.”

“Great. If you want, we could hold hands if you don’t want to get lost.” You move back a bit and blurt out, “What’s up with you today?”

“I don’t know. Feeling goofy?” He shrugs. You let out a small laugh and make your way out the door with him.

You're passing by a news stand and your eyes fall on the newspaper. The title being, With the fall of Sokivia, the pain still stands! You stop in place to think about it because you could have sworn you’d heard of the event, but you can't find the memory related to it. You reach for the paper and skim your fingers along the words.

Pietro is still walking when he realizes you're not there anymore. He looks around frantically for a second before his eyes land on you. He walks up to you and taps your arm, which brings you out of your trance. You blink furiously.

“I was joking about holding hands, but it’s looking like a good idea now. We just started walking. Imagine what Wanda would do to me if I lost you.” He says half serious, half joking. You mutter, “Sorry”, and you look down.

“It's no sweat.” He waves you off. You nod; however, you don’t move from your stance. He hunches a bit to get a good look at your face that seems lost. He slightly frowns. He gently stroked your arm with the back of his hand and asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Just-Uhmm.” His eyes land in the paper and reads the title. The newsdealer speaks out, “Hey, you gotta pay for that!” Instinctively, you pat yourself down for money not wanting to be rude. The newsdealer snatched the paper from hand. The action catches you by surprise and you take a step back which results in stepping on a bag filled with air that popped with the pressure. Pietro looks from the noise over to the paper. His mind flashing back to the fight. He hadn't thought about it until now. He didn’t want to. He staggered back holding his head, which made you rush towards him. However, he seemed to stumble more aggressively, and you lose your grip. You grab his arm once more and lead him to the closest bench to sit him down.

Hope your day got better

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[finleyfray]

Bittersweet Memories part 4

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Huge thanks to @captain-josslett for helping me.

TW: some past abuse, mention of suicide, smut(ish) just a little, laguage

Finley sat on their bed looking at the door. She was mad at her girlfriends. She didn’t want them to know, not like that, she was not ready yet. Her past was fucked up, and she has spent previous years trying to forget about it. No need to touch these memories when she was doing okay now.

But now Alex knows and Maggie too.

God knows what Alex saw in her head. She felt so exposed. She knows she has to tell them at some point, that she can’t run from it forever. Especially while her girlfriends told her about their past.

How Maggie’s father threw her out and she had to live with her aunt. How she tried to make it work between them, but he just couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that his daughter was gay.

How Alex’s father passed away, or at least that was what they were told, then two years ago he came back, turned out that he was a traitor working for Cadmus. It had happened early in their relationship. Alex was officially dating Maggie at the time, and they weren’t out as polyamorous yet.

The redhead was devastated and they both held her close while she cried.

“Finley can we please talk?” There was a knock on the door and Maggie opened it. “Please, we need to talk this through.” She came to sit beside Fin, and Alex followed her, sitting on the other side of her girlfriend.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone into your head like that.” Alex begins. “But hear me out. After they disconnected you from the ventilator, you were technically supposed to wake up. But then the days went by, and you were still asleep. We were starting to become hopeless. And one day Brainy comes in and says that you’re deep in your dreams, and he can help us wake you up. The only way for that was to go to your mind. And once I was in your mind, I had zero control, your memories were just flowing by. Until I found you, and tried to wake you up. But that somehow ended bad and we almost lost you... Again.” Alex looked at Maggie, they both had tears in their eyes.

“We can’t lose you...” Finley hugged her crying girlfriends and sighed.

They were right. If she ever was in this situation, she would do exactly the same. Finley feels bad now. She yelled at them, but they were just taking the chance to wake her up.

“I’m sorry I yelled. I just wished you didn’t have to see that. And it’s not like I didn’t want to tell you. It’s more like, I don’t want to think about it that much.”

“You can still tell us...” Maggie whispered. “Alex refused to tell me anything after she was taken out of your mind. She had a huge panic attack, it took me an hour to calm her down. But she just said that she wants you to tell us. Whenever you’re ready.” Her girlfriend kissed her cheek. “I hate how I’m the only one missing this.”

“All right.” Finley sighed. “I’ll keep it short though, if you don’t mind, I really don’t like getting into the details. When my mom died, my father began drinking. He became more and more aggressive, he used to yell at me a lot, and always ended up beating me. One day, after he hit me, police knocked on our door. They took me to the orphanage. And I was actually happy, I thought it’s going to be better now. But orphanage wasn’t fun. Everyone kept to themselves, trying to survive as the workers there didn’t give a shit about us, we just often walked around hungry and dirty. Because of that, school was also hard, dealing with bullies that claimed to be better cause they had parents. But the years just flew by, and when I became eighteen they kicked me out. I was homeless for a while, but finally I was allowed into University, and they gave me a place to live and offered a job. It was really a miracle, I applied there with the last money I had, and just passed their exam with 100%. But it was hard. I had to pay for my room and all the bills, work and go to classes every day. Sometimes I didn’t have enough money to eat and that’s why I just often forget to do that. What makes you mad is something that made me survive for so long.” Finley stopped for a second, wiped her tears, she was tearing up, she needed to speed this up, otherwise she won’t finish. “And just, you know, I finished college, but then couldn’t find any work, it was hard to find something considering my past. And one time I just wanted to end it all. But then out of nowhere J’onn appeared, offered me a chance so I took it. Yeah, so the rest you already know.” She sobs as her girlfriends hold her close.

It was hard telling them about her past. But she’s glad she did. Cause now she feels as if some weight has been lifted off her shoulders.

She feels safe. And that’s what she dreamed about her whole life.

***

Alex wakes up to knocking on their door. She sleepily looks around seeing her girlfriends still asleep so she went to open the door.

“Mom! Hi.” She frowns, she forgot her mother was coming for breakfast. “Shit, we overslept.” The redhead yawns and leads her mom to their apartment.

“And Merry Christmas to you.” Eliza chuckles but then looks at her daughter. “Alex, are you okay sweetie? Is everything alright? You look like you’ve been crying all night. Is Finley okay?” Alex sobs and goes to hug her mother.

Maybe they didn’t have the best relationship in the past, but hearing everything from Fin made her really appreciate her mother.

“Oh, okay.” Eliza hugs her daughter in surprise. “Honey talk to me, I’m worried.”

“Finley’s all right. Physically. We’re good. I’m just happy I have you. Love you mom.” The older woman smiles at her daughter.

“Love you too sweetie. What brought this?”

“I just... We talked yesterday about Finley’s time at the orphanage. And I am just really grateful I had you. Even after dad disappeared, you still took care of Kara and I. And Finley told us how her father became violent after her mom died. Just I’m glad you didn’t.” The redhead wipes her tears and looks at her mom.

“Oh sweetie, I would never hurt you.” Eliza gently grabs her cheek and wipes her tears away. She kisses the redhead forehead. “Go wake your sleepyheads up. I’ll make breakfast.”

“Thank you mom.” Alex beams and goes to wake her girlfriends up. She gently lay beside Fin and placed small kisses on her face until she opened her eyes.

“Merry Christmas baby.” She smiles as Finley sleepily greets her back. She looks into her girlfriend's blue eyes and kisses her softly. The younger woman smiles into the kiss and embraces Alex in a hug.

Maggie turns around and hugs them too. She looks at her girlfriends with a huge grin.

“Merry Christmas baby.” The redhead smiles at her and reaches over Finley to kiss her.

“Your boob’s on my face.” Fin laughs.

“I fail to see a problem with that.” The raven-haired woman remarks.

“Well... It’s still clothed.”

“Dorks, stop. Mom’s here. We overslept.” Alex stands up. “I’m going to shower.”

“Can I...” Maggie began, only to be interrupted.

“No. We all know how that ends.” The raven-haired woman pouts. Finley laughs and kisses her as the redhead leaves the room.

***

Later that day Finley was sitting on the couch with Alex. Maggie was out to get her Aunt from the airport, and Eliza decided to take a nap in the guest room. They didn’t mind and decided to watch some TV.

Finley thought about how she met her girlfriends.

After J’onn offered her a job she gladly took it. He told her he’ll pick her up next Monday, to show her around and begin training her. What surprised her, and she soon learned that it also was a shock for all her new co-workers, the man decided to train her himself. As her apartment was being sold, she was offered a room in the DEO. Each day she arrived punctually for her training. They trained all day which Fin loved. It gave Fin no time to think about her life, being so exhausted from it all. About a week after arriving, she met Alex. Fin thought Alex was the most beautiful human being she ever met.

Sadly Fin soon learned that the agent was taken. That was until she had the chance to meet her girlfriend, Maggie. Finley then decided Alex and Maggie were both the most beautiful women ever. It was a shock, she didn’t ever have time to think about any relationship in her life, she was simply too busy to. And now not only had she had a crush on a woman, but on two. It took her a lot of time and research to figure it out.

Nevertheless the fact that she had a crush on these two women, Finley never thought that they could like her.

That was until one day they approached her and asked her out for dinner. One became two, and after the third date, they talked about their relationship. It took them a bit of time to come out to their friends and family but Finley was patient. It took her a long time to figure this out, so she gave them their time too. It was adventurous, sneaking around to give each other kisses. She felt like a teenager being in love for the first time.

“You okay? You zoned out.” The redhead asks, looking at her. The shorter woman smiles and guided the redhead to sit on her lap. She would rather sit on Alex’s, but her plaster was making that impossible.

“I’m okay. I was just thinking about how it all began. The day you asked me on a date.” She smiles and kisses the redhead. Her girlfriend kisses her back and Finley slips her tongue in Alex’s mouth. The woman on her moans quietly.

“Hi... Oh Rao, I’m sorry.” They part and look at Kara and Lena as they stand in the doorway. “T...the door was unlocked!” The superhero cheeks were as red as he cape.

Finley begins laughing and all three of them look at her surprised.

“I just remembered the first time this happened.”

Alex, Maggie and Finley had been sitting on the couch watching ‘Avengers’. They were enjoying their free evening as they weren’t out as polyamorous yet, so that excluded any attention outside their apartment.

Finley was sitting between them, her head on the raven-haired woman lap, and her legs tangled with redheads. Her girlfriends learned pretty soon that the youngest woman was touch deprived.

They didn’t mind that seeing how even small touches of Finley’s hand made her smile like the happiest being on earth. They made sure to give her a lot of cuddles. Maggie bended her head to give her black-haired woman a kiss.

“I’m going to grab us some drinks. You mind moving?” Finley pouted and gently bit her girlfriend's lip. The raven-haired woman gasped.

“Fin...” she looked at her with a playful smirk.

“Whatcha gonna do bout it?”

“I’m just...” Maggie smiled and lifted her girlfriend up, making her sit in Alex’s lap. “Here. Stay there.” She winked at Alex as the red head embraced Finley in a strong hug.

Fin took her chance and decided to kiss the redhead. Her girlfriend was very enthusiastic about it. Alex slipped her tongue in Finley’s mouth and placed her hands on her hips and guided her to move back and forth.

Finley broke the kiss and moaned suddenly feeling hot. Her red-haired girlfriend took off her shirt and tossed it in the corner. She kissed Fin’s neck, sucking it hard.

“Alex...! Oh RAO, I’M SO SORRY!” They heard Kara yell and jumped from each other. They were breathing hard, looking at the blonde who had her eyes covered. “Wait a second...” She looked at them in shock. “Alex! That ain’t Maggie!!” Kara yelled.

“Hi, little Danvers!” Maggie came with their drinks and looked at the scene before her.

Finley was standing there with only her bra on and Alex was standing next to her. Both her girlfriends looked uncomfortable, their cheeks were red, and they were breathing hard. Well they had been busy.

Then there was Kara. Standing there looking at them and then at Maggie, she was confused and flustered.

“Kara it is not what it looks like" Alex rushed to grab a sheet and covered Finley with it. “I didn’t cheat on Maggie, we’re in a polyamorous relationship!”

“Maggie! They were kissing.”

“Yeah, I know that.” The Detective laughed. “What’s the problem?”

“Oh...” The blonde became more confused, but nodded her head. “Alright I’m going to go...” She flew away and Maggie laughed hard.

“Oh God...” Alex whined.

“She flew to me after that and asked what’s a polyamorous relationship. I almost had a heart attack. It was as if a toddler came up to me and asked how kids are made.” Lena laughs looking at her fiancé, who turns her head away embarrassed.

“How was I supposed to know that! I thought Alex was cheating on Maggie.” She stutters.

“Don’t worry little Danvers. We weren’t doing anything nasty this time. Just kissing. I’m sure you can handle that.” Finley laughs.

Alex stands up from her girlfriend and looks at her sister in disbelief.

“I would never cheat on Maggie. Or Fin. But I understand your confusion. We should’ve talked with you about it sooner.” She admits. “I would say that I’ll make sure of it next time, but there wouldn’t be one. Staying with these two forever.”

***

After the Christmas dinner, Alex, Maggie, Kara and Lena decided to go for a walk. They wanted to take Finley along, but she said that wheeling around is not a walk, so she’s going to pass and help Eliza in the kitchen. Vivian went to unpack her things in the guest room. After that they sat by the dinner table, Eliza made them coffee and Finley put the sweets on the table.

“Can I ask you both something?” Fin begins looking hesitantly at both women. She specifically chose to sit against them to be able to see both their reactions.

“Of course darling.” Vivian smiles at her. Even though she was Maggie’s aunt, they both looked very alike. Both had brown hairs and brown eyes. They even had the same dimpled smile.

Finley looked at Eliza and the older woman nodded her head encouraging her to continue.

“Well before the accident I was planning something... And I know it isn’t possible yet, and we don’t even know if it’ll ever be, but I just wanted to, and I…” Finley spoke really fast, she was stressed.

‘This was a stupid idea. What if they laugh. What if they say no?!’

“Take a deep breath sweetie.” Eliza gently squeezes her hand, making her calm down. “Tell us slowly what’s going on.” Finley took a deep breath.

‘It’s now or never.’

“I love your daughters very much. I want to propose to them soon. And I know it’s not possible yet to marry them legally. But when the possibility will come, I want them to be my wives. And I wanted to ask you both for permission.” She looks at them scared.

“Ohh, Finley.” Eliza stands up and goes to hug her. “Of course you have my permission to marry Alex. I could never imagine better wives for her. You three are so amazing together.” She smiles and kisses Finley on the forehead. She pulls away and Vivian takes her place.

“I agree with Eliza. I couldn’t imagine anyone that could make my girl happier than you and Alex. You have my blessing, darling.” She hugs her and Finley beams.

“Thank you. This means so much to me. I can’t even imagine my life without them, so I have to make sure they stick around as long as it’s possible. Now I just need to have a fully working leg to get down on one knee” She jokes. Things are going perfect right now. **

Later that evening as their family left and Vivian went to the guest room to rest, Finley was lying comfortably with her girlfriends.

“We met J’onn earlier.” Alex begins. “He asked about you. We told him that Maggie takes care of you. He didn’t know Maggie resigned.”

“Oh?” Fin looked at the redhead. “You didn’t tell him?”

“I kind of forgot. And since he’s afraid to read my mind anymore...”

“That’s cause you're a pervert.” Maggie laughs. “Thinking bout the nasty 24/7”

“Hey! Don’t mind me, those are my thoughts, can’t do anything about it!” Alex pouts.

“Well back to the main point, he offered me a job at the DEO.” The raven-haired woman said, looking at Finley. “Starting January 2nd.” “That’s amazing!” Fin hugs her girlfriend. “Congrats baby, you can work with us now.”

“She didn’t accept it yet.” Alex murmured.

“Wait why?” The black-haired woman frowned. It was an amazing opportunity, why didn’t Maggie say yes?

“I want to take care of you.” The raven-haired woman kissed her girlfriend.

“I’m not a baby. I can take care of myself! They are taking my plaster off soon and replacing it with the brace. I’m really better. You need to accept the job darling.” She looked into her girlfriend's eyes. “Accept it.”

“But...”

“No buts. Accept it. I’ll be perfectly fine.”

“Okay.” Maggie sighs. She wanted the job, but also wanted to look after her still healing girlfriend.

“But we’ll need some ground rules. Like you calling us every hour. And if something is wrong, you’ll tell us immediately. And you take care of yourself, taking your medicine, eating and drinking. And you’ll take it easy.”

“I promise. I’ll be fine.” Finley smiles and kisses her. “You okay with it?” She turned to look at Alex.

“Well, I think so. But also if it won’t work out I know that J’onn will just give us days off.”

“That won’t be needed.” Fin kisses the redhead. “I’ll be just fine.” She snuggles into her girlfriend's arm and was soon sleeping.

[jq37]

The Report Card – Fantasy High Sophomore Year Ep 6

The Fall of Fabian Seacaster

OK, let’s do this.

We pick back up with Kristen and Riz who are still outside Garthy’s room. Kristen’s Detect Good and Evil from last week pings Garthy as well as the general aura of the Golden Gardens which is protected in the way a sanctum sanctorum would be but with celestial energy. Riz and Kristen improvise a not super cogent plan that involves ribbon dancing and knocking over barrels before Riz just decides to cut to the chase and ask Garthy’s guards to send for Sandra-Lynn. Once she comes out (still looked sexed up and pretty annoyed) they’re not quite sure what to ask her and Riz wants to bail but Kristen (who has cast Zone of Truth, tried to muscle into Garthy’s house, and gotten smacked down physically by Sandra-Lynn) says that she’s worried about Sandra-Lynn because she’s “not poly but [she’s] acting poly.” Being directly called out is enough to snap Sandra-Lynn out of it (and to think about Fig’s reaction) so she agrees to get her stuff and come back to the gang’s suite.

Meanwhile, Fabian is hanging out with Bill’s cult of 20-ish warlocks. They’re all super glad to see Fabian--who they assume has been sent by Bill to help them--and they want him to regale them with the tale of how he slew his father in battle. Fabian tells them the story which, as you all know, isn’t a story about besting his father in a hard-fought battle so much as it is about a story about bittersweet mercy killing. They are less than impressed, especially considering they want Fabian to defeat Captain James Wicklaw who has promised to kill all of Bill’s followers. Ego stung, Fabian says that he may not have bested his father but he did (help) kill a dragon and, more importantly, he’s gonna lead them into an ambush against Captain Wicklaw (who he sees, presumably looking for him, with 30 men).

Oh boy.

Fabian telepathically alerts the Hangman that he’s about to get into a big fight before slamming down a door and full-out attacking Captain Wicklaw. He’s able to get a good couple of attacks in and Wicklaw misses his first couple of attacks but then Fabian fails an intelligence save with a Nat 1 and gets stunned while Wicklaw tries to open his skull and eat his brain.

Meanwhile with the rest of the Bad Kids, the Hangvan alerts Gorgug that the Hangman has sped off and everyone assumes Fabian is in trouble. They all do their best to get to him as quickly as possible and, even though these scenes are intercut with Fabian’s I’m going to summarize them all at once:

Fig (w/ Gorgug in tow) Dimension Doors as close to the Hangman as she can. Then, Gorgug has the idea to try the classic pirate move of grabbing a rope, cutting the weight, and instantly flying to where on the ship you want to go. They try that and begin flying towards Fabian at terminal velocity, both dislocating their arms. Fig passably disguises herself as Jemina Joy (even with quadruple disadvantage) and tries to get a wizard to teleport her to where Fabian is but they’re going way too fast for anyone to hear her. Gorgug (also with quad disadvantage) tries to throw a hand axe and, on a nat 1, almost cuts the rope they’re swinging on.

Gilear is fully passed after a back-slap from Fig.

Adaine casts fly on Riz (because his rogue speed means he can make the most use of it) so he can go get Garthy to see if they have any teleport spells. Then, she gets on Baxter with Kristen and Sandra-Lynn (plus Tracker who follows in spectral wolf form). Kristen tries to bring up Sandra-Lynn’s relationship stuff again and Adaine casts Tasha’s Hideous Laughter on her. Adaine tries to pull from the jacket to get something to help her get to Fabian faster and she gets a Razor scooter.  

Ragh drives the Hangvan towards Fabian’s.

Riz finds Garthy who takes him to a room, pops out neon angel wings, and does some kind of teleport spell that almost seems like it moves the space closer to them rather than the reverse.

But, none of this really matters because Brennan says none of them will be able to make it to Fabian before 22 rounds of combat. Woof.

Still in the first round of combat, 2 of the warlocks manage to hit Wicklaw and break Fabian out of his grapple (right after Wicklaw says that he’s eaten many of Fabian’s siblings but let’s put a pin in that because we have so much to get through here). Fabian declares that all spells are on him for the remainder of the fight (which is maybe the last funny thing he says all night). Then, 6 of the 20 warlocks on Fabian’s side die to gunshots from Wicklaw’s men. Fabian sends his men forward then falls back and attacks with his crossbow. Wicklaw mocks him for abandoning his crew so viciously that I feel like he should have spontaneously taken a level in bard. Brennan rolls for the ten still living pirates who never got names and only one survives. Then he rolls for the named pirates (Alistair and the three I haven’t mentioned yet because this episode is A Lot--Chungle-Down Bim, Old-Young Benjamin, and Creaky McBarrel) and only Creaky dies. In two rounds, Bill’s cult is down to four (plus one guy who peaced out after Fabian said he didn’t actually brutally murder his dad).

Fabian’s tactical retreat shakes the confidence of everyone but Alistair who stays loyal (even as he gets wrecked on his next attack on Wicklaw). Chungle-Down Bim is so disgusted by Fabian’s cowardice and performance that he tries to Eldritch Blast him and misses. He says, “Yeh ain’t no pirate and Bill would spit in yer eye.” Fabian has to hold back tears. He, with a heartbreaking mix of trepidation, reluctance, and resolve, asks if there are any ropes he can use to escape. Roll a perception check. He does.

Natural 1.

Sure, Brennan says. There’s a rope that looks like it will 100% guaranteed hold Fabian’s weight. Fabian goes for it--leaving behind a stunned and crushed Alistair--and finds that it’s actually a clothesline. He goes plummeting down a quarter-mile towards the ground but, before he actually hits, he hits a bunch of other ropes and, on his last possible chance, is able to save from splatting and taking max fall damage. Lou opts to take some damage anyway because he’d feel like he was cheating otherwise.

The rest of the group shows up through their various means and all immediately assume that Fabian got jumped. Fabian is meek in a way we’ve never seen before. I’m talking Adaine with Jawbone in Prompocolypse meek. He doesn’t tell them what happened and he answers all the questions with short yesses or no’s as much as possible. The healers heal him (plus Fig and Gorgug) up and take him back to the suite. The Hangman asks if he’s alright. “No Hangman,” he says. “It’s all bad.” Cathilda brings him kippers but he feels like he doesn’t deserve them.

Garthy has a little tete-a-tete with Fig about their tryst with Sandra-Lynn. Garthy is all about getting down but not if that person is in a monogamous relationship (even though they’re against them on principle). Fig (who has been avoiding her mom since the top of the ep) says she’s only mad at Sandra-Lynn (she says Sandra-Lynn, not Mom--oof) since Garthy didn’t know better. It just sucks that this happened to Jawbone. Jawbone as in Jawbone O'Shaughnessy? asks Garthy. Turns out he’s visited (many times) and they’ve boned (super hard) which, honestly, totally tracks.  

Because she didn’t get a full night of sleep, Tracker can’t keep the Moon Haven spell up all night which isn’t great. Kristen can also gather than she’s too tired to remember anything that happened earlier in the night (ie: things about Sandra-Lynn and Jawbone). Fig, concerned that she might get mind controlled again without the Moon Haven up asks Adaine to tie her up (this actually happens before the above conversation with Garthy).

Sleeping arrangements are Fabian, the Hangman, and Riz as a bodyguard in one room and everyone else in another. Adaine trances a little early so she can regain her spells and be awake in case anything happens. Brennan makes everyone do wisdom saves. Kristen and Adaine roll high and Adaine gives her TWO (2) NAT 20 portent rolls to Fig and Gorgug. That leaves Riz and Fabian, but we’ll get to them in a minute.

Adaine wakes up from her trance and she sees Ragh get up early as well. He says he’s going to get some food. Adaine, vigilant as ever asks Ragh who his first kiss was. Ragh acts confused for a second, and then screeches and attacks her, waking everyone up. He’s been dominated. Adaine goes for a Tasha’s Hideous Laughter and subdues him. Also Fig is able to escape Adaine’s magical ropes so maybe she’s not the best person to do that next time.

Meanwhile, Fabian is having a nightmare. He dreams of Wicklaw trying to eat his brain and Chungle-Down spitting in his face and his betrayal of Alistair. He sees the ghosts of the warlock  cultists entering hell and his disappointed father. And then, he’s approached by a man. A man with a familiar, non-threatening sounding, yogurt-offering voice. Fabian, like Adaine before, feels very strongly that if he looks at this man’s face, something terrible will happen but he does take the offered yogurt and agrees to go with him without looking at him. He’s taken to a lovely, sunny, kind of museum area dedicated to Bill Seacaster. Fabian thinks it’s very nice but he starts to notice that though there are many pictures of Bill and Hilariel, there are none of him. He asks why. The man says that Fabian needs to look at him. Fabian is hesitant. The man says that Fabian really needs to look at him. The yogurt in Fabian’s stomach curdles, weakening him (and me because yogurt grosses me out on the best of days and this is not the best of days). The man turns Fabian’s face to look at him and Fabian finds himself looking at a doughy, middle-aged Fabian Seacaster. He laughs hysterically and Fabian wakes up, plunged into the sea.

Elsewhere, Riz wakes up in his room. Fabian is gone, he’s paralyzed, the Hangman has been stabbed through by Fabian’s sword and is leaking oil, and Kalina is sitting on his bed. She was able to get in with the Moon Haven spell down. She speaks to him unsettlingly casually. She sounds almost friendly as she demands Riz and his friends stop looking for the Nightmare King’s crown on the pain of their lives. Riz, a grizzled old knight to his core like all of Murph’s characters, can’t wrap his head around why she would be doing this. It’s simple. Power. She psychologically toys with him, saying that Riz throws himself into his cases (which she seems to know quite a bit about) to distract himself from how sad he is about his dead dad. Then, she says that Fabian is in massive danger and if Riz doesn’t play ball (pun not intentional but it’s staying in), he’ll die. Riz assumes she knows where the Nightmare King’s crown is and she asks why he’s sure she knows which makes him think she actually doesn’t know. Riz, who sleeps with his sword because he’s rightfully paranoid, uses it to Misty Step outside but he’s still paralyzed so he just hits the ground and breaks his arm.

Kalina meets him outside, tells him Fabian is long gone, and tries to bargain with him: information about his dad for information about what he knows. Riz counter-offers that he’ll tell her about where the Nightmare King’s crown is if she guarantees his friends’ safety. She doesn’t care about the crown. She wants to know what Riz knows about her. Riz agrees (to save Fabian) and tells her everything he knows except that he withholds the information about Adaine’s mom being involved and tries to withhold the information he got from Ragh but he accidentally gives himself away without saying Ragh’s name. That’s enough for her to put two and two together though and she leaves to kill Ragh’s mom.

Back in the sea, Fabian has to make three Constitution checks. He rolls two nat 20s in a row for the first two and is rescued two flying imp monsters (presumably sent by Kalina) who drop him off at the edge of town. Fabian, absolutely destroyed, rips off his eyepatch and takes off his Owlbear jacket as he makes his way back. He rolls one last Constitution check. Nat 1. He’s got pneumonia. Cathilda shows up in the Hangvan to pick up Fabian.

The rest of the group is still shaken up by Ragh’s attack. They snap him out of it and someone gets Garthy. Post Riz’s encounter with Kalina, Ragh bursts in, devastated and says that someone from home called and said that his mom died. The whole group is immediately suspicious because--post Gorgug/Zelda debacle--they know they shouldn’t have signal. Ragh tries to call another number and all he hears is laughing on the other end. When Riz (healed up by Garthy) looks, he sees that his phone shows 5 bars for a second. Riz, Tracker, and Sandra-Lynn also see the flicker. Possibly illusion magic. Tracker and Garthy can also now suddenly see the Shadowcat in the picture (but it doesn’t seem like the rest of the Bad Kids can). Riz thinks Ragh’s mom is in serious danger but not dead yet.

Garthy has the idea to send the group to the Leviathan Library so maybe Adaine can learn a Sending Spell to communicate with their various parents and allies in Solace. They give Adaine a note that says to let the group safely use the library addressed to one Aida Aguefort.

Fig checks in with Sandra-Lynn to see if maybe she was under the influence of something more malevolent than alcohol when she cheated. Sandra-Lynn cries, and admits that she just F’d up but that they should deal with the problem at hand for now and that’s where we end, with the bulk of the group en route to the library.  

Detention

Fabian for Everything

Oh Fabian.

Fabian, Fabian, Fabian.

I don’t think I have ever seen a series of events so driven by a single character’s careless actions.

Truly, almost every single bad thing that happened in this episode can be traced directly to Fabian losing his entire chill at the worst possible time.

All those warlocks, dead (And Alistair either dead, seriously hurt, or set on the path to show back up with a vendetta later on down the road).

Because Tracker didn’t get her 8 hours, she couldn’t do the Moon Haven properly which is why Ragh got mind-controlled, the Hangman got stabbed, and he got brain-jacked and dumped into the ocean.

It’s why Kalina got to Riz. It’s why Lydia’s in danger.

And it wasn’t just that what he did was dumb, it was also completely unnecessary. There was no plot reason for what he did and he wasn’t forced into it. It was a completely character driven decision and it was bad, y’all. It was pretty much an absolute fail parade.  

Honor Roll

Brennan and Lou for Absolutely Stellar Roleplay

Everyone had their moments this episode.

Siobhan and Zac made some clever choices. Ally brought some needed levity. Emily subtly continued her emotional threads about Fig’s relationship with her mom and her distress over her actions while mind controlled. And Murph had that absolutely stellar scene in the back half of the back half of the ep with Kalina.

But Brennan and Lou 100% carried this episode.

Brennan is such a good DM that I feel like it’s almost easy to take for granted. Like, if you visit a town, you’re gonna talk about how how cool the shops, and food, and events were. Not about how well the roads are paved. But if the roads are all janky and potholed and stuff then it’s a big issue.

This episode clearly took a major turn from whatever was supposed to happen but Brennan deftly kept pace with all of Fabian’s wild choices and made sure the roads were paved before he got there.

So much of this episode was just Brennan talking to one other person (Fabian and then Riz during the Kalina scene) and he nailed all of it. The disgust from Chungle-Down. The betrayal from Alistair. The concern from Cathilda. The quiet but sinister lilt of Nightmare Fabian. And the affable, dispassionate, Just Business evil from Kalina.

And Lou. Everything Fabian did this episode was an extremely bad idea but it is exactly what Fabian would do in the situation. Lou played him completely consistently, even when it clearly pained him to do so. 

When Lou rolled a nat 1 on his perception check for an escape rope, Brennan essentially handed him a fully loaded gun and said shoot yourself, and Lou grit his teeth and he did it.

Mad respect to both of them for keeping the tension and gravity going for a full three hours basically. That was lightning in a bottle. D&D is an amazing game.

Random Thoughts

I know there’s a significant chunk of the fandom that ships Riz and Fabian and, can I just say, RIP to y’all.

It really was narratively cool that we started out with the Sandra-Lynn plot in this crazy, over the top, comic scene and then ended with the quiet conversation between Fig and her mom on the same topic. It really was a through line throughout the episode without over-shadowing the main drama. This episode had a clear A and B plot just like a scripted show.

Also if Garthy is a powerful as Brennan is making them seem, wild that the NK and Kalina were able to bust through what is supposed to be super sanctified ground, especially since Tracker--a jr. cleric--has been keeping them at bay by herself.

Zac: This is a real Axford move.

Also Zac: I don’t understand what’s gonna happen if this goes well.

Riz and Murph Equally: We’re so stupid.

I think it’s funny how players in D&D tend to treat Zone of Truth like it forces them to spontaneously say things that are true rather than just preventing them from actively lying.

The kinda wild thing about how this whole mess started is that Fabian’s character development is part of why it happened. When he told the warlocks about the dragon and his dad, he gave everyone else their due credit, didn’t hog the spotlight, and didn’t lie/embellish the truth to make himself sound cooler. That in turn disappointed them which made him relapse into S1 Fabian who attacked Gorgug on the first day of school for absolutely no reason. I was actually going to give him major credit for that before he, you know. Made some other choices. He absolutely gushed about how cool his friends were and then invited exactly none of them to his terrible plan.

Lol at Lou being like, “I rolled to get Alistair to make a better speech?”

Bill’s cult of about 20 guys has collectively sent him like 350k gold. That’s insane! They’re all so poor!

Lou playing Fabian very confidently making an absolutely suicidal decision, and then surfacing to laugh hysterically for a full thirty seconds out of character about how he’s for sure gonna die, was such a mood. It was like Lou was being held at gunpoint by Fabian for the entire first half of the session.

Big props to Zac for trying to get everyone in on the action by suggesting the Hangvan would see that the Hangman was gone and let the group know.

OK, so now let’s talk about that line about Wicklaw having eaten many of Fabian’s siblings. Hoo boy. You know this episode was wild because that line was said and never followed up on. What might have been a headline in a different episode was a footnote in this one. No big surprise that Bill would have fathered a ton of kids. That pretty much tracks, as Adaine said last ep. I feel like this was something that was going to come up regardless, Fabian just forced it to be right then and there. This dude hates Bill so going after his kids seems like an obvious move (unless he’s bluffing I guess, but I doubt it). But, like, did Bill know about these kids? Was he fully ignorant? Willfully ignorant? Did they know they were Bill’s kids? Are there any left? Can Fabian please have a little pirate sister because I would love that so much you don’t even know.

You think Lou expected to say (loosely quoting), “I try not to cry in front of Chungle-Down Bim,” when he woke up that morning? Idk but I can tell you that I didn’t expect to hear it and feel strong emotions about it.

Chungle-Down Bim, which is short for Bimothy.

Lol, Brennan makes Emily rolls with Quadruple disadvantage and she still gets a 15 because she has a plus 11 to persuasion. No wonder she’s so quick to slam the disguise self button if there’s even a sliver of a chance it’ll work.

Adaine getting a useless Razor scooter on the way to try and help Fabian and then being like, “Well, I’m still gonna keep it,” was such a funny beat during the tenseness of that fight scene.

I need you guys to know that this is a mindflayer ability: Extract (Ex): An Illithid that begins its turn with all four tentacles attached and successfully maintains its hold automatically extracts the opponent’s brain, instantly killing that creature. Truly what was he thinking? You’re gonna eat his brain? Go ahead because he clearly isn’t using it!

You know the part of Princess Bride when Wesley is giving the “To the Pain” speech to Humperdinck? I feel like that’s what Brennan did to Fabian this episode. “Oh you think I’m going to kill you? No, that would be too easy. This fight is to the pain. You will watch your allies get slaughtered until you are forced to betray them or die. You will escape but in the most clownish fashion possible after breaking your most loyal ally’s heart. You will be beset by your concerned friends and forced to either own up to your horrible life choices or stew with them and lie by omission. You will be the reason your ultimate enemy is able to break in and attack your friends and you will be forced with your worst nightmare before being unceremoniously dumped into the sea. You won’t die. You’ll just wish you had.” Absolutely brutal.

Anyone else feeling a possible villain turn from Allistair? Dude’s a warlock so he’s already prone to dabbling in questionable power sources. And Fabian really did him dirty. I was hoping he’d at least get Kristen or Tracker to try to see if he was around anywhere for a heal but he just went into shellshock shutdown mode and they bounced. We didn’t see him die on screen so I feel pretty strongly that we’ll be seeing him again in some form.

Also, maybe I’m way off, but did you guys feel like Fabian missed a clear opportunity? I thought he was gonna ask his dad for help. Or, at least try and talk to him before the fight. Clearly it’s possible because the warlocks are doing it. Just pray for some infernal intervention or guidance or powers or something? Worth a shot when you’re in such a bad situation anyway.

Fabian never did tell the party what was going on. They all still think he was ambushed and forced into a fight somehow. I really can’t wait for the truth to come out. I wonder how long he’ll sit on that info. He better tell them before they fight Wicklaw again and they find out that way.

Every single player playing up their concern for Fabian and making a point to presume he was in the right and that it had been a wrong place/time situation to make him feel even more like garbage was *chefs kiss*.

The Hangman basically acting like a big metal dog and pressing itself up against Fabian to comfort him is weirdly adorable.

“Anyway, I’m gonna go get tied up.”/“What?”

Also I love Adaine’s reaction to being asked to do it. She’s like, “What? I mean, I’ll do it but, what?” Sidenote, Fig said she was gonna ask Riz as her first choice but that’s also a terrible choice! He has like a minus 2 strength modifier I think. Ask Gorgug!

Truly, the entire episode can be encapsulated in the fact that Siobhan was sitting there with two nat 20 portent rolls but sidelined and useless because Fabian decided to go completely rogue.

I have to give Adaine big credit for checking to see if Ragh was mind controlled because whenever I’m watching a show where a bad guy can shapeshift or possess people, I always think, “Why don’t they just have a codeword or something?” This is one of the few times I’ve seen it properly executed. Genre savviness saves lives people.

Fabian’s rolls really matched his decisions this week. It was like the dice were punishing him with all those nat 1s on crucial checks.

Also, Brennan being like, “You get pneumonia” was lowkey hilarious. Just like, insult to injury. What’s next? He’s gonna die on dysentery on the Oregon Trail?

I wonder if Fabian is considering chronomancy-ing this away? The thought for sure crossed my mind. Also, everyone was joking about everything being all a dream, but that’s something that could happen in this campaign without it being cheap because it’s been set-up that that’s the kind of bad guy they’re up against so I’m staying vigilant.

Ragh coming into the room and, voice cracking, announcing that his mom was dead cut me up so bad. And I thought it would be not as bad on my rewatch. Nope, still awful. I can’t believe I like him so much now. This is like a Steve from Stranger Things level turnaround for me. Also, the chat was absolutely blowing up when Murph was like, “I tell her everything,” without excepting Ragh’s info at first. Brennan is a nice DM for reminding him about that (despite the absolute ravaging of Riz and Fabian otherwise this ep).

Also gotta give a shout out to Murph this ep for playing Riz so well during the confrontation with Kalina. His steadfast, simple, “We can’t stop. It would be wrong. Fullstop,” mentality is so pure. Riz is such an interesting character. When he tried to withhold info, Murph said, “I have low deception.” That’s who Riz is. He’s a rogue with low deception. He’s sneaky but only in pursuit of justice. No guile at all. Kalina, who is as casual as he is wound up and amoral and he is knightly is such an interesting foil for him. I’m very intrigued to see how this develops.  

Like I said in the recap, Garthy and Tracker can now see Kalina in the picture, even though neither of them saw her when she broke in (that they know of) so the plot thickens there. I’d go into it more but I really don’t have any new theories off the top of my head and this was honestly the least of my worries re: this ep.

Also, she says that all of her abilities come from serving the NK, and she had the abilities since she was working with Pok so this doesn’t seem to be a new development. I will say though, based on the info the group got, I really thought she was gonna be a more ancient being, you know? Maybe it’s just a title and she’s just the latest tabaxi to serve him and get it? I dunno.

Truly the mood for this episode was dawning horror. Things just got progressively worse in new and interesting ways every single scene.

Speaking of, let’s talk about Fabian’s vision. First of all, Brennan did a great job real-time DJ-ing that scene. The switch to that creepy music was very unsettling. Second of all, the chat exploding when Brennan started doing That voice and everyone for a brief moment thought that maybe, Maybe, Gilear was the Nightmare King, was delicious. But, on to the important stuff: When this happened to Adaine, my guess was that if she had looked at figure, it would have been a representation of her anxiety which I think was like 65% correct based on what happened to Fabian. Her worst possible future for herself is probably herself ruled by anxiety to the point of uselessness so she would have seen that version of herself. Fabian’s worst possible future self is essentially Gilear. Which, on behalf of Gilear, ouch. But, yeah, I see why it would be. And, honestly, NK-Fabian was worse than Gilear. Gilear is pathetic, sure, but he’s pathetic in pursuit of his own goals. To be stuck in his dad’s shadow, devoid of any other purpose is the antithesis of Fabian’s whole making a name for himself thing and a sick twisting of his very real pride in his dad. It’s a real raw nerve to hit, especially right after his colossal failure that left him feeling unworthy of even his favorite snack.

I’m really glad Fabian looked at the face of his nightmare. Brennan pushed him a little (in that fantastically unnerving, cajoling yet demanding voice) but I think he would have done it anyway. Like, it’s good information for the team to have and, if anyone was gonna get hit, it made most sense for it to happen right then, when Fabian was already at basically his lowest point. Both Adaine and Fabian felt like something horrible would happen if they looked at their nightmare and I’m wondering if there’s a mechanical effect to that or if it’s just psychological. I feel like there might be some not yet revealed mechanical effect going on but, when your players are as devoted to the RP as Lou (who, again, asked to take damage from his fall even after Brennan was gonna let him off with just the shame) you can get away with just giving the character trauma and having the player hinder their own actions based on it.

Titles for this recap that I rejected include Actions and Consequences and Keyfish 2: Pirate Boogaloo (because the first part of this episode truly felt like the CritRole Keyfish incident but spread out over an hour and a half).

Yet another thing that would have been a headline item in another recap but is just a footnote here: Aida Aguefort. That’s gotta be a sibling, ex, or parent (in my order of probability). What is an Aguefort doing running a pirate library? Are they as chaotic as the other Aguefort? I think it would be very funny if Arthur is this dude in a high position in a “normal” town who is just feral and Aida is living on this insane pirate island but, like, a completely normal librarian.

Oh, speaking of Aguefort, Kalina called him out on his child soldier factory and, listen, I know she was just trying to hurt Riz but she doesn’t not have a point.

Kristen was able to discern that Tracker probably won’t remember what happened with Sandra-Lynn but I hope she keeps track of that info because if Tracker rolls high perception and finds out that she semi-willfully kept that information from her, she might be miffed.

Are all of Bill’s dead warlocks gonna work on his hell ship now? Didn’t they become warlocks specifically because they were bad at being pirates?

I notice the group didn’t wait for Fabian even after Riz presumably told them what happened. I also notice that Cathilda was able to find Fabian right away which is interesting.

Adaine solemnly Razor scooting at the front of the party towards the library is low key hysterical.

Fig better hope it doesn’t get back to Jemina that she was being impersonated.

Also, that plan was crazy but super not the craziest thing Emily has ever done and Brennan backed her up on that. He was like, “This is good. This isn’t Hilda Hilda,” which is where the bar is because Emily is crazy.

Fig: We’re gonna fail./Gorgug: We’re gonna die./Adaine: And, more importantly, we’re gonna fail school.

Riz’s “How about no dead friends,” one-liner was so good. Unfortunately, it didn’t do anything to stop his paralysis. Ouch.

I’m assuming Kalina was asking what he knew to see if there was anyone she needed to kill because they knew too much about her? Because, otherwise, it seems like unimportant info for her. I was thinking when it was happening that she needed him to give her that information so they could take it from him and he wouldn’t have it anymore, like in a weird Fae way, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. It’s probably just the simple thing.

Garthy doesn’t leave the Golden Gardens which is probably good for game balance. You don’t want to give the players a super powerful ally who has no reason not to help them at any given time. That’s rife for PC abuse.

I have to say, after last week, I was hoping we’d be done with the pirate stuff halfway through the ep and en route to Falinel but this was such a turn. I was saying to someone last week, it’s very tempting to try and predict where a D&D game is going by using typical narrative structure as a guide but that only halfway works because you really can’t account for the improvisational nature of it. I absolutely could not have guessed that this is what this episode would be and I’m glad.

Goes without saying, this ep totally snatched the crown for Most Heart Attacks Given To Me By BLM from Family in Flames.

“The game isn’t about what you plan; it’s about what happens,” sounds like a line from an inspirational Ted Talk, and not from a man who, minutes later, said that a pirate named Chungle-Down Bim wanted to use a teenager’s mouth as a toilet.

“I feel drunk from anxiety.” Same Ally.

You wanna know how many pages of handwritten notes I have for this episode? If you guessed 16, you’re right. And I was so into the ep, I forgot to keep track of crits, which is why I had to watch it a second time.

Emily proposing “felettes” as the feminine version of fellas.

“How many HP you at?”/”I’m not telling you.”

Just, the idea of this warlock drawing on Bill’s power to try and attack his son is so raw.

Brennan, being asked by Zac if he can help with Emily’s crazy plan: You absolutely may not and, in fact, take five points of damage.”

Siobhan: What do you have to lose?/Gorgug: *Rolls a nat 1 and almost severs the rope he and Fig are holding on to*

Garthy plays the harpsichord (I have in my notes harpsichord and not harp so I’m going with that) post-coital which is definitely a choice.

The shot of levity that Brennan injected between the big fight and the NK invasion by having Garthy know Jawbone was great. I knew it was coming as soon as Fig said his name, but the comic timing was still perfect. Apparently, Jawbone’s stories are crazy even by Garthy’s standards, which is wild.

Also funny, Fig being tied up as combat started. It didn’t end up making a difference but, at a certain point, when enough bad things have happened, piling more bad stuff on top just becomes funny like, yeah. Of course. That tracks.

Ally: Sleep when you’re dead, which might be this episode.

Riz and Gorgug (and Allistair) each roll one nat 1. Kristen rolls a nat 20. Adaine has 20s for both of her portent rolls (which she gives to Fig and Gorgug). And Fabian rolled an amazing 2 Nat 20s (in a row) and FIVE nat 1s.  

Edit: Oh, forgot to say! Next week there won’t be a game because Thanksgiving is happening in the States. Early Happy Thanksgiving for y’all in the U.S. who are celebrating. I’m thankful for a week off to recover after the ordeal that was this episode. 

[Footnote: This ended up cracking 6000 words, in case you’re wondering about the ways I choose to spend my time. Shoutout to y’all for reading these and justifying the dissertation length brain dumps my dumb, former English major brain compels me to produce for absolutely no good reason.]

[chanbangblog]

ive only felt religion when ive lied with you- 1

A/N: (smut, Chan x reader, Canon compliant, fan/idol)

The sun peeped in at you through the small slit in the curtains. Your eyes fluttered open and then closed again. You laid there in a beautiful mix of sleep and awake when suddenly you realized you were late for work. You sat up and became perplexed at your surroundings, this was definitely not your room.

Wait, where am I… you started to wonder.

You looked over to see Robyn lying next to you, still asleep looking quite peaceful and hugging her Chimmy plushie. Then you realized you weren’t at home, and this wasn’t just any day, this was the day you were going to meet Stray Kids.

Your heart began to speed up at your sudden realization. You looked around the room and empty cans of hard cider littered the bedside table. Last night’s pad Thai was sitting on the dresser, probably harboring god knows how many bacteria after sitting out at room temperature all night. You felt a tinge of nausea at the thought of it, or any food for that matter.

Oh god. Am I going to be able to eat today? I have to eat, I’ll never be able to stand in line and make it through the concert if I don’t eat. Let alone have the strength to survive MEETING THEM at hi-touch.

You pushed your hair behind your ears, closed your eyes and focused on your breathing.

Not today, anxiety. It’s too early for this bullshit.

Your therapist had taught you to talk to your anxiety like it was a person. Speaking of him, God bless that man for listening to you over the past several months preparing for this day. You had drilled him for an endless amount of coping mechanisms in order make sure that you, quite literally, didn’t faint when you met the nine boys who seemingly occupied your every thought.

You rolled out of bed as cautiously as you could, so you didn’t wake Robyn. You walked to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. Your hair was stuck to the side of your head and you had sleep still in the corners of your eyes. You decided to take a shower and think about what to have for breakfast.

The hot water beat into your skin and steam began to fill the bathroom. You inhaled deeply. Trying to focus on the present and not psych yourself out about the night ahead.

You’re just giving them a high five. Hundreds of fans will get to do the same. They definitely won’t remember you, you’ll blend in with the millions of other girls who are desperately in love with them.

 This thought calms you for a moment. Being rational in situations of stress wasn’t particularly your strong suit, so you were happy with this little victory.

When you got out of the shower you checked your phone. You had several notifications from Instagram from realstraykids. Hyunjin was posting selfies and talking about being excited for the concert tonight. Swiping through the pictures he took with other members, Chris got your attention. His hair was a golden blonde and was starting to grow so long, it looked like a borderline mullet with the way it was styled.

“Chris with a mullet steals my soul!!!!” you commented on the picture and then put your phone away.

You walked back into the room and Robyn was awake. You took one look at her and burst into the most high pitched squeal you could manage.

Well. Being calm was nice while it lasted.

“Good god, y/n. Are you gonna be like this all day?” Robyn asked, already looking done with your shit.

 Robyn didn’t originally stan Stray Kids. You introduced them to her after you got the tickets. You had been to kpop concerts with her in the past so she seemed like the obvious choice to go with you. You had invited Robyn over a couple months ago and had a “hard intro to Stray Kids” Youtube watching session. Which had included videos like “stray kids on crack” and “a super shitty and unhelpful guide to stray kids.” She eventually chose two biases, Minho and Jisung. When she had told you later that night you were overjoyed because you had predicted who she would bias.

“NO WAY!!!!” you had screeched, “I texted my friend earlier and predicted you would bias them! Just so I could show you when I was right!”

What could you say, you love Robyn, but she has a certain type that always wrecks her. Pretty baby faces and strong vocals. You couldn’t blame her though, they were both an excellent choice.

You snapped back to the present.

“Uh no. I’m calm, I just, uh… yeah I’m gonna be like this all day.” You confessed.

Thank God I have a friend brave enough to put up with me.

The morning went by faster than you thought it would. You all ordered breakfast and spent the morning watching Jinyoung’s new kdrama. You wanted to get to the venue early-ish because even though you had good tickets, you were still GA and didn’t want to be shoved completely to the back of your section.

 You had spent months picking the perfect outfit that you would feel confident in to meet them. It was May so you weren’t sure about the weather, but you decided to bank on it being hot outside. You chose a sleeveless shirt that was metallic gold, with a bow that tied around the front and buttoned down. You had also chosen a skort set that looked like a black mini-skirt but actually had shorts underneath and low-top combat boots to complete the look. You curled your hair and tried to give it as much volume as possible. Not that it would matter, you knew it would be matted to your head with sweat by the end of the concert. But hey, you gotta look good for the pics for the ‘gram, right?

 You arrived at the venue and was baking outside under the morning sun, it was sweltering, you didn’t expect this for May. Your skin was baking under the late spring sun. You definitely had a sunburn and had only been in line for an hour.

Why on Earth did I wear a tank top...I’m not gonna be able to raise my arm to high five them without the smell knocking them down!

Suddenly an image of Jeongin falling backward at the smell of your body odor made you laugh out loud. You could see the headlines now, “kpop fangirl’s body odor causes singer to faint.” I mean, it would be hilarious, mortifying, but hilarious.

The concert was a blur, as always. You sang along to all the words you knew and your voice felt hoarse towards the end. You couldn’t believe how close you were to them. The venue was much smaller than you had anticipated. The light was shining off of them and their sweat made them glisten. You were so close you could see their muscles rippling under their denim when they danced.

Felix began talking to the fans about how much he loves us and wants to keep performing well for us. Felix and Changbin are my biases so I was completely engulfed in his cute Aussie accent being spoken 40 feet from me. It was almost too much. The members were fanned out across the stage while he talked and Chris drifted over to the side I was on. The girls and boys around me went wild trying to speak to him but he probably couldn’t hear them.

Rude. My baby Felix is having a moment and y’all are acting like idiots trying to talk over him.

Robyn elbowed me hard in the rib.

“Y/n,” she breathed, “Chris is staring in our direction.”

 You looked over and locked eyes with him. You froze. You always thought you knew what you would do if you came face to face with one of your idols. But you were wrong. You didn’t feel the way you had predicted at all. You thought your knees would buckle. You thought you would scream or perhaps cry. But you didn’t. You couldn’t describe the feeling that came over you under his gaze. You couldn’t describe it other than feeling totally confident and empowered for the first time in a long time. You realized you needed to react before he looked away so you winked and attempted to look sexy. Then he raised an eyebrow at you, kept your gaze and went back to get in line for the next song.

WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT! WHY DID I WINK? WHO DOES THAT OH MY GOD.

You were going though it inside and Robyn could tell.

“Um, what was that?? Girl, you just had an interaction with him!” Robyn whispered in your ear.

 You looked around and none of the concert-goers around you seemed to notice. No one was looking at you. You began to wonder if you imagined it. Your cheeks were burning a fiery red and your stomach felt like it was being assaulted with a swarm of butterflies.

How am I going to face him at hi-touch after that?? God y/n you were supposed to try to blend in.

You told your inner voice to fuck off, just like your therapist had taught you. But the rest of the concert, you couldn’t keep your eyes off Chris.

   You were standing in line for hi-touch and your knees were buckling. You felt like your entire body was on edge and your insides were being electrocuted.

“You’re going to pass out if you keep holding your breath, y/n.” Robyn quietly reminded you. You suddenly realized you had been holding your breath.

“How did I get here? Maybe we should just run.”  You said in a panicked voice.

Robyn looked you up and down like you had just spoken another language.

“Y/n, we’re not being marched to our deaths, we’re meeting this band that you have been obsessing over for months! Get it together! Breathe!” Robyn said while starting to shake you.

She’s right. What the hell is wrong with you. You paid so much money for these tickets and your bank account is still recovering. You’re doing this.

The line was starting to move faster than you would like. You got closer and closer to where you knew the boys were standing. You saw them in the distance and suddenly realized how tall they were in real life. You should’ve anticipated this since you already knew you were shorter than the shortest member.

They’re just people. They’re just boys. You talk to boys all the time.

You started to calm down. Until you locked eyes with Chris in the distance.

What was it about his gaze that made you take on a totally different attitude and mindset? Five seconds earlier you were contemplating running again. Now it felt like all of Earth’s gravity was holding you here in this one spot, like this was the only place you were ever supposed to be at this moment in time. You felt confident under his gaze, you felt bold.

You’re still not sure what possessed you, but you broke the gaze to start searching through your purse. You found a receipt and quickly ripped a small piece of the end. The line was moving and you were forced to walk while ransacking your purse. You finally found a pen. You tried to be as nonchalant as you could so you didn’t attract attention from other fans.

As sneakily as you could, you quickly scribbled: Kakao y/n0325.

Good god, why did I put their debut date in my name on there…I’m such a psycho. That’s so embarrassing.

But you didn’t have time to ponder on that because it was almost your turn. You didn’t have a plan. You didn’t know how you were going to get this to him without being noticed, but you did know that it felt right and you wanted to do it. Chris was the last member in the lineup.

 Woojin was first. You had already planned out what you were going to say to each of them. You got up to him and his chocolate brown hair was gleaming in the fluorescence. Your hands met and you felt your mind go blank, he was smiling at you as you grappled with your words in your head.

“YOUR VOICE IS LIKE HONEY,” you blurted out, half-yelling at the poor man.

He just laughed and said thank you as you moved on.

Minho was looking at you smiling with his hand up. You didn’t struggle as long with finding words this time.

“I’m so proud of you, I love you to death,” You said as you passed by.

He laughed and said thank you in the cutest accent you’ve ever heard.

Changbin was next. Your bias, which made your thoughts become even more erratic than they had been before. You just started smiling uncontrollably and said “Hiiiiii, I love you Changbinnie” and he looked back at you fondly and said he loved you too.

You were face to face with Hyunjin before you realized it and my, was he good looking, it was like an angel was literally standing in front of you.

“You’re even cuter in person,” you said as fast as you could while touching hands with him. He just laughed and nodded in response.

You couldn’t think of anything else, your mind was at overload when you met Felix, Jisung, Jeongin and Seungmin. So you just told them you loved them as fast and as many times as you could.

When you got to Chris, you finally looked up at him and felt a shiver rip through your core. Your heart felt like it had dropped into your stomach. You felt like you were in an elevator that was falling down with reckless abandon. You raised your right hand up to give him a high five. Your hand was empty. But at the last second you switched and raised your left hand up as quickly as you could and the piece of paper was between your hands. You moved your hand slightly so he could feel it and finally spoke.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you, but this just isn’t long enough.” You said with all the confidence you could muster.

His eyes sparked as he realized what you were doing. He moved his hand and quickly closed it and put it in his pocket.

“Oh yes, I agree,” he said, very coolly with that unmistakable smile that he always shows the world. The smile that you had become so fond of over the last several months. The smile that gave fans hope all around the world and now, at this moment, he was smiling because of you.

  For the second time that night, Robyn looked at you in disbelief as you rounded the corner in the hall way exiting the venue.

“Y/n, you’re the smoothest human alive,” she said with a shocked expression on her face.

You suddenly busted into cackling laughter. It overwhelmed you and wracked your body. Bubbling up from your core. You couldn’t control it. You’re sure you were unnerving everyone near you with your maniacal laughter. Everyone knows, nothing comes good after maniacal laughter. You laughed until your abdominal muscles ached, and tears were spilling down your cheeks.

“That was the best time of my life,” you said in between bouts of laughter.

Robyn started laughing too and you two called a cab to head back to your hotel.

 You tried not to dwell on your interaction with Chris. He had been nice and a bit flirty, but he was like that with all Stays. You had watched countless youtube compilations of your idols flirting with fans. It was normal. It was nothing special. That’s what you told yourself when you arrived back in your hotel room and your heart was still fluttering in your chest, refusing to return to its normal pace.

Hey, I’m going at my own pace, Chris would at least be proud of that.

You suddenly started laughing again at your own thoughts and told Robyn you were getting in the shower. She was probably very thankful for this, after the events of the day and the copious amounts of sweat you had shed. You turned on your slow kpop playlist and once again let the steam fill up the room while the water beat down on you. You put your head up against the tile wall of the shower and let the water envelop you.

 I had an interaction with Chris. Fans have interactions with their idols all the time at concerts. He was very charismatic, you already knew that. Stop overthinking it and just be happy you made these memories with them, y/n.

Your heart rate began to slow and you focused on the water and the steady hum the shower made. Tomorrow you and Robyn were going into the city and it was going to be a good day. You were going to have a good day with your friend and recount concert memories. Life was good.

You stepped out of the shower and grabbed your phone to turn off the playlist. Butterfly by BTS was playing and you were about to sing along for a few words when you checked your notifications.

You had a few comments on your Instagram posts but your eyes glazed over when you saw what was next.

A notification from Kakao, a notification from none other than Christopher Bang himself.

[saladejin]

Changing States | Jimin

Jimin x Reader | non idolverse au, husband!Jimin |  Fluff, crack-ish, slight angst

Summary: You receive a much needed comfort after one of the worst days in history. Well... your history anyway. 

Warnings: Mention of a pregnancy loss.

Word Count: 3k 

* Request from my Ao3 series ‘Movie Night’.

~

Sometimes people liked to call it waking up on the wrong side of the bed. You preferred to label it as just a bad day, nothing to worry about usually, yet now you were rethinking everything.

Today, your entire bed seemed to be on the wrong side of the room.

You awoke to the sound of loud machinery and boisterous yelling filtering in from the window. Blinking the sleep away, you inwardly cursed for forgetting to get the uneven windowsill fixed up yet again. Now you would have to deal with the noise from the construction site next door without being able to complain about it because it was your scatterbrain that had left you to suffer in silence.

You let your eyes flutter shut and extended one arm towards the other half of the bed, desperate for the warm body that would usually be there but only meeting the cold, dreary bedsheets with your fingertips.

That’s right, he has to work extra early hours today.

You sat up slowly, letting your eyes trail over the hauntings of a crease he had left in the smooth fabric. You couldn’t help but roll over to rest your face into his plush pillow, trying to catch the last tendrils of his scent that was made up of a million different things. The things that made you feel secure and bolted to the ground, whether it be his aromatic shampoo or the light cologne he’d worn the previous day.

It hadn’t been the best morning so far, but you knew he would have made it perfect if he’d only been by your side. Being your source of motivation to get going, or something.

You got to your feet and padded into the bathroom to make yourself somewhat presentable. Your brows were still twitching from the obnoxious noise outside, and the fact that they’d brought in a big reversing truck had amped the annoyance level. Repetitive beeping was a big no for your sanity at the moment.

“Two more weeks,” you sighed and tried to angle your lips upwards into a smile, just for the sake of feeling brighter in mind and spirit.

Then, the smile vanished as a high pitched shriek tore from your throat. The big fat hairy spider sitting on your mirror didn’t move, but you did.

“What the fuck!” You growled, eyeing the creature and clenching at your heart over your shirt to stop it from racing. It was so big you were almost too afraid to try getting rid of it. Usually you could whip out the fly spray or get a cup and a sheet of paper to let it outside, but this one was giving you eyes.

“Nope.”

You let the bathroom door click shut and let your head rest against the wood with an audible thump. It was still morning, but already you’d been through about twelve of your most detested emotions of all time.

I’ll let Jimin deal with it when he gets home.

You left the spider to its own devices and made your way into the kitchen for some food. Luckily for you, the milk had expired and your coffee machine had decided to overflow and ooze its weird concoction of water, caffeine and sugar straight onto your tiles. Tiles which had been freshly mopped not two days ago, mind you.

You reminded yourself to feel thrilled that it hadn’t been on the carpet instead.  

You could only sigh again and began moving your feet to get the cleaning stuff from the cupboard. The sound of the machine dripping occasionally followed you the entire way, and that, coupled with everything else that had gone down so far, landed you the biggest headache you could possibly imagine.

You weren’t hungover, but if things continued the way they were then it wouldn’t be long before you’d be setting yourself up for something similar. Your phone buzzed a while later and you perked up at the message from your best friend. She’d suddenly invited you out for lunch, but you didn’t know how to feel.

I’ve been kicked out of the bathroom and I haven’t had much to eat. I’ll look like trash and be grumpy as hell, but hey at least it’ll take my mind off everything for a while.

~

Newsflash, it hadn’t helped.

You watched in shock as your friend beamed at you from her seat in the café. Your coffee had been served unnaturally cold, and then when you’d sent it back they had returned with a completely wrong order altogether. You could barely keep your fragile sense of civility together for the nervous looking waiter, but whenever you felt yourself about to snap you just imagined Jimin’s heart-warming smile and the words he would always speak in moments of amounting stress.

“It’ll be alright baby, you’ll get through it.”

Now, the aforementioned shock was stemming from your friend and colleague. The friend and colleague who had just dropped a bombshell.

“We’ve decided to move interstate! There’s a lovely house on a river we saw and fell in love with,” She smiled excitedly.

“That’s amazing,” You breathed, genuinely feeling happy for her but trying your best to ignore the feelings of sorrow gripping at your heart.

“I’ll be sad to leave you guys and the company, but I’ll come down to visit as often as I can. You okay (Y/n) sweetie?”

You jerked as her hand found yours across the table.

“Yeah, sorry I’ve had a bit of a chaotic day. I’m so happy for you,” You smiled, grasping her hand and feeling relieved when she seemed to let the moment pass. You hated yourself for letting the negativity outweigh everything else, but you knew you would easily be feeling elated if had just been a better day.

“I’ll have to show you photos, maybe you two will be inspired to look for another place somewhere too,” She smiled tenderly, knowing you and Jimin had always wanted to venture out into the world to find the perfect spot. Work had overtaken many things so far in your married lives, but seeing your friend finally break free did make you feel hopeful for a change.

Feeling encouraged by your thoughtful and optimistic expression, your friend continued.

“Just a nice little place with a perfect temperature for like, everything! Wouldn’t it be great to even live close together? Our families and kids could share so many memories.”

Your smile dropped and your best friend suddenly let her voice die in her throat, realising she’d brought something up she shouldn’t have just yet. It was a little soon.

“Oh shit, (Y/n) I didn’t mean to.”

“No, it’s fine silly,” You laughed it off, still squeezing her hand to reassure her. Her worried gaze pierced into your own and you felt a tad uncomfortable from all the emotions in your brain running rampant all of a sudden.

“You look under the weather, let me pay your bill,” She offered softly, getting to her feet and prompting you to follow. You were so grateful she was so tuned to your mannerisms, she knew just when you needed a break from it all.

You said your goodbyes after apologising for your miserable appearance once again, finally getting into the car and heaving a massive sigh to rid yourself from the tension. You contemplated calling Jimin, but you knew that he was at work and would likely be busy with getting everything done. He was efficient like that.

“What a shitty person I am, couldn’t even be fucking happy for my friend,” You muttered in shaky annoyance as you started up the car, feeling like you wanted to scream all your anger away into the dashboard. Onlookers be damned, you didn’t care about being judged.

No, just buy some ice cream or something on the way home. You’ll have a better day tomorrow.

More of his words drifted through your memory.

“Keep it together, treat yourself. You deserve happiness.”

A sad smile tugged at your lips and you made it onto the road after promising yourself to feel better. If you hit a low point in your day you could only climb up from it. You told yourself to clear your mind and look forward to what time you had left.

To your chagrin, the positive outlook only lasted so long when you found yourself neck-deep in traffic; the sound of rumbling engines and an occasional beep of a horn being the only sounds greeting your ears for a solid ten minutes.

What the…

Your resolve cracked at the edges and began crumbling.

“Music will help,” Your teeth found your bottom lip as you reached for the radio station buttons, but unfortunately you were only met with white noise and the momentary sound of ads breaking through. You could almost feel the speed of the ice cream melting.

The world became blurry and your grip tightened on the wheel.

~

“I’m home, my love.”

Jimin’s slightly wearied voice echoed through the front hallway as he shuffled through the door, keys thrown onto the bench and coat draped over a nearby bar stool. He rolled his shoulders experimentally to feel how tensed they were, letting out a sigh at the muscles loosening from their strained position.

“(Y/n)? Jagi?” He used a few more names to try and get your attention, full lips pulling into a frown when he only heard muffled sobbing coming from the living room.

Oh no…

“(Y/n)?”

He walked into the room with purposeful strides, rolling up the sleeves of his button up as he went to help cool down. When he saw the flickering screen of the television, he noticed instantly that an attempted movie stream had failed due to a poor internet connection. He searched the couch hurriedly with concern flashing in his chocolate brown eyes, finally coming to rest on your form wrapped in a blanket huddled to one side. His heart broke when he watched your shoulders tremble with another barely contained wail.

“Shit, (Y/n) are you okay?” He inhaled sharply and jogged over to kneel in front of you, hands flying upwards to peel the blanket away from your face.

“God, I’ve wanted to hear your voice all day,” You sniffled, face red and puffy from tears. He didn’t know why you were crying, but the man embodied all the sensitive qualities of an empath. The sorry sight of you made his own emotions well up at an alarming rate.

“Hold on,” He cradled your face and stood up to gently smear the tears away from your cheeks, planting a sweet kiss on your forehead before rushing to the bedroom to get changed into something comfier.

“You definitely should have called me!” He groaned with a frown, hating that you were feeling so saddened but hadn’t been in contact to let him know.

You could only sigh. “You were working, I’d be too much of a bother.” You swayed on your feet as you waited for him out in the hallway leading to your room. You just wanted to be close to him now; wanting absolutely nothing more than his soothing words and body heat. He finally nudged open the door with his elbow, now dressed in tracksuit pants and a plain white t-shirt that was looser than anything else he owned.

“Come here baby,” He cooed and looked at you with softened eyes, reaching down to sweep you into his arms almost effortlessly. You wrapped your own arms around your husband tightly as he brought you back to the comfort of the couch, pressing his lips to your hair to remind you that he was home safe and sound.

“Tell me all about it.”

You sighed a rickety sigh, feeling even more tears swell from nowhere at the feeling of immense joy you now felt.

“Shit day, just all round shitness,” You murmured as you settled comfortably into his lap. His fingers swept some of your hair away and then moved to run through the tresses, making you smile and lean into the inviting pressure.

“Hmm, what was the first thing,” Jimin prompted, wanting you to let it all out to him while also being curious as to what had caused such emotional trauma. You revelled in the softness of his voice and moved your own hands to touch his face. He thought it was cute, but you believed the resulting smile he flashed your way was the most adorable thing to exist on this planet.

“The windowsill, for one,” You finally muttered, breaking off into a chuckle.

“Oh, whoops. I keep forgetting.” He clicked his tongue, a rumble of a growl sounding deep within his chest. You chuckled again and couldn’t help but nuzzle your face affectionately into his neck.

“It’s not your fault, I was gonna call up about it ages ago.”

His fingers continued to comb through your hair as he hummed for you to continue. Your tears had stopped altogether as you synced your breathing with his, feeling secured by the feeling of his rhythmic heartbeat underneath your moving hand.

“Met up with (F/n), but I looked like shit and felt like shit too. Oh yeah, coffee machine broke before that as well.”

“Wow, double whammy.”

You snorted and tried to push down your feelings of endearment to continue solemnly. “She’s moving away with her husband, interstate.”

Jimin let out a low noise of understanding. Finally, he could wrap his head around why the combination of all these small and big events would cause you to fall apart at the seams. Now that he thought about it, it had been so long since he’d even seen you cry. Maybe you’d been bottling it up for months now, and he just hadn’t noticed.

Work causing me to be ignorant, again! I really need to start focusing on what’s important...

Jimin pushed the thoughts away as you continued with the adoption of a heavier tone, the warmth of your tears falling onto his shoulder suddenly. He ran a hand over the top of your head to comfort you, his own eyes watering at your outward display of frustration.

“I couldn’t bring myself to feel happy, I mean I was but she’s one of my only friends at work and I know I’ll feel a little lost without her there. The house sounds really nice from what she said too.”

Jimin felt your form stiffen as you sobbed lightly.

“Then what?” He prompted with a soft whisper, holding you closer and rubbing your arm to help calm you down.

“She t-talked about kids and stuff, I’m so fucking stupid but I couldn’t help thinking of the miscarriage. She knew too, she…she had to stop herself from speaking just so I wouldn’t break down. Jimin, I’m such a horrible friend, I really am…”

Jimin felt his own sorrow creeping up on him as you brought up something that had deeply affected you both. You comforted one another as you stopped to brood for a few minutes, the silence being as consoling as anything while you focused on the sound of his breathing. He cleared his throat, urging away the crackle in it to lighten the atmosphere.

“It’s alright, the world is full of people you’ll meet and keep close to you. Think of all the opportunity out there instead of seeing the loss. We can visit, no?”

You cracked a smile at his much needed optimism.

“Of course. Of course we can, love.”

He kissed your head again and you reached up to smooth your now softened hair out of your face and peripherals. You looked up at him with an absolute storm of adoration clouding your gaze.

“How about we stay in tonight and just cuddle here on the couch. I’ll get the TV working too,” He murmured, bringing his hands to cup your cheeks lovingly and letting his eyes curve slightly from the accompanying smile. You ruffled his thick ashy locks briefly before shifting in his lap and capturing his lips with your own gently.

“I love you so much, it hurts sometimes,” You sighed after pulling away, but he jerked to follow your lips a second after. You hummed in amusement as you moved to straddle him, trying to pour all of your gratefulness and appreciation into the kiss.

You disconnected but rested your foreheads together to lock eyes, your face scrunching slightly when he tickled your nose with his own.

“I love you too, but you already knew that,” He rasped, planting another tiny peck to your lips and letting it linger.

You couldn’t stop running your thumbs across the expanse of his wide cheeks, your noses still inches apart and warm breaths tickling each other’s lips in small puffs. It was as if neither of you ever wanted to move.

“Yeah, kinda,” You giggled while giving his cheeks the lightest of pinches.

“Kinda? I’ll give you kinda…” Jimin growled playfully and rolled you over to the other side of the couch, standing up straight and flexing out his shoulders while you shrieked with laughter.

“I’m sorry, I know!”

He chuckled cutely and leaned over to tickle you some more before showering you with more kisses. You let your face relax as you took in his warm gaze. You felt a little calmer and more serious after the small bout of liveliness you’d had.

“Sorry, I didn’t really ask about your day. Now that I’m done I can give you a massage while you tell me.”

Jimin let out a big breath and fixed his roughened hair, looking down at you with vaguely tired eyes that were still filled with appreciation.

“Massage sounds amazing love, but I need the toilet.”

“Okay, maybe the ice cream is back to normal. Get it on your way back?” You called out after him.

“Sure thing.”

You smiled softly to yourself as you thought about how much he had managed to cheer you up with one conversation. You did feel kind of selfish for unloading all your troubles onto him without seeming to give a shit about his day in return, but you promised you would make up for it as soon as he came back. You would help him turn his day around, just like he’d done for you.

In fact, the ice cream reminded you of this very moment. When it came down to it, something like this could never be irreversible. Even if you were a sad, melted puddle of emotions from the moment you woke up, you’d since been restored to your former glory by your saviour husband, your personal freezer. He kept you together when you needed it the most.

“AH!”

A muffled shout from the bathroom caused you to slap a hand to your mouth to stop the cackles from escaping.

“That’s a big motherfucker.”

Copyright © 2020 by salade. All rights reserved.

[tabarnaks]

Note: this came out a lot more OCD-ish than I originally intended. Make of it what you will.

Warning for many  mentions of blood but no graphic violence or anything

Semi continuation of this 

Every time Keith comes back to the Castle, it’s like Hunk meets him all over again.

There are new scars, new stories to tell, a new look in his eyes that Hunk can’t quite figure out. Hunk can also see Keith growing more and more and more tired, the weight of the Blade’s missions growing on his shoulders with nowhere to go.

He becomes more quiet, more restrained, less Keith.

Hunk tries not to worry too much, tries not to tell him he shouldn’t be with the Blades when it’s so clearly taking a heavy toll on him because if there’s one thing that hasn’t changed about Keith, it’s his temper.

Hunk’s been screamed at in enough video calls by suggesting coming back to Voltron to know he doesn’t want it to happen in real life as well.

It’s probably not healthy, but he can’t be damned to care. What else, who else is he going to cling to in this war thousands and thousands of miles from Earth?

Who else is Keith going to cling to now that he’s not even with Voltron anymore?

But, it’s fine at first; the changes aren’t exactly subtle, but they’re not overwhelming, they’re not dangerous really.

The first big change is after their big battle and after Lotor comes into play. Keith’s more sullen, more nihilistic; he doesn’t stay with Hunk like he usually does, “I have to think.” is all he says to explain the sudden change.

After, he comes back less often, with scars that just keep getting bigger and in more dangerous places and with less stories to tell. Hunk makes sure to kiss every scar, to try and maybe make Keith understand that he’s still valued with the team, that Voltron wants him; needs him.

Keith comes back once, twice, three times, five times, ten times; he comes back until he doesn’t.

Hunk expects the Blades to send back a wooden box, like they do in old timey movies, for some reason. It’s all he can think about as Kolivan talks.

Hunk’s only saving grace as a strange, overwhelming numbness fills him is that Shiro doesn’t cry either hearing Kolivan’s words.

They don’t send him back in a wooden box. Why would they? Hunk hasn’t seen anything vaguely resembling wood since they left Olkarion’s forest.

No, they send him back in a metal box with a simple mechanism to open it. That’s when Shiro breaks.

The sight of Keith’s dead eyes - the Blades didn’t even think to close them - staring out into nowhere making him shake and sob. Lance and Pidge and Allura and Coran run to him, they’ve all been crying for days now.

Hunk… Hunk doesn’t feel anything. Maybe a little guilt.

He leans closer to close Keith’s eyes and sees the huge wound in the middle of his abdomen. It’s undoubtedly what killed him.

Maybe a lot of guilt.

He needs to wash his hands. The others look at him weird when he leaves.

Lance finds him later that evening, “Hunk, you know we’re there for you right?”

“I know you are.” His voice doesn’t sound like his, there’s no emotions, there’s nothing.

Lance frowns, “I don’t know if you’re being macho or anything, but you’re allowed to cry, Hunk. We all know you loved him-”

“I barely knew him.” The words leave Hunk before he has time to think. But as he says them, Hunk realises that it’s true. Keith was always faster than him, and with the Blades, he changed at the speed of light. There was no way for Hunk to keep up and learn to know him again when they were on two different ships.

Lance doesn’t agree, it’s obvious in his face, but he shuts his mouth and looks away.

There’s a moment of silence, and Hunk rubs his hands together nervously.

“We’re watching a movie tonight,” Lance tells him, “so we can distract ourselves from Keith for an hour or two and not go crazy. You should join us.”

Thinking about Keith makes his hands feel disgusting and sticky, like when his niece got cut really badly and he had to help stop the bleeding. The only part of Hunk that can feel anything right now tells him he deserves that feeling for giving up on Keith, for not trying harder to get him out of the Blade’s ranks.

“I’m just going to turn in early,” he answers.

He doesn’t sleep much that night, can’t manage it when his dreams turn sour so quickly.

They’re always about Keith; Keith dying, Keith screaming at him to do something to stop what’s going to happen to him.

They’re all bad, but the worst is without a doubt the one where Keith cusses him out as he’s dying. Curses him for not saving him, for not being the boyfriend he should’ve been.

Sure, Kolivan said that Keith didn’t have any last words, that he passed out seconds after he got into their escape shuttle, but Hunk can’t get that image out of his head.

Hunk wakes up sweaty and with his body covered in the same stuff his hands usually are. The stickiness drips onto the floor, drop after drop after drop after drop, spreading onto the floor the same way Keith’s blood must have while he bled out.

Hunk gets up and takes a scalding hot shower that lasts hours after that.

He avoids the team for as long as he can, until Pidge corners him in his room.

“Want to help me make some cake or cookies, or just bake whatever you want really?” she asks.

Hunk hasn’t touched fresh food since Keith. He doesn’t even remember if he’s been eating, the hours and the days just blurring together in one mass of nothingness.

Pidge looks pretty determined to get him out of his room, but Hunk just can’t.

“Not really.” he answers.

Pidge doesn’t look surprised by his answer, “How about messing with some tech? Matt brought loads from the rebels and some of it’s super awesome!”

“Look, Pidge, just give me another day. Or two.” Or three. Or ten. Or just give him until the numbness and the blood and the guilt finally kills him.

Pidge visibly deflates, “Okay. But after tomorrow, we’re coming to get you and you’re going to do something even if it’s just watching a movie. It’s not healthy to stay isolated like this.”

Hunk nods, and Pidge looks at him a few seconds before leaving. As soon as the door closes, blood drips from Hunk’s hands to the floor.

He shouldn’t be doing anything aside from waste away now that Keith’s gone. It’s what he deserves. That and the numbness.

That night, Hunk sleeps half an hour before Keith comes to haunt him again. As he takes a shower until morning, again, he’s damn glad the Castle doesn’t run out of hot water.

The shower doesn’t help with the blood and there’s only so long he can keep it running once the others are awake.

Hunk goes to the sink and washes his hands. Over and over and over and over and over. Until there’s real blood on his hands. The sight of his blood makes him feel marginally better, letting the guilt finally be replaced with the cool numbness he’s grown used to over the past week.

Allura knocks at his door shortly after.

“I said I would go tomorrow, just give me that time.”

“I’m not here for that,” she answers. She enters the room and sits on the bed, motioning for Hunk to sit next to her. He does, already feeling blood start to pool in his gloves. This can’t be anything good. “We’ve decided to bury Keith on your home planet, Earth. We will arrive there in a few cycles.”

The blood stops pooling, retracting back into almost nothing. That’s… Hunk hadn’t even thought about burying Keith anywhere.

He’d always just thought that they were going to leave Keith there, in his box, for everyone to see whenever they want to.

Now that he thinks about it, burying him makes a lot more sense.

“Are we gonna stay there long?”

“No. We can’t, it will attract the Galra. Though we will stay an entire Earth day for - what did Lance call it again? Ah, yes - for the funeral.”

The burial feels like it’s taken a huge weight off Hunk’s shoulders. He’s not sure why, maybe it’s because Keith will have his final resting place on Earth, but Hunk feels so much less guilty, so much less numb. He could actually cry right now if he was pushed.

“Are you eating lunch soon?” he asks.

Allura looks at him in surprise then she smiles weakly, “Yes, and there’s always a free spot for you at the table if you want to join us.”

Hunk’s not sure if he will yet, maybe as soon as Allura leaves he’ll be crushed by guilt again, but part of him wants to go and see the others, his team, his friends, again.

“I might.”

Hunk doesn’t end up going to lunch that day, too caught up in cleaning his hands. He knows that the others can’t see the blood, can’t feel it the way he does; but the what if they can hangs heavily over his head.

He manages to go to dinner though. They all smile when he comes, and Lance spends all of dinner telling stories about the times on planet that Hunk’s missed during his self isolation.

Lance isn’t as happy, as genuine as he usually is; Hunk’s known him long enough to be able to tell the difference;  but he’s a welcome distraction. For the first time since Keith, Hunk actually laughs.

He feels horribly guilty about it after, especially when the Keith in his dreams taunts him about it, but in the moment, it’s nice.

After dinner, Hunk starts leaving his room more often. Some days are better: he barely needs to wash his hands to not feel disgusting, and others are much much worse: the blood leaking on the floor wherever he goes, no matter how many times he scrubs his hands raw until they bleed.

Most days though, Hunk just feels like he’s floating a bit above the ground. The numbness is still there, overwhelming every emotion except guilt as it’s always done since they got the news. It’s hard, it’s a whole load of nothing, but it’s liveable.

They go towards Earth slowly, only using wormholes to trick the Galra about where they’re heading, and by the time they arrive, Hunk’s almost forgotten why they were going there in the first place.

They land somewhere so remote, so far away from anything and anyone, and it feels like a punch in the gut. No one will ever find Keith’s grave unless they know where to look. Rationally, Hunk knows it’s for the best. The rest of him feels like he’s betraying Keith somehow.

His hands are absolutely soaked.

He doesn’t clean them. Instead, he volunteers to dig. The Castle can make a hole easily, but it’s not personal enough. They’re already burying him in the middle of nowhere, least they can do is dig his grave.

Shiro volunteers as well, and before Hunk knows it, it’s just Shiro and him outside, digging under the hot sun.

“I’m sorry,” Hunk blurts out. The blood is slowly covering everything, every part of his body, the very grave he’s digging. How is he supposed to look Shiro in the eye when he just gave up on Keith the way he did, when he basically killed Keith the way he did.

Shiro stops digging, “About what?”

“I gave up on trying to convince him to leave the Blades.” Hunk looks away, Shiro’s gaze is always so intense, it feels like he’s making a hole right into Hunk’s soul. “I killed him basically.”

“Hunk…”

“Wait, I’m not done. And after I essentially killed him, I wasn’t even sad. I haven’t even cried about his death!”

“Hunk, you didn’t kill him. He made his own decisions. And if we’re going by your logic, we’re all just as much to blame for his death as you are.”

Which… wasn’t wrong. His thoughts, his guilt wasn’t rational.

Shiro places a hand on Hunk’s shoulder, warm and grounding, “Hunk, he really loved you. I know he never showed it the way most people do, but he really did love you.”

That breaks through the numbness, through the guilt, through everything.

Hot tears fall down Hunk’s cheeks, making breathing and talking difficult “I miss him so much.” His voice is pitchy and it doesn’t sound like him again, but Shiro doesn’t mind.

Shiro who doesn’t hesitate for a second before hugging Hunk, listening to his grief stricken rambling, comforting him as best he can.

Hunk’s not sure for how long he cries. An hour maybe. Shiro’s there the entire time, and by the end, he’s crying too.

Hunk’s breathing is slowly going back to normal when Shiro says, “It’ll get less painful, you know.”

“Yeah?”

The sun passed noon a while ago now, and the others left the ship to see what was taking them so long. Shiro ignores them and just nods, “But we won’t ever forget him.”

“Yeah, we won’t.” Hunk agrees

[everlarkbirthdaydrabbles]

My birthday is May 16. I would love a fic that features Age!Gap Everlark with Katniss 5 - 10 years older than Peeta. M or E rating. Thanks for running this fabulous web site.

Wishing you the happiest of birthdays, @ldyglfr62! Your gift - the penultimate offering from everlarkbirthdaydrabbles, was written just for you by @xerxia31. We hope you enjoy!

When Irish Eyes are Smiling

rated M, for language and adult situations.

It’s not completely unexpected, but it’s still a shock to see it. Thick, expensive card stock, pale pink with roses and their names embossed in gold.

Madge Undersee and Gale Hawthorne, along with their families, request the honour of your presence at their wedding…

I’m happy for them, I truly am. I’m just still kind of shocked that after nine years together, it took Gale less than three months to marry my replacement.

It’s not like I thought Gale and I would ever marry each other, even if our friends all expected it. And our breakup was completely mutual. But that he moved on so fast is kind of a slap.

“You should go on vacation,” Prim says when I phone to tell her the news. “That way, you can skip the wedding without looking like a jerk.” Trust Prim to cut right to it. Because she’s right; even though Gale is my oldest friend, I’d rather rip out my intestines with a fork than watch him marry the woman of his dreams while all of our mutual friends look at me with pity.

“I can’t go sit on a beach somewhere by myself,” I groan. “That’s even more loser-ish than going to my ex’s wedding stag.” But the wheels are turning. I do need to get away, and not just from the wedding. I could use a break from my entire pathetic life. “Maybe I could go see Effie?” I mumble. My late mother grew up in Ireland, she moved to America before I was born to marry my father. Her sister still lives near Dublin, and is always asking me to come see her. It’s been a long time since my last visit.

A fabulous deal on the flight seals it. Since I’m a freelancer, there’s no one to arrange vacation time with. I can work from anywhere that there’s an internet connection. My neighbour agrees to check my mailbox periodically, and my friends all understand.

o-o-o

I arrange to stay six weeks with Effie. The first week passes in a haze of jetlag, lumpy pillows, and daily afternoon tea on her garden-gnome-and-flower-strewn patio. It’s calm, quiet.

Since I’ll be gone over my birthday, Prim insists on paying for a week-long bus tour of the Scottish Highlands for me, both as a birthday gift, and as a break from my aunt. “Better not be one of those singles tours,” I grumble as she details everything over Skype while I sit in Effie’s formal living room, surrounded by creepy porcelain dolls, a pair of lace doilies protecting her mahogany table from my computer. Prim’s in med school in Seattle, I haven’t seen her since Christmas, and I think she feels guilty about not having been there for me - in person - when Gale and I broke up, no matter how many times I tell her that I’m fine about it. But since Effie is already driving me crazy, I don’t put up much of a fight.

“Do those exist?” she asks, and on my shitty laptop screen she looks pensive. I can tell she’s wishing she’d thought of looking for one. “Wild and Sexy Tours. Huh. I wonder if I can change it…” She starts clicking away on her keyboard and I balk.

“No, geez Prim, this is fine, great really.” The website she’s linked me to shows small tour buses, catering mostly to elderly vacationers. Just my speed.

“Have you met anyone over there yet?”

“Sure, Effie’s friend with the strange beard came by for cocktails yesterday.” Prim’s face screws up.

“That’s not what I mean, Katniss. Have you been out to the pubs at all? Or gone to a rugby match?” At my shrug, she groans. “Dammit, you’re too young to be spending your time holed up with Effie’s antiques. You need to get out there, meet people, date.”

“I’m not really ready for that,” I tell her, and I can see by the way her expression changes to pity that she thinks I’m still hung up on Gale. I don’t bother correcting her. Gale and I should never have been more than friends, we both knew it, but being together was easy, like a comfortable pair of jeans. I’m not in love with him, I really never was. But I’m not anxious to put myself out there just yet. Or maybe ever. Because Gale’s the only guy I’ve ever been with. At not-quite twenty-seven, I have no experience dating at all.

“Just promise me you’ll talk to some of your tour mates at least,” she says sadly. And I promise, because I can never tell my sweet sister no.

o-o-o

Edinburgh is a confusing mess of streets and hills and hilly streets and more freaking hills, and by the time I find my way to Waterloo Place, where I’m supposed to catch the bus tour, I’m late and in a panic. When I see the little red bus still at the stop, I’m almost weak-kneed with relief.

“‘Bout time you showed up, Sweetheart,” the driver grumbles, grabbing my backpack and tossing it unceremoniously into the back. I climb on board, and my heart sinks. I’m too late to have gotten one of the single seats, and am now going to be stuck sharing. There are only two empty seats, one on the bench in the very back, between a young woman with spiky hair and a serious case of bitch face and a man who might be a professional football player; the other right behind the driver, next to a startlingly handsome man, who glances up at me through a mop of ashy blond waves, and smiles shyly.

I hope Blondie isn’t a talker.

o-o-o

Blondie is a talker.

His name is Peeta Mellark, and he fills the first hour of our drive north with mostly one-sided conversation. But I find I don’t mind all that much. He’s Irish, from a village on the Irish sea, and his gently lilting accent is much nicer to listen to than the rough Scottish burr that our driver barks as he points out one thing or another along the route.

“You know a lot about Scotland,” I finally say.

Peeta smiles wistfully. “My da used to bring me here, when I was small. We’d walk the hills and sleep in the heather.”

“How long has he been gone?” Peeta lifts an eyebrow, but I know I’m right. I recognize the look in his eyes. It’s the same expression I wear when I think about my own father, whose death when I was just a kid marked the beginning of the end of my idyllic childhood.

“I was seventeen when he passed,” he says quietly.

“You miss him.” It’s not a question, I can see in Peeta’s eyes. He nods. But any further discussion is cut off by our first stop on the tour.

Though it’s a bus tour, it turns out to be a fairly active one. We make multiple stops all along the route to the Highlands, exploring an ancient cathedral, touring a distillery, even visiting a heritage village. And as what appears to be the only two people travelling alone on the tour, Peeta and I end up spending most of the day together.

It’s… nice. He’s sweet and interesting, and it’s refreshing to talk with someone my own age.

When we arrive at Inverness, our stop for the night, I realize that Peeta and I have been assigned to the same bed and breakfast, along with the linebacker, whose name is Thresh,  his girlfriend Rue, and our driver, Haymitch. That’s going to make keeping to myself that much more difficult, I realize. Then Haymitch arranges for the whole group to eat together at a pub on the river. I want to say no, that I’m too tired or some other excuse, but somehow I get sucked along anyway.

I hate being forced into group situations, but Peeta, seeming to sense my unease, sits beside me and acts as a bit of a buffer between me and the throng, not speaking for me, but deflecting attention when I get overwhelmed.

And it’s compelling to watch him interact with the others. He’s so friendly and well-spoken, so intelligent and insightful, easily moving between discussing the differences between American football and Gaelic rugby with Thresh, and the impact of Brexit on tourism in the Republic with the South African lawyer seated at the next table.

And though I promised myself that I wouldn’t think about Gale, it’s impossible not to compare him with Peeta. Gale has always been sort of closed minded; conversation with Gale is only possible on the narrow range of topics he cares about, and generally involves either a recitation of his opinions with no room for dissent, or a re-living of his glory days. But Peeta is so thoughtful, I watch him absorb and consider everyone’s viewpoints, watch his reflect back intelligent discourse in a way that feels engaging and exciting, not like a firestorm. I can’t help thinking that maybe Prim is right. Maybe I do need to spend time with people my own age instead of feeling like I’m still stuck in highschool with Gale.

o-o-o

The sun rises ridiculously early in Inverness, and the curtains in my room are barely translucent. By five-thirty, I’ve given up on sleep entirely, and decide to sneak down to the common lounge, where the wifi signal is better.

I’m surprised to find I’m not alone. Peeta is already there, dressed for the day and facing the large plate glass window, beyond which the sky is streaked in pink and amber. He doesn’t hear me at first, and I can see in the reflection that his usual easy expression has been replaced by something more intense and removed that suggests an entire world locked away inside him. I decide to steal away, to leave him to his musings, but he catches the motion and turns, the faraway expression resolving into a smile that seems so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness that unexpected warmth rushes through me. “Good morning, Katniss,” he says.

“What are you doing up so early?” I ask. There’s an empty teacup on the windowsill, he’s clearly been here awhile.

“I’m a baker,” he laughs. “I’m used to the pre-dawn wake-ups.” I grin, I heard him mentioning his business over dinner, and I’m curious about it.

He makes me a cup of tea, and another for himself, and as we sit together in the early morning hush he tells me about the bakery he owns in the tiny coastal village where his family has lived for generations. The picture he paints of his bucolic life there makes me ache, my own empty, tetherless existence in sharp contrast to his certainty. It makes me realize how stunted my growth has been, having wasted all of that time with Gale. Playing things safe instead of living.

I’m ready to live.

o-o-o

Our tour guide, Haymitch, is gruff and grouchy, but he seems to know all of the hidden gems of Scotland. As we head to the Isle of Skye, he makes frequent stops to walk nature trails with stunning waterfalls, to show us multiple off-the-beaten-path lookout points, and we even spend a glorious hour searching for shells on a Carribean-blue beach. But in the mid afternoon, the bus starts to make a strange noise. And as we pull into our next stop on the itinerary - the enchanted-sounding Fairy Glen - it comes to a shuddering halt.

“Ah shit,” Haymitch grumbles.

“Well,” Peeta murmurs in my ear. “There are worse places to get stuck.”

He’s right, this place is utter magic. As a group, we explore the strange rolling hills and mini lochs of the glen, walking the concentric rings and pressing coins into cracks in cave walls. Peeta is half mountain goat, I swear, practically jogging up the steep hills, gently teasing me as I lag behind. My laughter, unfamiliar but free, echoes all around.  

And eventually, Peeta and I end up in a little meadow-like depression at the bottom of one of the hills. I haven’t felt so free since I was a kid. I’d love nothing more than to lie in the grass and watch the clouds float by; when I say so, Peeta pulls off his sweater and spreads it on the ground, tugging me down to lie beside him, my head pillowed on his arm.

I must drift off because the next thing I know, the patchy blue sky has clouded over completely, and Peeta is sitting beside me.

“Peeta, you should have woken me,” I say, rubbing the sleep crud out of my eyes.

“For what? Nothing’s going on here,” he says. “Besides, I like watching you sleep. You don’t scowl. Improves your looks a lot.” This, of course, brings on a scowl that makes him grin. “I’m kidding,” he laughs. “You’re beautiful, scowling or not.”

Something flutters in my chest, but I push it away. I don’t have room for that in my life. Instead, I nod towards the notepad in his hands. “What’s that?”

He tilts the paper towards me. It’s not writing, like I’d assumed, but a drawing. A sketch of a sleeping girl. My breath catches at the image on the paper. It’s me, clearly, and the talent in the pencil lines is mind-blowing. But it’s more than that. The girl in the picture looks softer, calmer, like all of her worries have been cast away. Peaceful. No, not peaceful… content. I haven’t been that girl in a long time. “This is incredible, Peeta,” I whisper.

“I have an eye for beauty,” he says, and it should sound cocky, like a come-on line. But from him, with those earnest blue eyes smiling, it just doesn’t.

Haymitch comes stomping into the clearing, greasy handprints marring his kilt. “Bus is fixed, git your arses on it,” he grunts.

Peeta gathers his sweater and notepad, and we trudge back to the bus. The tour continues in near silence, but it’s a good quiet. A comfortable quiet. Peeta wraps his arm around my shoulder and I find myself leaning into him as he strokes my hair. It’s uncomplicated and intimate. And though I’ve never been a cuddly person, I love it.

Our last stop is a trail that winds around a glassy Loch. The whole group is subdued, introspective maybe. Or maybe just hungry. Peeta and I lag behind though, enjoying the calm.

We emerge from the cover of the trees into a patch of yellow flowers, glowing in the sunlight. “Gorse,” Peeta answers my unasked question. “It’s everywhere at home too.”

“They smell fantastic,” I sigh. “Coconutty. Like the beach.” He chuckles, but when I reach for the golden flowers, he grabs my hand. I scowl.

“Thorns,” he says, delicately moving the blooms aside to show me that what I thought were flat leaves or needles are actually sharp spines. “Beautiful on the outside, but nasty underneath.”

“Just like me,” I say absently, but his brow wrinkles.

“No, Katniss,” he says. “You’re not like the gorse. You’re a bluebell.” I roll my eyes, but he continues, so earnestly. “Bluebells are shy, unassuming. Most people hardly notice them.” He leads me with a gentle hand on my lower back to the shady part of the hill. Only when he points them out do I realize the bluebells are in full bloom here. “But they’re strong and resilient, stubborn even. And once you see them, you can’t tear your eyes away from their beauty.” I turn to face him, but his hand doesn’t fall away, shifting instead to trace circles on my hipbone.

I want to scoff, to dismiss his words as the polished pick up lines of a player. But I can’t. As I stare at him, utterly speechless, he reaches up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. I lean into his touch, and he smiles, just the barest lift of his lips. Sweet and hopeful. Before I can even consider what a terrible idea it is, I lift up on my toes and kiss him.

It’s a gentle kiss, but the desire that flares in my gut from that brief touch is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. I haven’t kissed a lot of guys in my life, a handful back in highschool, only Gale after that. But no kiss has ever before felt so electric. I need more.

It’s clear he agrees, because almost as soon as I press my lips to his again, he takes control, one huge hand cupping my cheek, tilting my head to deepen the kiss. Exploring me thoroughly. I can’t hold back the little noises that escape me, and he groans softly in response.

I lose all sense of time and place, gripping his shirt, kissing him with a passion I wasn’t certain I was even capable of. It’s only when I hear the rest of the group heading down the path towards us that I pull away, reluctantly.

Peeta’s eyes flutter open, heavy-lidded, pupils fat. “I have wanted to do that since the first moment I saw you,” he whispers.

We don’t talk about the kiss, but for the rest of the day Peeta holds my hand. Even through dinner at a quiet little restaurant right on the harbour, he plays with my fingers, looking at me with something like adoration.

When we get back to our B&B I’m not ready for the evening to end. But there are other guests in the common lounge, playing a raucous game of cards. “Would you like to come to my room?” I ask, then immediately feel heat climbing up my cheeks. “Just, uh, just to talk a while longer.” I can’t meet his eyes. I’m incapable of flirting, or of communicating at all, really. Yet he follows me unquestioningly.

We sit side by side on my bed, talking. But there’s a tension between us that wasn’t there before, a crackling awareness. I don’t even know who makes the first move, but one minute we’re talking, the next I’m sucking on his tongue and his arms are pressing me tightly to him.

Kissing Peeta here in my quiet room is even better than on the nature trail. Free from distractions, I can let my hands wander, trace the firm musculature of his shoulders and arms, feel the pull and flex of his back. He unravels my braid and runs his fingers through the locks. “Beautiful,” he whispers against my lips.

We kiss and caress, hands becoming more bold. It’s when he lays me back on my bed, the hard length of his body cradled by my own, that I begin to panic. “Peeta,” I start. “I really like you.”

He pulls back just enough to look at my face. Then he smiles fondly. “But you’re not ready,” he says, and I’m shocked that he anticipated my words. “I know,” he says, and there’s no anger, he doesn’t even look disappointed. “We won’t do anything that you don’t want to,” he promises.

“Could we keep kissing?” I sound all of thirteen, pathetic and immature. But he doesn’t laugh at me.

“I’d like that,” he says.

We kiss and touch, chastely, fingers on napes and cheeks, tangled in hair. Making out like teenagers. Like the teenager I never really was. And eventually we fall asleep wrapped around each other.

o-o-o

I expect the morning to be awkward, but it isn’t. It isn’t at all. When I wake up, he’s still there, lying beside me, awake and smiling contentedly. He kisses me, just lightly, before retreating to his own room to get ready for the day.

We tour two different castle ruins, climb down (and back up) a gorge, and check out dinosaur fossils. He’s gently affectionate through it all, holding my hand, kissing my cheek, but never demanding anything else.

But I tug him into my room and my bed again that evening. And again he kisses me to sleep.

o-o-o

Gale’s wedding day falls on the fourth day of the tour. I’m cranky, and Peeta notices. He asks me what’s wrong but I brush him off. But even in the face of my moodiness, my pique and my - as Haymitch says - ‘slug-like charm’, Peeta is patient with me. Willing to take whatever little bits of myself I offer. And it’s that acceptance that prompts me to open up to him. In fits and starts over the course of the day as we walk and tour and explore, I tell Peeta about Gale, about the wasted years, about the holding pattern I’ve been in since we split.

He listens attentively, neither judging nor offering platitudes. But his quiet support means the world to me. “Do you still love him?” he asks as we sit on the dock in a quiet harbour town, watching the seabirds circle and dive.

“I never did,” I confess. “But after so long, I don’t know how to move on.”

When we return to the B&B, I again tug Peeta into my room. But this time I know something has shifted between us. Our sweet, chaste kisses rapidly escalate. And though Peeta tries to slow us down, tries to be a gentleman, I want more. And after a few attempts, he gives up on the idea of reining us in, surrendering to my demands and my searching fingers.

Our clothes fall away, until I’m down to my bra and underwear, and he’s only in shorts. He stares at me in awe, as if I’m something exotic instead of plain Katniss Everdeen, far too bony and wearing threadbare panties. And though I’ve only ever been naked in front of one man before now, I don’t hesitate to reach behind me to unhook my bra. But Peeta stills my hands. “Are you sure?” he asks. “We don’t have to…”

“I want to,” I tell him.

When the cotton falls away, he shudders. “So beautiful,” he murmurs, licking his lips. “You have no idea, the effect you have.”

“Show me,” I whisper. And he does. In his arms, I get what might be my first taste of real, raw passion. Sex with Gale was fine, good sometimes. But never like this. As I shatter, and shatter, and shatter again, everything I think I know about myself is turned inside out, and I am changed forever.

It’s fucking terrifying.

o-o-o

The last day of our tour is quiet, too quiet. The weather is unsettled, the group members tired. Even Haymitch has lost his sarcastic edge. Leaves me too much time to think about Peeta, sitting next to me. Playing with my fingers and humming in contentment. Too much time to panic.

How can I say goodbye to this man? This man who has opened my eyes and my heart, who has shown me the barest hint of a life I never even knew I was missing out on.

What choice do I have?

It’s pouring rain when we pull into the stop at Waterloo Place, and in the soggy pandemonium of luggage unloading, it’s easy for me to grab my small backpack and slip away unnoticed. I get into the first available cab and am whizzing up the Royal Mile within moments.

I don’t look back.

o-o-o

I love Effie, I do, but sometimes I just need to get away. There’s a coffee shop near the rail station that’s a perfect escape, it’s outside of the touristy area and the patio is a great place to people watch.

A swarm of men in sharp black suits rounds the corner, heading straight towards me en route to the train. Slim-fit wool trousers cling appealingly to athletic bodies before spilling downward in perfectly pressed lines to where polished black shoes click on the cobbles. It takes a moment to realize that, no, the swarm of outrageously attractive men sauntering in the spring sunshine are not, in fact, men at all, but boys. Irish schoolboys - fifth and sixth years by the looks of them -  splendid in their crisp white shirts, perfectly tied windsor knots and shiny shoes. I shake my head at myself. Leering at a bunch of teenagers? I’m too old for that. In my defense, they’re much better dressed than any of the men I know. I mean, I assume Gale wore a suit to his wedding, but it would have been the first time. Even when he dragged me to his senior prom, he wore a dress shirt open at the collar and a leather jacket.

I bet Peeta wears crisp suits like these, though.

And just like that, my mood falls again. I miss him. I miss him so much. I’ve spent the past five days lying to myself, trying to make myself believe that the week we spent together was no big deal, a little fun, a lot of great sex, nothing more. But my heart, the frail, foolish thing, is singing another song. I miss him. I feel his loss acutely, despite only having known him a few days. I know I made the right choice, leaving him on that rainy Edinburgh street. His life is here, and mine, what’s left of it, is in Philadelphia, I guess. There’s no chance of a future for us. And no sense mooning over impossibilities. But it doesn’t mean I haven’t fantasized about hiring a car and driving to the coast, just to see him one last time.

It’s the melancholy that’s making me see things. In the middle of the group, a golden head stands out. For a split second, I’m sure the broad shoulders and narrow waist attached to them belong to Peeta. But it’s impossible, these are school children, Peeta is back in his hometown, living his life. But the crowd shifts, and I can see his face clearly, blue eyes shaded by lush golden lashes, the smattering of faint freckles that kiss his sunburned cheeks.

And I drop my teacup.

The clatter catches his attention, his head swivels until he meets my eyes. I’m helpless to look away from the myriad of emotions that play across his handsome face. Surprise, relief, joy and anger. But I’m sure my own face reflects only a single sentiment.

Horror.

He says something I don’t catch to the people he’s with, then changes course to walk purposely to where I sit, frozen and mute, heart pounding so hard that I feel light-headed. He covers the few yards in long strides. The sun catches his hair, crowns him in gold as he stands above me, a wide smile curling those sensual lips. “Katniss,” he says, in that molten sex voice that I hear in my head every time I touch myself. The soundtrack to my every recent fantasy. The lament of my regrets. “I didn’t know you were in Dublin! I thought you’d gone back to America! I’m so bloody happy to see you! You were gone so fast after the tour, I didn’t get your number, and you’re not on Facebook.” He’s reaching for me, and my body instinctively reacts, warmth pooling low in my gut. Which is what snaps me out of my stupor. I jump from my chair, angling myself so that the narrow café table is between us.

“Katniss?” His brows furrow in confusion, his hands dropping to slide into his pockets. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re in school?” It’s barely a whisper.

“For another week, yes,” he says, still looking puzzled. As if it isn’t a big deal. A big fucking deal. He’s a child!

“You didn’t tell me you were so young.” I’m not certain I say it out loud until Peeta’s face twists, like he’s tasted something unpleasant.

“I’m eighteen,” he says. “I’ll be nineteen next month.” Eighteen! As if seeing him in that school uniform wasn’t bad enough, the confirmation that he’s a just a kid, that he’s almost nine fucking years younger than me makes my stomach lurch. “Is that a problem? For the record, you never asked.”

“You’re a child!” I say, much more loudly this time, and his frown deepens. “I’m… shit, I’m a pedophile!” Peeta’s jaw tightens, and an angry flush streaks up his neck. He grabs my arm, not hard but not leaving me much recourse, and walks the two of us away from the patio and around the corner of the building, into a quiet alley.

“Knock it off,” he hisses, and for a moment I feel like a naughty child being chastised. Which just serves to piss me off, I’m the grown-up here! I wrench my arm away from him, and back up, crossing my arms in front of me. But the alleyway is narrow and I’ve only moved a step before my back hits the wall. He steps forward, close enough to feel the heat of his body, to feel the tension that radiates from him in waves. “I’m an adult, Katniss,” he says lowly, his words skating across my lips as he leans in. “Old enough to drink, to vote.” His next words brush against the shell of my ear. “Old enough to fuck you senseless.”

A full-body shudder rips through me, equal parts arousal and revulsion. He’s a child! I took advantage of a child! I push against his chest and he takes a single step back, still in my personal space, but giving me enough room to clear my head a little. “I’m, fuck!” I gasp. “I’m twenty-seven. I’m nine fucking years older than you are!”

“Eight,” he says, “and so what? Doesn’t change how I feel about you, or what we have together.”

“It’s wrong-” I start, but he’s having none of it.

“Bullshit! We’re both adults.”

“You lied to me!”

“I did no such thing,” he snaps, but I’m pissed now.

“You told me you owned a bakery on the coast!”

“I do!”

“You’re a child!” His jaw tightens again, I can see the anger in his stormy eyes. Anger and hurt.

His hand reaches for me and instinctively I draw back, but he simply slips my phone out of my pocket. “What the fuck?” I sputter, but he’s already unlocked it and apparently messaged himself.

“Where are you staying, Katniss?” he asks, handing my phone back. I want to tell him it’s none of his business, but I just can’t. The pain in his eyes compels me to tell him.

“My aunt has a house in Clontarf,” I grumble. Peeta nods.

“Come with me tomorrow,” he says.

“What? No, that’s not a good idea Peeta.”

“Please, just do this one thing for me. Then I’ll leave you in peace.” The pain in his eyes is shocking. Guilt eats away at me. It was cruel, I know, sneaking away like a thief in the night. I can see how much I’ve hurt him. He takes my silence as acceptance. “Meet me here tomorrow morning,” he says. “Half eight. Wear a jacket.” Then he spins on his heel and strides out of the alley.

o-o-o

I fight with myself half the night and all morning. I’m not going to show up. He’s not going to show up. I owe him a chance to explain. He’s a fucking child! By the time I make it to the café, I’m an absolute mess.

But an absolute mess wearing mascara and a cute top. I’m a hypocrite, on top of everything else.

Removed from the cold horror of discovering I’d been cavorting with a schoolboy, I have to admit to myself that seeing him again ripped down the walls I tried so hard to construct around my feelings for him. Damn him! Damn him for being gorgeous and sweet and Irish and a toddler!

He pulls up only moments after I arrive, riding a smallish motorcycle, blond curls sticking out from under a black helmet. In jeans and a leather jacket, golden stubble glinting in the thin morning light, he’s even more impossibly handsome. But it’s clear he hasn’t slept well, his wary gaze is ringed with faint purple. “I wasn’t sure you’d be here,” he says softly, pulling off his helmet. I don’t bother to tell him that until I got off the bus, I wasn’t sure either. I simply shrug. He dismounts; I pretend I’m not checking out his ass in those snug-fit jeans. But he merely pulls a second helmet from his saddlebag, handing it to me without quite meeting my eyes.

“What’s going on?” I ask, but he shakes his head.

“Put on the helmet, Katniss, then get on the bike.”

“Don’t you have a car?” I’ve never ridden on a motorcycle before, and Irish streets with their too-narrow lanes, cobbles, and the whole driving-on-the-wrong-side issue are scary enough in a vehicle with four wheels. His lips twist.

“No. Let’s go, we have a long ride ahead of us.”

It’s madness, but I do as he asks.

I sit stiffly behind him, trying to put some distance between us, but as soon as the bike is in motion, I have no choice but to wrap my arms around him and hold on tight. And having him again cradled between my thighs provokes the most confusing rush of emotions. This is such a bad idea. Such a fucking bad idea.

We don’t talk as he pilots us out of the city, we simply can’t. The rush of wind makes that impossible. But from time to time as we pass through the suburbs, then out into the countryside, he’ll squeeze my knee to catch my attention, pointing out an old tower or a ruin, or just the way the sun catches the gorse on the mountainside, making the world glow in sunny yellow. In spite of what I’ve learned, he seems like Peeta, like the man I met in Scotland. He feels like comfort, and like home. When he points of a patch of bluebells clinging to the side of a hill, my heart hurts. I stop fighting with myself and lean into him, my helmet-encased head resting against his broad back, his warmth soothing me. He squeezes my hand where it wraps around his ribs. Acceptance.

About forty-five minutes later, we drive into one of those quintessential Irish postcard villages, narrow medieval buildings crowded along the street - though here they’re painted in lush pastels - colourful bunting zig-zagging across the road and cars parked haphazardly everywhere. He circles a statue of what appears to be a young fisherman, then heads down an impossibly narrow alleyway, parking the bike in a tiny courtyard.

When he offers me his hand to help me off the bike, I take it gratefully. My legs are like jelly, and not just from the ride. He holds my fingers just a little too long, smiling wistfully. Then we rid ourselves of the helmets, and he leads me out of the alley, to stand in front of a building. It’s tall and narrow, like most of the buildings here are, but unlike most, it has an enormous plate glass window facing the street. The building itself is painted turquoise, and Mellark’s is spelled across the front in swoopy gold letters. “Welcome to my bakery,” he says softly, and with a hand on my back he ushers me inside.

The interior is even more charming than the exterior, and for a moment I can only gawk. Polished wood floors, pristine glass cases displaying a decadent array of goodies, and paintings on every wall that feel familiar. But none of that really means anything, does it? He’s in school, it’s clear that this isn’t really his bakery. It probably belongs to his family, and he works here on school breaks.

I turn my attention to the people working behind the counter, three of them. They smile warmly at me, but right away their expressions change as they catch sight of Peeta. They seem to stand a little taller, attempt to look a little busier. “Peeta,” one of them calls out. “We weren’t expecting you.” Well of course they weren’t, it’s Thursday, he’s supposed to be in school.

In school. Ugh. What am I even doing here?

“Just popping in for a bit,” he says with an easy smile. “Have a little business I need to attend to.” He heads towards a swinging door that separates front shop from back, but pauses with his hand on the frame. “Coming, Katniss?” Three heads snap to me in surprise, and I can feel my cheeks burning as I follow Peeta into a small, but modern industrial kitchen.

Here too, the workers stop and straighten, as if they’re trying to impress Peeta. It’s subtle, but I notice it. He greets each warmly by name. And I quickly realise that it’s not fear that makes them all snap to attention. It’s respect. Inexplicably, all of these people seem to respect him.

But it’s not really that inexplicable, is it? He carries himself with a confidence that goes beyond boyish ego. I can’t reconcile the businessman in front of me with the eighteen year old schoolboy I saw yesterday.

Peeta leads me to a small, windowless office at the rear of the building, and gestures for me to sit. Before I’ve even gotten comfortable, one of the women from the front shop has appeared with a pot of tea and a pair of cups. “Thanks, Dell,” Peeta says genuinely. The woman beams at him, then backs out of the office. I open my mouth to speak, but he shakes his head. “Hang on,” he says. “She’ll be back again.”

He’s right, she reappears a few moments later with a plate of food. I haven’t been able to eat since I saw Peeta yesterday in Dublin, and my stomach clenches painfully at the yeasty, cheesy scent wafting from the treats. “You call me if you want anything else,” she says, and Peeta promises he will. With one last wink in my direction, she leaves and this time Peeta closes the door behind her.

“What was that all about?” I ask, trying not to be obvious in my coveting of the buns. He notices anyway, and pushes the plate in front of me.

“Irish hospitality,” he says absently as he pulls the bags out of the teapot. He knows, even without me ever having said anything, that I prefer my tea weak.

I know all about Irish hospitality, know that Delly would continue bringing us more food and more tea and just generally fussing if Peeta hasn’t shut the office door. But this is different. “Not that. The weird way she was looking at me. She… she winked!” He glances up, and a flicker of amusement crosses his face before the sadness creeps back.

“I’ve never brought a woman here before,” he says. I wrinkle my nose at the implication of that, I can’t decide whether it’s because I’m somehow special or because, as a freaking child himself, I’m the first ‘woman’ he’s been with.

“Why have you now?”

“Because I want you to see me. To see that I am exactly who I said I am. Now eat your bun,” he says, nudging the plate again, “while I tell you about my father.”

My heart breaks again and again as Peeta paints a picture of his life. The only child of a single father, he had a typical childhood right up until his father got sick. Terminal cancer. The man spent all of his remaining time preparing his young son to take over the bakery that had been in the Mellark family for generations. At only fifteen, Peeta traded rugby for accounting, friends for responsibility. He even spent his transition year working full time at the bakery, learning the ordering system, studying food safety compliance.

By the time his father died not quite two years ago, Peeta was running the bakery himself.

He has an uncle who deals with the day to day while Peeta finishes school, something he’s doing because he promised his dad he would. But Peeta is the owner, and the one in charge.

It goes a long way to explain his maturity. He hasn’t been a child in a long time. On the face of it, the story sounds unbelievable. But I know what my eyes are telling me. What my heart is telling me. He may be younger, chronologically. But he’s the one with his life together. While I haven’t really grown since high school, his life has leapt light years ahead.

I sit in silence, picking at the cheese bun - which is incredible but which I can’t really enjoy - feeling like a pile of shit. The office door opens. An older man strides in, clapping Peeta hard on the shoulder. “Peet,” he says. “Wasn’t expecting you today! Glad you’re here though, I have those contracts for you to sign.”

“That’s great, Dalton,” he says, taking the proffered papers, his lips moving as he skims the words. But then he frowns. “The wage is wrong,” he says, pointing.

“They’re students,” Dalton says dismissively, and Peeta’s jaw tightens. It’s fascinating to watch, even if I don’t fully understand.

“That’s not how we do things here. I pay everyone a living wage.” Peeta stands, moving around the desk to take my hand, pulling me out of my chair. “When you’ve redone the contracts, leave them on my desk. I’ll pop in later to sign them before I head back to Dublin.” And with that, we walk out, leaving the older man behind.

We walk down the narrow cobbled street towards the waterfront, weaving among the tourists, past the harbour before finally stopping at an overlook right at the edge of the village. Peeta sits heavily on one of the empty benches, and drops his head in his hands. I lower myself beside him.

“You’re a good boss,” I say softly, breaking the silence that hangs between us. He doesn’t look at me.

“The bakery is more than just a job,” he says. “It’s my father’s legacy and my future. I have eight employees who directly depend on me, not to mention the suppliers and lorry drivers and pubs who benefit from my business too.” He lifts his head to look out over the water, and the weariness I see in his face speaks to a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Yet he’s uncomplaining.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him.

“I’ve never lied to you, Katniss. I might be younger than you thought, but I am exactly the man I said I was, exactly what you saw in Scotland.” Wary blue eyes meet my own. “Can you say the same?” My breath catches. It’s a valid question.

Katniss Everdeen is quiet and closed-off, reserved to the point of unfriendly. Difficult to get to know. Resistant to change. That’s not the woman who spent a week adventuring through the Scottish highlands. That woman smiled more, laughed more. That woman tried new things. That woman opened her heart, if only just a little. I shake my head, and his drops again to stare at his lap. The real Katniss Everdeen is the one who left this kind, gentle man standing on an Edinburgh street in the rain, without a backward glance.

Right now, I don’t like the real Katniss Everdeen very much.

He sighs. “My age isn’t really a problem, is it Katniss? It’s just a convenient excuse. You took off before you knew.” He’s right. When I really search my heart I know that the age gap between us is just a number. In many ways, in most ways really, Peeta is the more mature of us. The one with his priorities straight, with his shit together. Our ages don’t matter at all.

After what feels like an interminable silence, he asks, “Why? Why did you leave without a word? I thought there was something between us. Something real.”

“There is,” I whisper, startling myself with my honesty. He glances up at me, confusion in his expression, but also a heartbreaking flicker of hope. “You’re right,” I tell him. “I was a different person in Scotland. And… and I think I like that person better.” I swallow hard. “I like who I am when I’m with you.

“Then what’s the problem, Katniss?” The hint of frustration in his voice threatens to put me on the defensive.

“Your life is here, Peeta! And I live three thousand miles away!”

“You’re here now,” he says.

“For four more weeks,” I say, and sadness creeps in as I realize that I don’t want to leave him again, that even pissed off and hurt and, yeah, young as he is, just his presence makes me feel alive. “And then what?”

“Why do we have to figure that out now,” he asks. “Why can’t we just take it day by day, see where things go. Live without a plan, without a safety net.” He reaches for me, cradling my face in his hands, and my eyes slip closed. “Live, Katniss. Be the woman you want to be.”

What’s left of my defenses melt away as he kisses me so softly it’s like a dream. My hands wrap around his wrists, holding him in place. Keeping him with me, at least for the moment.

I know the only thing really standing between us is my fear.

“Okay,” I whisper, the words hanging, fragile and afraid, in the space between our lips.

“Yeah?” he smiles. And at my nod, he kisses me again.

I’ve wasted so much time living in complacency, afraid of change. But this feels like a second chance. An opportunity to grow and mature, instead of staying safely stuck in the past. And the part of me that is not so brave as I could wish is glad that it’s Peeta beside me as I step into the unknown.

—–

[lokifiction]

Relationship Status

It’s really no secret that the Avengers and Loki aren’t fans of each other, but when a seemingly invincible common enemy looms ahead, it is necessary that they learn to get along. However, it soon becomes quite clear that this will be no simple task.

Category: Fanfic

Rating: Teen

Notes/Warnings: No warnings, but I do have a note about the masterlist. It has been super weird lately, and some of the newer links on there direct you to the most recent chapter of Unsinkable. I’m working on fixing the issue, but it’s slow going. There are links to the next and previous chapter of a fanfic on each individual post of an installment, so you can still use those for navigation, even though it’s a bit of a pain to do so. I’m sorry for any inconvenience this may have caused, and I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

Chapter Sixteen: Breakfast in Bed

The moment I woke up the next morning, I jumped out of bed and dashed to the medical deck to check on Loki. When I reached the door and took a quick glance in the window, however, I discovered that he was still soundly asleep, in a way that foretold his waking not being something that would come soon. With a bittersweet smile, I backed away, not wanting to disturb his rest. Besides, he had told me to sleep in, and if he found me by his bed at that hour of the morning, he would know I hadn’t and blame himself for my tiredness.

As I was forgoing my morning ballet class to watch over Loki, I texted Stellan to ask him to look at my schedule for the day and send it to me. I didn’t want to arrive at the theatre a second before I had to, and leave Loki alone in his state for any longer than was necessary. I still needed to warm up, however, and seeing as I definitely wasn’t going to be getting back to sleep, I had plenty of time to do so. In the hours I had spent in the tower recently, I heard people mention some sort of gym and training area, and I glanced at a directory put up next to the elevator to find out where it was. I felt a bit strange using it, as if I was overextending my welcome, but so far I seemed to be the only person awake in the entirety of the building, so I assumed nobody would even know I did so.

I hadn’t packed any workout clothes other than my leotard and tights, seeing as most of my warmups and athletic wear were already in my dressing room at the theatre. So, resolving myself to exercise in my pajamas, I threw my hair into a ponytail and returned to the room I had stayed in for a pair of tennis shoes before making my way into the gym, but stopping abruptly as I crossed the threshold and turning around to leave the room when the sound of a punching bag revealed that it was not, in fact, unoccupied.

“Hey!” the voice of Steve Rogers called out just as I was about to cross back into the hallway. I turned back around and discovered him jogging over to me, white t-shirt damp and hair sticking to his forehead from sweat.

“Are you lost?” he asked with a friendly smile. “Do you need me to help you find something?”

“No, actually, I wanted to come work out, but, um…” I eyed the highly advanced weaponry, impossibly difficult simulation-infused obstacle courses, weights beyond any normal human capabilities, and the countless other things that made up the training area, which was quite suited for superhumans, but not at all for me. “All of this stuff seems really out of my league, and besides, I’m probably not even supposed to be in here. This seems to be an Avengers only space, so I was just on my way out.”

“Don’t be silly. You’re welcome to use the gym! The normal stuff is just a little hidden.” Steve led me to the back of the expansive room, and to my relief, a long row of treadmills and ellipticals lined the wall.

“I was actually going to get on and run, myself,” Steve said as I chose an elliptical and went about adjusting the settings. “Do you mind if I join you?”

I invited him to go ahead, and he hopped onto the treadmill next to me.

“Yeah, I don’t usually run inside,” he narrated, answering a question I had but never would have uttered. “In the city, though, I can never get a pace up with all the stoplights and people, so this is just easier to get the workout I need without a lot of fuss.”

I nodded in understanding and we both began to move on our machines.

“How’s Loki?” Steve inquired casually, enviously unfazed for the mind-boggling speed his feet were moving at.

“I’m not really sure,” I answered. “He was still asleep when I went to check on him.”

“Well, I’m sure a nice rest will do him a lot of good.”

Steve and I resumed our individual workouts in an only slightly awkward silence, but he called out to me as I stepped off of the machine to go over to the line of mirrors set in front of the weights for a bit of Pilates.

“Loki did really good yesterday,” Steve praised. “The whole city owes their lives to him. The rest of the team would never admit it, but… we’re really grateful.”

“Thank you. I’ll tell him you said so, and he’ll be very happy to hear it, that is, if he even believes me.” I chuckled and blinked back tears. “That’s all he’s ever wanted anyone to say to him, you know. That he did well, and that his efforts were beneficial. Not just come straight out of battle and have someone list all the ways he could’ve been better.”

Steve was clearly unsure of how to reply to something so heavy, so I saved him the trouble by giving him a small smile and continuing on to do what I was going to. However, I couldn’t keep my mind focused on my exercises, because with all that talk about Loki, I was unable to think of anything other than him, wondering if he’d woken up yet. Eventually, I cut my workout short and returned to the medical deck, where Helen had arrived and was just exiting Loki’s room.

“How is he?” I pounced on her without any greeting. Being in her field, Helen was clearly used to this sort of behavior, and responded with a genuine smile.

“He’s doing much better,” she assured. “I think he’s in the clear now. I want to keep him a bit longer for some more fluids, but you should be able to take him home this afternoon.”

I chuckled inwardly at that. So far in our relationship dynamic, Loki had always been the one to take me home, never the other way around. I almost relished in the situation, for I finally felt as if I was taking care of him.

“Well, I should be back here at around 4-ish, would that be a good time?”

“That would be perfect.” Helen glanced back in at Loki’s sleeping form. “He should be waking up soon, and he’ll need food when he does.”

“Would it be alright if I made him something?” Though Loki would never admit it in front of the Avengers, his absolute favorite breakfast food was waffles, particularly the way I made them. I wanted to take full advantage of our caregiver/patient role reversal and surprise him with some comfort food.

“Absolutely. Any food will be perfect, just make sure he drinks a huge glass of water with it.” Helen patted me on the shoulder in passing as she continued on to her other duties of the day. I took one last look at Loki before returning to the directory I located earlier, looking for the way to the kitchen.

When I entered, the atmosphere of the space seemed much more like a family area than a refueling station for the Avengers. A coffee pot growled away in the corner, various cooking tools laid scattered about the counter space and piled in the sink, and the refrigerator bore all sorts of notes and reminders: invitations to events held up with Avengers magnets, a communal shopping list that everyone added to, a few candid photos, and various post-it notes bearing warnings such as “Anyone who eats my leftover nachos dies. -Clint” and “The leftover smoothie is mine- Steve,” which had a reply in a different hand, stating: “You don’t have to worry about us stealing those. They’re horrifically disgusting.”

In the center of all of that, the invitation to Loki’s and my wedding had been tacked up with glitter-covered magnets, which I assumed were chosen to draw attention. Pepper had attached a sticky note to the cardstock, her neat, compact hand reading: “We’re all going to this. No excuses.”

“For God’s sake, does no one around here know how to clean up?”

The frustrated comment startled me, and I whirled around to discover Stark in the doorway, wearing a pair of faded black sweatpants and an old AC/DC tour t-shirt.

“Oh, hi, Camryn,” he greeted, stepping over to the coffeemaker and pouring himself a cup with a warm and silly smile in my direction. “What brings you to the kitchen at this early hour?”

“I was going to make Loki some breakfast.” I scanned the cluttered space. “Do you guys have a waffle iron? I promise I’ll clean it up when I’m finished with it.”

“I will be forever grateful if you do. I’m sick of feeling like I’m living with teenage barbarians. I know it’s not the girls, because Natasha is so secretive in every aspect of her life, even down to her cooking, and would never leave anything out because of that, and Pepper is just a neat kind of person. That leaves the guys, sans me. Thor I sort of understand, seeing as he’s been raised never having to pick anything up because there’s always a servant around the corner to do it for him, but the others, god.” Stark rolled his eyes, bending down and retrieving the tool from a cabinet in front of his knees. “Here you go.”

I thanked him and went about gathering everything else I’d need for my recipe, watching out of the corner of my eye as Stark grabbed the pad of sticky notes and Sharpie from the top of the fridge and scribbled something down, pausing abruptly as he was about to put it up. I turned to find out what was the matter, and saw him staring expressionlessly at the invitation. I caught my bottom lip in my teeth, waiting for his reaction as he pulled it down and held it in his hand.

“Is this an invitation to your wedding, or am I going crazy?” he eventually asked.

“It is,” I replied. “I gave it to Pepper last night when you all were away.”

“Why would you invite us to arguably the most special days of your lives?” Tony furrowed his brow. “I figured that Loki would think that we’d, or more specifically, I’d, ruin the whole thing.”

“We debated back and forth for a long time,” I admitted. “Our ultimate decision was that you guys waved your permanent white flag by offering him the consultant position, so the invitation is us reciprocating.”

“I thought he reciprocated by accepting the position.”

“In a way.” I shrugged and inclined my head towards the invitation. “That’s Loki’s own way of saying he trusts you. Or, as much as Loki can trust anyone.”

“This little thing just got a lot heavier,” Stark chuckled awkwardly, pinning it back up. “I’d...I’d love to come.”

“We’d love to have you.”

Stark and I shared an intimate and meaningful smile before turning back to our individual tasks. Unable to revel in a heavy atmosphere for much longer, Stark lightened it with a comical groan.

“Today is going to be such a long day,” he muttered, gulping from his mug and immediately going to top it off.

“Busy?” I casually asked, whisking my batter.

“Yes.” Stark dragged his hand down the length of his face. “I have to go all the way upstate to oversee some construction of the new Avengers Facility, and then come back here and start drawing up contracts for new additions to the team.”

“New additions?” I raised my eyebrows. “They must be some special people.”

“They are, but I almost wish we’d never found them.” Stark rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “The process and legal matters that go into adding someone to the team are ten times more extensive than those for becoming a consultant, and you know how lengthy that was. We can’t start training them until we have the new facility completed, so you’d figure that would mean that the work to be done in that lapse is minimal, but we have to help their transition into this lifestyle and make arrangements and blah, blah, blah.”

“Who are these people that are so special they got invited to be a part of the Avengers?”

“Can’t tell you. It’s above your clearance level.”

“Oh?” I laughed. “Loki and I have clearance levels?”

“And don’t you forget it.” Stark pointed at me with a playful air of sternness. “There’s even one of our new members living in the Tower, but you’ll never see them.”

“Oh, I bet I will,” I played along.

“I almost guarantee you won’t.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Maybe.” Stark winked and stuck a note reading “Here’s an idea: clean your shit!” to the fridge and exited the kitchen, leaving me in a fit of giggles that, when faded, left me with a strange feeling of closeness and friendship.

***

When the chocolate chip waffle came out of the iron, I topped it with even more chocolate chips, whipped cream, and warmed syrup- the Camryn specialty- and put it on a tray that was already equipped with a bowl of berries and a mug of green tea with lemon. Following Helen’s orders, I picked out the biggest cup I could find and filled it to the brim with ice water, then carefully walked the breakfast to Loki’s room. He was still asleep when I entered, but as I settled down onto a chair beside his bed, his eyes began to flutter open.

“Good morning, love.” I set the tray aside on a nearby countertop and stood up to kiss him gently. I could sense fear at his unfamiliar surroundings, but as he sat up further and remembered the night before, he calmed.

“Morning, darling.” He squeezed my hand, his strength returning little by little. “Did you manage to sleep in?”

“I would say yes, but you know when I’m lying,” I giggled. “It’s fine, though. I made you breakfast.” I placed the tray across his lap, and his eyes widened in veiled excitement.

“Thank you very much.” Picking up his fork, Loki stole a glance at the clock mounted on the wall behind my head. “I know you opted to skip your class this morning, but shouldn’t you be leaving soon to check your schedule for the day?”

“I had Stellan text it to me. I have a while,” I assured. “I only have an hour and a half of the pas de deuxs with all casts, a short run of Act I with my cast, and a private coaching session with Ulyana for the variations. I should be back here at around four.”

“Well, I suppose luck worked in our favor today.” Loki plucked a berry from the bowl and dragged it through the whipped cream before popping it in his mouth. “The less I have to be here alone, the better.”

“How are you feeling, though?” I inquired.

“Still a bit weak and lightheaded, but overall better.” Loki winced. “I just hate being so susceptible like this. It’s just another on a long list of reasons to despise what I really am. I hate being reverted to this state so easily, and the fact that this had to happen in front of them only makes it worse.”

“No one suspects anything,” I assured. “And they have no reason to, because even someone who wasn’t a Jotun would have this sort of reaction, considering where you went. Muspelheim isn’t just hot. It’s pits of fire and temperatures that can blister skin instantly, with no relief to be found. It’s hotter than any other place in the universe. Any being in the Realms, save the ones that are native to that world, would come down with dehydration and heat exhaustion as you did, if not worse ailments, when going there. You’re not weak, and I wish you would believe it. Besides, you’re always the one that has to take care of me, so I’m glad I finally get to take care of you for a change.”

“It was prophesied from the beginning that I was to be your guardian. That’s why I always care for you. The guardian isn’t supposed to be taken care of by the one they guard.”

“You would be surprised.”

Silence blanketed us after that, filled only by the sound of Loki’s utensils.

“I gave the Avengers our wedding invitation,” I announced suddenly.

Loki raised a brow, but didn’t look up from his plate, though his movements stilled. “Oh?”

“Yeah. I didn’t have time to tell you last night.”

“And how did they take it?”

“The ones I spoke to were actually excited.” I drew in a breath. “I think we can expect them to be there.”

Loki picked up his mug and focused his gaze towards the door. “Well, I suppose there’s no turning back now.”

“Do you regret me giving the invitation to them?” I worried aloud.

“No, but I would be lying if I said the prospect of getting this close to them didn’t make me uneasy.”

“Well, never fear. In fifty years they’ll all be dead and we won’t have to worry about them anymore,” I teased, drawing a laugh from Loki.

“Not necessarily,” he added with a wiggle of his eyebrows. “Thor will still be here then, and he’s the worst of the bunch!”

***

When I arrived at the theatre, I was surprisingly blessed with a rare day where I was able to focus on dancing and nothing else. In passing, I would worry about Loki, but he kept me updated with regular texts, assuring me that he was just fine. For once, I believed him, and went about my day.

When I returned to my dressing room once everything I was scheduled for was over, however, I remembered an almost halfhearted comment I made to Natasha and Pepper in that very room what seemed like so long ago. I mulled on it as I got in a cab to take me back to Stark Tower, and seeing Loki on a sofa in the lounge when I returned, chatting pleasantly with Steve, Natasha, Thor, and Bruce, I was sold.

“There’s something I want to do,” I announced as Loki and I stood in the elevator on the way down to the lobby, my arms wrapped around him. He was nearly at his full one hundred percent, but nevertheless I wanted to offer my help in case he needed it.

“I won’t if you don’t think it’s a good idea,” I insisted.

Loki looked down at me curiously. “Go on.”

“A while back, I told Pepper that the next time all of the Avengers were in town that I would host a dinner party with them,” I hesitantly continued. “It was a bit of an idle offer, but everyone’s here, and will be for a while, and it might be beneficial to see how our two groups work socially in a playing field that’s not theirs. I figured I’d arrange it, if it was alright with you.”

Loki inhaled sharply. “Well, they are going to be coming to our wedding, so you can go ahead,” he replied. “We’ll consider it a test run.”

Next Chapter

[teejaydeetrip]

A Bandaged Left Hand

I had an extremely vivid dream last night in which I gave myself a vasectomy with a pair of scissors and some extremely small plastic pegs. I remember the skin of my ball sack felt like plastic or polyester and there was no blood. At some point the stitching came undone and I had not taken the pegs out and I ran around the house trying to find some kind of tool to fix it. I was worried mostly about infection. I can’t remember how it started and I don’t think it ended on any proper note on account of a loud truck rumbling past my window and waking me up. The first thing I did was check my balls. The second thing I did was breathe a sigh of releif, and the third thing I did was fall asleep again, because it was only 11.30am and I had been up late the night before. 

Being awake at night in Australia is tormenting. Nobody is awake after 1am and nobody is really up for chatting after 12. I don’t think anybody was in Japan either, but at least I had drive there. On the rare night that I wasn’t singing karaoke, or trading stories with other travellers, I was driven. I had things to write. I had things to say. I learned Japanese or sketched ideas. I watched movies in little booths on futons in internet cafes and drank ramen and lay back, contented that the moment I wanted to, I could walk outside into the bright shining lights of 3am in Osaka. Are there many places that bright at 3am in other parts of the world? I hear New York is pretty lively. 

Here, even in the trendy parts of Sydney, I’d be lucky to find a service station. Here, I watch Netflix on autopilot. I just watched the second season of The Man In The High Castle, on complete autopilot. I barely registered it at all. It’s a good show, but not at the same time. It’s intensely boring, yet utterly compelling at the same time. TV shows take up too much time. I need to learn to write more. To use this diary. 

I haven’t written in days. What have I missed? I don’t think I’ve written yet about The Dove and Olive. This bar hired me as a bartender. I applied for a bartender position, and trialled as a bartender, yet when I started, they put me on the floor. My job is not to pour beers, but to deliver schnitzels and steaks to baby boomers for 5 hours a night, then clean the shitty gross plates up and gather their shitty gross napkins and bin their shitty gross leftovers. I made it known to some of my co-workers. They told me that is just the way it is here when you start. Then others added that that is just the way it is for guys in general. Floor staff have to change the kegs over and girls are too weak for that, apparently. 

There are like 7 or 8 girls tending bar here, meaning most nights will have me on the floor. I was not happy with this and I made it known. I didn’t say to the managers what I wanted to say; that any place with an initiation process is not the kind of place that I work at, or that I came here to be a bartender, not a fucking waiter. But I made I certainly didn’t have a smile on me when I had to do these. Every day I started I would walk behind the bar and start pouring beers until someone said “Hey aren’t you on the floor today?” to which I would respond, “I don’t know, am I?”.  On Friday, the Manager On Duty didn’t know how to answer me, and just let me pour beers. I don’t know if I was supposed to be on the floor or if he was just shy, It was St Paddy’s day. Pouring Guiness is a bitch. I dropped a pint glass while trying to hang it up and tried to catch it but ended up just slamming it down even harder onto a bench. It shattered and the shards cut my pointer and index finger.  

The licensee emailed me on Saturday, after working 3 shifts. She had gotten the hint. It had been passed up the chain of command from the MOD to the DM to the licensee. She asked me if I was comfortable and I checked the Sydney Bartender Exchange group on Facebook and found an ad for a cocktail bartender in Redfern and messaged him asking for the position. 

He messaged back 3 hours later to ask if I wanted to come in for a trial shift on that evening. 

I emailed the licensee back at the Dove and Olive telling her I wasn’t happy with the way things were at the ol’ Dolive and that I would be happy to finish the shifts I had been rostered on for next week, but that was it. It was all very amicable. She thanked me for my time and I thanked her for hers and we agreed I’d finish next week, then I went and got drunk with Nigel, my old lecturer from uni. 

I haven’t seen Nigel in 5 years. Kat and I, both students of his, had emailed him from Japan, when we met up and had a drink over there. He spent some time living and working in Japan and constantly joked about how hot Japanese girls are. He was the perfect sleazy old man charming rogue stereotype, only with real experience in the music industry and genuinely funny things to say. I told Kat and Nigel to meet me at Goro’s.

I drank a lot the night before, and was early. My eyes were pounding in the back of my head and I had a sharp fuzzy feeling scratching at the back of my head. A slight pounding headache. Goro’s was shut. I couldn’t bring myself to do anything except smoke and wait. Nigel and Kat arrive eventually, and we decide to walk to El Loco, a Mexican themed place that used to be The Excelsior. It’s only a few minutes around the corner. You can’t smoke in the outside tables because they serve food there but nobody is eating, so we do anyway. 

Kat tells us about her time in London and I tell them about my time in Japan and Germany and Nigel tells us about his time at the uni, where his employment is tenuous at best, and he tells us about how he hates Germany because he got into lots of trouble there and spent some time in German prison. His story was the kind of thing you can see in your head as a movie. Nigel in a leather jacket in the 80′s, careening across Europe like a flaming satellite crashing back down to earth, bringing with it information gleaned from the void. 3 day benders without leaving the same bar in Spain, dangerous meetings with dangerous men in dangerous alleys in Germany, snuff film screenings in warehouses in Amsterdam.

Before it’s all over, we have had 4 or 5 jugs of beer and a full packet of cigarettes in the space of 2 and a half hours and my spiky hangover has been replaced by a groggy hair-of-the-dog hangover and I need to go pretend to be a cocktail bartender in Redfern. I hug the both of them goodbye and we promise to do this again sometime soon. 

Moya’s Juniper Lounge. That’s the name of the place. It’s a small bar in Redfern specialising in gin and gin cocktails. On the way, I swing by Henry and Amanda’s place to borrow a black button up shirt. Henry only has two black button up shirts. One has a floral print and the other is a tuxedo shirt. I go with the tuxedo shirt. 

The owner, Charlie, sits me down the moment I get in. I apologise for the tuxedo shirt, it was the only one I could get at late notice. He says that’s fine. He gives me the run down. The place sticks to gin classics and sours. He has like 200 different kinds of gin and a handful of whiskeys. Charlie asks about my experience. I answer. He asks me what my availabilities are like and what kind of work I am looking for.  I answer.  I pretty much have the job interview before the trial, which is a good sign. He introduces me to Nick, the other bartender, here from The Wild Rover, a whiskey bar in Surry Hills. A gangly kid that doesn’t look a day over 17. Nice kid, but a bit standoff-ish.

I fumble my way through conversation with the two of them whilst nobody comes in at all for an hour. A small group come in and I make my second ever Martini. The guy likes it so much that all his friends ask for one two. 

So my conversation skills aren’t so great while I feel this whacked out, but I have made the best martini this group has ever had, so at least my martini game is strong. They make them vintage style here. Charlie says he wants his bar to look and feel like it came straight out of the 1950′s. All the stuff you usually have in speed rails is on a table behind the bar, the furniture are all antiques or rescued from Charlies grandparents farm, music from the 30′s, 40′s and 50′s plays through the PA. and the martini’s are made with: -60ml Tanqueray gin -20ml Dry vermouth -2 Dashes orange bitters -1 Olive

We have no other customers until 9.30pm, when about 6 groups of people all mill in seemingly at once. We are chocked. I pump out Negroni’s and Martini’s and Aviation’s and Charlie Chaplin’s with relative ease. I get stuck on the Clover Club. It’s a sour whose ingrediants have escaped my mind, so I’ll have to list next time. The important thing to note here is that I have never worked a cocktail bar that didn’t have it’s egg white’s kept in a squeeze bottle, pre-cracked by whoever does that. I drop the egg yellow into the first mix by accident and ditch the whole mix. On the second attempt, I put the ice in the wrong side of the shaker, and attempt to put the other side, with is mix on top of the one with the ice, spilling the whole mix all over the prep station. On the third attempt, we have run out of squeezed lemons. so I begin to cut up a lemon and slice my thumb open and start bleeding everywhere. I have to ask Nick to finish it, and Charlie finds me a band-aid and opens it up while I keep the bleeding at bay with a tissue. 

After I’ve been patched up, I make a couple more negroni’s and aviations (aviators?) and when it hits 10, I check Facebook and realise that I’m shifted on at the club at 10, not 11. I’m about to tell Charlie this, and as I do, he tells me that’s good for tonight and if I need to get off to the club, I’m free to do so. 

I’m concerned, but he handshakes hard and strong and smiles many thank you’s He tells me that another lady is finishing up here, but he would be happy to split the time up between us if I have enjoyed myself. To top it all off, he pays me for the trial. It’s a sign of a decent man, if not heavenly entity to pay for a trial shift in Sydney. 

I change out of my tuxedo shirt and into a black T and thank Charlie again on the way out. I wave goodbye and walk right next door, into a hip hop bar called Hustle & Flow. I order a shot of tequila, tip the change and grab a cab from outside. I message Marina, letting her know I will be late, and it ends up costing me 20 dollars to get one suburb over. Fucking cabs, man. 

I can’t remember the name of the girl who is promoting the party, but she is turnt as fuck. She used to work here, and keeps letting herself in behind the bar to make Margarita’s for herself. I try to tempt her with the offer of a margarita-ish drink but she never takes me up on it, so I offer one to Marina and make her a Whisky-rita. (-60ml Bourbon -30ml Drambuie -30ml Lime)

I try to make Matty a St Croix Sour, but it turns out Creme De Ginger is way different to the ginger liqueur I am accustomed to using. 

I drink heaps of tequila on shift. And a beer or three. It’s all good fun. I clean up the bar fine and learn how to use the bottle crusher (Step 1-turn it on. Step 2-put empty bottles into it) and a broken bottle inside it makes a small cut on my finger, but only a tiny drop of blood emerges. It’s on the same hand as the other two.

I walk to The Strawberry Hills Hotel in Surry Hills with Matty and drink a red wine and run into Steve, an old uni friend, and the bar shuts nearly immediately. I take a cab home and stumble into bed at 5.30am on Sunday morning. My weekend has barely even begun.

[sight-seeking]

Day 1

June 22, 2017 Thursday

7:00am: My alarm rings. I hit the snooze button and go back to sleep.

7:05am: My alarm rings again. I wake up and throw off the covers. My heart does that thing where you have a nightmare that you’ve already forgotten so now you’re just sitting up in bed in fear. Only the sun is already out and my bags are only half packed. I need to brush my teeth.

7:40am: My parents and I leave for the Atlanta airport. Mom finishes working on the travel backpack she made me. It’s sewn with love, I can tell.

8:49am: We arrive at the airport. Dad takes his sweet time to secure a parking spot, subsequently annoying every car behind us. My dad is a quintessential dad, he leads us through the airport as smoothly as he can.

9:00am: I have passed through security and bid my parents ado. They are sad that that they can’t come with me without a boarding pass. I probably won’t see them again for another two months. Whatever it is I’m feeling, it is both distant and familiar.

10:30: My aunt has arranged for me to eat breakfast at the Delta Sky Club. What is…this sky club? A sign points the way. I see a small, blue room, two security guards stand posted. There are stairs. Someone aids me with my luggage up the stairs. I walk in and people greet me, they know my name already. The place is big and fancy. I have a lovely view of the planes. There is a continental breakfast. As I sit with a muffin and a glass of tea, I wonder…how does one become an official member of the sky club? I see many wealthy-looking, business people. I deduce that I too, must become a wealthy-looking, business person in order to afford such a luxury of free breakfast and a place to sit that smells of money.

11:45am: I leave the elegant sky club and go back to the gate. Because I’m taking a standby flight, I wait for available seating to see if I can board to New York.

11:59am: I cannot board to NY. I call my aunt who works at the airport and let her know. She finds me a transferring flight from Philadelphia to London. I go from concourse A to D to make the change, and then I go from E to B to wait. I left from E because my lack of sense of direction kicked in and I got super confused for like, five minutes. I had walked in a circle. I have walked in a lot of circles today.

12:50pm: I am in the Sky Club in Concourse B. It is even bigger and fancier. Truly this is a lavish lifestyle I must partake of. I go get a simple lunch of mac n’ cheese and a basil bun. I try not to stand out, even though I’m a twenty-year-old in UGA clothes, and I look like I’m about to backpack across the Himalayas.

1:45pm: My aunt meets me at the gate and bids me ado. Without her this trip would be nigh impossible. I’m forever grateful and I don’t know what I’d do without her.

1:51pm: I board the plane and subsequently become THAT ONE PERSON with the overpacked luggage and forgetting which seat I’m in. This is my first time on a plane, guys, cut me some slack.

2:00pm: There have been a few times in my life when my breath gets taken away and my world gets a little bit bigger. One moment was driving through Atlanta and seeing the city so early in the morning, that is was dark yet lit up with brilliant street colors. Another time was riding through the Appalachian Mountains in broad daylight, and seeing decades of land rise above man’s civilization.

Today my breath has been caught and lost to the wind. As the plane went up I found myself reveling at the speed at which we were going. Atlanta flew past us in a hurry. The world got smaller, my world got bigger. I saw the clouds and gasped, “Heaven!” We glided over them, and the world kept going, unmoved by our departure. I say we, as in, me and everyone else on the plane. I’m sure for them it was nothing but usual fare. But for me, who’s never been so high, gone so fast, or traveled so far in my life--this means everything.

2:22pm: My ears keep popping every few minutes. I guess it’s one of those things I won’t quite get used to. Also, every time the plane tilts I make a mental prayer, because I’m not about that nosedive life.

2:28pm: I must close my windows or the clouds will blind me. The weather has turned for the better. I can breathe a little easier now. This is smoother than riding a bus and for once in my life I can read and write without motion sickness. A blessing.

2:39pm: I opened my window once and only saw cloud and sky.

3:35pm: I arrive in Philadelphia. It is a beautiful city, veined with rivers and patches of land. While above the clouds I see their shadows casting over the mouth of the Delaware, and I realize we are flying over the ocean. Every time we circle over the river, a little more of my breath is gone. When we begin to land I think, “Greetings Philadelphia, welcome your doom.” Because I inwardly gasped at every hint of descent and with every lowering of altitude I could’ve sworn we were done for.

5:26pm: I am awaiting a flight to London. The flight to Paris next to me is very large and they are talking about trimming down the bags. My bags are already incredibly full. I worry that not everything will fit. I am not willing to part with anything. AN-Y-THING.

5:46pm: It’s not always sunny in Philadelphia. It’s super overcast right now. I have been fed lies.

5:50pm: I’m in contact with a hostel I booked in London. I booked the wrong dates like an idiot and they cancelled on me. Will I be homeless? Will I have to pay a fee? Stay tuned.

6:14pm: The man at the info desk calls me up and says that my aunt asked about me. I marvel at her tenacity. He kindly informs me that I am clear to fly from Philly to London. My dream is coming true.

6:30pm: We are boarding the plane, this one is much nicer than the one from Atlanta to Philadelphia, but it’s also much colder too. I’m glad I put on my hoodie before I got on. Movies make airplanes seem more spacious than they really are. I guess it makes sense. You can’t fit a whole camera crew in an aisle no bigger than the width of a six-year-old.

6:38pm: No amount of massaging is aiding my neck any. Dad was right, I have done my fair share of walking and carrying bags and looking for things. I’ve barely eaten, hardly slept.

7:30-ish: We finally take off. Goodbye America, Hello World.