#The Golden Mile Brochure

[briyourmotherdown]

cool water ★ part I

James Hetfield x fem!reader

★ everyone is running from something ★

Words: 6.7k

Warnings: i know nothing about arizona and it shows. VERY incorrect timeline. mentions of rehab and alcoholism. james is a moody prick. 18+ in the future but part I is PG minus some swearing.

A/N: so i'm asking you all, please, PLEASE be kind to me because this is the first fic i've written in well over a year and the first metallica one I've ever posted. this is so unbelievably self indulgent it's insane. title named after a marty robbins song because that's where this whole idea stemmed from. i tried not to use y/n because i know some people hate that jhskjfhkjhfthftdhftkj. also i really really hope the fact that rehab is in here isn't a trigger or upsetting to anyone!!! it just makes sense for the plot. it's also very inspired by the some kind of monster documentary. this will probably be a shorter fit made up of a few parts but it may take a while since i'm literally about to graduate uni and i'm drawing in assignments. anyways i hope you enjoy <3

parts: (1), (2)

★

  A few states over, a little over a thousand miles and a few days long trek away, lies a life– packed crudely into a beat up Subaru with too many miles on the metre to go about adding another thousand. The air conditioning unit cracked out one state back, leaving only the rolled down windows to offer any sort of reprieve against the Western American summer heat. The unknown lies in the interstate ahead, yellow lines and road signs guiding you closer to your next destination. Only the front windows are open, the rear windows obstructed by precariously stacked belongings in unsealed cardboard boxes and garbage bags balanced against the glass. To roll them down would mean losing a good chunk of your clothing. 

   A map is sprawled out open on the passenger seat, red lines and circles marking the last stretch of your journey into Yuma County, Arizona. Golden light pours over countless acres of sprawling farmland ahead of you, the setting sun glaring into your eyes beneath your sin visor as you drive with one hand on the wheel and the other propping your head up against the open window. Your yellow Subaru is the only vehicle for miles, alone on the barren road as the sky fades into an inky blue. It’s eerie, being this alone. Eerie as you turn down yet another country lane, rolling the windows up. Eerie as you make sure the doors are locked and the gas tank full. Eerie for a girl who’d only left the city twenty-four hours prior, where such silence and solitude was such a rarity that you never stopped to consider what it felt like to actually be completely alone. 

   The night is still when you reach a stop sign, the hiss of crickets and cicadas audible even from inside the car. There’s no breeze that rustles the trees, nor a cloud to taint the clarity of the starry night sky. You feel as though you should be quiet and hold your breath, goosebumps raising on your skin. They only begin to subside when your headlights illuminate a sign reading Palo Verde Ranch. 

   Tires kick up dust as you roll down the tree-lined passage, inching closer and closer to where you will spend the next summer, checking the map one more time and breathing a sigh of relief when the trees part way to an opening. The ranch and lodgings look the same as the pictures in the brochure you were given, apart from being shrouded in a heavy darkness from the night. The porch lights are on, along with a few lamp posts circled by moths and mosquitoes. Pulling into an empty space next to a pick-up, you kill the engine and rest your head back against the headrest. The roar of the crickets seem even louder as you sit silently in the driver’s seat. 

   With a few final taps on your steering wheel with your fingers, you heave yourself from sitting position and stretch your aching legs, lifting your arms above your head before grabbing your suitcase from the backseat and forgoing the rest until tomorrow. It’s far too dark to go about it now. Boots crunch on gravelly dirt as you make your way to the lodging house, reading the brochure once more to check where the key is kept. It lays underneath a small terracotta pot, placed upside down and completely indiscrete. It makes you smile to yourself when you lift it up to examine it against the porch light– a small, metal cactus keychain hanging from it. You smack a mosquito from your arm as you unlock the door. 

   With a creak, the door opens up into the lodging house, though to you it seems more like a bungalow that had been converted into some sort of bed and breakfast. There’s a small kitchen to your left, under-cabinet lights casting an amber glow over the linoleum countertop and laminate floors. You take note of the humming refrigerator before turning to your right to examine a quaint sitting area, equipped with a floral printed sofa straight from the 1970s and a chestnut bookshelf housing a sparse assortment of books and magazines. It reminds you slightly of a waiting room– pretending to be lived in as to put you at ease. 

   Straight ahead lies the hallway, two doors on the left-hand side and three on the right, one of which has been left ajar. Upon further inspection, with slow, easy steps, you come to realise that it’s the bathroom, nose scrunching up slightly at the prospect of having to share one bathroom with multiple other people. On every door is a hand painted number, accented by flowers painted on in pastel colours. Very Bohemian, you note, eyeing the beaded curtain that hangs in the windowsill of the window at the end of the hall. Dim light spills from underneath doors three and four, but the other two remain dark. 

   Your room number is two. 

   Opening the door, you flick the light switch on before closing it behind you, a small puff of air escaping from between your lips as you take in the room. It’s cozy– genuinely, unlike the sitting room from before. It nearly reminds you of the room you’d grown up in, or, at least spent the earliest years of your childhood in. A golden oak bed sits against the wall in one corner of the room next to the window, fitted in cream and pale green floral patterned sheets. There’s a dresser-vanity and a wardrobe of the same golden oak, and a small nightstand next to the bed. On it beneath the small tiffany lamp lies an unopened note and a small plush teddy bear. 

   Tears fog your eyes as you sit on the edge of the bed and drop your suitcase at your feet. It feels so familiar– like a distant memory of a time in your life where things weren’t so turned upside down. A time when you weren’t running from something. Clutching the teddy bear against your chest, you open the note– a sweet, handwritten one from the owner of the land, welcoming you to your home for the summer. It tells you of breakfast in the main house at 10am, that there are fresh towels in the wardrobe, and that the vanity drawers tend to be a bit fiddly. 

   With a watery sigh, you blink up at the ceiling to clear your cloudy vision, flopping backwards onto the bed.

★

   James knew that he needed a distraction. 

   He knew better than to be around all the same people and places from how he was before. Breathing the same California air he knew and once loved now feels too thick in his lungs, like some sort of poisonous gas. 

   He knew better than to be around reminders. 

   Due to his therapist’s orders, James was to go somewhere different for a little while. In his words, to “relax, be at one with nature”. He had spread a pile of pamphlets across his desk, closing his eyes and laying his pointer finger down on the first one it came in contact with. Arizona didn’t seem to appeal to James’ bandmates as much as it did to his therapist. They had a hard enough time communicating as is, too many alcohol-fueled yelling matches only worsened by the unmade upcoming album that loomed over their shoulders. James wasn’t sure how he could make the album to begin with, not while he was walking this tightrope. If he was constantly teetering on the edge, how could he be a productive member of the band? 

   Part of him didn’t want to go. Running away from it all felt cowardly, as though he’s weak for not being able to handle what once was so normal. A few drinks at the bar with friends turned into something else, something monumental. Gigs, rehearsals, afterparties, bar to bar to bar to bar. People who once gave him comfort now only serve as reminders of how he has ended up. 

  His PA booked his flight and had his truck sent to meet him at the airport. His intentions were clear– he would spend a few months working on the ranch away from anything that might tempt him, and then he would return home in autumn and attempt to clean up the mess he had left behind. The mess in question haunted him on his flight, tension aching behind his eyes as he rubbed at them. Divorce papers. A band that might hate him, left hanging and waiting for him to get his shit together so that they can release another album. Loose ends, after loose ends. Mouth set in a straight line, he realises he’s clenching his fists, blunt nails pressing into his palms. 

   Settling in was fairly easy. There was only one suitcase to unpack, clothes folded neatly into the dresser and notebook placed haphazardly on the nightstand– blank paged and unopened. For a few days it was only him in the lodging house, resting and rising in silence, eating a bowl of cereal by the kitchen window before heading out to work on the ranch with Wayne, the owner’s husband. Wayne is a shorter man, or at least much shorter than James, with salt and pepper hair he keeps hidden beneath a straw hat, and a laugh that often turns into a smoker’s cough if your joke is good enough. Wayne is friendly and a hard-worker, unafraid to put James to work too. 

   A few days later, a couple more lodgers began filtering in, two men who based on their accents, come from the south. They didn't spare James a second glance, and James gratefully did the same in return. There was no need for making friends.

   When you arrived it shook up his routine. He now had to wait for his morning showers, entering only after you had spent far longer than he would’ve liked, only to be met with fogged up mirrors and the scent of vanilla and jasmine. He could hear music playing gently through the thin walls, some shit from the 70s that he wasn’t into, and he’d have to put up with the way you’d softly hum along. Truthfully, he avoided bumping into you at all costs. There was no concern of seeing you at breakfast or dinner– he skipped them in favour of some cheap crappy microwave meal– and he worked more on the ranch with Wayne while you settled into tending the vegetable garden. 

   Avoiding you seemed like a waste of time, however, because you didn’t notice him anyway. You always seemed too lost in your own head, focussed entirely on pulling weeds to notice him walking back and forth by you, carrying bags of feed. He didn’t offer a greeting, or even his name, but then again neither did you, and he was more than happy to keep his distance. 

   Your name only came up one day as James was sitting with Wayne. They’d both spent hours of the morning tending to the stables in the intense heat, James doing most of the heavy-lifting, and took refuge under the shade of a large tree. After collecting a few random chopped logs and sticks, James took out his pocketknife and began carving. Wayne spoke of plans to make his wife a wooden sculpture of a cactus for their front porch, with James silently shucking away at the wood to bring it to a sharp point. 

   In the distance you’re harvesting crops from the vegetable garden, wearing denim cutoffs and a t-shirt with the sleeves torn off. From here James thinks he can spot the image of Garfield printed on the front. He stares for longer than he should, eyes trailing down the expanse of your bare legs, and admittedly, over your behind when you turn and lean down to grab a shovel. 

   Wayne breaks through the intensity of his gaze by saying a name, the glass shattering when James averts his eyes and returns to sharpening the wooden shiv with care. His finger slips against the grain and he winces, plucking the splinter from his thumb, “That girl. She’s here from Seattle.” 

   He remains silent, lip twitching with a hint of annoyance at the older man’s intrusion. Yet he lets your name settle in his mouth, silently testing the way it feels on his tongue. Aware that he was caught, he keeps his eyes trained intensely on his craft to avoid Wayne’s gaze. 

   “Pretty, ain’t she?” Wayne muses, stripping bark from an ash log and looking at you in the distance as you pick weeds from the cauliflower beds, “We don’t usually get people like her out here,” he turns to James, simpering, “Don’t usually get rockstars ‘neither.” 

  He turns away to continue stripping the log and James uses the moment to steal another look at you. The sun beats down on your back and you wipe sweat from your brow with your bare forearm, pushing a few loose hairs back that had fallen from your ponytail. There’s a half empty sack of compost on the ground by your feet that stains the tips of your gloved hands. You look tired, standing back from the garden bed to study your handiwork before tilting your head all the way back to soak up the sun, hands on your hips. When you turn and glance in James’ direction, squinting your eyes through the heat mirage, he averts his gaze, once again all too aware of Wayne and the way the man lifts his hand to wave dramatically at you. 

   He doesn’t look up to see if you wave back. 

   He sees you again that late afternoon, in the same way he always sees you— in small vignettes, in short scenes that make him think momentarily that you might just be a figment of his imagination. He sees you walking past him with a crate full of lettuce, too focused on not dropping any from the heaped pile to pay him any notice. He sees you when he walks by the wire fence, where you’re being walked through the steps of feeding the chickens in the coop. He sees you now, entering the same house he’s staying in, the same one he’s walking to, only a few paces behind. 

   But still, you seem to pay him no mind, as if he’s a ghost. He thinks he might be one if it weren’t for the acknowledgment of Wayne and his wife, Marie. The other workers don’t much like him, interpreting his silence as him being a stuck up rockstar. He wonders if it’s for any reason that you don’t notice him. Does he skulk around too quietly? Sure, he’s not been the most conversational since he’s been here, but he’s sure you would’ve at least noticed him.

   It really bugs him. 

   For a man whose profession is to be seen and to be heard, he typically really likes fading into the shadows in his everyday life. There had been too many days of butting heads with Lars, too many arguments with his ex, too many paparazzi, too many expectations of him. He was only one man, and he knew he was too fucked up to be a role model for anyones kids. Before he entered rehab, he enjoyed the anonymity of a small town bar and the way no one knew who he was there. If they did, they didn’t care, clinking pints with him over the bar as if he was just another one of them. And even though Wayne and Marie do talk to him and put him to work, they still treat him like all the others staying on the farm for the season. And he does enjoy the fact that Wayne and Marie seem to pay him no mind, as well as the other workers. 

   But when he really thinks about it, he doesn’t like slipping into the shadows as much as he thought he did. Perhaps it’s his ego talking, but he at least likes being acknowledged. 

  It was as if you didn’t even know he was there. 

  It bugs him as he opens the door behind you after you’d let it close, watching you saunter down the hall and into the room only a door away from his own, not offering a glance as you shut it behind you. It bugs him as he makes his way into his own room, sitting at the edge of the bed and rubbing his hands over his tired face. It bugs him even more when he hears your door open and close again, squeaking on its hinges, followed by the click of the bathroom door and the rush of the shower turning on. 

   You claimed the shower before he could, as you always seem to do. Only today he had worked hard, back sore and legs aching with strain. Annoyance twitches at his lip but he tries to brush it off, taking deep breaths, groaning lowly as he lays back onto the bed. The day's work sits heavily in his bones and he shifts uncomfortably. He feels grimy, a layer of sweat having dried on his skin, sticking the Arizona desert sand to the hairs on his arms. He grimaces and tries to brush some off.

   Minutes pass while he waits for you to finish in the bathroom, then more, and after thirty minutes he’s grown more and more impatient with you, rising from the bed and storming into the hallway. He doesn’t take any time to notice that the shower has stopped running, the blood rushing too loudly through his ears, and as he’s about to aggressively rap his knuckles against the door, it swings open. You jump back with a start when you see him, his fist raised and face twisted in irritation. 

   Momentarily, he’s stunned, face contorting into an expression that matches your own as his eyes trail over your form– wet hair against your shoulders and fresh skin dewey with what he assumes is lotion. You’re gripping your towel tightly in one hand, the other clutching a toiletry bag. 

   As he lowers his hand, he realises that this is the first time you’re noticing his existence. Wide eyes glimmer up at him shyly, lips parted from the shock of opening the door to a man standing angrily directly on the other side. 

   With that realisation comes another—actually, two realisations that took him possibly too long to register– the fact that you’re almost naked, and he’s blocking your way out of the bathroom. Embarrassment nips viciously at the back of his neck, tinting the tips of his ears pink as he takes a step back. 

  James has never been good with embarrassment. His ego always gets in the way or gets him into trouble. Sure, it has won him many arguments, much to the chagrin of his opponents, but it has also gained him the title of an egotistical asshole to many people. Whenever James becomes embarrassed, the outcome is always the same– confrontational, cruel, unnecessary words he doesn’t really intend to say bubble up in his throat before he has any chance to stop them. 

   “Knowing that there’s only one bathroom, you should be more aware of how fucking long you take.” 

   He snaps his mouth shut the second the words are out, lips pressing together in a firm line. You raise your eyebrows at him, taken aback at the gruff rudeness of his tone. 

   You want to say something. Some witty comeback or even something to match his hostility, but your tongue struggles to find any words. Words have never come easily to you in the first place, always choosing to be quiet unless you’re around people you know, but they especially don’t come when you’re half naked and an angry, 6’1” man is towering over you. 

   All you can muster is a small, “I’m sorry.” as you push past him and retreat to your room. 

  James is paralysed in his spot, the increasingly familiar scent of vanilla and jasmine wafting over him from the bathroom as you walk away, listening to the door slam behind you. He’s not sure how long he stays standing in place, fists clenched at his sides with frustration directed at both you and himself. With a defeated sigh, he locks himself into the bathroom, turning on the shower. Once he’s stepped in he wastes no time in pressing his forehead against the cool tile, cursing himself for not being able to hold his tongue. 

   James really wants to spend the evening the same way he’d been doing, skipping dinner and smoking a cigar out on the front steps, but Marie had taken notice and when she bumped into him earlier in the day, had all but forced him into promising to come to dinner tonight. It didn’t sound appealing at all. It felt like fucking summer camp, having to sit around a big table with everyone staying at the ranch and talk about your day and the work everyones’ been doing. He’d quite honestly rather starve. 

   It didn’t help that he assumed you would be there. 

   He had made up his mind that he disliked you. The annoyance of  the way you’d practically ignored him for a week seems to only have increased with the duration of your shower. It was like you had no consideration for anyone else and didn’t look past the tip of your nose. He didn’t want to eat at the same table as you for that reason, is what he told himself. Not because he saw you in your towel and was so unnecessarily rude to you, no– James doesn’t do embarrassed. 

   He’s taken a nap directly after his shower, waking up even groggier and in an even worse mood, throwing on clean clothes and making his way down to the main house where Marie would be making dinner. The front door is already open when he gets there, and he takes an already exasperated breath before entering, 

   The smell that meets him is already mouthwatering, as much as he hates to admit it, and for a moment it makes him question why he’d skipped out on dinner for the past week. Wayne greets him as he walks in, already sitting around a large wooden table with a few men he recognises from around the ranch. Wayne has a cigar attached to his mouth, bobbing as he talks. 

   “James!” He exclaims, raising his hands in the air to greet him warmly, “Come on in, you should meet my guys.” 

   James nods curtly, having already met them in passing and discovered they didn’t much like him. But he puts up with it for Wayne’s sake, standing over the table but not sitting down, nodding in acknowledgment as he introduces everybody. They seem nice enough, greeting him with smiles, apart from two men at the end of the table who don’t so much as return James’ nod. They’re Dylan and Wes, the other two lodgers in the house. They offer him forced smiles, but James can see that the second Wayne turns his head to speak to someone else, they narrow their eyes in his direction. For a moment he wonders if you’d met them– if they treated you in the same way or if you hadn’t even noticed them in the same way you did him. 

   With that thought, Marie comes bounding in, wielding a wooden spoon in one hand, “James!” she grins, “I’m so pleased you came,” 

   She diverts her attention to Wayne, smacking him on the shoulder with the wooden spoon and scolding him in Spanish. The cigar between the man’s lips threatens to fall, but miraculously remains sturdy as he says something back, a sheepish expression on his face. 

   Marie rolls her eyes and turns back to James, “You, help me in the kitchen because my bum of a husband apparently has better things to do.” 

   Any other time James may have cringed at the idea– he’s not the best chef– but now, as he turns to glance at Dylan and Wes who stare at him with a look of contempt, he takes the out and follows Marie into the kitchen. 

   The moment he enters, his eyes land on you where you stand chopping vegetables at the butcher’s block island. You’re not looking at him yet, too focussed on dicing a tomato, and he takes a second to look at you. Your hair has dried, thrown back into a ponytail while you’re cooking, and you wear a white cotton sundress with thin straps that contrast against your skin. It’s different to how he’s seen you dressed, in denim cut-offs and cowboy boots, and for a moment he’s halted in the doorway to watch you. 

   “Could you shuck this corn?” Marie asks James, and your eyes finally snap up to look at him, trailing over his attire before you quickly go back to chopping. 

   He clears his throat with a small sure, taking his place across from you at the butcher’s block. You don’t dare to look up at him again, hoping that he doesn’t see the blush that tints the tops of your cheeks. 

   “You’re both very quiet, you know that?” Marie laughs, stirring a pot both metaphorically and literally, “Come on! Talk to each other.” 

   A short silence follows, painful and uncomfortable and it makes your skin crawl, clearing your throat and daring to glance at James. You break the silence by offering your name, extending some sort of peace offering.

   He doesn’t seem to extend the olive branch in return. uttering a gruff, “James,” as he shucks another ear of corn. 

   You nod, You’d hoped that he’d say more to make you feel less nervous, hands shaking slightly as you hold the knife. You knew his name already– Marie had told you a few days ago when she caught you staring at him while he repaired the broken gate near the stables– shirtless.  He had been sweating, lugging planks of wood from the shed on the other side of the lot, tattoos and bare skin glowing. Marie had snorted at your pink cheeks and made a smart comment about how he could fix your gate– whatever that meant. You’d been stealing glances at him since, averting your gaze quickly whenever he would begin to turn his head.

  You soon became aware of his dislike for you, and other than the earlier shower incident, you can’t think of why. You tried to stay out of his way as much as possible, which wasn't hard considering he hadn’t showed up to dinners so far, and always kept to himself except for when he was working with Wayne.

   It really bugs you. 

   You sigh when he doesn’t say anything else, glancing at Marie who’s back is to you as she leans over a large pot of stew, hoping that the heat of your gaze might burn just enough for her to turn around and save you. No dice. 

   “I–” You begin, “The gate looks really good.” 

   Instant regret rushes over you as a look of confusion paints his features, brows furrowed. You rush to explain, “The- the one by the stables, I saw you fixing it. It looks really good. I haven’t had to scale the fence to get through since.” 

   You embellish your compliment with a breathy laugh, audibly nervous, cursing yourself at your ability to make things so much worse. He didn’t return the laugh, and in fact, it seems that somehow your compliment had soured his expression even further. 

   “Thanks.” He deadpans, averting his gaze from yours and back to the corn. 

   You sigh, chopping another tomato. 

   Meanwhile James is internally kicking his own ass, unsure of why he can’t be fucking normal, intending to say one thing and actually saying another. He watches you from his place across the counter, the concerned furrow of your brow, pinched in the middle, to your nimble fingers diligently doing what Marie had instructed you to do. He feels a flash of guilt in the pit of his stomach. Maybe he misunderstood you. After all, you had noticed him– the gate was proof of that. Maybe he wasn’t as invisible to you as he thought he was. But that still leaves one question unanswered– if you noticed him, why did you intentionally ignore him? It’s silly and it’s childish, but it’s enough for him to continue on with his negative opinion of you.

   Time goes by wordlessly between you both, Marie instead taking the time to explain everything she was doing in detail, sure to send both of you home at the end of the night with the recipe for Birria engraved in your brains. Time passes this way until the table has been set and the food is ready, Marie ushering you both out of the kitchen and to the dining table. 

  The only three empty seats are lumped together, one of which is at Wayne’s side. It would be rude to sit where you know his wife would be sitting, so you take the next one with a small frown, waiting for James to take the one next to you. You’re aware that he’s not happy with the arrangement, and for a moment you wonder if he would take Marie’s chair, but he doesn’t and instead fills the vacant spot on your other side.  The table is tightly packed, and due to James’ frame, he has to keep his shoulders pinched together slightly to avoid rubbing them against yours. It’s nearly insulting, watching the amount of effort the man puts into not touching you, rolling your eyes to yourself as you eat the food Marie (and you and James, but mostly Marie) had prepared. 

   “So…,” 

   The mention of your name has your head snapping up, paused with your fork halfway raised to your mouth to look around at who had said your name. Your eyes fall on Dylan, who’s sat at the table directly across from you. You’d only met him once before and hadn’t really been able to form much of an opinion on him. He’s around your age, maybe a bit younger around twenty-three, with shaggy brown hair he let fall over his blue eyes and a smile that had a tinge of something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. He had helped you reach a pair of garden shears from the top shelf of the shed, and all you’d talked about within that span of two minutes was your names and where you were from. 

   “Hm?” You hum in acknowledgment.

   “You mentioned you’d stayed in Europe for a while, what was that like?” 

   You recognise the invitation of small talk, and you’d be thankful for it if it were just the two of you, but as everyone’s eyes settle on you for your response, you feel a little put on the spot. 

   “Uh, yeah, it was really cool,” you swallow, “Beautiful architecture.” 

   It’s a lame comment, and you're aware of it, but you're not sure of what else to say at the moment. Dylan nods slowly, eying you up and down in a way that makes you squirm nervously. 

   Wayne comes to your rescue, “James, have you been to Europe? I imagine y’have.” 

   The man beside you freezes, and he’s close enough that you can feel the tension, shifting in his chair. His bicep rubs against yours for the first time and you inhale quietly.

  “Yeah,” he sniffs, “Been a few times.” 

  “You been there on tour, I imagine?” 

  This piques your interest, eyes flitting to look at James profile. His jaw is clenched as he nods, “That’s correct.” 

   “On tour?” You ask. 

  He turns to you, and the intensity of his eyes this close up almost makes you regret asking. He nods, “My band tours here and there.” 

   “Ha! Understatement,” Wes snorts from across the table, southern accent strong through his laugh, “Mr. Big Shot over here has toured a whole lot more than just ‘here n’ there.”  

   He holds his fingers up in air quotes to emphasise his words, and you’re left confused. Mr. Big Shot? You thought James looked slightly familiar, but couldn’t place from where, so you’d just brushed it off as nothing. You turn to look at him again, studying his face and racking your brain to think of where you might have seen him before. It would make sense for him to be in a famous band, but which one? And why would someone in said famous band be out here in the middle of nowhere? 

   “What band?” You ask, ignoring Wes. 

   James looks uncomfortable, “Uh, Metallica.” 

   It’s as if bells go off in your head, piecing it all together and finally realising where you've seen him before. It wasn’t just one place you’d seen his face, but many. He’d been everywhere, on MTV, on the front covers of magazines on the newsstands back home, on billboards– dare you say Wes wasn’t too far off by calling him a Big Shot. 

   “Oh,” is all that comes out despite the revelation– despite the fact that you’re now painfully  aware of how famous he is. Your pre-existing nerves have only worsened with this newfound information, struggling to get a bite of your food down, wincing. 

   James, however, takes your lack of response and pained expression the wrong way and gets on the defensive, scoffing into his glass of water before slamming it down. The entire table goes quiet, and he doesn’t miss the way you flinch at his action, momentarily pausing to meet your gaze. Your eyes are wide as they lock with his, confusion written all over your face.

   He pushes his chair back from the table and stands up, “If you’ll excuse me.” 

   You watch his back as he retreats through the front door, letting it slam behind him. You flinch again and turn to look at Marie, who’s sitting next to her husband with a distraught look on her face. Sighing, you stand up and place your napkin on the table.

   “Dinner was absolutely wonderful, Marie, please excuse me.” 

   Marie flashes you a sympathetic glance as you walk to the door, and despite their chittering you don’t care to look at the expressions worn by Dylan and Wes. Instead, you make your way out of the house and down the front steps. The evening has finally matured into darkness, the pathway to the lodge lit only by lamp posts and strings of fairy lights that Marie had just put up earlier today. You’re not sure where to look for James, or even if you should be looking in the first place. If you truly are the cause of his bad mood, surely you’d be the last person able to talk some sense into him; but curiosity eats away at you, the need to fix whatever you’ve done gnawing at your stomach.

   It doesn't take too long to find him, sitting on the front steps of the lodge, mostly shrouded in shadows except for the orange cast of the fairy lights. 

   “Hey,” you offer carefully, slowing your pace as you near him. 

   You debate whether or not to sit next to him on the stairs, thinking it might piss him off if you do, but awkwardly rocking on your heels feels even worse. You take a seat next to him with a light huff, making sure to keep your arms from brushing against his like at the dinner table. He’s smoking a cigar, the burning tobacco lighting up his face ever so slightly on each inhale. Though he doesn’t verbally acknowledge your greeting, he doesn't leave either. As if he’s waiting for you to say something worth his while. 

   “I’m sorry, you know,” you offer softly, “I’m not quite sure what I did to upset you, but whatever it was, I’m sorry.” 

   He remains quiet, the sounds of the crickets and cicadas deafening. You exhale a sigh of defeat, tilting your head up to glance at the vast array of stars in the clear sky, counting the brightest stars until you lose your place. 

   James isn’t quite sure what to say. The longer he’s left to sit with his thoughts, the more he doesn’t understand what you’ve done to bug him so much. There’s been an explanation for every misunderstanding so far, leaving no reasons for his disdain, yet for some reason he just feels immensely frustrated by you. It’s something he feels under his skin, fizzing in his blood uncomfortably. He’s starting to wonder if it’s even got anything to do with you to begin with, or if this entire trip out to the desert has backfired and he’s got too much time and space to think about his life. Stress eats away at him, bubbling up slowly. 

   “I’m sorry about hogging the shower,” you ramble, “I didn’t realise you were waiting for it and I just got kinda…kinda lost in thought, I’ll hurry up next time.” 

   Nothing. It’s radio silence on his end, the air so thick that you feel it clouding your lungs along with the smoke from his cigar. You can’t stop your mouth from running, ”And it’s really cool that you’re in Metallica, I um, I don’t really know much about you guys but-”

   “You can stop,” he interrupts, the stress bubbling over, your face flaring with heat you’re glad he can’t see in the lighting. ”I don’t really care, honestly.” 

   He looks at you for the first time in the last five minutes, emotions flat and guarded, and for the first time since you’d met him, you feel your own anger rise up in your stomach instead of nerves– frustration, annoyance, fatigued with his attitude. 

   “Look,” you stand up, “I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but I’d appreciate it if you'd stop being a total dick.” 

   He puts out his cigar, standing up to tower over you, not letting you have the upperhand of being taller than him. He opens his mouth to speak but you don’t let him. 

   “All day, you’ve been awful to me, and we just met. I don’t get it, what’s your problem?” 

   He scoffs, “I have a whole fuckin’ list of problems, sweetheart, don’t feel special.” 

   You stare, dumbfounded, arms crossed over your chest, “Yeah? And what about it?” you challenge, eyes narrowed, “Why do you think I’m here, huh? We’ve all got our shit, we’ve all got things we’re running away from, what makes you think you can treat me like shit for no reason? Because if this is how it’s going to be all summer then I’m already real fucking tired of it.” 

   Cicadas are the only thing you receieve in return, the chirping filling the empty space between you and James. There’s nothing. There’s no apology to speak of, not even any retaliation. His face is void of emotion, hands dug into his pockets as he stands and stares. 

   His stare is intense and unmoving, but there’s something hidden behind it. It’s almost a sort of hollowness, as if this is something he’s been through a billion times before. It almost makes you falter, trying your hardest to search his eyes for any clues as to what he may be thinking. But his eyes are still those of a stranger’s, and you can’t place exactly what it is that he’s thinking. Shaking your head, you finally back down, taking a step back. 

   “I came here to apologise, and I did. I have nothing else to say,” you turn to the lodge and step towards the stairs, “But Marie didn’t deserve that shit you pulled tonight. I think she at least deserves an apology.” 

   The words hang between you in the night, heavy and oppressive. There’s a moment where your fingertips hesitate over the doorknob, casting one last look in James’ direction in hopes that he would say something. But he’s remained stoic, gaze set hard towards where you’re standing, hands shoved into his pockets. Shaking your head again, you step inside, leaving him in the dark. 

   Only when you’re gone does he rub his hands over his face and swear under his breath. With a sigh that holds the weight of the world, he takes begrudging steps back towards Marie and Wayne’s house. 

★

A/N: god pls bear with how slow and badly written this felt. anyways i hope you enjoyed jsdhgkjshdkjhgsdjg

[rollercoasterwords]

oookay. finished the secret history let’s go

so the book itself was split into two separate books, book I and book II. for clarity’s sake, im gonna further split it into 4 parts, part 1, 2, 3 and 4. 

so first quick summary 4 bg information (no spoilers, as promised!!)

so basically a group of sexually repressed 20-something gays push the first homophobe they see off a cliff

OR

we’re told of Bunny’s murder in the first 2 pages, separating the book from other crime novels in that most of it was less a whodunnit and more of a whydunnit. in part 1, we’re introduced to richard papen, the narrator, who applied to a college, Hampden, miles away from his home state bc the colours on the brochure were pretty. he falls in with a group of students who are studying ancient greek; henry, bunny, francis, and camilla and charles (twins). So for a while, things look awesome. richard’s at a good college, with a large and tight-knit group of friends. What could go wrong?

this part transitions into two after richard and bunny find out about something terrible the rest of the group did in the past.

in part 2, bunny starts to become hostile to his friends after learning of it, while richard is able to wrap his head around it quite quickly. It escalates to the point where bunny becomes a potential threat, in that he might spill the beans to someone else. here, henry begins to plan bunny’s murder, and the rest of group just sort of goes along with it. parts 1 and 2 were pleasant, and paced really quickly. i was hooked the entire time. part 3 gets a bit dull, but it picks up again after Bunny’s funeral and hits the ground running.

book one ends right before bunny dies, and book two starts right after.

part 3 opens into a police investigation for bunny, who is believed to be missing until they find his body. in this part, tensions within the group begin to escalate. most of p. 3 is spent at bunny’s family’s house, who have invited many people bunny knew to stay with them during the funeral proceedings.

part 4, i believe begins after bunny’s body is found. here everyone’s like REALLY on edge. I will say most of it was just richard and francis running around frantically together while charles slowly goes insane with paranoia that henry’s trying to kill him as well. yk what, some of charles’ dialogue in this part is unsettlingly reminiscent of a panicked letter written by bunny that was found only after his death. In the book, there was only one passage of it shown, but that was enough. reading it, one could practically hear the panic, the desperation in bunny’s voice, one later mirrored in charles. vv psychologically thrillery. Im having hannibal flashbacks actually

and ohhh my god the ending. It was the climax to end all climaxes rae. ill never get over it. It was bittersweet ig, like all the best endings are. 

one thing i noticed is that throughout the book, there are these like future reflections littered through. like ‘thinking back on it now, i wish i had. . .’  or ‘funny, that was the last time i ever saw him’, which have the story a sort of They Both Die at the End quality. yk, like a tragedy waiting to happen. I think i remember you doing something like that once, rae, in atydsp. I believe it was right in one of the summer 1977 chapters but i could be wrong. I think something like that really makes a story gut-wrenching, especially with the whole looming impermanence that the reader is all too aware of. the very last lines in the epilogue read, ‘I suppose at one time in my life I might have had any number of stories, but now there is no other. This is the only story I will ever be able to tell.’ see? whenever one of these bad boys is thrown in there, the scene changes from just a regular scene to something golden and significant. I think i once saw a post that read, ‘in movies time travellers are always scared of drastically changing their future by doing something small, but no one in the present ever things they can drastically change their future by doing something small’. thats what that reminds me of.

in the epilogue, richard refers to himself as a bystander, and he’s not wrong. he’s the narrator, of course, but in the end, the story’s not really about him. it’s about henry and bunny. I kind of get now, those lines at the end of the epilogue. Bunny’s death, and the events that subsequently followed, are so much more important than richard himself will ever be. 

TSH is famous for that one line henry has, when charles asks him how he could possibly justify cold blooded murder, and henry says, ‘I prefer to think of it … as a redistribution of matter.’ but the line that got to me the most personally was an unassuming one, camilla in the epilogue about her twin brother charles: ‘actually, charles and i dont really talk anymore. It’s broken my Nana’s heart.’ not that she and charles should ever be in the same room together ever (very fucked up things happened), but it’s just the impermanence of relationships. how two people who may be at one point inseparable just drift apart. it’s not any one big fight or falling out that snaps the thread of their connection, but that thread just wearing out and growing thinner and thinner until eventually nothing is left anymore. thats what gets to me.

andd also one thing that kept happening was that i’d accidentally (or on purpose) flip a few pages ahead and reading something really fucking deranged or unexpected and just be like ‘huh???? what??? how?????’ and i’d go back and read up to that point until it made sense. i’d love love LOVE to give examples but i’m not allowed spoilers :(( the book is just the right amount of deranged though it rlly tickles ur brain in just the right spots without being overly ick

I think someone said that it was a francis/richard/charles/camilla/henry love pentagon but its most like a love diamond. grab a pen and paper folks, it gets complicated. imagine charles at the top, francis on the left, richard at the bottom, and camilla on the right, with a line extending from camilla to henry. there thats tsh.

all in all 8/10!! if it’s on your reading list like you said it was, definitely move it to the top.

one day i WILL read tsh i promise!! unfortunately it cannot go to the top atm bc im working thru the books i already own 😔 love this review tho i honestly didn’t really know what the book was about & this actually sounds really good…

[mysgprop-cstee]

Aurea (Former Golden Mile Complex)

Aurea (Former Golden Mile Complex)

Aurea, a transformative masterpiece in the heart of Beach Road, seamlessly intertwines architectural heritage with modern sophistication, offering a unique canvas where residents craft their stories against the backdrop of Singapore's dynamic urban landscape. Priced To Sell Seeking for Early Birds for Launch ✔ Exclusive 186 Luxurious Residences ✔ By Esteemed Developers – Perennial Holdings, Sino Land, and Far East Organization ✔ Be Part of Beach Road District's Urban Renewal ✔ Nestled in a Historic and Vibrant Locale ✔ 6 minutes walk to Nicoll Highway/ Lavender MRT Station & Proximity to City Attractions ✔ Premier Educational Institutions within Reach: Stamford Primary School, Insworld Institute, Eton House International School, Nanyang Academy of Fine Arts, School of The Arts, Singapore ✔ Benefit from Accessibility to Key Expressways – A Gateway to Singapore's Central Business District and Beyond Book Appointment "Aurea: Your Home, Your History, Your Haven." Quick LinksBook Appointment Fact Sheet What's Nearby? Unit Mixes/ Diagrammatic Chart Typical Floor Plan Exteriors & InteriorsExteriors & Facilities Interiors Price Guide Payment Terms & Fee Download E-Brochure FAQsWhere is the showflat of Aurea Condo? When is the estimated completion for Aurea Condo?

Introduction

Aurea, a groundbreaking mixed-use development poised to elevate urban living to unprecedented heights in the heart of Singapore's Beach Road district. Formerly known as the Golden Mile Complex, Aurea is more than a real estate venture; it's a masterpiece meticulously designed to harmonize heritage with modernity. This transformation is not just about brick and mortar; it's a reimagining of a cultural icon that will redefine the city skyline and, more importantly, the way we experience urban life. As you step into Aurea, you step into a living legacy—an architectural marvel that encapsulates the spirit of the past while embracing the promise of the future. The consortium behind Aurea, comprising Perennial Holdings, Sino Land, and Far East Organization, brings a collective wealth of experience and a track record of success to this project. Their commitment to excellence and innovation ensures that Aurea isn't merely a condominium; it's a symbol of Singapore's dedication to pushing boundaries in urban development.

Former Golden Mile Complex (Aurea) Investors and buyers alike are drawn to Aurea for its unique blend of heritage preservation and modern sophistication. With 186 luxurious residential units offering a range of lifestyles, dynamic mixed-use spaces, and state-of-the-art amenities, Aurea stands as a testament to the consortium's vision for a vibrant and sustainable urban future. This development promises not just a residence but an immersive experience—a place where every detail is meticulously crafted to create an extraordinary living environment. Aurea's strategic location on Beach Road is more than a convenience; it's an invitation to immerse yourself in the pulse of the city. With seamless connectivity to public transportation, proximity to key attractions, and a plethora of nearby amenities, Aurea becomes a gateway to the best that Singapore has to offer. Investors recognize the potential for a thriving community and sustainable growth, while buyers envision a lifestyle that seamlessly blends the city's dynamic spirit with the tranquility of green spaces and cultural richness. LIVE Enrich Our Growing Community. LIVE refers to the style of architecture that perfectly blends nature with living. The design focuses on natural wind and air circulation, sunlight through floor-to-ceiling windows, and green areas that give residents the feeling of home in every step of the project. WELL Work-Life Balance WORK signifies easy to work solutions, specifically the project’s co-working space within the premises provides residents with a dedicated area to work or study without having to commute to an external office or library. This convenience can be especially beneficial for remote workers, students, or entrepreneurs living in the condo. LIFE Take Quality of Life to the next level. LIFE focuses on enhancing residents’ quality of life by providing a large common area to meet future living trends and to satisfy the lifestyles of all generations, with facilities such as the Club Houses, fully equippep Gymnasium, Lounge, a Family’s Pool, and a 50-meter swimming pool with a hydrotherapy system. Aurea's transformation from the Golden Mile Complex to a modern urban jewel symbolizes Singapore's commitment to architectural evolution. The project seamlessly integrates heritage and modernity, creating a masterpiece of urban living. Whether one is a resident, a business owner, or an observer, Aurea is set to leave a lasting impression on the Singapore landscape. It's not just a development; it's a canvas where convenience meets cultural richness, and urban vibrancy embraces tranquil escapes. Aurea invites residents to paint their own chapter in its story—a story of heritage reimagined, progress embracing the past, and a city reinventing itself. Fact Sheet TypeDescriptionsProject NameAurea (Former Golden Mile Complex)DeveloperJoint Venture between Perennial Holdings Ltd, Sino Land Company Ltd, & Far East Organization LtdLocation5001 Beach Road, Singapore 199588 (District 07)Tenure99 years leaseholdEstimated Completion2028Site AreaTBDTotal Units186 UnitsCar Park LotsEstimated 80% Aurea is the brainchild of a formidable consortium comprising Perennial Holdings, Sino Land, and Far East Organization. With a combined history rich in real estate expertise, this consortium brings a wealth of experience to the table. Their commitment to architectural excellence and urban innovation is evident in their successful ventures. The redevelopment of Aurea isn't just a project; it's a continuation of a legacy, showcasing the consortium's dedication to crafting avant-garde structures that redefine urban living.

Perennial Holdings Private Limited (50% stake) Perennial Holdings Private Limited is a company that is largely involve in the real estate and healthcare sector. Apart from their presence in Singapore, the company mainly have a huge presence in China. Other countries includes Malaysia, Indonesia and Sri Lanka. In total, Perennial has a combined portfolio of over 80 million square feet in floor area across the globe. Over in China, Perennial is a reputable commercial developer with experiences in large scale mixed and integrated developments. The group is also involve in the healthcare segments including the operations of Medical Centres, Elder and Senior Care, and Healthcare Hubs. Here in Singapore, Perennial is largely invested in the management of properties such as CHIJMES, Capital Singapore, Chinatown Point, and many more estate in prime areas. The vision of the group is to be a global leader in integrated real estate development, as well as healthcare company that continues enriching lives by serving and delivering value to stakeholders. Their continual establishment in strong relationships to create a long term growth will continue to sustain their business in time to come. Aurea will be the latest real estate development added to their portfolio here in Singapore.

Far East Organization and Sino Land (25%-25% stake) Far East Organization (FEO) is a real estate development organization that was founded back in 1960 by Singaporean Billionaire Ng Teng Fong. It is the biggest private real estate company in Singapore with different development industries including residential, commercial, retail, hospitality, industrial, and also healthcare sectors. In Singapore, FEO has been associate with several building real estates consisting of condo, workplaces, shopping centres, and hotels. FEO has a subsidiary firm over in Hong Kong well known as Sino Group. Collectively, they are worth over $40 billion in assets and has contributed jobs opportunities globally. Begun with modest starts, Ng’s parents were immigrants from China. He established FEO back in 1960 and finished their very initial residential property which comprise of 72 terrace houses in Serangoon Gardens. FEO later ventured into the hotel market the year after with the development of Singapura Forum Hotel over in Orchard Road. They continued their domination in Orchard Road over the years with added developments such as Singapore Hilton Hotel, Far East Shopping SCentre, Lucky Plaza, Orchard Plaza and more. By 1980s, FEO is the largest private real estate developer in Singapore. With their competitive land procurement, they were likewise the largest private landholder in Singapore. The company continued through the years as well as has survived multiple recession and also downturns. Over the years, FEO has actually attained a success that few can achieve. They have actually won numerous awards as well as continue to do so throughout the years. It is the only developer worldwide to win ten FIABCI Prix d’Excellence Awards. This is the highest possible honour that can achieve on a worldwide level. Together with Perennial, Aurea condo launch will be the latest joint partnership development to be constructed in District 07 of Singapore.

Unique Selling Points

- Heritage Preservation: Aurea retains the iconic Brutalist facade, ensuring the preservation of historical charm. - Luxurious Residential Units: 186 condos catering to diverse lifestyles, ranging from 1 to 4 bedrooms. - Dynamic Mixed-Use Spaces: Aurea offers vibrant retail, cafes, restaurants, and cultural venues, fostering a lively community. - Prime Location: Situated on Beach Road, Aurea provides easy access to public transportation and proximity to key attractions. - State-of-the-Art Amenities: Residents enjoy a range of amenities, including a gymnasium, clubhouse, swimming pool, and playground. - Cultural and Entertainment Spaces: Dedicated areas preserving the spirit of the former Golden Mile Complex. - Smart Nation Sustainability: Eco-friendly features aligning with Singapore's vision for a sustainable future. - Seamless Connectivity: Easy access to public transportation, with Nicoll Highway MRT station a short walk away. - Proximity to Key Attractions: Bugis Street, Singapore Flyer, and Marina Bay waterfront within easy reach. - Nature's Embrace: Tranquil green spaces nearby, including Fort Canning Park, offering a perfect escape from the urban buzz.

Project Unique Features

The Location

Aurea's strategic location at 5001 Beach Road is an urban oasis that caters to every facet of modern living. With seamless connectivity, residents find themselves just a short walk from the Nicoll Highway & Lavender MRT, providing swift access to key destinations in CBD such as Raffles Places, City Hall, Tanjong Pagar, Marina Bay Sands etc. This central location ensures that residents can effortlessly navigate the city, making Aurea an ideal choice for those who value convenience. The development is also well connected via major roads and highways such as Nicoll Highway, KPE, and ECP. For those seeking daily essentials and retail therapy, Aurea is surrounded by a vibrant tapestry of amenities. Grocery shopping is a breeze with nearby options like Sky Fox and Goh Chee Sheng Store, offering residents a variety of choices for their everyday needs. The proximity to shopping malls such as City Gate and The Concourse provides residents with diverse retail experiences, from high-end brands to local boutiques, all within reach.

MRT Map

Aurea's locale is a paradise for food enthusiasts, on top of the various local foods options along the Beach Road and Jalan Sultan, the Bugis Street just around the corner. Here, residents can explore a myriad of food stalls and eateries, each presenting an array of delectable dishes. The aromatic spices of local Singaporean cuisine blend seamlessly with international flavors, offering residents an eclectic mix of dining options. Bugis Street is not just a food destination; it's a cultural experience where street food vendors and charming cafes coalesce, creating a lively and dynamic atmosphere. For those seeking a more upscale dining experience, the Marina Bay area, within convenient reach from Aurea, offers a plethora of fine dining establishments. 

School of Arts Singapore The development is strategically positioned in the heart of Beach Road, offers a wealth of educational options within its proximity, making it an ideal choice for families seeking a well-rounded living experience. Within a 1-kilometer radius, Stamford Primary School stands as a beacon of academic excellence, providing residents with a highly regarded local option for primary education. For those looking for an international curriculum, Aurea is surrounded by renowned institutions such as Insworld Institute and Eton House International School, offering a global perspective and educational approach. Beyond primary and international schooling, Aurea's locale caters to the aspirations of tertiary education. The prestigious Nanyang Academy of Fine Arts (NAFA) and the School of The Arts, Singapore (SOTA), both esteemed institutions in the realm of arts and culture, are in close proximity. This not only provides educational opportunities for aspiring artists and performers but also enriches the cultural fabric of the community. Aurea's residents, whether they are parents looking for quality primary education, families seeking international schooling, or individuals pursuing higher education in the arts, find themselves surrounded by a diverse array of educational options that cater to their unique needs and aspirations.

Nearby Green Spaces Nestled near Aurea, the Kallang Basin stands as a verdant oasis, offering residents an idyllic escape from the urban hustle while providing a plethora of recreational opportunities. This waterfront park is a picturesque haven along the Kallang River, offering stunning views and a serene ambiance. For those seeking more active pursuits, Kallang Basin Park provides various sporting facilities. Visitors can enjoy facilities such as jogging tracks, cycling paths, and open spaces perfect for picnics or yoga sessions. The park's proximity to Aurea ensures that residents can easily incorporate a healthy and active lifestyle into their daily routine. Residents can also engage in water activities, such as kayaking, dragon boating, or simply basking in the beauty of the river. Other than Kallang Basin, other nearby recreation parks include Fort Canning Park, Marina Reservoir, Gardens By the Bay, and Marina Bay Sands.  Aurea's location is not just about proximity; it's about curating an immersive living experience that caters to the diverse needs and desires of its residents. From seamless transportation and shopping convenience to a rich culinary scene and educational facilities, Aurea's surroundings paint a picture of a community that seamlessly integrates into the vibrant fabric of Singapore's urban landscape. This carefully considered location makes Aurea an enticing proposition for both buyers seeking a luxurious lifestyle and investors eyeing sustainable growth in a prime location.

Aurea Location Map (StreetDirectory)

Aurea Actual Site What's Nearby? Trains (MRT) • NICOLL HIGHWAY MRT CC5 420m • LAVENDER MRT EW11 580m Groceries/ Shopping • Kallang Wave Mall 850m • Duo Tower and Duo Galleria, Mixed-Use Development at Ophir-rochor, Singapore (Commercial) (Green Mark Buildings) 910m • NTUC Fairprice (Kitchener Complex) 750m   Schools • Stamford Primary 860m • School Of The Arts, Singapore 1.87 km

Site Plan/ Floor Plan

The design concept involves the creation of a modular system, which integrates natural open space modules. These open space modules work in collaboration with the building’s structure to produce a range of distinctive with unique features. The site plan of Aurea has been thoughtfully designed to make the most of space while preserving a scenic environment that Singaporeans will appreciate. The developer, known for their dedication to creating high-quality properties with top-notch facilities, has poured their expertise into this development. Read the full article

[sageywritings]

Just My Luck

Sometimes you hit the jackpot, sometimes the jackpot hits you. Literally.

The decade mark! Chapter 10 of Flames of Change, my RWBY OC fic is here! If you wanna read up to this point, check the pinned post for the chapter list and as always, hope you web wanderers enjoy. Catch ya! Leo Vega and Alex Umberon belong to @wetsliceofbread

Sienna Umberon belongs to @gruntnuker-rwby

“Come to Mistral and awaken to whole new worlds.” A slogan every Mistrali was more than accustomed to, whether they wanted to be or not. It was plastered on every travel brochure or stapled to the end of every commercial from their tourism department. On one hand, it wasn't exactly fake advertising. Being home to a wide variety of diverse cultures and huge swaths of untouched natural beauty made it an ideal vacation spot for many. The perfect blend of traditional and modern. But on the other hand, it left the door open for more ���unsavory” types to make themselves home in. With such a vast kingdom to look after, it was easy for certain criminal groups and black markets to slip under the watchful eye of Mistral's central government, so long as they knew where to go. Criminal hot spots that pop up scattered through the dense forest. Like Kuchinashi.

Being the largest settlement for hundreds of miles and strategically placed on a key trade route, Kuchinashi attracted plenty of activity from the surrounding villages and tribes. Some came for highly rated restaurants, some for the closest taste of nightlife at their disposal. But others in what were called the “lower classes” were there for other reasons. Drug smugglers, assassins for hire, anyone evading the law. Throughout the labyrinth of streets and alleyways, particular establishments thrived in spite of - or because of - the street gangs that constantly crop up. As evident by the line of people trying to plead their cases to the imposing bouncer at the entrance, Orion Kuchinashi was one of those places. A group of humans employed every trick of flattery and bribery to the bear faunus guarding the door, but he stood there, stone faced and undeterred. He denied them access to one of the most electric scenes the whole continent had to offer. Great drinks, live music, an always populated dance floor. And for anyone hoping the gods favor them enough to luck into a quick buck, a gambling den hidden tucked away in one of the club's dark corners.  Mysteriously enough, the phrase “the house always wins” seemed to always cosmically reign true at Orion. But at one poker table tonight, someone was defying the odds among the lost souls swearing that one more round was all they needed to get their money back. 

It wasn't the monkey faunus with the graying beard, although he was merrily laughing and drinking away through his diminishing funds. It wasn't the red headed wolf faunus girl clacking one of her remaining stacks of chips in her hand behind a pair of sunglasses. It wasn't the butch hyena girl that was gripping her cards tighter with each passing hand that didn't go her way. It was all the lion faunus on the dealer's left coolly leaning back in his chair. Even just sitting down, anyone with eyes could tell his beyond impressive stature, especially as he stretched his arms to rest them behind his head. With his jacket hung on the chair he was in, his muscles were on full display from under the white tank top he was wearing, including a tribal tattoo stretched around his bicep. Pushing his wavy brown locks aside, his golden eyes honed in on his next two cards. A queen and a six. He stroked his goatee in thought before glancing away toward the sea of people on the dance floor. The rippling waves of energy could be felt from their table, until the slight buzz of the dealer’s wasp wings snapped the lion back into the game. Her practiced porcelain smile cracked just enough to show her impatience and annoyance hidden underneath. The lion gave her a wink that would swoon anyone regardless of sexuality before tossing in a couple chips to play the round out. After a swig of his drink, the monkey slapped his thigh with a hearty guffaw before calling the ante as well. The lion cocked an eyebrow, the other players groaned, and the dealer inched just a bit closer to the end of her rope.

“No need for the sour look, sweetheart! It’s not like the Kinshika can’t afford it!” The dealer’s professionalism never wavered, as she turned her focus to the next gambler in line.

“The who?” the lion asked without much thought. His relaxed tone certainly didn’t match the reaction he got from the rest of the table. Glares from the wolf and the hyena that would’ve pierced most into backing off. But, he just met them with a shrug. “What? I’m not from around here, just passing through.”

“Yeah like that ain’t obvious,” the wolf grumbled to herself. Again, the lion paid no mind. Right now, he let his growing stacks of poker chips do all the talking for him. But, the monkey took his opportunity to take center stage once more.

“They’re the blood and the poison of Kuchinashi! A parasitic pillar of the community! They’ve been around way longer than the neon signs have glowed through the fog around this town.”

“Get off the damn soapbox, old timer! This ain’t fuckin’ story time with the grandkids,” the hyena growled before tossing her cards away in a frustrated fold. But the lion leaned forward in his chair. He was no closer to having his question answered. The only thing he was able to decipher from that was that this monkey faunus has some flair for the dramatic. He gestured for him to go on.

“Ya see, my boy, in Kuchinashi, a new street gang shows up here at least once a week. They’re all flashes in the pan though, some punks in way over their heads, maybe some Haven dropout trying to become a hitman for hire.” He made a theatrical shooing motion with his hand, accidentally almost flinging his cards in the process. Maybe the hyena was right, he’s not sober enough for exaggeration. “But not the Kinshika Family. They’ve been around for generations. Ever since Old Man Kinshika was just a low level nobody hustling these streets himself!”

“So they’re a gang,” the lion chimed in. “Take it they’re a big deal around here?” The monkey let out a “ha!” that came directly from his belly.

“So big of a deal that when the White Fang came into the area, they didn’t wanna mess with them. They knew better than to challenge the Kinshika, so they entered a pact together. The Family’s been a loyal subsidiary ever since.” It was like the monkey was spinning a yarn to buddies he had drunk with countless times before, not some strangers competing for his money at a poker table. The lion nodded.

“Interesting. Lemme guess, they're tied with this place?”

“They own this place, boy! Now that Old Man Kinshika is exactly that, an old man, he enjoys the lap of luxury and leaves the hard part of running the empire to his lieutenants. And the kids he wants to inherit it all one day. His grandson, Kenzo, runs this place now. But between you and me, I think he's enjoying the jet set nightclub lifestyle a bit too much. This place is a staple of the Kinshika's cash flow, you know. If he was to fumble it, well..”

“Your move, sir,” the dealer interrupted sternly, trying to put a sudden stop to him airing her boss’ business in the open. He folded his hand and hushed to take another sip of his liquor. The other two players were just relieved he finally shut his trap. This left the lion with the wolf, the latter of which upping her bet to try and raise the stakes. By this point, another six and queen had entered the field of the play. The lion didn't flinch. Not until a third six was revealed as the final card. Full house. Jackpot. The deadpan facade behind the sunglasses dropped as the wolf faunus scowled. Meanwhile the lion went in the opposite direction, finally letting a smirk of smug elation loose. As he leaned back again, he still seemed split between the poker game and the dance floor, where a commotion was arising at the front door. A group of men clad in cheaper looking suit jackets and White Fang masks were demanding all the attention as they stepped inside. Perhaps they didn't want to upstage High Leader Taurus by stealing his style. Out from in between two large bodyguards ambled a younger looking man with a pair of deer antlers protruding from slicked back blonde hair. He was the only one in the group whose jacket actually looked designed and not some ridiculously cheap knockoff.

“That’s him. Kenzo Kinshika,” the monkey said while drunkenly elbowing the lion. The lion intently watched as his boys dispersed to a booth and began cracking their way into a couple bottles of champagne to entertain their “lady friends”. On the house’s tab of course. One bodyguard made his way to the bathroom, but Kenzo stayed put and surveyed the sights, the sounds, everything that made this his kingdom. The look in his eyes made it clear he was looking for a woman to score for himself tonight, even as the bruising tiger faunus guard that still flanked him began to carve a path through the masses to lead Kenzo upstairs to his office. But instead, that woman found him. The golden prince was intercepted by what he could only describe as his perfect wet dream come true. Her blonde hair cascaded flawlessly down her shoulders, with purple highlights shining in the club’s strobe lighting. The towering platform boots she was still somehow grooving in lifted her to accentuate every single gorgeous curve from under her dress. A pair of fox ears flicked playfully on her head while her tail wrapped around Kenzo’s waist. To have this fall into Kenzo’s lap, not even have to hunt for the finest catch in the club to 

“Looks like he’s the only guy luckier than me in the building tonight,” the lion chuckled before rising from his chair. “Getting too crowded for my tastes so imma cash out.”

“Sir, you can’t cash out yet, you’ve paid for another hour. You’ll lose your deposit if you choose to leave,” the dealer told him. She made a move to try and block him, but it was like a sedan meeting an 18-wheeler with how much he dwarfed her. The only move he made toward the casino employee was another core rattling smirk as he continued putting on his jacket.

“Then let them fight for my pot. Looks like they need it more than me.” With that, he turned to leave, flashing all the poker participants a peace sign over his shoulder on the way out. They were all left befuddled, and he even caught a mumble of “What was that about” as he departed. Soon enough, even his 6’5 body disappeared from their views amongst the dancing mob. He passed by right by the antlered club owner and what he was hoping would be his escort for the evening before heading into the same bathroom.

“Yeah I own this place,” he could hear Kenzo briefly over the twenty other conversations fighting against the music. The stunning fox’s eyes lit up with excitement as she wrapped one arm around his shoulder before trailing it down his side. Her other hand reached for a hand fan she had on her - where she stashed it was a mystery Kenzo was dying to solve.

“Really? Like that’s so fun! Ummmm what would you say is the best part about it?” she said while fanning herself, covering her mouth in the process but her eyes peered sharply over it. She had the exact kind of trill voice he was imagining. Complete bimbo. He smirked.

“Getting to meet smokeshows like you. What’s your name, cutie?” he said.

“I’m Alex!” the fox replied with a bubbly giggle. All it did was begin revving Kenzo’e engine into even higher gear.

“Well, Alex, glad you walked into Kenzo Kinshika’s club?” She giggled again, mouth still covered to make it look even more adorably innocent. Interrupting for a moment, the guard tapped his boss on the shoulder, motioning that they need to leave. But Kenzo shooed his hand away, and Alex took him by both his hands, wrapping her tail around his waist to keep him dancing. Reaching a hand around, Kenzo firmly grabbed her ass, pulling her close to the point where they were rubbing against each other. There was no resistance from Alex, the only thing she had to resist was the urge to hum by biting her bottom lip. After allowing this for a few more minutes, again the bodyguard intervened. Kenzo again shot him a glare. He wanted to ask who do you think you are, wanted to assert that he was the heir to everything around here. But, his father and grandfather wouldn’t appreciate any infighting amongst their ranks. So, he turned to Alex.

“Lemme get you a drink. I got some special top shelf collection up in my office.” Alex eagerly nodded and took his hand, so he could lead the way, even though the guard led them both. Up a flight of stairs and down a hallway later, he brought them to a fine wooden door. The pair of lustbirds were too distracted with both eyes and both hands on each other to notice the guard attempt to signal to a “Frankie” via his earpiece once, then twice. When it appeared as if he got no answer, he tried to turn to Kenzo but the door was inadvertently shut in his face. With that, he just had to assume Frankie was with the other boys downstairs and couldn’t hear him. The music could cover anything. He had no choice but to assume his post at the door. Inside, the office was dimly lit, almost as if to set the mood, with what lighting being offered centered around a lamp on his desk. A baseball bat autographed by some former pro that his dad got for him rested on a stand behind his desk next to a bottle of high grade vodka. Pouring two drinks mixed with some soda he kept in his mini fridge, he slid one of the glasses over to his date. By the time he sat down in his overly comfy yet overpriced chair, the blonde bombshell had slammed her drink down in once guzzle. Kenzo was petrified with aroused shock.

“Wow. You don’t beat around the bush, do you?” Alex shook her head seductively, which only amplified Kenzo’s racing heartbeat. “Good. Then why don’t we quit wasting time and get right to it then?” Clearly undoing his pants, with one hand, he points below the desk. The fox licked her lips. First putting one gargantuan heel on the desk then the other, she slowly crawled on all fours on the desk toward him. Every move, every sway of her tail or sashay of her hips, in Kenzo’s mind she was begging for this. She wrapped one hand around his tie and pulled him so their faces were mere centimeters apart. Warm breath trickled down his neck as Alex’s lips parted. His heart nearly thumped out of his chest with anticipation.

“I’ve been told I’m the best fucks around.” Kenzo paused slightly. Her voice suddenly lost that bimbo quality. She spoke more confidently, and her pitch dropped. She didn’t sound as feminine as before, just enough to fuzz the gender radar, not helped by his two heads now thinking in opposite directions. “My ass is just that damn good. Even with the pole pretending to be a hole. Leo could tell you that. Isn’t that right, babe?” Kenzo’s shock magnified at seeing a massive silhouette emerging from a dark corner in the room. How the hell he didn’t notice a lion faunus that size was beyond him.

“Damn right, babe,” the lion called Leo spoke up. When his body finally broke through f its paralysis and caught up with his brain, Kenzo made a panicked reach for the bat. Alex yanked him by the makeshift leash around his neck to put a stop to that, and pulled him right so the cold steel of a dagger tip from one of this now retracted fans met his throat. Hearing the commotion, the bodyguard burst through the door. While radioing for backup and hoping the Kinshika Family guys were still sober enough to assist, he wasted no time in facing Leo and nailing him with the hardest punch he could muster right to his chin. It would’ve had any normal rowdy patron coughing up teeth for days. But Leo didn’t budge. It was like punching granite.

“Yeahhh that doesnt work on him. Wanna show him what you did to his poor friend in the bathroom, Leo?” Alex said. Leo grinned right into the tiger’s face, who had barely even move his fist away from Leo. Fingers adorned with silver modified brass knuckles stretched in ready as his knuckles cracked. A surprise ear clap discombobulated the tiger enough to get some space. He covered up, but Leo delivered a shot to the gut so hard it lifted him off the ground. Then a straight shot between the tiger’s arms to the nose. Then a second. Then a third. Reeling, the tiger bounced off the bookcase behind him directly into a forearm smash. Punch to the right temple. Then the left. Then one to the left ear. The unrelenting berserker teed off until an uppercut took him off his feet. He was unconscious before his face even met the floor. At this point, Kenzo tried to make a mad dash out the open door for freedom, but Alex was far too quick, flipping out of his chair and leaving him on his back facing up at a wall of a lion faunus. Leo picked him up by the collar.

“Y-you’re fuckin’ crazy! What is your deal?” Kenzo shouted, trying to cling to any shred of that authority and swagger he sauntered into Orion with.

“Awww is someone mad they fell for the surprise sausage? Don’t worry baby I have a cage that can basically make it disappear and I can bend over and moan like the rest of them,” Alex said with that same bimbo giggle to taunt him. While he wouldn’t admit it, Kenzo was more angry at the betrayal of Alex being the most convincing femboy in all of Remnant more than anything that happened to one of his own men. Still, he scowled nonetheless.

“You fucking freak! Let go of me or I’ll have every thug in Kuchinashi on my payroll to kill you!” Leo lifted him, pressing him over his head as if he weighed as much as a feather, before slamming him hard onto his back. In the moment he spent winded on the floor, Alex stomped one of these heels onto his chest.

“Ooooh shouldn’t have said the f-word in front of him. You’re right though. I am one freaky bitch. But only he’s allowed to say it.” The heel pressed harder onto Kenzo’s sternum, causing him to writhe even harder. He wanted to pull at Alex’s ankle, but the shadow being cast by his looming “babe” - and what he just did to his personal security - convinced him otherwise. “Relax, all I need is some info and I’ll be out your hair and you can enjoy your drink and do whatever boring vanilla guys do in their spare time. The name Sienna Umberon. Ring any bells?” Kenzo shook his head in bewilderment. That question was almost as startling as Alex’s ruse. Almost.

“W-what are you talking about? Y-you guys are mad! If you’re huntsmen, you don’t act like any other ones I’ve seen before!” Kenzo yelled. Leo motioned for Alex to step aside before kneeling down on the deer’s chest, driving the air out of him. He grabbed him by the antlers like a pair of handlebars and forced him to face Alex. Alex sighed, though the playful, toying look never faded. This only irritated Kinshika further. “Don’t you know who my family is? You can’t do this!”

“My gods, you are a stereotype. Is every rich heir of something remotely important just a stuck up prick? Can’t take anything besides the stick up your ass?” Alex laughed.

“He couldn’t even take my pinky,” Leo let out a low, satisfying growl. Depending on who you were, it would either scare someone down to their bones or turn them on in ways they never would’ve pictured. Kenzo was definitely the first one, which caused Leo’s grin to only grow. “Maybe we should ask the Old Man instead.”

“Fuck you!” Kenzo barked with the might of a chihuahua.

“Hey, back on track here,” Alex said while snapping his fingers at him. “We know a lot of White Fang activity is centered in Mistral. Kuchinashi is a major hub, and allegedly these are your streets. So you should know some of what the Fang is doing. So I’ll ask again, and this time you’re gonna answer. Sienna Umberon. What do you know?”

“How would I know anything? I hardly pay attention in those meeting with the White Fang brass anyways. They don’t really concern me,” he finally answered after a moment to ponder.

“What, figured daddy would take care of it all so you wouldn’t have to listen?” Leo grumbled at the pompousness, especially at Kenzo’s shrug. He couldn’t deny it. “What about the raid on the Ospreay estate?”

“H-how would I know anything about that? That’s a whole continent away! Not to mention it’s a bit above my pay grade.”

“Then who do I need to speak to, your manager?” Alex chimed in, hands on his hips. Kenzo raised his arms over his head in lack of understanding of what Alex wanted from him. Alex wasn’t sure either. But he knew he wanted more than this.

“Look, all the Kinshika Family does for the White Fang is disrupt the trader caravans in the area. They loan us some manpower in exchange for a cut of whatever we raid for them. And for the agreement to leave our turf to us.” Alex’s ears flattened. Arms folded and head down, he tapped his foot on the ground. It wasn’t even close to what he was hoping to hear, but it was at least something. He felt like that described the past few months to a tee. Reaching into his boot, he with drew a small piece of paper. It was still neatly folded, and on the front in flowery penmanship written in purple ink was one lone word: “Sienna”. He knelt down next to Kenzo and held the letter out, glaring at him until he unsteadily accepted it between his fingers before Alex let go.

“See to it that this gets to Miss Umberon by whatever channel you gotta go through. Whatever chain of command you need to go up, you make sure it gets there every step of the way.”

“What do I look like, a fuckin’ mailman? I’m not doing that!” Kenzo scoffed. Leo wrenched on his antlers once more, forcing the golden deer back into submission.

“You’re gonna do it, because otherwise we’re coming back. And we’ll bring more huntsmen. And if we were able to get to you by ourselves, do you really wanna test your luck against more? Even if you do win, it’ll still be a massive headache that I’m sure your granddad doesn’t wanna deal with. Double so for the Fang.” Kenzo’s eyes darted away in begrudging acceptance of the fox faunus’ point. “So unless you really want that blowjob, I doubt you really wanna see us again.” Kenzo���s muscles flared with renewed rage at the reminder of why he was stuck in this situation in the first place. He was supposed to have a cherry picked one night stand over a couple drinks, not a night being held hostage.

“You think you’ll even make out this building tonight? I’ll have every one of my men try and take you down,” Kenzo reaffirmed.

“Who’s gonna tell them, you?” Alex let out a sultry snicker. “Gonna do that from the dream world?” Kenzo didn’t even have time to question before the last thing he saw, five furious knuckles from Leo quickly bearing down upon him, knocked him out like a light. Standing up, Leo dusted himself off and shook his hand a little.

“I mean I wouldn’t have blamed him if he said yes. It is the best blowjob I’ve ever had,” said Leo, smirking at his shorter partner. Shying up a little, Alex couldn’t contain his blush, before nudging Leo and looking away. It did nothing to disrupt the lion’s balance. “And there it is. You almost coulda fooled me with the dominant act you were pulling off.”

“Ugh, that does not feel natural. Really not my style, but douchebags like him make it easy.” Alex adjusted his dress before both of his daggers opened up into fans once more. One stayed out in front of him while the other was at his side. He slowly creaked the door open and peeked down the hallway. There wasn’t a soul in sight. “Now let’s get outta here before anyone sobers up enough to question where their boss is.” Out the door, then down the hallway, then sneaking their way into a fire escape staircase. It was eerily quiet all the way downstairs apart from the muffled booming bass that was doing its fair share of masking their exit. The back door shot open followed by an outstretched clenched fist with its knuckles glowing red from fire dust. But, the only thing there for Leo to see was an empty back lot aside from a couple of raccoons rummaging a dumpster for a late night snack. As he stepped out, the glow from hus knuckle dusters dissipated, and the crisp air and cooling rain met his skin. Alex followed suit, checking for any security cameras on the building, but the only one he could spot was out of commission. With ease, Leo lifted his boyfriend over the fence scaling the chain link behind him as silently as possible. The two checked both directions before seamlessly blending in with the other foot traffic on the street.

“Let’s head back to the inn. We’ll probably have till tomorrow morning before anyone figures out what happened to Kinshika. If he has enough wits to remember us, he’ll probably have a bounty on our heads. We can’t stay in Kuchinashi any longer, so we’ll head out at dawn and check out those trader caravans he was talking about.” He avoided looking up to make eye contact, the rain was annoying enough. He was growing jealous of the pedestrians passing by with umbrellas. Leo, however, seemed unbothered by the rain.

“Alex,” Leo said in more of a concerned sigh straight from the heart than a statement. It drew Alex directly to notice. He reached for Leo’s hand and held it tight. “You really sure about this?”

“Huh? Yeah, we’re huntsmen. The people who depend on those goods need our help. It’s what we signed up for, isn’t it?” Alex responded with a question of his own, confused as to why Leo was asking to begin with.

“You’re not doing this to be a huntsman, though.” There it was. Alex’s tail instantly tucked and he brought his hand back. How was he gonna defend himself this time? “I’m… I’m just worried about you babe. You’ve been letting this chase after your sister consume you. Don’t get me wrong it’s been great getting to help the villages out here and do actual huntsman jobs, but… it’s been a lot. Basically ever since we last saw her before the fall it’s been nonstop.”

“I know she’s out there somewhere. I know it. That bitch is too stubborn to die,” Alex said adamantly. Leo nodded. He knew Sienna too well to disagree with that. But while it registered, it did little to sway him.

“It’s been months now and we don’t even have actual proof she joined the White Fang.”

“Trust me, she’s got a track record. No one knows that flammable idiot better than me. You weren’t there when we were in the Fang as kids.” The desperation was beginning to seep through his words, emotion overcoming him more and more. “I’d never go back. I can’t stand what they’ve become today. But her…”

“Do you really think running roughshod on some of the Fang’s most notable just to hand deliver them these notes is the way to do it? Do you think they’d even make it to Sienna and not just get thrown away?”

“I-I just need one of them to get to her! If she reads one of those notes then maybe it’ll convince her… Leo, you just have to trust me on this one, please.” Again, Leo sighed. He stopped his walk to fully face the younger Umberon twin by only a few minutes, running his fingers through his rain soaked hair. If the pleading puppy dog eyes could convince Leo to buy him a new outfit, then surely they would work for something that was much more meaningful. Leo moved a hand to one of Alex’s fox ears and gave it a gentle rub, causing him to push into his hand with a slight hum.

“I’m still with you. Always will be. I just worry about you. I love you, you asshat.” Launching into a hug, Alex rested his head on the lion faunus’ chest as he caught him. No matter where they were, it was Alex’s safest place.

“I love you too. And thank you so much.” The rain suddenly didn’t bother Alex anymore. The cold couldn’t reach him now. But still, it was his turn to sigh heavily. “I do miss Beacon though. When life was easier. When our only worry was what to wear. Sometimes I wonder if we shoulda kept going with our Onlyfans. We were making mad money off of it.”

“I would’ve been chill with the pornstar lifestyle,” Leo laughed. “But you’re right. This is what we signed for, what we trained for at school. Helping these people has been satisfying as hell.” Scooping up Alex with one arm under his butt, he brought him to face level so they could finally look in each other’s eyes. Each of them found an ocean of relief in the other’s gaze, which was felt in the fleeting but passionate kiss that came next. Leo smiled. “Now c’mon, let’s get out this rain. We got a nice shower and a warm bed calling our names.” Alex kept his arms firmly around his partner so he could be carried the whole way back. The only time either of them harshed the soothing peace they found in one another the whole way back was from Alex.

“Hey Leo.”

“Yeah?”

“You know when we find Sienna I’m gonna slap the fuck out of her right? She pissed off her own kryptonite and I hope she knows it.”

“That’s what twins do.”

Somewhere, stealthily jetting through the night skies high above Remnant, Sienna sat on a transport cruising back to headquarters. The mission report to turn in was complete. The celebrations of a successful mission at Beacon had long since ended. Dusty was laid out on a bench across from her asleep, and Karma was finally beginning to doze off next to him after pacing away her energy. But Sienna still sat awake. The memories Solomon forced to spin back into her head resembled more of a tornado than a washing machine’s spin cycle. Leaning over, she withdrew a piece of paper from her back pocket. It was given to her by some other captain she had never encountered before or since.  It was still neatly folded, and on the front in flowery penmanship written in purple ink was one lone word: “Sienna”. Exhaling a deep breath, she unfolded it and read the very brief message for what felt like the two dozenth time.

“Please reconsider. We love you.” -Alex

“Sorry Alex. You’ve just never gotten it. You may never forgive me, but I’ll never forgive every motherfucker we grew up with for what they did to us. This is the only way it’ll change, and if one us has the balls to do it, it might as well be me.”

[propertysalessingapore]

Aurea

Find out on this upcoming mixed development, Aurea, in District 7, please click on the following links: LOCATION | PRICE | PROJECT DETAILS | FLOOR PLAN | BROCHURE | SHOWFLAT PREVIEW The renowned Golden Mile Complex, a prominent landmark along Beach Road, has undergone a remarkable metamorphosis. Acquired in 2022 for an impressive SGD700 million by a consortium comprising Perennial Holdings Ltd,…

[vistashr22]

A Bunch of Lanceheads

Located about 90 miles off the coast of São Paulo, Ilha de Queimada Grande (also known as Snake Island) is one of the most dangerous islands in the entire world. The site earned its moniker due to its insanely high density of golden lancehead vipers; some studies report an average of one to five snakes per square meter. The slithering, reptilian, and sometimes venomous creatures kill thousands of people around the world every year. The last human inhabitants left the island when the lighthouse was automated. 

The Adventurists 

Founded by a plonker called Tom, the Adventurists has grown into the planet's greatest purveyor of chaos and adventure. Creators of #MongolRally #RickshawRun, #MongolDerby & more, this team fights to make the world less boring. They have an unimaginable network of people who are ready to create adventures where you don’t know what will happen tomorrow or if you’ll even make it. Each Adventure is led by a new psychic exploring enthusiast that brings in a new spirit of craziness and absolute insanity.

Task in Hand – 

Tom Morgan had received a Letter that challenged the Adventurists to take an expedition to the Ilha de Queimada Grande, Brazil. You are the Chief of Everything Officer and are required to plan the following:

Name the Expedition and Nominate a Personality that would lead this expedition

Strategies to Recruit a new team of adventure enthusiasts.

Training Programs for the Expedition crew

Device a set of safety measures for the expedition

Illustrate the various adventures for the expedition

Prepare a Timeline for the Expedition

Deliverables - 

A report of not more than 7 Pages

A PPT of not more than 7 Slides

A Brochure

P.S - Extra efforts = Extra points

Submission Details:

Deadline- 8:00 AM , 22nd September, 2022.

Email- vistashr22@gmail.com

Email Subject- ECOXX_A Bunch Of Lanceheads

In case of any queries or doubts, you may contact any of the event heads.

[fanfic-collection]

Loki x Reader: College Au - 8

Please please comment

-

The two of you walked up to the museum doors, shyly stealing looks at the other person from moment to moment.

Showing your student ID’s, you were let into the museum.

You let out a soft gasp as you arrived in the entryway of the museum, tall glass ceilings arching overhead.

Loki walked over and grabbed a brochure. He held it up. “Proof that we were here. Part of the assignment.”

You nodded, still gazing around in awe. Loki looked at you with a guarded yet similar expression, so you didn’t notice. When you looked back at him, he was expressionless, looking around the room.

“Where do we start?” You asked.

Loki walked over with the brochure and held it out to you. It was a museum of art and natural sciences.

“May as well just see where the path takes us.” Loki offered. His eyes flickered down towards your hand then he instead turned and motioned for you to follow.

You glanced at his hand and thought about holding it. That was probably too forward.

When you walked into the next room, a giant whale skeleton hung from the ceiling. It took up the entire length of the room on the ceiling and people milled about, walking underneath it and looking up at it. Young children pointed at the bones in awe, adults too.

You gazed up at it, the sheer size of the whale overwhelming you.

Loki looked up at the whale too, though for some reason, he did not seem quite as impressed.

“Have you seen an animal this big before?” You gasped softly. “I could sit inside the rib cage and roll around.”

Loki chuckled. “In my home, there are some large animals. But this one… It is impressive.”

You elbowed him playfully. “Sure, sure, everything’s better at home.”

He smiled easily back at you. “Sorry, I shouldn’t compare.”

“I’d like to go on a whale watching tour someday, that could be neat.”

Loki nodded thoughtfully. “Come.” Without thinking he grabbed your arm and pulled you in the direction of the stairs.

You tried to avoid looking at his hand touching your arm, but you could hide the giddiness you felt.

The two of you hurried up the stairs and saw the room split into three sections, one in each direction. Loki pointed to the right, letting go of your arm and walked in that direction. You sighed inwardly at the loss of his touch.

“This is the art wing.” Loki explained, looking down at the brochure.

You looked around as you walked through the hall, art decorating the walls and glass boxes protecting other pieces – sculptures.

The first piece you stopped at was a beautiful woman, she was frowning and there were tears in her eyes.

Loki put his hands in his pockets and gazed up at it.

“She’s beautiful.” You commented mildly, glancing at him to see his response.

Loki nodded and cast a look back at you. “She is.”

“Why do you think she’s crying?”

“Some say there’s beauty in suffering.”

“Do you believe that?” You asked, tilting your head and looking at the background.

“I’m not sure. I think life is more beautiful when you’re happy.” Loki paused. “Though I suppose you can appreciate beauty so much more when you’ve known sadness.” He seemed lost in thought as he gazed at the painting, mind a thousand miles away.

You didn’t want to break him from his reverie, so you clasped your hands behind your back. Your thoughts traveled, wondering what sadness he knew. He was well off, clearly, by the way he dressed and his posh demure suggested aristocracy. And yet, everyone could know sadness despite the gifts they had been blessed with in life. You thought of how Loki was the younger brother to a golden athletic older brother. Thor, star of the football team. Loki was more interested in softer pursuits it seemed, though when it came time to play rugby on the campus lawns or any other sport, Loki held his own just as easily as Thor did. He was fast and lean, sometimes you wondered why he wasn’t involved with any of the sports teams. Whatever his reason, he seemed to enjoy the arts.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Loki’s voice startled you from your wondering.

“She’s just really well done.” You smiled.

“Shall we continue?” Loki moved over to the next painting.

You followed him. The painting was bright oranges and reds. Paint had been applied in such a way that it seemed more three dimensional than just a regular painting.

“Leaves?” You offered. “Like autumn?”

“Or fire.” Loki replied. “Look how the flames grow up the side.”

“I thought that was the leaves falling.”

Loki tapped his chin thoughtfully. “It doesn’t say.”

“I guess that’s the thing about art, it’s open for interpretation.”

“Yes, as long as it makes you feel something, the artist has succeeded.”

“What do you feel?”

Loki looked down at you then back at the painting. “Content I suppose.” He smiled at you. “And you?”

“Confused.” You laughed. “Is it leaves or fire?”

“Perhaps we’re both wrong. Perhaps it is just a red and orange painting.”

You giggled and elbowed him.

The two of you turned away. There was a sculpture made of scrap metal of a family of cats.

“Well at least this one isn’t open to interpretation. Those are definitely cats.” You put your elbow in your hand and rest the other hand under your chin.

“I think that’s a safe assumption.” Loki pointed at the name of the piece: A Family of Cats.

You felt your cheeks heat up and clasped your hands in front of you, rocking on your feet. “Right. I should’ve noticed that.”

“You were appreciating the beauty of the art, there’s nothing wrong with that.” Loki smiled at you.

You ducked your head and nodded. “Yea sure.”

On you went to more pieces, more exhibits. The two of you talking about them for ages. You could have spent hours in this part of the museum, just talking about the different paintings, how they made you feel, what you thought they represented. Loki was so insightful with his commentary; he clearly took his class very seriously and enjoyed it.

The two of you travelled to the next area. There were animals from all periods of history, placed in different glass cases. Other animals stood in miniature plots of land in different exhibits. Mini sections cut out of the biome they lived in.

You stopped at a jungle exhibit. Large black cats lounged in the tree, a small spotted cat hid in the bushes, and birds of all types hung from ropes to simulate flight.

“You like jaguars?” You asked, noting that the big cats had caught his eye.

“I do. They’re such magnificent creatures. Majestic, powerful, cunning. What about you?”

You told him your favorite animal and the two of you looked around, trying to find an exhibit that included one. “I just think they’re delightful.” You said as the two of you finally came to one.

Loki grinned. “I imagine so.”

Then there were different skeletons, mostly still living animals, part of you wanted to see a dinosaur or something extinct. Just so you could see something you had not seen before.

Then you went to the third section. This one showed manmade marvels. Different electrical pieces that you could interact with by pressing buttons. A simulated tornado. Ocean waves in a miniature container that were being used to create electricity through hydropower.

There was even a kinetic sand table that you could make different shaped objects out of.

Loki picked up some and carefully sculptured a green horned helmet. He snickered as he stared at it, turning it this way and that to inspect it.

“Wow, that’s really good.”

He seemed startled by your comment and quickly crushed the piece. You grabbed some pink sand and made a heart.

“It’s lovely.” Loki said, wrapping his arm around you and squeezing you against him.

Quickly, he cleared his throat and stepped away.

You coughed into your hand as you set the heart back down, smooshing it.

By now it was late evening and the day had been spent at the museum. The two of you left, idle chatter shared as you walked, and once you were outside – Loki turned towards you.

“Do you, perhaps want to get dinner?” He paused then quickly added, “nothing special, just you know.” He trailed off.

“There’s a burger place not too far away that I hear makes really great burgers.” You offered shyly. “I’ve had friends tell me about it.”

“I’ve never been to it.”

“Want to go? We can both experience it for the first time. Hopefully we’ll decide it’s as good as people say.”

“I’d like that.”

[boxoftheskyking]

Pick Up Every Piece, Part Four

Ugh this took forevvvvver

I know that the MDZS map is like based on actual China, so my apologies to whatever Yiling is based on. I need a shithole for this story, and Yiling’s it.

In which Lan Zhan follows A Story

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

----

Early November 2000

Lan Zhan is headed back to Moling. It’s not a trip that he particularly enjoys, anymore. He takes the train these days, since he got rid of his car.

He used to drive the 45 minutes there twice a week when he and Liu Shirong were first dating, before they moved in together in Caiyi. There used to be a sense of anticipation, enjoyment, each landmark and familiar turning a step closer to someone he wanted to see. An arm across his back, a kiss to his jaw, Shirong reaching up on tiptoe to greet him. He’d pick up Shirong at school and they’d wave out the window at the little kids in the schoolyard. Bye, Teacher Liu! Moling was an escape, an innocent place, somewhere far away from the darkness and dirt he spent his days sifting through.

Dear Shirong. He’s a good man. Short, kind, a silly gasping laugh. Desperate for children. He has two now, and a husband. Lan Zhan has lunch with him occasionally.

Now that he thinks about it, their last lunch was over a year ago. He supposes that doesn’t count as “occasionally” anymore. He could reach out first, if he wanted to. But he’s never been the type to reach out. Shirong has a life, a family, all the things he always wanted. All the things Lan Zhan couldn’t give him.

“I cannot imagine myself with a child,” he’d said when they broke up. He hadn’t intended for it to actually be a breakup—he hadn’t really thought that far ahead. But Shirong had visited an actual agency the day before and handed him a brochure, and Lan Zhan had left the apartment and driven into the mountains in a blind panic. He’d ended up stopped outside someone’s cabin, all the way up their driveway, and parked outside this stranger’s house until he’d gotten his breathing under control. That’s one of the reasons he’d sold the car. He’d never done that before, taken off like that, trespassed on private property, so getting rid of the car was the safest option. 

Precept 45 of the Lan Clan: Do not act impulsively.

Precept 213: Be strict with yourself.

Precept 341: When faced with temptation away from the righteous path, remove the source of temptation.

His brother finds his interest in the old clan rules an amusing idiosyncrasy. Even his uncle, strict as he is, finds the rules nothing more than an heirloom, evidence of some kind of hereditary virtue but nothing relevant to the modern day.

It’s not that he follows them. He just likes to know them, to turn them over in his mind. As options. When faced with a decision, there’s a comfort in turning to generations of dead Lans for guidance. Some people like astrology.

There are a lot of Lans, these days, enough that he’s never met a good number of cousins. There’s plenty of Lans he’s barely related to at all, at this point, but the name still has a good reputation. It’s the opposite of what the Wens have to deal with, those who weren’t involved in the insurrection. Everyone knows the old clans are ancient history and you can’t judge someone on their family name. But still, no one named Wen is going to find work in Lanling anytime soon. 

The point is, the Lans have survived and multiplied, so whatever kept them going in the old days can’t be completely useless.

His original interest in the rules was mostly as a journalist, which he’d hoped his uncle might understand. Every rule implies a story. A reason. Thousands of them mean you can triangulate an entire context. Who were we? How did we get here? What did we lose, and how?

Precept 9: Do not speak dishonestly.

Precept 77: Do not make promises that you cannot honor.

“I cannot imagine myself with a child,” he’d said.

Don’t worry, Lan Zhan, we’ll figure it out together. “I’m not sure I want to imagine myself with a child.” It will be different when it’s ours. You’ll see. “The more you talk about it, the less sure I am.” That’s okay, Lan Zhan, I can be sure enough for the both of us.

“I don’t want this. I don’t want this with you.”

Precept 424: Do not be needlessly cruel.

Lan Zhan had killed men during the war. Cultivation was useful for long-range attacks, but he still found himself in the situation of killing up close, of watching the light leave an enemy’s eyes.

He saw the light leave Liu Shirong’s eyes. For a moment his instincts had jolted, shocking through his nervous system. You’ve killed him. You activated your core, by accident, and you’ve killed him.

But it wasn’t the end of Liu Shirong’s life, of course, just the end of his love for Lan Zhan, the end of their life together, the end of whatever future he’d imagined for them. Lan Zhan had meant to release him gently, like a small rabbit with a newly-healed leg, back out into the world he came from. But he’d crushed him instead, under his clumsy feet.

Do not be needlessly cruel.

There are pools of guilt around Moling. Every place that he recognizes, everywhere they went together, even if the memories themselves are good. The guilt gathers on his clothes, soaks through to the skin, makes him cold.

It’s not that he misses Shirong. Perhaps he should miss him more than he does. It’s been nearly three years since they split up. It should perhaps hurt more than it does. It’s embarrassing that it took longer for him to get over Wei Ying—a relationship that never happened. 

The worst part of the breakup didn’t even have to do with Shirong himself. He hadn’t made a special call after Shirong left, or even after he officially moved out a week later, but he had mentioned it when Lan Huan called him as usual on the second Tuesday of the month.

“Oh, I’m sorry, didi,” Lan Huan had said. “I know you did love him, in your own way.”

In your own way.

Is he not— Did he not—

Had he never—

He is nearly to Moling. The train track curves here, about fifteen minutes out, and the rails were laid in crooked. It’s a jolt, every time. It’s easy to see who the regular commuters are, whose coffee sloshes over, who widens their stance in time, who looks suddenly out the window, worried. Sabotage on the tracks, maybe, or someone under the cars. The younger people don’t look worried, only bored. 

The landscape is odd, he realizes suddenly. He’s been staring vaguely out the window, letting his mind wander, but where he’s used to a few farms, a man-made lake, and mostly open country there is torn up ground, heavy machinery, and miles of chain-link fence. Did he not notice this on his last trip? Had he been reading?

Out the window he sees a large sign on the fence announcing, “Future home of Jin Industries Moling Satellite Campus.” Typical.

In your own way.

He never asked what Lan Huan meant by that. Lan Zhan has won multiple awards for his reporting, for his ability to encourage others to talk. The right facial expression at the right time. A direct, polite question with just the right emphasis. Merciless is what they say about him, sometimes. He’s like a swordsman in an old movie, Nie Mingue used to say, in a way that sounded like a compliment. He moves so quick and so sharp, you don’t even know he’s cut you until you’re around the corner and your head falls off.

He’s poking at it like a sore tooth, needlessly. His golden core makes itself known, just a little sense, a small awakening. It’s always ready to defend him, even so many years later. He does nothing with the awareness, of course. No cultivation is authorized outside of combat. But his core was never removed, never shut down. Can’t put the hot sauce back in that bottle, Jiang Cheng had said once.

The train slows, stops. 

“Moling station. Depart here—” The pleasant voice is cut off by a beeping. Lan Zhan stands and shoulders his bag.

“Attention passengers,” a crackled voice comes over the loudspeaker, far less pleasant than the recording. “Due to a security concern all passengers must depart the train at car fourteen. Doors will not open except for car fourteen. Departing passengers, please make your way to car fourteen.”

Lan Zhan looks around the car, then sees a “3” on the far wall. He sighs and follows the few people who are struggling with the connecting door to car four. The chimes that gently demand Get off the damn train are going. He has to speedwalk down the aisle, which is undignified, and everyone looks up at him with that poor bastard expression reserved for torn grocery bags and flat tires. 

He makes it off the train a second before the door closes and it pulls away.

“Close one!” an old man grins at him, more humor than teeth.

The police have roped off most of the platform, everyone standing around looking at each other. A few are smoking. Lan Zhan goes over to the rope, coming up next to a kid with one of those handheld electronic games. The kid’s staring around at the cops while his game beeps vaguely in a lonely sort of way.

“What’s happened?” Lan Zhan asks him.

The kid answers without looking at him. “Abandoned bag. Nothing’s happening.” He sounds disappointed.

“Hm.” Sure enough, there’s a nondescript green backpack slumped on a bench.

“They always say it might blow up, but it never does.”

“Not so much these days,” Lan Zhan agrees.

“Like, if it was gonna blow up they wouldn’t be smoking near it, right?”

Lan Zhan smiles despite himself. “Good eye,” he says. His golden core is settled within him, curling beneath his breastbone like a sleeping cat, uninterested and unconcerned. No danger.

There had been a certain amount of withdrawal, after the war. And grief, and nightmares, and a limp for a while. But the end of regular cultivation, of relying on his golden core as a seventh sense, a second consciousness, a second self, the end of healing himself from the inside, of Wangji at his back and power at his fingertips . . .

It’s not entirely the government’s fault, if he’s being fair. Governments have always thrown away veterans, no matter who is in power. Always have, always will. Use you up and spit you out with maybe some benefits and the number of some overtaxed and underpaid case worker. And cultivation, being both new and more ancient than anything, was an unknown since the beginning. There are no peer-reviewed studies on the long-term effects of using a golden core. If Jin Guangyao hadn’t been doing his own research with the Wens for all those years, only to defect back to his father’s side when the tide began to turn, there wouldn’t have been a cultivator corps at all. So Lan Zhan can’t put the responsibility on any one person’s shoulders.

But it still claws at him, sometimes. His core wants out, wants to stretch, to strike, to light something up. It’s like wrapping his head in blankets, sometimes, stifling and muffled and hard to breathe.

Jin Zixuan likes to talk about it, how it feels. Lan Zhan and Jiang Cheng do not.

He checks his watch and picks up his pace, passing by another building down the block under renovation with a Jin Industries sign. The logo is close enough to the Sunshot flag that the government connection is implied, but different enough for plausible deniability. 

Lan Qiaolian is leaning on her car a few blocks away, exactly where she said she’d be. Lan Zhan appreciates it—they’ve met only once, and he doesn’t trust his ability to pick her out in a crowd. She’s a short woman, but solidly built. Doesn’t look like a Lan, is what his uncle would say.

“Lan Zhan!” she waves to him and drops her cigarette on the pavement. “Thanks for coming.”

He nods and takes his place in the passenger seat. The drive to the Moling Children’s Center is quiet for a while. The Center is near Yilong’s old gym; he remembers the road.

“You had a meeting with the detective?” he asks, though he knows the answer.

“Yeah. Still stonewalling me. Everything’s fucking confidential. They say they’ve canvassed the neighborhood, everywhere between the school and the bus stop and home. But it’s like everyone saw him walking home with his cousin, his cousin turns around for a minute to chase a damn neighborhood cat up a tree, and Sizhui is just . . . gone. How does a kid just disappear like that?”

“But this lead?”

“The administrator I talked to at the Center said they might have something, some record of where he was born. Maybe someone from his birth family has been looking for him, would take him? There’s just— Even if the records do exist, if they weren’t destroyed, I don’t know who has access. And he’s just a kid, you know? I’m not special. We’re not special. So I can’t think of anything but the worst. You know what happens to kids, especially if they take them West, I know they sell—”

“You don’t know,” Lan Zhan cuts her off, gently. “No one knows. No reason to go down that road unless the evidence points there.”

Lan Qiaolian rubs her face. “I just don’t know what the evidence is.”

“We’ll find something. I have a hunch.”

He does not have a hunch. He doesn’t believe in hunches. Or, rather, he didn’t before he started cultivating. Now he believes in the extra-sensory perception of his golden core, which he has been ordered—and signed pages of documents agreeing—to never use it again.

Either way, he’s learned that the general public like hunches. It’s comforting, apparently, someone taking the lead off of no information. It doesn’t make much sense, but most reassuring things don’t.

“I can’t help thinking—” Lan Qiaolian trails off, tapping her thumb on the steering wheel. “Maybe he left because of me.”

This is not a comfortable situation. Lan Zhan should respond with Of course not, don’t think like that. But for all he knows it could be true. He doesn’t really know Lan Qiaolian, and he certainly doesn’t know Lan Sizhui.

All he knows are the facts. Lan Qiaolian began fostering Lan Sizhui a year ago, when he was eight. It was just the two of them until a few weeks ago when Lan Sizhui went missing. It’s not his job to find missing children, but they are technically family, and if there’s some kidnapping or a dangerous part of Moling where children are falling into holes in the ground, that’s a story.

“Why would you think that?” It’s not as gentle, maybe, but it’s useful.

“I got laid off a few years ago. A lot of us did, mass layoffs.”

“Construction?”

“Yeah. Everyone from site managers to the detailers to— well, everyone. One whole firm shut down. So I thought, you know, I’d be home for a while, I got some unemployment, so maybe it would be a good time to finally start fostering. You know? I could stay home until he got adjusted, then when he started school I’d have found something new.”

“And he was happy?”

Lan Qiaolian smiles. “He’s always happy. He’s a real happy kid. Whatever he went through when he was little, he doesn’t seem to remember. Makes friends easily, fine by himself. He’s a dream. But maybe he was just good at showing me what I wanted to see. You know? Coming from a traumatic background like that, being in the system. You know, kids learn how to survive.”

“If he seemed happy, I’m sure he was.”

She sighs. “I just— The work never came back. The last six, seven months I’ve been calling everywhere I can think of. Even considered moving. Nothing. And so it’s been tight, even though it’s just the two of us. I figured with my husband’s life insurance we’d be fine until I found something, but I didn’t anticipate it taking this long. I’ve got some unemployment, but the support payments from fostering messed with my benefits. And so it’s been tight. And maybe he— You know, the secondhand clothes, no takeout, no games. Not getting to go on the school trips because I can’t pay the— I can’t help thinking, maybe all that time in the system, he must’ve been dreaming about a home, you know, what it would be like. And then when it wasn’t—”

“That’s a lot of conjecture.”

She laughs. “True. I just— The brain, it spins. You know?”

“Hm.” Lan Zhan looks out the window at the familiar neighborhood, then startles a bit. “Did they tear down the market?”

Qiaolian glances over. “Oh, yeah. Couple months ago. No more independent groceries in this part of town anymore. Not that most people could afford it at the end. They tried to stick it out, but the big chains moved in after the war, got those tax breaks.”

“Ah. ‘Economic revitalization.’”

She laughs again. 

“So, if I can ask,” he starts, glancing out of the corner of his eye to gauge her response. “On the train I noticed building sites. Jin Industries?”

Her jaw clenches. “They’re not hiring.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“We’ve all tried. They’ve bought up half of Moling, and whoever’s running the construction’s not hiring local. Union’s totally shut out.”

“Really?”

“I’ve tried, okay? I’ve called so many—” she cuts off with a frustrated noise.

“Forgive me. It wasn’t a criticism. I’m just curious.”

She nods curtly. “We’re here.”

The administrator who has agreed to meet with them has black toner smudged up the inside of her left forearm and a framed picture of a cat on her desk. She offers Lan Zhan room temperature water in a cracked coffee mug.

“So you’re my eleven o’clock, right? Okay, right.”

“That’s an old flag,” Lan Zhan says, nodding up at the wall behind her. “I haven’t seen that design for a while.”

For the most part, it’s a standard Sunshot, but in addition to the golden hand and red sun, thin black lines reach up the palm like branches.

The administrator looks surprised, turning around to it. “Oh. Yeah, I guess. I don’t know, I don’t have time to keep up with all that. We have to pay for our own, you know. We’re required to hang a flag in every room but the bathroom, but it comes out of our general operating budget. The official ones aren’t cheap.”

Lan Qiaolian chuckles. “My cousin got it tattooed right after he got discharged. He was pissed when they got rid of the black squiggles in the update. I told him, that’s why you gotta think for more than a week before you make a permanent decision, you know?”

The administrator smiles politely. “Anyway. Let me see here.” She starts digging through her pile of folders. “Lai, Lai—”

“Lan,” Lan Zhan corrects.

“Sorry?”

“The name, it’s Lan.”

“Right! Right, okay, Lan. Lan . . . Here we go. Lan . . . Qiaolian. Foster mother. Yes?”

Qiaolian nods.

“And you are?”

“Family,” Lan Zhan says.

“Right. Okay, let’s see. Lan Sizhui, age nine.”

Lan Zhan leans forward. “Anything you can tell us about where he came from, his life before Lan Qiaolian met him?”

She clicks her tongue and runs a finger down the page. “War orphan, typical story. Moved around, a bit once he got to Gusu. No injuries or disabilities. Hearing and sight all good, average height. Slightly underweight, but that’s not unusual.”

“When did he arrive here?” 

“At our facility? Looks like ‘98.”

“So he wasn’t here long before you got him,” Lan Zhan looks to Lan Qiaolian.

“Yeah, I guess. We don’t really talk about his past. That’s what the counselors recommend. You’re supposed to wait until they volunteer, you know? You don’t ask first.”

“Any idea where he came from? Birth family?”

The administrator clicks her tongue again, flips a few pages. Lan Zhan catches a sight of a grainy printed photograph, a kid looking around six, big chubby cheeks and shaggy long hair.

“Came in through law enforcement. No note of any charges or juvenile detention, so likely if he had surviving family they lost custody due to a criminal conviction. Looks like the child didn’t offer any details to counselors or placement. Um, looks like Sizhui was the name he got here.”

Lan Qiaolian frowns. “You named him? That’s not his birth name?”

“Common practice, especially if we have multiple kids with the same given name. He never gave a family name—Likely he either didn’t know his parents or forgot after being in the system for a while. A-Yuan is what he was called when he got here.”

“Yuan,” Lan Zhan turns it over in his mouth. “Something Yuan. Any record of where he was born?”

“Mmm, can’t be sure. But he entered the system in Yiling.”

“Yiling?”

“Yep. First registered into care in Yiling, 1995.”

Lan Zhan looks back up at the flag. The others must be thinking the same thing. Yiling in 1995, the Sunshot Massacre. But that’s a ridiculous thought—there were no survivors then, and plenty of other battles, bombings, one-off murders in the area at the end of the war.

“No family names though?” Lan Qiaolian asks. “Any record of someone who might be looking for him, might want him back?”

The administrator suddenly yawns hugely, covering her mouth with both hands. “I’m so sorry. No, no siblings, no recorded birth family. I’m so sorry, I haven’t been sleeping.”

“It’s all right,” Qiaolian says.

“I live over on the East side. They’re building some new damn complex, pounding in pilings at all hours of the night.”

“At night?” Qiaolian asks. “Why?”

The woman sighs. “I don’t know. Lights coming in the windows at one in the morning. I had to dig out my old curtains, thank goodness I still have them. Wake up in the middle of the night thinking the bombing’s started up again, ha, the banging and the lights. We’ve been complaining, but the company offered all the neighbors a settlement stop reporting it. Two months’ rent, we couldn’t turn it down.”

“Lots of construction,” Lan Zhan says, carefully. “Unusual construction.”

“I wouldn’t know,” the administrator shrugs. “I just hope they finish up quickly. My cats are getting stressed to death.”

“Have you noticed— Never mind.” Qiaolian chews her lip.

“Noticed what?”

“The site over by me, there’s a lot of trailers.”

“Like trailers you live in?”

“They look similar—usually there’s a double-wide or two for an on-site office, break area, you know. The site by us there’s a dozen at least. I just find that odd.”

“I haven’t noticed. Maybe. I don’t know, I try to ignore it. Whatever office complex or hotel or whatever it is, I don’t need it.”

The administrator flips through the file again. “I’m afraid that’s about all I can give you. Yiling might have more information—I think the children’s home there moved a couple years ago so files might have been lost, but it’s worth an ask. Signature on the transfer form looks like a Xie Ling. It’s not a huge town, anyway, could be someone remembers the kid, or the family. Local police or courts maybe, if they keep decent records.”

Lan Zhan and Lan Qiaolian exchange a glance.

“Sounds like I’m going to Yiling,” Lan Zhan says.

“You don’t have to—”

He shakes his head, then hands his card to the administrator. “If you think of anything, or hear anything.”

She takes it. “Gusu Herald? You’re not going to mention the flag thing, right? We’re compliant with everything, this one’s just a mistake.”

“I doubt you’ll even be mentioned. I’m just following the story.”

She looks doubtful. “Okay. We’re compliant, though.”

“I work for a newspaper, not the government.”

She snorts. “Yeah. Okay. ”

It twists a little in his stomach, but he nods at her politely as they leave.

The hallway takes them past a large window showing some kind of playroom. Three adults huddle around a low table, arguing in hushed tones, while a child who looks around four plays by himself with a few scratched up toy cars. The child has a cast on one arm, rolling one car at a time solemnly around on the carpet. He looks up as they pass him and tracks them all the way down the hallway. Lan Zhan can feel his eyes on the back of his neck even as they go out into the sunshine.

“Did Sizhui talk about anybody here?” Lan Zhan asks as they get back in the car. “Any friends at the group home, or children he knew when he was younger?”

“Not really. I was worried he’d have a hard time making friends, because he always seemed so content playing by himself. It’s why I was so glad he had Jingyi, his cousin. He’s the same age. He’s the one who was with—” Qiaolian breaks off, blinking hard. “Sorry. Long day.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” he says. He should say something else like It’s okay. It will be fine. We will find him. But he doesn’t, because that would probably be a lie. His silence rises like water in the car, over his mouth, his nose, stifling.

Do not be needlessly cruel.

“Yiling,” Lan Zhan says, to fill the space. 

“Fucking Yiling,” Qiaolian agrees.

“I’ll go this weekend.”

“What? You can’t just take off across the country.”

“I haven’t taken vacation in three years. I can go.”

“Lan Zhan—”

“I will go. I’m not saying I will find him, but I will go.”

Lan Qiaolian doesn’t say anything else for the rest of the ride. When she drops him at the station, she just nods, lips pressed tight together.

“I will call you,” he says. She nods again and he gets out.

He stops by the payphone on the way in to the station to call the office.

“Can I talk to Lan Shu? Yes, thank you.” He waits while the call is transferred down to the basement. “Hi, Lan Shu. Have we got anything from Yiling? Anything we’ve covered. Is there a local paper there? I haven’t—”

Lan Shu snaps her gum on the other end of the line. He pulls the receiver away from his ear, wincing. It’s a very wet sound. “Yeah, I got some. I’ll check our clippings, but they’ve got some shitty local rag. A weekly, I think.”

“Please pull that for me. I’m looking for 1995, don’t know what month.”

“Eh, looks like it’s only been running a couple years. First edition I have is April ‘98.”

Lan Zhan taps his finger, thinking. “I’ll take everything you’ve got. Any of our coverage from ‘95.”

“So, Sunshot.”

“And anything else we covered.”

Lan Shu laughs around her gum, “What else is there? No one gave a shit about Yiling before Sunshot, and nobody’s given a shit since.”

Lan Zhan sighs. “Just pull what you can find. Please. I’ll be by in an hour and a half.”

He hangs up before she can snap her gum again. It gives him a headache, the wet sound. 

He grabs a copy of the Herald for the train ride back. Instead of reading, he flips through the entire paper looking for one word: Yiling. He finds three mentions: once as the birthplace of a soccer player (a rags-to-riches story), once as the site of a hailstorm in the weather section, and once, as expected, in reference to the Sunshot Massacre. 

He hasn’t thought about it much before. He’s never been to Yiling, but there’s never really been a reason. Even before the war it was a small, poor, middle of nowhere town with low property values, high crime rates, and the worst literacy numbers in the country. It was shitty, but not in an interesting way. Qinghe was always shitty but exciting—drug kingpins and porn producers and a famous red light district. It’s become more respectable since the war, though it’s kept some of it’s sleazy veneer. Lan Huan likes to visit, says there’s a good arts scene, but Lan Zhan has never been tempted. He traveled a lot during the war, but since returning home he’s never really felt the urge. For a while it was justified. Recovery. But five years? Maybe he’s more than comfortable, now. Maybe he’s stagnating.

Lan Shu gives him two-and-a-half years of weekly papers in a brown paper bag and slim folder of photocopied clipping from the Herald’s own files. He hauls it all home on the bus piles them neatly by year on the coffee table, then settles in with a cup of tea to read. There are empty gum wrappers in the bottom of the bag.

The Yiling Observer is a quick read, only eight pages in its first edition. There are no bylines, oddly, no editors listed, no photographs, just one phone number and a street address in the masthead. The stories are . . . not quite what he expected. No gruesome crimes or depressing statistics. Just coverage of a local amateur basketball tournament, a car accident that took out a storefront, an interview with a grandmother about her vegetable garden. Small stories, almost defiantly local, but clearly and concisely written. Professional. A recipe for xiao long bao attributed to a Mrs. Yi.

He flips to the back page, under the fold. Whatever it says in bold. 

This is your humble author’s own column, where our fearless and frightening editor has given me these few inches to write whatever I like. Hence the name, Whatever. Today we’re going to talk about the Sunshot Flag, or as I like to call it, “Hey, let’s slap reminders of a war crime up on every building in the country, that’s a great idea.” 

Lan Zhan snorts. Whoever the writer is, they’re not wrong. He gets up to heat more water and adds to his list of things to do on the kitchen counter. Read all of the newspapers. Call the HR department and schedule a few days of vacation, maybe a week. Wait until his uncle sees it on the out of office calendar and calls him in a huff to explain the story. Book a train ticket to Yiling. Make an appointment at children’s services. Find a hotel. Ask Lan Huan to water his plants. Do laundry. 

He feels better with a list, like all of the static of potential responsibilities has focused into a clearly intelligible sound inside his skull. 

He goes back to the paper.

And before you complain—and I know some of you will—you’re the one reading my paper. Maybe someday you’ll have better options and can use this only for lining your bird cages, but for now I’m the best you got. That’s Yiling, baby.

Part Five

[parkersjiggle]

Hi! I'm the one who requested the 'didn't know they were dating fic'. Thank you so much! It was perfect, I really enjoyed it. Can I make another request? Tony thinking Peter has feelings for one of the other Avengers and being jealous. But of course it's him Peter wanted all along.

Hey! I loved that prompt thank you for requesting it! I’m so sorry I haven’t gotten to you before now but I’ve been swamped with uni and I felt super unmotivated to write, but I’m back now! Anyways I hope you enjoy!!

Tags: jealous!Tony, mutual pining, misunderstandings, required unrequited love

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Frankly, this was not Tony’s morning. He hadn’t slept in over 40 hours and to make matters worse he had just run out of coffee and forgot to tell Friday to order more. But none of that could explain the bile rising up in his throat or the jealousy coursing through his veins.

The scene unfolding in front of him did though. Stupid Steve’s giggling again, unmanly as it is. His muscles shake and tears stream from his closed eyes. He has a hand plastered on Peter’s shoulder. Tony has to hold his breath, pursing his lips as he watches them from the corner of the room.

He knows what has happened. Peter probably told some joke that honestly wasn’t worth doubling over and bursting into harsh cackles of laughter, but Steve just had to go the extra mile to get Peter’s attention. Tony had been observing things escalate for a while, and the more he noticed, the more it upset him. It started out as most things did, he guessed. Flirty comments, lingering touches, more eye contact than strictly necessary.

It doesn’t matter anyway. Tony won’t have to be here for much longer. Next week he’s off to Hawaii by himself. The brochure looked really good and he couldn’t wait to relax, gather his thoughts and get over this idiotic crush.

It hurt to look, but he couldn’t not look either. He notices Steve telling Peter some lame story about a mission gone wrong. The kid’s face actually lights up brighter than a toothpaste commercial. He has that soft, adoring look on his face that makes Tony want to hurl.

Tony decides to torture himself some more and actually joins them in the living room. Steve whooshes past him as if it’s his house instead of Tony’s and perches himself on Tony’s favorite couch, signaling for Peter to come over. When he does, Steve wraps himself around him closer than food wrap, just as transparent. They’re whispering as if they’re sharing secrets. This time Peter’s the one giggling like he’s three and a half years old.

Tony can’t say anything about it. It would put their friendship at risk, and that’s something he won’t do. Friends like Peter don’t come along too often. Knowing that still doesn’t stop the want to raise his voice with jealous spite and demand Peter to explain why Steve makes him smile like that when it should be Tony.

But, it’s not the kid’s fault. Tony had no claim on Peter. They weren’t anything beyond close friends and Peter could flirt with whomever he wanted. Maybe he had a chance years ago when the hero-worship and excessive admiration still lingered, but he fucked that up too. Peter knew the real him now, flaws and all. Tony’s well aware he pulls with one hand just to push away with the other. He knows he’s doing it right now too, but he still doesn’t stop. He feels like he’s cursed. When he loves it’s too strong, like some God turned his emotion dials up way too far. No one really understands that Tony can only give mixed messages in order to disguise his love, protect his feelings.

He didn’t say anything but his eyes were like daggers stabbing Steve over and over again. He always had to have what Tony wanted too, huh? Tony felt the frustration bubbling up in his chest.

His knuckles turned white from clenching his fist too hard. His teeth gritted from the effort to remain silent, hunched form exuding an animosity that was like acid- burning, slicing, potent. “Something wrong, Stark?” When Steve spoke, Tony mentally snapped, face red with suppressed rage. “You’re enjoying this aren’t you, Rogers? You really love to rub it in, don’t you?” He made the mistake of letting all the frustration build until it inevitably snapped. He knew that he shouldn’t have let it escalate to that point, but logic wasn’t on his side right now. He couldn’t think this through.

“What on earth are you talking about?” Steve raised his brow questionably. Tony felt the hammering of his heart, its very great attempt to escape his chest. Nothing but hurt and fury ran through his mind right now, “Are you acting stupid or do you actually have a brain the size of a pickled walnut?”

He heard the youngest of them three gasp, almost scandalously. “TONY! You can’t say stuff like that! What’s gotten into you!?” He had the nerve to sound disappointed and angry at the same time. Those feelings quickly ebbed away, however, when he really looked at Tony, and more specifically at his eyes. Which seemed to hold a great deal of pain and had dark bags under them. Peter wondered when he was last able to get some sleep and not just a 45 minute powernap between his lab projects. He paused and sighed. “Are you okay?” The concern and sincerity was clear in his voice. It made Tony want to confess everything and run away at the same time. He let out a shaky breath. “No... I’m not.” He cast his gaze onto the ground and his eyes darkened. He glanced back up at Peter. “Why?” His voice sounded more pained than anything. Steve saw this as the perfect time to excuse himself, fully well aware of how much Tony hated being vulnerable in front of others.

“Why what?” Peter asked softly, following Tony’s gaze that was plastered on Steve walking out. “You mean Steve? Why do you have a problem with him?” Tony chuckled darkly and shook his head, choosing to answer with a question of his own. “How long have you two been dating?” Peter eyed him weirdly, confusion evident on his face. “Dating? We’re not... what do you mean?” Now it was Tony’s turn to look puzzled. “What’s all that giggling and whispering about then? I can’t walk in a room without seeing you two joined at the hip!”

Peter laughed, almost hysterically. “Omg this is golden. This is so good. We’re literally plotting, trying to come up with a plan, to get him and Bucky together! There’s absolutely nothing going on between him and I.” Tony couldn’t help the relaxing of his muscles and the breath of relief that escaped his mouth at those words. “Why do you care? Wait... were you jealous?” Peter leaned in closer, smirking. “So what if I was?” Tony would not back down so easily. “Well I’d say you’re a bit of hypocrite to be honest. One moment I’m important, next minute I’m background at best. What’s making my head spin are the transitions. Stop giving me mixed signals, Tony! Don’t be a coward, tell me how you feel.”

Tony didn’t hesitate this time. He closed the distance between them, kissing Peter short and sweet. “I love you,” he tells him, “I love you. Come to Hawaii with me? How’s that for a signal?”

—————

Send me more prompts loves!! 😊

[seasonsofeverlark]

Worth the Wait

Author: @ameliaodair​ 

Prompt: Modern AU: Peeta and Katniss were on vacation in Argentina. Their days are up now and they’re on their way back to the US, however, a tornado alert gets them stranded in Lima, Peru. It’s Halloween and they were supposed to go trick or treating with Finnick and Annie and now here they are. What they didn’t know, is that in Peru they celebrate something called Día de la Canción Criolla, and they get swept into the joyous atmosphere. Dressing up as the locals, Everlark celebrate Halloween in a different way. [submitted by @evestedic​]

Rating: T

Author’s Note: I tweaked the prompt a little, hope you still like it :)  This is my first time writing for one of these, so I hope I did it right, and I hope I did the prompt justice.  Enjoy :)

I always want to say thanks to my wonderful beta @eiramrelyat​.

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Part 1

Katniss tosses her suitcase into the trunk of her car, irritated that her flight was cancelled.  She promised her sister she would be home tomorrow, in time to see her niece and nephews’ costumes for their very first Halloween.  If there was one thing in this world that Katniss despised, it was disappointing her baby sister.

“A tornado?  Seriously, a freaking tornado in Peru!  Just wonderful!”  She mumbles to herself, securing her seatbelt in place.  Before leaving the parking lot she reaches for her phone, browsing for somewhere to stay for a night or two; at least until she can catch the next flight home.  “Great, no service.”  Could anything else go wrong today?  She thinks to herself, tossing her phone back into her purse.

After being stuck in traffic for nearly an hour, only going at a speed of ten miles per hour, she tries to summon the courage to call her sister.  Gripping her hands firmly around the wheel and tapping her fingers nervously, she finally speaks to the car’s navigation system. “Call Prim.” 

“Calling Prim” The car responds.  Prim answers on the second ring, the excitement laced in her voice.

“Oh my gosh Katniss, I am so excited for you to see the twins’ costumes!  Are you in the states yet?  What time is your flight?  Do you have an estimated arrival time?  I can come and get you, or…or—" 

Katniss cringes at her sister’s questions before deciding to interrupt her. “Prim, I um…there was a problem- no, there is a problem.”  Katniss looks out the window, noticing how crowded the streets are, and the people seem to be dressed rather…vivaciously.  ‘I wonder what that’s all about?’ She thinks to herself.

“What’s wrong, are you okay?”

“Yeah, of course, I’m fine.  It’s just that…my flight…well, it got cancelled.  I mean…not ‘cancelled,’ cancelled, but more like…delayed.  There’s like…a severe tornado warning or something and they’ve grounded all flights until further notice.”

‘Are they…dancing?’ Katniss thinks to herself, seeing a woman be twirled around in an immaculate dress, the dress fanning out to reveal the beautiful colors.

“Seriously?  Katniiisss….”  Prim whines like a toddler, elongating Katniss’s name.

“Give me a break, Prim, you’ll take a zillion pictures, we’ll facetime, and you can dress them up when I get home.  They’re babies, they won’t even know the difference.”

“But I will.” Katniss despises it when Prim does this.  Looking out the window again, Katniss sees a group of small kids dressed up in costumes.

‘How adorable.’  She thinks to herself, smiling.

“Come on Prim…This is totally out of my control.  You know I would be there if I could.  Plus, don’t you have a wonderful husband to keep you busy?”

“Yeah…I do—” Katniss can hear the smile in Prim’s voice and that always makes her happy.  Even after being together for five years, Prim and Rory are still so sickening in love with each other; it would make Katniss sick if she didn’t love her sister so much. “But he’s not you.  No one can replace you, big sister.”

“I know Prim—” Katniss cranes her neck out the open window to see what all the commotion is about.  “Prim, I need to go…there is something…I don’t know what it is, but I’ll call you later.  Take lots of pictures for me!”  She says just before ending the call, not giving Prim the opportunity to make her feel any worse.  As if that is even possible.

A month ago the company Katniss works for asked someone to take an impromptu trip to Argentina, just before the holiday’s no less. To have the opportunity arise to be the mediator in an attempt to merge their company with one of the hotshot rivalry companies nearby, Katniss was the first to volunteer. 

With no life other than her sister and her sister’s family, Katniss had no obligations which left her the perfect candidate to leave the country.  Everyone else had families they didn’t want to leave, not knowing how long it would take to do the negotiations, they did not want to risk being in another country for the holidays.

It had been almost ten years since she lost the love of her life and she had accepted the fact that you only get one of those per lifetime.  She was secretly hoping for better luck in her next one.  He was beautiful and he was perfect, and she thought their love transcended time and space.  So what if they were only teenagers, and so what if she had not seen him in almost ten years.  It did not seem to matter how many times she tried to find love, it just never felt right. 

At seventeen years old, she and her sister became orphans.  Social Services came to her house early one morning and loaded her and Prim into a car, refusing to allow them to say goodbye to anyone.

Katniss no longer cries from the anguish of losing him, but the agony from missing him is still as fresh as that first night.  When she turned eighteen, she could have gone back to Panem, but she was too scared.  What if she went back and he had moved on?  Found someone else to love, got married, and…no, not knowing was better.  Rejection would be worse.   

Katniss hoped this trip would give her some insight as to what she might do with the rest of her life.  She cannot continue to lean on Prim forever; she has her own family now.

Katniss finally makes out what the commotion is ahead of her and a smile forms on her lips when she catches sight of the herds of people dancing in the street, causing her to remember their dance competition.  With him.  “Dammit Katniss, stop it.  Why do you keep thinking about him today?”  She scolds herself before spotting a hotel across the street.  She pulls into a parking space, crossing her fingers they have a vacancy, but by the looks of the massive hoards of people crowding the streets, she is not very confident.

She reaches up to her neck where her collar bone dips in, and with her thumb and forefinger, she pinches the pearl that hangs from her necklace.  From him.  It is the necklace he gave her on her sixteenth birthday.  ‘As long as you wear this necklace, you will know how much I love you. Always.’ 

‘Always.’  It was their ‘thing.’  Some people made promises of forever, but not them.  No, they promised for always.  She remembers his exact words, and for some reason, he feels closer than ever.  Close enough to touch.  Something in the back of her mind says.

Shaking her head to rid her mind of the penetrating thoughts, Katniss decides to make her way into the hotel to see if there is a room available before unloading her suitcase.  She locks the rental car and pushes her way through the crowded streets and into the entrance of The Holiday Inn.

Upon entering the building, Katniss is greeted by a beautiful woman with perfectly golden hair and a smile bright enough to light up the entire building.  She says something in Spanish that Katniss cannot understand, confusion written all over her face.

“Crap, I left my translator in my car” Katniss mumbles under her breath after reaching over and checking her purse.

Realizing that Katniss does not understand her, the woman speaks again, this time in English, laced with a heavy accent.  “Welcome to The Holiday Inn, can I interest you in a room?”

“Oh, you speak English!” Katniss says, more excited than she should be.

“Effie does not allow any of her employees to man the front desk unless they are fluent in English.  We get a lot of tourists.”  Madge says, explaining to her.

“Effie?”  Katniss asks, finding the name strange.  Like she’s one to talk.

“Effie is the boss.  This is her hotel.  She’s more of a designer if you ask me, but she’s famous for dressing people up for the Dia de la Canción Criolla!  She will be knocking on your door within the next hour!”

“Dia day what?”  Katniss asks, not hearing what Madge said due to how fast the words seemed to escape her mouth.

“Dia De La Canción Criolla.  It is a celebration of Criolla music.  There will be dancing, lots of dancing!  And music, yes…beautiful music!  You should come, it’s so much fun!”  Madge tells her with stars in her eyes, as if she is remembering a heartfelt moment.

“Oh, well…I’ll think about it.”  Katniss says timidly, giving Madge a smile.

Katniss is thrilled the hotel has a vacancy and hands Madge her credit card to confirm her room for the night.  While she waits for the transaction to process, she and Madge make small talk.  Madge returns her credit card and ID along with the plastic key card with the numbers ‘12-13’ displayed on the front, as well as a brochure.

“If you take these elevators up to the twelfth floor and make a quick right, room thirteen will be on your left.  Here is a list of amenities as well as numbers if there is anything you need.  And Katniss?”

“Yes?”

“You should come out for the night.  You only live once.”

With a polite smile, Katniss nods her head, turning her back to Madge to retrieve her suitcase from her car.

Nearly half an hour later, she returns to the hotel with her suitcase in tow and steps onto the elevator.  Just as the doors begin to close, she spots a man running, trying to catch the elevator before the doors close.  Katniss presses the button to keep the elevator open, but she is just a moment too late.  With a mind of its own, the doors seal themselves shut, rising her up to the twelfth floor.

‘Why do I keep thinking about him today?  Why does he feel so close to me?  I’m in Peru for Heavensbee’s sake!’  Katniss says smiling to herself, reaching for the pearl again.  ‘Heavensbee’s sake’ was one of ‘their’ inside jokes.  “Perhaps this ‘Dia De La…whatchamacallit is just the thing I need to distract my mind from him.  And who knows what’ll happen.”  She mumbles to herself, entering her hotel room. 

When the door slams shut behind her, she hears the distinct ‘ding’ from the elevator.  ‘Whoever that man was must have made it up.’  She thinks to herself, recalling the flash of blonde hair, with those bouncing blonde waves, just like him.  ‘No, stop it.  He is not here Katniss.  It has been ten years.  Ten years.  You should be over him by now.  So, just…Get over it.’

But she’s not, and she can’t.

Freshly out of the shower, with one towel wrapped around her body and another one on the top of her head, she reaches for the phone and proceeds to call the number Madge had given her.  She needs to do something to distract her mind.  She is going to celebrate Dia De La Canción Criolla like a Peruvian.

“Give me a break Dad.  It’s Halloween, it’s not even really a holiday.  The bakery will survive if I’m gone for another few days.”

“I know kid, I know.  I’m sorry…I just…you know…I miss you.  You’ve been gone for like—”

“Two weeks.  I have been gone for two weeks.  And I will be home in a few more days.  Control over the weather is not a power I have homed in on as of yet.”  Peeta’s dad chuckles at his words but is still disappointed.  “Listen dad, as soon as they open the flights back up, the airline promised to call me, and I’ll be on the first flight back to the states.  Now look, I’ve gotta go, the streets here are insane and I need to find a place to crash for the night.  I’ll let you know when to pick me up.”

“Okay, son.  Oh, and Peet?”

“Yeah, dad?”

“Try to have some fun.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll try.  I’ve gotta go, bye dad.”  Peeta ended the call before giving his father any more fuel to drag the call on longer.

Peeta woke up that morning with an uncanny feeling that something was wrong.  When he got to school that morning and she wasn’t there, that feeling in his stomach intensified.  They talked to each other every day before and after school.  She was his best friend, and he was hers.  They told each other everything, so when he still had not heard from her by dinner that night, he knew deep in his gut something was wrong.  Really wrong.

The next day, Magnolia, one of her sister’s friends, came to him asking if he had heard anything from either of the girls.  For two days now, both girls have been missing from school.  Magnolia did not know it, but she had just confirmed the gut-wrenching fear in the pit of his stomach. 

For days, Peeta hounded the adults to no avail, questioning anyone he could as to her whereabouts.  She would never just up and leave without telling him, at least not without saying goodbye.

After two weeks, Peeta’s father realized that Peeta needed answers, that he would not be able to rest until he knew what happened to her, so using his connections he was able to obtain some information.  Peeta cried in his father’s arms as he told him what happened.  Social services came that morning, came before the sun was even up, and basically kidnapped the girls.  Both of their parents died in a car accident and at sixteen and a half years old, she took over the role of mom and dad to her little sister.  Apparently, someone placed an anonymous call, claiming to be “worried,” about the girls, hence social service ripping them from their lives.

For years, Peeta tried to find her.  But when his father lost his job, they had to relocate to another state.  Peeta did not want to leave if by some chance she came back looking for him, but he was only a kid himself, so he didn’t have a choice. 

At one point, he hired a private investigator, but so far; nothing has come up.  All his friends and family keep insisting he “move on,”  But he just couldn’t, he can’t.  “You don’t just move on from your soulmate, from your one true love” he told them all.  There is no one else, only her.  If I am not with her, then I will just be alone.  One day, he will find her, he is certain of it. 

“I know I’m probably asking the impossible, but would you happen to have a room for one?”  Peeta asks once he reaches the desk, giving the beautiful girl his most charming smile.

“Oh, don’t let the streets fool you, sir.  It’s Día De La Canción Criolla, the Peruvian festival of Music.  And to answer your question, yes, in fact we do.”  The receptionist, Madge, proceeded to tell him with her heavy accent and dazzling smile, staring at the computer screen in front of her, typing away.

A few minutes later, Madge hands him his plastic key card to his room in the penthouse along with a brochure filled with amenities, phone numbers, and information about this “Dia De La Canción Criolla.”

“Since you are already here sir, you should come out tonight and check it out.  Have some fun.”  Have some fun, those were his father’s exact words.

But dancing…especially that kind of dancing brought him back to memories of her.  She was the captain of the dance club in high school and she convinced him to enter a couple’s dance competition with her.  Never able to tell her no, he agreed.  He was never as good as her, but where he lacked, she excelled.  It was like that with everything they did.  They picked up each other’s slack.  When one was weak, the other was strong.  Always.

As he is scribbling his signature on the consent form to bill him at checkout, for just a split microsecond he thinks he sees her.  Heading onto the elevator is a woman with the same shade of hair, in that same over the shoulder braid she would wear, and the same olive complexion.  It had been almost ten years since the last time he saw her face, ten years since the last time his lips touched hers, but he is certain that one-hundred years could go by…no, a thousand years could pass, and he would always know her. Always.

Once his ‘T’s’ are crossed, he politely excuses himself from the receptionist, and runs to the elevator.  He can’t make her face out as the doors slide shut, but he can tell she tried to hold the door for him, but it was too late.  The elevator has a mind of its own and she slipped through his fingers.

“It’s not her, it couldn’t possibly be.”  He tells himself, his head hanging down as he presses the button and waits for the elevator.  He rides up to the twelfth floor and as soon as the doors open, he hears a door slamming from around the corner.  He finds his room, walks into it, and plops down on the bed.

Lying back on the bed, something in Peeta’s pocket begins poking his thigh.  He reaches into his pocket and grips firmly onto the pocket watch that he always keeps with him.  From her.  

At fifteen years old, he began saving his earnings from working at the bakery for eight months in order to buy her that necklace.  When he first saw it hanging in the shop, he knew he just had to have it.  He knew it was made just for her. It had been sitting in his underwear drawer for almost two weeks before he gave it to her on her sixteenth birthday.  His gift brought tears to her eyes because of what it meant.

She wanted to give him something too, but he insisted that it doesn’t work that way.  You do not give a gift to someone because they gave you something.  That was the first time she said those three magical little words.  She told him, “I’m not giving this to you because you gave me this necklace, I’m giving this to you…I want you to have this because I love you.”  It was her father’s, a gift from her mother.  It meant the world to her, so he knew what she was saying before she even said the words.

“Dammit Peeta!  Get a grip.  It isn’t her, I’m in Peru for Heavensbee’s sake!  An entire country away!”  Peeta yells at himself, confused as to why she is on his mind so hard today.

Peeta jumps into the shower, having decided that maybe he will join the festivities, if for nothing else, then to distract his mind from her.  He picks up the brochure and places a call to one of the names Madge had recommended.  If he is going to a Peruvian festival…(or is it a party?), he is going to need something to wear.

 Part 2

“Hi Katniss, my name is Cinna and I’ll be your stylist.”  Katniss lets the man in that Effie had recommended helping her find something to wear for tonight.

“Come in, it’s nice to meet you Cinna, I’m Katniss.”  Katniss sticks her hand out to Cinna, but he ignores it and wraps his arms around her, pulling her into his embrace.  He then pulls back and circles around her, inspecting her from all angles.

“You’re not from around here, are you?”  Cinna asks after he finishes orbiting her once.

“What gave it away?  My accent? Or the constant look of confusion permanently embedded on my face?”  Cinna chuckles at her, deciding that he is going to like this girl.  She is something special.

“I’ve met everyone who comes through here, and I am certain I would remember a face as radiant as yours,”  Cinna says, noticing the rosy hue filling Katniss’s cheeks.  There is a knock on the door, startling Katniss.  Cinna reaches for the doorknob and opens the door, and three strange-looking people come bouncing in.  Their hair is quite flamboyant, they wear some rather vivid and strange colors, but they look at Cinna as if he were the sun.  But most importantly, they seem truly happy to be here, to help her.

“Katniss, these are my assistants, and they will be helping me in getting you ready for tonight.”

“Okay.  But, you do realize that I’m dressing up for this Dia de la Festival thing and not my wedding, right?”

“Dia de la Canción Criolla.”  Octavia, one of Cinna’s assistants says so fast, Katniss only heard gibberish.

“How do you guys say that so fast?”

‘I wonder if they do this often?’  Katniss thinks to herself when Flavius, another of Cinna’s assistants rolls in this cart filled with the most immaculate, dazzling dresses, shoes, and so many other accessories Katniss would never dream of wearing.

They get right down to business, no dilly-dallying.  Katniss tries on dress after dress for what felt like hours, only to have them settle on the first dress, much to Katniss’s irritation.  Each dress takes all four of them to help her into, which Katniss could not begin to fathom why it was so difficult. 

The dress they decide on is more beautiful than she is able to put into words.  The upper half clings to her form, accentuating each of her womanly curves.  It is a modest dress, for when she looks in the mirror, she feels beautiful, but not provocative.  It shows just enough cleavage, but not too much.  The skirt of the dress is loose and free-flowing, if anyone happens to twirl her around tonight, it will fan out in immaculate precession.

“Oh, Miss Katniss, just you wait till someone spins you around in this baby.”  Katniss looks startled as she scowls at Flavius.

“Wh-what’ll happen?”

“I can’t give away all the secrets, now can I?”  Flavius looks at her conspiratorially.

“Don’t worry Katniss, nothing bad will happen.”  Cinna places a hand on her shoulder reassuringly.  But it isn’t his touch that calms her, but the gentle tone of his voice.  She cannot help but notice that Cinna has this natural air about him, he makes her feel calm just by entering the room.

Once they finish adding the final touches to her dress, they chain her to a chair, (figuratively speaking) and get to work on her hair.

“So, is there a special someone we’re fixing you up for the night?”  Just as Cinna asks the question, Effie walks into the room.

“Oh, hello guys, don’t mind me.  I just wanted to observe the divine Cinna at work!”  Effie pulls up a chair, making sure she isn’t in the way, and watches as their experienced fingers intricately style Katniss’ hair.

Katniss is hypnotized as she watches four sets of hands intricately brush, comb, part, separate, and braid her hair.

Remembering Cinna’s question, Katniss blushes before saying, “Oh no.  There is no one, I just…I just…Well, since I’m already here, I figured I should get the full Peruvian experience.”

“Oh, you have a man back at home, do you?”  Octavia blurts out.

“No.  No, there isn’t anyone.  Well, once…No, never mind.”

“Awe, come on! Tell us!”  Flavius pleads with her.

“PLEEEEASE!!”  All three assistants beg at the same time in a sing-song voice.

Katniss hesitates for a moment, realizing there is no harm in confiding in these complete strangers, she starts.  “Well, there was this one guy, once.  When I was younger.”

“Ooooh, was he handsome?”

“What color were his eyes?”

They each spit out their own questions, curious to the man who once held her heart, forcing the image of his perfect face into the forefront of her mind.

“No, he was not handsome…. He was…he was beautiful.  He had the bluest eyes, bluer than the ocean and the sky mixed together.  And his hair…it was this sandy blonde, with just the right amount of waves, you know…not too curly but definitely not straight.  He was my best friend, my soul mate.  He was everything to me.”

“So, what happened?”  Flavius blurts out.

“You speak of him as if you’re still in love with him,”  Vennia says, giving Katniss a forlorn look.

“I got…I got ripped away from him.  And I haven’t been able to find him since.  But someone as amazing as him, surely he’s married with a few kids by now.”  Katniss omits how she is actually too chicken to even look for him as she hangs her head down, the pain of him with someone else cut like razors.

Effie’s eyes go wide as she recognizes this story, without excusing herself, she gets up and storms out of the room in a dash.

“What was that about?”  Katniss asks inquisitively.

Flavius does a motion with his hands and rolls his eyes.  “Who knows?  That woman is a bit cuckoo.”  However, Katniss notices the knowing look being shared between Cinna and his assistants.

“Perfecto!”  Vennia says once her hair is complete.

“Now, one last thing,”  Octavia says, reaching for the clasp around Katniss’ neck.

Katniss spins around to face Octavia, “Wh-What are you doing?”

“I have a better one for you to wear tonight.”

“No, the necklace does not come off.”  The firm tone in Katniss’s voice tells everyone not to argue.

And they don’t.

 Effie storms back into Peeta’s room- the busy body she is- and pulls up a chair next to Peeta as Portia and her team get him ready for the night.

“Peeta?  Will you tell me about your girl again?  The one from your childhood.”  Peeta raises an eyebrow, making sure to hold his head still as Portia does whatever she is doing to his hair.  He isn’t sure why it is taking so long, but he doesn’t question her.

Peeta’s eyes light up at the thought of his girl.  “Oh Effie, she was…she was perfect.  She was the sun and the moon and the stars, all in one.”  Effie notices the sparkle in Peeta’s eyes as he speaks of the girl.  “She was so beautiful, and her eyes…I’ve never seen the same shade on another human being’s face, silver as the moonlight, intense as the night sky.  Her hair, well back then it was long, nearly to the middle of her back.  But she always wore it in this braid over her shoulder—” Effie’s eyes go wide as she listens to Peeta, realizing he is describing the girl in the next room.

‘Could it be?’  Effie thinks to herself.  “Peeta, I think you should meet your neighbor.  Maybe you could share a dance with her…Spend a night on the town—”

Peeta chuckles before interrupting her.  “That’s okay Effie.  I’m going home as soon as the airlines call me anyway.  I just wanted to experience Dia De La Canción Criolla Peruvian style.”

Effie shrugs her shoulders, getting up to leave as an idea comes to mind.  If her plan is to succeed, she will need help.  “Okay, Peeta.  Your loss.”

Effie waits in her office until she sees Miss Everdeen exit the hotel.  Once she knows Cinna is free, she immediately goes to him and shares her suspicions.

“Cinna, we must, we absolutely must bring those two together!”

“Effie, what are the chances that the true love they lost and speak of just happens to be in the next room?  An entire country away?”  Cinna asks, exasperated by Effie’s infatuation with true love.

“Okay, so maybe I’m wrong…But what would it hurt?”  Cinna thinks about it for a moment, deciding no harm could come of it, he listens to Effie’s plan.

x – x – x

“Thank you for coming with me Portia, I felt a little strange coming out here by myself.”  Peeta gives Portia a smile as they leave the hotel and join the crowded streets.  There are people dancing everywhere, children carousing the streets alongside their parents dressed up in their costumes. 

“Would you like to dance Portia?” Portia scans the area, looking for any sign of Cinna, and then nods her head.  She will dance them closer to where Cinna is with his girl.

“Where did you learn to dance Peeta?  You’re quite good.”  Peeta blushes at Portia’s compliment.

“Katniss.”

“Katniss?  Was that her name?  Your sweetheart back home?”

Peeta nods, just as a handkerchief flies into his face.  He reaches for it, holding it in front of him with a confused look.  “What the—”

“It means there is a lovely lady who wishes to dance with you.”  Portia maneuvers Peeta’s body, turning him around and pushing him toward the woman standing next to Cinna.  The darkness of the night, in addition to the lack of streetlights, prevents Peeta from clearly seeing her face.  All he can make out is the silhouette of her face, yet the moment their fingers brush against each other, he instantly feels that familiarity…he feels at home.

But Peeta would know her anywhere; at least he thinks it is her.  No, no.  His mind is just playing tricks on him.  Either way, he extends his arm to her, and she accepts graciously just as The Marinera begins to play.

It is their dance.  Katniss and Peeta’s dance from high school.  Peeta circles her once, and then again.  She smiles at him flirtatiously, swinging her hips as she sways to the music.  They tease each other back and forth throughout the night.  It is as if they had spent their entire lives perfecting their moves, as if their bodies are meant to be as one.

The familiarity that overtakes them when Peeta places his hands on Katniss’ hips sends shock waves surging through their bodies.  ‘Why does this feel so familiar?  Why does this feel so right?’  Peeta thinks to himself after their second dance.

They dance the night away with each other, oblivious to the identity of their dance partner.  The chemistry surges through Peeta’s body, and he knows she feels it too.  There is something familiar about this woman, but Peeta cannot quite put his finger on it. It isn’t until the light of the moon casts its glow, causing the pendant on her necklace to shimmer in the moonlight, which is when Peeta freezes.

It can’t be, no, this girl just happens to have the same necklace.  But then he sees the tiny inscription of the word “Always” in elegant script at the base of the pearl.  That is when he knows.

It is her.

His Katniss.

  Part 3 

Turning away from the familiar stranger, Katniss hikes her dress up and runs back to the hotel. She rushes onto the elevator and presses the button for the twelfth story. When the doors open to her floor, she takes off in a sprint again, toward her room, then slams the door behind her once she’s inside.

“Get a grip, Katniss, wake up.  It’s not him. You are just dreaming!”  She yells at herself, lightly banging the back of her head against the door.  ‘How does he know my name?’  she asks herself.

Less than a minute later, there is a knock at the door.  “Katniss? Katniss, are you okay?  Please open the door. I know it’s you.  It’s me, Peeta.  I’m sorry if I scared you; it’s just…can you please open the door so that I can see your face?”

Can it be him?  Is it truly him?  So many times, Katniss thought she saw him, only to be disappointed when it turned out to be someone else.  Her heart cannot take another beating.

With her hand on the door handle, Katniss closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, preparing herself for the inevitable.  Slowly, she opens the door just a crack, peeking through the small space.

“Peeta?  Is it…is it really you?”  She asks, slowly nudging the door open.

They stand there with their eyes locked, staring at each other while time stands still.  A loose strand of hair blows in Katniss’s eyes, interrupting their trance.  It is enough to reel her back into the present, and Peeta extends his arm, stroking Katniss’s cheek.

“Katniss,”  Peeta says, staring longingly into her eyes.  He slowly lowers his hand, pinching the tiny pearl hanging from Katniss’s neck.  “You still…I can’t believe you still have it.”

Katniss glances at his left hand that grasps her pearl, and her heart speeds up at the absence of a ring.  Peeta reaches up and places his hands on either side of Katniss’s face, bringing his face closer to inspect that it is really her.

“I never…I never take it off,”  Katniss says, licking her lips.  “Do you want to…come in?”  Katniss asks him.  

Peeta gives her a nod and walks past her and into the room.  Katniss closes the door behind him, and when she turns around to face Peeta, he pulls her close, slamming his lips onto hers.

The kiss is deep, sensual, and passionate, everything they have craved over the years.  Peeta takes Katniss to the bed in the center of the room, removing his jacket and slinging it behind him.

Katniss allows Peeta to take control.  He lays her back against the sheets, then follows after her until he’s, hovering above her.  “My God, I have missed you.”  His voice reverberates between their connected lips.

There is no denying it. It is her.  The only thing that matters is Katniss.  His Katniss.  Right here, right now, she stands in front of him after all this time.  He cannot take it anymore and closes the short distance between them, slamming his lips against hers. Peeta plunges his tongue deep into her mouth, devouring her. Tasting her.  Reveling in her.

The moment their lips connect, they knew they had finally found each other.  And yes, it was definitely worth the wait.

  5 Years Later

“I can’t believe you are getting married in Peru on Halloween!”  Prim squeals, zipping the back of Katniss’ wedding gown up.

“It’s not Halloween in Peru, Prim. It’s Día de la Canción Criolla.  And it’s when Peeta and I found each other again.”

“I know, sissy. I still can’t believe you guys found each other in Peru of all places!  I mean, I don’t remember a whole lot from…from before, but I remember how happy you guys were when we were kids.  And then I remember how sad you were when we had to leave, and…and I’m just so glad you found him!”  Prim says, turning Katniss around and adding the finishing touches to her hair.

“I’m just glad that you, Rory, and the kids were able to come.  Have you seen Peeta?  Is he okay?”

“No, you are not seeing him until the wedding. No exceptions!”  Prim tells Katniss, pointing a sassy finger in her face.

When Peeta catches sight of Katniss walking down the aisle to marry him, in the captivating dress with pearl accents, his heart stops in his chest at how beautiful she is.  When he finally found her after so many years, he thought he had died and was living in his dreams.

He finally found her, and she was now his to love.  Always.

[blarrghe]

Twelve Nights

Modern au fic where BusinessMan McMoneybanks Dorian Pavus meets LocalArtist Outdoorsyguy Taren Lavellan whilst on a trip to a Fancy Ski Resort In The Mountains with his Terrible Family, and learns the True Meaning of The Holidays (it's love). Now with added subplots and a plan! This fic is my holiday obsession, it's going to be tropey and fluffy and sweet, and not terribly long. Set in some kind of vaguely Thedasian modern au, with Dalish elves and dwarves and the like, but no actual magic, only *~holiday magic~* Rated M for not-very-explicit sex. Excerpt under the cut. Read it on AO3!

The air was crisp, and perfectly still. The thunk of Dorian’s car door slamming shut sounded out soft, almost muffled by the quietness of the snow-covered street. There were no other cars parked in the tiny lot in the centre of it, which divided two rows of quaint little shops on either side. The street rejoined itself around the empty parking lot and wound away in either direction. The side streets that branched in awkward zigzagging patterns off of it, sparsely lined with picturesque little cottages with wide yards of snow between them, weren’t even plowed. The main road ran up and down; up, winding slowly through a forest of trees and disappearing into the mountainside, and down, towards a glowing town square lit up at its centre by a tall, festively decorated pine tree. 

Dorian watched his breath form a cloud of mist in front of him, and pressed the little button on his keychain. His car’s lights flashed, and the horn beeped once, obnoxiously loud against the silent scene. For a moment, he glanced up the road, and then lifted his head higher, arching his head way back to take in the peaks of the mountains overshadowing the quiet town. The sky was fading into sunset, and pink light glowed through the trees and sparkled off the snow in the distant mountaintops. The mountains loomed quietly, shining in orange and peach with dark evergreen trees blanketing around their roots, and among them little golden lights from mountainside cabins were glowing softly through the snow. It was beautiful and serene, like a scene directly out of a holiday card, and Dorian hated every single thing about it. 

He sighed, breath forming a long whispering mist from his mouth and disappearing into the air, and rubbed his hands together. He scanned the shops on the street before him, windows all dark, signs all turned round to ‘closed’, and then with another, more irritated little sigh, looked at his watch. 

Half past four, said the large gold analogue contraption on his wrist. He sighed again, and strode forward across the street, his shoes slipping awkwardly against the packed down snow. He stepped up onto the sidewalk and frowned at the crunch of coarse salt under his foot. Then he glanced up and down the line of shops one more time, his eye landing on the only lit window on the whole street, and with one last heavy sigh, walked carefully towards it. 

The buildings looked old; stone foundations with thick wood or brick walls, mostly two stories tall with little apartments slotted in above, and topped with high-pointed dutch roofs complete with smoking chimneys. He passed a dark-windowed chocolatier with displays of intricate candy ornaments and gold foil wrapped chocolates in the window, and a bakery with windows decorated with paper snowflakes and quintessentially charming gingerbread houses. All closed as of four in the afternoon. 

"Ridiculous." He muttered aloud to the empty street. 

The open shop, when he came to it, had a large sculpture of a wooden bear in the window, and a tower of suede moccasins on display. Lavellan's Crafts, said a sign on the door. Looking in through the window he could see more display stands; postcards and keychains and little animal figurines. 

Fantastic, thought Dorian bitterly, a chintzy souvenir shop. Just what he needed. 

He pushed the heavy wooden door open, and it grunted on its hinges as his feet stomped over the welcome mat. And it was a Welcome! mat, woven out of some coarse fabric and dotted with thematic pine cones and holly leaves, the happy greeting stencilled on in uncomplicated calligraphy. 

The warmth and the smell of the place washed over him immediately. The walls were left unpainted, beautiful old wood varnished and shining in the warm incandescent light from an intricate wooden chandelier that hung overhead. A nearby shelf littered with artisanal scented candles and boxes of "genuine" incense sticks wafted out a mix of bold scents; patchouli, sage, maple, pine. He moved away from it, scanning the other shelves and displays. 

Beaded decorations and windchimes hung in one window, and further into the shop, past the little rotating displays of animal figurine keychains and greeting cards, larger items stood out with hefty price tags. Large canvases displayed boldly painted landscapes of the local scenery in all seasons, and portraits of rustic looking elves engaging in various traditional activities. His eyes lingered on the paintings a little too long, caught up in the crisp lines and bright colours. The people all had joy on their faces; rosy cheeks and bright eyes, dancing in colourful dresses that very nearly looked to be moving. As he stood struck by their expressiveness, he almost forgot to remain unimpressed. 

He picked up a bar of handmade soap scattered with gritty bits of lavender, sniffed it, and put it back down. Then he wandered over to a display of wooden tree ornaments, and spun it absently, watching the little wolves and caribou and bears sway about. 

"Looking for something specific?" Said a soft voice out of a dark nook behind the counter at the back of the shop. 

Dorian turned to look with a start, and before he could think better of it, he complained.

"Got anything that says 'happy holidays, thank you so much for dragging me out to the frozen middle of nowhere to spend the holidays working out of some stuffy old cabin that doesn't even get cell service. Not that it matters, since the entire dull little village shuts down at four in the afternoon and in all probability there won't be anywhere for miles to find decent company or a decent brandy’ ?" He asked. Then with a twinge of self-aware guilt for his attitude, he amended the rant with a vaguely apologetic "no offence". 

Behind the counter, the soft voice was laughing. Then an elf came into view, leaning his elbows over the counter and looking at Dorian with sparkling green eyes. He kept laughing, chuckling mildly under his breath and shaking his head so that golden light danced off the messy curls of his dark red hair. His face was tattooed, like the elves in the paintings, and they glowed against his warm-toned skin. Dorian had never seen work like it in real life, and once again found his eye lingering a little too long.

"Sorry, I don't think so." The elf said finally, a sideways smirk resting on his full lips, "but the shop down the street sells chocolate truffles filled with brandy that are quite nice. They don't open again until ten tomorrow, of course. Can I interest you in a postcard of our dull little village, instead?" 

Dorian's cheeks burned, and not half because of the chiding tone of the shopkeeper's rebuttal. Mainly, he was busy getting hot at just how striking those eyes were; how they glittered across the room at him with perfectly patient bemusement. 

He sighed. "Apologies. Long drive." He muttered, quickly grabbing an ornament carved like two fish swimming after each other's tails, and a wintery postcard decorated with a photograph of the tree in the town square. He walked himself up to the counter and set the items down, hastily digging into his pocket for his wallet and avoiding the elf's still-penetrating gaze. 

"If it's for someone you don't like, you should go with the wolf." Remarked the elf, still leaning his elbows on the counter and making no moves to ring him up, or stop smirking. "Around these parts, we tell stories about a Dread Wolf who tricks tourists into getting lost in the mountains." His smirk broadened. 

"Then why put it on an ornament?" 

The elf shrugged. "They're good stories." His soft voice lilted with an accent Dorian couldn't place, musical and sweet, but there was still a good deal of cheek to his tone. "Actually, the wolf represents strength and loyalty. The Dread Wolf is just a local legend." Then he winked at him, and slid the postcard across the counter to the register. 

"Strength and loyalty." Dorian shook his head, "and fish?" 

"Balance." 

Balance. As in work-life? Ironic, given the intended recipient. "I'll stick with the fish." 

"That everything?" 

Dorian nodded. 

"Hold on, I think I have something in the back that might interest you." The elf disappeared into his dark little nook and through a storeroom door, the teasing smirk never once leaving his face. When he came out again he was holding a single gold foil wrapped chocolate, and he nudged it across the counter with a friendly nod. "Happy holidays." He said, and the smile on his face shifted into one that was somewhat less amused, and more sincere. 

Dorian took the chocolate tentatively, and finished paying for the ornament and card. It totaled more than he would have expected for some faux-Dalish tourist fare, and he took a second to properly look over the ornament before tucking it into his pocket. No factory logo, just the initials TL burned into the wood. So maybe it wasn't quite a chintzy souvenir shop. 

"This all local?" He asked, suddenly feeling a new wave of guilt over his earlier disparaging comments. 

The very obviously Dalish elf in front of him raised an eyebrow and nodded. "There's a collective." 

He plucked two business cards and a pamphlet out of the brochure stand in front of his cash register, and slid them across the counter. The business cards had gallery names on them, and the pamphlet advertised the services of a local community centre, including an ongoing holiday craft fair. Dorian glanced over the rest of the brochures in the stand. There were a few other business cards for local shops, and pamphlets for companies offering various adventure packages; mountain climbing, horseshoe tours, trail rides. 

The elf's gaze followed him with a faint degree of amused judgment, and the expression fell on his striking features in a way that made Dorian's throat dry. He cleared his throat, picked out a general ‘Village Businesses’ brochure from the stand and smoothed out his expression. It was entirely unfair, this striking elf looking at him like that. He could fix this. 

"Well, now I've made a fool of myself, can I more humbly ask for a recommendation?" He passed the brochure over the counter with a gracefully apologetic smile. 

The elf unfolded the page on the counter top. Then grabbed a pencil from somewhere out of that mess of hair, and flashed him a quick, toothy grin before bending over it and beginning to circle and scribble away. 

"This might help keep you from getting bored, even without cell service. When do you leave?"  

Dorian's heart jumped at the retort, and the elf glanced up at him with another quick flash of taunting teeth.

“In about two weeks.” He answered roughly, throat dry again. 

The elf passed back the brochure, and tucked the pencil back into a braid behind his ear with a slight frown. “Not really enough time, but hopefully you can manage to enjoy some of it.” He said, leaning back and smirking again. Dorian went back to feeling flushed. “But we close in five minutes.” Of course you do, he thought. "If you want, I could show you where to get a good beer, if not good brandy.” Oh. Read the rest on AO3!

[callmethehunter]

Thanks to @brownskinsugarplum76 and @firethatgrewsolow for being so incredibly helpful, willing to listen and give advice when I had a question or needed to regroup. Finally, here's Chapter 5 of Maggie and Robert which I hope you enjoy.💕check out the post I tried to make with links to previous chapters.

As they were leaving the restaurant, Steve turned away from the main doors and headed for the pay phones that were tucked away in a corner. He mumbled that he had to call about the boat.

Maggie stood a few feet away, casually looking over the plethora of flyers that advertised the perfect Florida vacation destinations. She usually wouldn’t eavesdrop on Steve’s conversations, but since the boat was central to her plan for seeing Robert play at Tugboat Annies, she was compelled to listen. What if the deal fell through?!

She overheard Steve say through gritted teeth “You’re still wanting the $5,500 for the boat...but you don’t have the cash for what I fronted you?! For the weed and acid?”

She stole a glance and saw him furiously rubbing the stubble on his chin and pacing back and forth in front of the phone.

There was a long pause as Steve listened and, raising his voice, asked, “What are you saying, Carlos, ‘For most of it? Where’s the shit you didn’t sell? Where’s my money!”

Steve paused, red in the face, then spat out “No. Let me tell you something Carlos” His tone was menacing. “ It’s always been my fuckin’ weed, not yours. Mine. So now you owe me the fucking boat. That’s how we’re gonna settle this shit.”

Her eyes came to rest on Steve’s as he tried to intimidate and exert his will, seeming to enjoy throwing out threats...It was at that instant that she saw him clearly for who he really was: a low level drug dealer, a wanna-be Mafioso, with delusions of grandeur...Mr. Tough Guy….He could be such an asshole! It sickened her, at the pit of her stomach and made her want to puke.

With that, he slammed the phone down on it’s cradle, kicked the bottom of the booth, and walked over to Maggie, who pretended to be engrossed in the Disney World brochures.

As he yanked on Maggie’s elbow, she turned and followed him. She couldn’t help but feel off-kilter from that whole exchange. She was honestly unsettled by his explosive anger and the way he belittled the man. And enjoyed it...His bad vibe hung over them like a dark cloud as they exited the restaurant.

They walked at a quickened pace back to the Camaro and were soon back on A1A, headed home. In total silence. Until Maggie asked “Where are we going? To get the boat?”

“Nah, I’ll deal with that later...without you”, he trailed off “It may not be…. too friendly”.

Maggie shrugged. She had her foot up on the dashboard, window down, her hair dancing with the wind. She felt traces of the acid from the night before...a flashback...and those pleasant feelings led naturally to thoughts of Robert. God almighty, he was exquisite- that long blond hair, the tautness of his body, his scent and his touch still lingered on her skin..She shifted in her seat to ease the slight soreness between her legs, a reminder of his massive manhood. She wanted to feel him pressed against her, again and again; feel him getting harder as they embraced...Her body ached with longing. Snap out of it, Maggie!... No use. Her mind was fixated on Robert, her body craved him like a drug...his golden curls so soft to the touch, his muscular arms around her, his throbbing cock in her mouth, then deep inside her... she longed for the feelings that Robert evoked in her, for the visceral reaction he inspired. But that wasn’t all, he was so kind and gentle with her, he was so funny and easy to be with... She couldn’t stop thinking about him. Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough...then she would see him again.

Steve and Maggie continued down AIA, each preoccupied with their own thoughts. He with the boat, his wheeling and dealing; and she with Robert and the way he made her feel. Steve was in some parallel universe, she realized, he was physically present, yet mentally and emotionally miles away.

She came out of her reverie as they turned onto their street. Exhaustion was settling on each of them. After their sleepless nights, they wanted nothing better than to lay down and rest. Steve soon dozed off on the couch, in front of the TV, mouth agape and snoring loudly. Maggie went to the bedroom, fell on the bed and slept until the next morning.

---------------------------

Maggie woke up on Saturday, the day of the concert, to the sound of the telephone ringing. It was her best friend, Kathy, calling to tell her she’d run into most of Steve’s crowd last night and they were stopping by Tugboat Annies. Maggie smiled. Her plan to keep Steve distracted was unfolding nicely.

Steve came into the room to say he was going to get the boat and then get supplies.

“Make sure to get the life jackets...and the beer.” Maggie called after him. She waited until the Mustang pulled away from the driveway to call Kathy.

“Come over!”, Maggie blurted out excitedly, “You’ve got to help me pick out an outfit before Steve gets home”. “Oh, and don’t forget to bring the platforms”.

Maggie felt giddy, filled with anticipation about seeing Robert again. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt this happy and excited. She danced around to the music of Jimi Hendrix as she tidied up the apartment, grimacing as she picked up yet another one of Steve’s dirty socks from off the floor.

As Kathy walked through the front door, Maggie aimed one of the filthy rags at her friend like a projectile.

“That’s gross!” Kathy said as she batted the sock away. With long, silky blond hair and blue eyes as well as a feisty personality, Kathy drew the eye of everyone in a room. She had been Maggie’s best friend and confidant since 8th grade. She couldn’t wait to lay eyes on this “Robert” person that Maggie was gushing about…

“I brought everything that I thought would make you look hot”, Kathy said with a sly grin as she pulled out Maggie’s favorite platform sandals. It was a good thing they wore the same size!

The morning passed quickly as Maggie and Kathy tried on different outfits. Some were outlandish, like the beaded skirt and silky camisole over which Maggie draped a fluffy white boa around her neck and shoulders. They giggled like school girls as they twirled in front of the mirror. Most of their outfits were a combination of items from each of their closets, but finally after narrowing down their choices Kathy settled on a tight pair of bell bottom jeans, low on the hips, a suede halter top that laced up the front. Maggie looked radiant in her off-white, embroidered mini-dress that criss-crossed and tied in the front The pale leather platforms blended with her tanned legs, making her appear much taller than her true 5’2” height. They rummaged through Maggie’s jewelry box and picked out silver and turquoise earrings and bangle bracelets. Maggie completed her look with a dainty anklet bracelet made of tiny multicolored beads.

Once Kathy had packed her duffel bag and left, Maggie busied herself by reading The Great Gatsby on the balcony, her skin bronzing under the mid-day sun. The heat made her drowsy, and before she knew it, her eyes felt heavy and she dozed off. Time seemed to pass swiftly. She saw a joint Steve left on the coffee table. She lit it and inhaled slowly, filling her lungs with the pungent essence of sinsemilla...She heard faint sounds, it was music actually, the notes were vibrant as they traveled unseen with the tropical air...and suddenly she found herself at the threshold of the entrance to Tugboat Annies looking into the dim interior. The place was packed. Bodies moving past her through the darkened corridors until she stood outside under the light of a full moon.

Her eyes adjusted and it was then she saw him….a head taller than the rest, his golden curls caught under the silvery moonbeams and the spotlights, so that he glowed...She stood immobilized as her eyes took in all of him. Robert floated through the crowd toward her, his eyes fixed on her. He stopped in front of her, clasped the back of her head in his large hands, and pulled her toward him. As his fingers fondled her hair she melted into his kiss, her lips parting as she tasted his tongue. Heat traveled like quickfire through her entire body, her senses were lit up by his electric touch. His pants swelled as his erection grew, pushing the fabric to the limit. Maggie could feel his manhood growing erect against her as they embraced, making her ache for him. Wait!!.. What was that obnoxious pounding noise? An incessant banging that pulled her out of the kiss with a jolt. She found herself still on the balcony, laying on the chaise lounge where she now realized she had fallen asleep. It was just a dream. But the kiss had felt so real. More loud knocking and curse words as Steve pounded on the front door, which she had inadvertently locked after letting Kathy out. "What the fuck, Maggie? ” Steve shouted, punctuating each word with a bang on the door.”Open the door!” Bang Bang Bang.

And with that, the last vestiges of her dream disappeared like a misty fog that hovers over a darkened ocean. She sighed, disappointed by her reality. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and walked wearily to open the door.

----------------------------------------

[mysgprop-cstee]

The M Condo @Middle Road

The M Condo @Middle Road

Work from Home | Work Near Home ✅ DOORSTEP TO MRT: Bugis, Esplanade & City Hall MRT Stations ✅ WALK TO MEGA SHOPPING MALLS: Bugis Junction, Bugis +, Suntec City, Raffles City & more ✅ JUST TOP ♦️城市中心点, 品质生活圈 繁荣商业与金融区环绕 ♦️汇聚文化, 艺术, 生活的核心 位置 人文, 历史, 商业在此交汇，与知名学府和顶级艺术院校为邻 绝佳连通, 四条地铁站皆在步行范围内 ♦️步行可至大型商城 Bugis Junction, 新达城, 来福士坊 1BR +Study 527-657sf $1,778,000 - Last 2 Whatsapp Us for The Video of Actual Unit Actual Photos

✅HOME/WORK Concept w Flexible Working Space - Integrated Working/Dining Table! ✅Additional Provision of Storage Space! ✅Efficient City Home Living! ✅Study Room is Big Enough to Convert Into a Bedroom with a Single Bed, Making it a Compact 2BR! ✅CBD Premium High Level Units With City View for as LOW as $1.438m https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UUVXC2vtlqw MORE THAN A HOME. AN IDENTITY Quick LinksActual Photos Fact Sheet Unique Features What's Nearby The M? Unit Mixes: Floor Plan & Virtual Tour StarBuy Download Brochure

The M Condo Middle Road by Wing Tai Holdings is a brand new mixed development in the centre of Rochor area, District 7, Singapore. The M Condo at Bugis has a site coverage of over 80,000 sq ft, sitting along the eastern end of prime middle road. The site is surrounded by some major commercial developments, 5-star luxury heritage hotels, branded shopping malls and an array of food & beverage options. This new development will comprise of three 20-storey residential tower and one block of low-rise apartment, atop a row of approximately 1,500 sqm of commercial space on the ground floor. Of the 522 units in the project, 233 or 45% are a mix of studios, one-bedroom and one-bedroom-plus study apartments sized from 409 to 527 sq ft. Another 52% of the units are a mix of two-bedroom and two-bedroom-plus study units, with sizes from 592 to 764 sq ft. The balance 17 units are three-bedroom, dual-key units at 904 sq ft each. These dual-key units can be split into a standalone studio and a two-bedroom apartment, which appeals to both investors and owner-occupiers alike. The convenience of The M Condo location is another major attribute: It is within a four- to five-minute walk of three MRT stations – Bugis MRT Interchange Station for the East-West and Downtown Lines, the City Hall MRT Interchange Station for the North-South and East-West Lines, and the Esplanade MRT Station on the Circle Line. When it comes to retail, dining and entertainment options, you have the conveniences of having them just right at your doorsteps. Plenty of options are also available at the nearby shopping malls such as Bugis Junction, Bugis+, Suntec City Mall, Raffles City, Peninsula Shopping Center,...And also near to many food centres such as Gluttons Bay, Albert Center, Tekka Market, Golden Mile Food Center, Hong Lim Market & Food Center, North Bridge Road Market & Food Center and more. The M Condo presents a great opportunity for the young urbanites by introducing a fresh, exciting living space that enables them to experience it through the vibrant and cosmopolitan culture in town. With the proximity to almost anywhere in the central part of Singapore, this luxurious property by Wing Tai is rarely available and were accorded with excellent locational attributes, on top of being blessed with an easy access to the underground Bugis MRT Station. Fact Sheet TypeDescriptionsProject NameThe M Developer NameWingcharm Investment Private Limited (Wing Tai Holdings)Location30,32,34,46,38 Middle Road (District 07)Tenure of Land99 years leaseholdExpected Date of Completion (T.O.P.)31 March 2024Site area7,462.7 sqmTotal No. of Units522 Units in 1 block of 6 storey and 3 blocks of 20 storey with commercial on the ground level Car Park Lots261 car park lots + 132 bicycle lotsFactsheet for The M Condo @Bugis

Wing Tai was founded in 1955 in Hong Kong and incorporated in Singapore on 9 August 1963. Today, Wing Tai Holdings Limited is Singapore's leading property developer and lifestyle company. Listed on the Singapore Stock Exchange since 1989, it is an investment holding company with a key focus on growth markets in Asia, with assets exceeding S$4.5 billion. Through a network of companies under the Wing Tai Asia brand, viz. Wing Tai Holdings Limited (Singapore), Wing Tai Malaysia Sdn. Bhd. (Malaysia), Wing Tai Properties Limited (Hong Kong), Wing Tai China Pte Ltd (China) and their subsidiaries, Wing Tai Asia has core businesses in property investment and development, lifestyle retail and hospitality management in key Asian markets. Corporate Philosophy Wing Tai Asia stays true to its corporate philosophy of achieving winning partnerships with its business partners, customers and staff, having a strong track record of quality and an extensive portfolio of products. Its network of international investors, bankers and business associates enables Wing Tai Asia to harness expertise and resources for the most innovative projects across Asia. Core Values Integrity, Teamwork, Leadership, Passion and Continuous Improvement Unique Features 1. Right in the heart of the city with superb connectivity & transportation network 2. Minutes’ walk to 3 MRT stations (Bugis, City Hall, Esplanade) 3. The CBD & The Marina Bay Financial District is 2 & 3 MRT stations away respectively 4. Minutes’ drive to Orchard Road shopping belt 5. Abundance of amenities & food options round the clock within walking distance 6. Well-designed regular-shaped layouts, with Master bedrooms that allow for King-sized beds 7. Home/Work concept with flexible integrated furniture provision for studio & 1-bedroom unit types 8. Unique facilities with co-working environment & high-intensity fitness equipment 9. Smart features that are firsts in residential condominium 10. 132 bicycle lots to facilitate sustainable, car-lite city living 11. High investment opportunity with the rejuvenation of the Rochor-Ophir Corridor 12. Ready pool of tenants with many Grade-A offices & tertiary institutions in the vicinity

Location Map

Living up to its name, Middle Road is located right smack in between Bugis district and Beach Road, where major transformation is taking place. The M is also in the vicinity of the Rochor Planning Area, where Singapore’s budding arts, culture and education district is located, with LaSalle College of the Arts, Nanyang Academy of Fine Arts campuses, School of the Arts Singapore and Singapore Management University in the vicinity. The appeal isn’t just the centrality of The M Condo, which is in the Downtown Core in the Core Central Region (CCR), but the diversity of the area, with the mix of old shophouses, national monuments such as the Raffles Hotel, and new integrated developments such as South Beach, DUO and the upcoming Guoco Midtown. Shaw Towers on Beach Road, located directly opposite The M, will also be redeveloped into a new, Grade-A office tower in the future. Besides Grade-A office towers, there are also malls close by, such as Bugis Junction, Marina Square, Raffles City Shopping Centre and Suntec City Mall.

Marina Bay, Central Business District, Residential Area, and Bugis are iconic places that make up the lively landscape of downtown Singapore, contributing to the modernity and internationalization of the island. central Southeast Asia. Amid the glamor and glamor of the city center quietly inhabiting the Ophir-Rochor belt. The Ophir-Rochor area is a paradise, filled with heritage gems and lifestyle, bringing an important counterweight to the surrounding areas of modernity in downtown Singapore.

“The M Condo is located right in the middle of the city,” says Wing Tai’s Cheng. “There’s a lot of F&B and retail . People in the creative industries tend to work late at night because that’s when their creative juices start flowing. And we want to cater to that 24x7 lifestyle.” Terence Tam, owner of Hong Kong-based design firm UTS, was engaged by Wing Tai as the interior designer for the project – from the sales gallery, the clubhouse and the common areas, to the individual units at The M. “The area is very vibrant, with the art schools, a lot of youngsters hanging out, and so there’s a lot of night activity and hipster cafes and bars,” observes Tam. The idea was to design a project that will appeal to the young. The units therefore had to be right-sized so that absolute prices would be affordable, adds Tam. “We wanted to incorporate elements of co-working, co-living and co-playing into the project.” He likens the project to the Mini Cooper. “Why does the Mini Cooper continue to attract attention and why are people willing to pay a premium for it compared to other small cars?” he says. “It’s because the Mini Cooper is more playful and sexier.” A Life Of Easy Sophistication Bugis is one of the best parts of Singapore that you want to make your home for plenty of good reasons. All the great things is that you can think of are easily accessible from your future home at The M condo, due to its strategic location. In this guide, we look at some of the top benefits that the future residents will get by making District 7 of Singapore their home.

In options of education, you need not worry when living at The M Condo, since it is well situated next to many reputable schools that will provide quality education for your children. We can get to school shortly and arrive home early as well living them with plenty of time to do other activities and rest. Most of these schools are situated less than 5 mins walk from the M condo to these institutions. Embrace your proximity at your home!

What's Nearby The M? Trains (MRT & LRT) • BUGIS MRT DT14 EW12 280m • ESPLANADE MRT CC3 470m • CITY HALL MRT EW13 NS25 640m   Groceries/ Shopping • Bugis Junction 70m • BUGIS POINT 130m • Bugis Cube 170m   Schools • Singapore Management University (SMU) 400m • School Of The Arts, Singapore 800m • Kaplan Singapore 0.87km

Site Plan & Unit Mixes

Clubhouse and facilities: Extension of living space On the first level of The M Condo is commercial space, which can be divided into nine retail shops and F&B outlets. The commercial space is not for sale at the moment. “I like the idea of having just one owner-occupier for the space, who will in turn lease it out for different F&B concepts,” says Cheng. Sitting on top of the commercial space is the carpark, with the facilities deck on the third level. Facilities include a 50m swimming pool, jacuzzi pool and the clubhouse named Club M, which is more than 3,000 sq ft in size. “The co-living, co-working and co-playing concept extends to the clubhouse,” says Tam. “Besides a relaxation area, there’s a bar, a gaming room, a baking studio, a board room that can be used as a meeting room and a multipurpose room.” The apartments are elevated 9m above the facilities deck, which is equivalent to three floors for a typical development. Hence, the apartments at The M Condo are elevated seven floors above street level. There is a low-rise, six-storey block and three 20-storey blocks of apartments. The design architect for The M is one of the oldest and most established international architectural and engineering firms, P+T Group, founded in 1868. The residential blocks at The M are designed such that units overlook the Civic and Cultural District on one side, and the Bugis area on the other. “When you look out at the Civic and Cultural District, it’s like being in New York, where you are looking towards Central Park,” says Wing Tai’s Cheng. ‘Bohemian vibe’ Inspired by the location of The M Condo, Wing Tai announced a three-year partnership initiative with LaSalle College of the Arts, to create and integrate art into the project itself. “We are one of the first, if not the first, to collaborate with a design school and to integrate art within the design of a project,” says Cheng. By engaging LaSalle right from the start of the project, “it helps the artists capture the spirit of the place better”, says Cheng. The artists, design architect and developer will also be able to work together to identify indoor and outdoor spaces at The M where art could be incorporated. “It’s about a holistic approach to art and design to create a rich environment,” he adds. Typically, art installations are incorporated when a project is close to completion, notes Cheng. “But at The M, the artists are going to be part of the design team. It’s really the marrying of architecture and design to create something new.”   Unit Mixes:

Floor Plan & Virtual Tour True luxury means indulging in only the best. This is manifested in every home at THE M CONDO. Each apartment features ultra-luxurious fittings, the finest material and superb workmanship to create the most splendid of livings space.

Home/Work concept Wing Tai has introduced a new concept of “home/work”, which it intends to trademark. The versatility of space use in the home/work concept was created by UTS’ Tam. The units were designed to be “both efficient and flexible”, with “transformer furniture” incorporated for added versatility, he adds. For instance, the studios come with sliding wardrobes in the living area. If the space is used as a workplace, the wardrobes can be used as storage space instead. “This allows the space to be changeable,” he explains. Lighting inside the wardrobe provides illumination for the room, even if the rest of the lights are turned off. The long countertop at the kitchen can be used as a dining table or a meeting table. It can also be moved all the way across the room to the window and turned into a bar counter. The kitchen cabinets come with translucent glass and are also illuminated within. This way, they can be used as display cabinets too. Additional storage space is provided above the kitchen cabinets. Given the depth of the storage space, it can even fit big suitcases. Alternatively, it can be used as a display cabinet, adds Tam. The bathrooms come with an LED light box above the mirror that looks like a skylight. It has three different lighting modes that can be controlled by a switch. Read the full article

[staticscreenwriting]

Until we say goodbye || two

Warning! This multipart story takes place after the events of season 3. There’s huge spoilers already in the synopsis down below. I warned you.

Synopsis: (Y/N) Hargrove has to come to terms with the fact that her twin brother is dead and she had to watch him die, unable to do anything about it. There is something she can do for him now though and that’s keeping a promise. The promise to go back home to California. Together. In order to drive cross country and spread Billy’s ashes in a place where the Hargrove kids used to be happy, (Y/N) enlists the help of Steve Harrington. Steve Harrington who decides that it’s time to break out from his parents expectations and be the person he always wanted to be.

This time on “Until we say goodbye”: The teens stay at a quirky motel. Steve talks to mama Harrington and (Y/N) give us a look into her childhood.

(caution: mention of death, emotional abuse, slight mention of physical abuse, mention of alcohol // if you need me to tag any other possible triggers let me know)

One // 

Part 2 of ?

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

Help a girl out with a reblog, thank you ♥

And if we hit on troubled water

I’ll be the one to keep you warm and safe

And we’ll be carrying each other

Until we say goodbye on our dying day

A cool breeze is blowing past (Y/N) as she sits on edge of the old abandoned lifeguard tower, feet dangling in the air. She’s well aware of the fact that the wind is making a mess of her hair, leaving it a tangled mess. She doesn’t really give a shit though.

The beach is practically deserted except for her and the couple strolling by the shore, throwing sticks for their puppy every once in a while. They seem so happy, as if nothing matters but them and their dog and the ocean.

Her thoughts wander towards Pumpkin, the little Jack Russell puppy they adopted a few years ago when dad was dating this woman named Laura. Laura loved dogs and dad loved Laura and so when she moved in, so did Pumpkin.

(Y/N) loved that stupid dog, hell even Billy did. But like all good things in the Hargrove’s life, this one didn’t last very long either. Dad messed up his relationship with Laura and Laura was smart enough to get the fuck out and take Pumpkin with her. 

The thumping of boots against the wooden planks of the lifeguard tower, pulls (Y/N) back from her trip down memory lane. 

Billy plops down next to her, fumbling a cigarette from the pocket of his denim jacket and lighting it. He’s started smoking a few months ago, just after the twins 13th birthday. Dad was really mad when he found that first cigarette hole in the carpet of their room. 

“ Why are you here ? ‘s about to storm “ Billy mumbles around the cigarette dangling from the corner of his lips.

“ Dad’s being as asshole “ 

“ As per usual “ Billy scoffs, “ what happened ? “ 

“ He found out that I pierced my ears, said I look like a slut. “ 

The words still sting even now that she repeats them to her brother. (Y/N) doesn’t think it’s something a father should say, especially to his daughter. It’s just earrings, what’s the big deal ? 

It doesn’t make her a slut. Right ? 

“ What the fuck does he know. He still lives in 1971 with his ugly ass mustache“ Billy jokes, effectively getting a laugh from his twin sister. 

“ You know what the worst part is ? “ (Y/N) asks.

“ Hmm ? “ 

“ I think my ears might be infected. They burn like hell. “ 

“ Ya know what ? That’s your own damn fault. I told you using Galliano liqueur was not the best way to sanitize the needle. “ 

(Y/N) chuckles, nodding her head in agreement. “ Yeah, you were right, I admit it “.

“ Good. “ 

She turns to look at her brother. His hair is growing longer now, the curls sitting messily on his head reminding her of crashing waves during a thunderstorm.

Dad hates that Billy is growing his hair and and (Y/N) is fairly sure that’s part of the reason why Billy likes his hair so much. Everything that pisses off their dad is a good think in Billy’s book.

“ Still think you should’ve let me pierce one of your ears. Would’ve looked damn cool. “ she says, teasing smirk playing on her lips.

Billy shakes his head, curls bouncing from the motion. He’s mirroring her smirk though.

“ No fucking way. Never. “ 

(Y/N) finger plays with the tiny silver spike dangling from her ear as her eyes focus on the scenery passing by the window. There’s not a lot to see really, it’s almost pitch black outside. They’re on the road for about an hour and a half now but Steve keeps bringing up stopping.

He’s tired, (Y/N) can tell. Tired and still a bit freaked out by the whole situation.

“ So Terre Haute is coming up at I think we should see if we can find a place to stay the night, then stock up on food and gas tomorrow morning and drive through the entire day “.

Steve speaks up, more of a monologue than anything else. (Y/N) doesn’t mind how long the journey takes as long as they get to California in the end. She doesn’t mind stopping for the night. Doesn’t mind the occasional food or toilet breaks. Leaving Hawkins behind already feels liberating. 

Every mile they put between themselves and that fucking town feels like a weight lifted off her shoulder.

“ Alright, sounds good to me. We gotta find a cheap place though, I don’t have a lot of cash with me “.

“ S’alright I got it “ Steve exclaims.

“ I don’t need your charity, Harrington, “ (Y/N) snaps at him. Maybe it’s a Hargrove thing, being bad at accepting help from other people. From basically strangers.

For the biggest part of her life, (Y/N) only had Billy to depend on. Now that he’s gone it feels absolutely terrifying putting her trust in someone else.

“ Sorry I — that’s not what I meant. “ 

“ No, “ (Y/N) sighs “ I’m sorry for snapping. I know what you meant. It’s okay. “ 

There’s a thick awkward tension filling the car and (Y/N) absolutely hates it. 

“ Can I turn on the radio ? “ she asks motioning towards it. 

Steve nods in agreement. “ There should still be a mixtape in the player. “

With the push of a button the opening chords to Mötley Crües ‘Shout at the devil’ echo through the vehicle, making (Y/N) raise her eyebrows in surprise.

“ Steve Harrington, I did not expect you to listen to this kind of music “.

Steve just shrugs “ why not ? I like all kinds of music. “ 

“ Steve Harrington, Hawkins’ golden boy listening to the Devil’s music. That’s a surprise. “ 

“ Golden boy, “ Steve scoffs “ yeah right. I just about graduated High School. I didn’t get into college. I work at a video store and my own dad thinks I’m goddamn loser. “ 

“ You wanna talk about shitty dads ? Cause let me tell you, I’ll win that one. “ 

It’s quiet for a moment, before Steve clears his throat and speaks up again.

“ Can I ask you something ? “ 

“ Mmh “ 

“ What did they tell your dad happened ? Did they — did they really tell him that whole fire bullshit ? “ 

“ Yup. “ 

“ And he believed it ? “ 

(Y/N) nods. “ He did. He has no reason not to “.

The fire story. Authorities told Neil and elaborate story about how Billy died in a tragic accident in the big fire at Starcourt mall. Something about wrong place wrong time.

(Y/N) was there when they told him. Susan was crying hysterically. Max was — numb. Neil though. Neil didn’t even flinch. There was no sign of emotion. No sign of grieve. Nothing. Nothing at all.

“ I don’t think he gives a shit either, to be honest. “ 

“ That’s horrible. “ Steve exclaims.

“ That’s my dad for ya. “ 

Steve’s BMW rolls up to the parking lot of the Cardinal Inn Motel. It’s a small Motel complex and it looks like it’s seen better days. The walls are a dirty white, almost gray color and all doors are painted a bright red although most of the paint is chipping off. 

The kids enter the motel lobby, a small room decked out in all kinds of kitschy decor. There’s cross stitch art and paintings and decorative throw pillows. And all if it proudly features various images of a red cardinal bird. 

“ Welcome to the Cardinal Inn Motel. “ a chipper voice speaks up from behind the reception desk. “ I’m Ruth, how can I help ya ? “ 

Ruth is a plump little woman with a kind smile, round cheeks and extremely curly ginger hair. She looks more like a caricature than an actual person. Though (Y/N) thinks she fits this place perfectly. 

“ We would like twooo — ? “ Steve trails off and glances towards (Y/N) in question.

“ One “ 

“ — one room. With two beds though “. 

“ Oh sure sure. Let me see. It’s 32 $ for a night. “ Ruth says and opens a book, probably looking up which rooms are occupied and which rooms are free. She walks towards a board holding a lot of keys and takes one of handing it to Steve.

“ This is your room key, It’s number 44. When you step outside, the room is located in the building to your right. It’s on the first floor, first door once you walk up the stairs. I would have to ask for a down payment though. Just in case. “ 

Steve hastily pulls out a bundle of cash from his jeans, counting the right amount and handing it to Ruth. “ That’s the entire amount, we’re only staying for one night “.

“ Very well then. I hope you have a pleasant stay at the Cardinal Inn. “ Ruth chirps almost like a bird herself.

“ Thanks “ Steve says and walks towards the door.

(Y/N) stays rooted though, eyes wandering around the room from one red bird to the next to the next. 

“ Hey Ruth, “ she chimes up.

“ Yes, dear ? “ 

“ What’s with the birds ? “

“ Oh the cardinal ? That’s Indiana’s state bird. “ 

“ They’re funky looking little guys, huh ? “ 

“ Truly. They’re also very interesting. If you want to learn about them, they’re an informational brochure in every room. “ 

(Y/N) gives Ruth a soft smile then rushes after Steve, out into the chilly night air.

“ Knight Rider, really Harrington ? “ 

Steve sits up from his slumped position on the bed as (Y/N) comes back from the bathroom, freshly showered and dressed in her pyjamas. A choice of pyjamas she thoroughly regrets now as the cool air inside the motel room hits the skin of her legs. 

She’s dressed in a pair of short red pj pants and one of Billy’s old band shirts. One she’s stolen from his closet after — the incident. It smells like him. Makes her feel like he’s still there.

“ What, It’s good. “ 

“ It’s so stupid. It’s a talking car. “ 

“ Okay, whatever. You keep on hating but I tell you this show is gonna last forever and it’s gonna win all the awards. Trust me. “ 

“ Mmmh. Sure. Shower’s yours. “ 

Steve gathers some of his stuff from his duffle bag and moves towards the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

As she is left alone in the room, the gravity of it all comes crashing down on (Y/N). This is it. That trip she wanted to go on with Billy. That trip they had fantasized about since the moment they left California. 

Now it’s happening but it doesn’t feel right. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. With Billy in a thermos. With Billy — dead.

The room suddenly feels too small. Like the walls are gonna close in on her any second now. She needs air. Fresh air. Needs to get out of here. Now. Now.

So she does.

Slips on her shoes and the room key and dashes out through the door and into the night. It’s cold. Way too cold for the amount of clothing she’s wearing or not wearing depending on how you see it. 

For a while all she does is walk up and down the road, wishing she had remembered to take her pack of smokes with her. 

When it gets too cold though, she spots a neon sign in one of the windows of the Lobby building. “Souvenirs”.

She wonders if all of those souvenirs have red birds on them.

They don’t. Most of them do, but not all of them. A lot of them display what she can only assume are important buildings of  the city of Terre Haute, Indiana.

(Y/N) remembers the few trips she used to take with her mom and Billy, when they were just little kids. Mom loved to take them to the little quirky little towns across the coast and the kids loved exploring them. Billy always got a postcard, from every single place. (Y/N) got keychains. She still has a box of them stuffed beneath her bed at home. 

Her eyes wander around the room before they fall onto a display of all kinds of different postcards. Most of them, as expected, have birds on them. Though there’s one that doesn’t. It says “Terre Haute” in big bold letters. It reminds her of the ones Billy used to get from those coastal towns. 

Greetings from … the few happy childhood memories she can remember.

(Y/N) takes the card over towards the reception, where Ruth greets her with another of her signature Ruth smiles. Kind and warm.

“ Hi, dear. “ 

“ Hi uh — I want to buy this postcard. I can’t find a price though, ah shit I left my money up in the room let me just — “ 

Before she can hurry towards her room though, Ruth stops her.

“ It’s okay, Darling. You can have it for free. “

“ Oh no, I —  “

“ Please. You asked about the birds that pretty much the most anyone has cared about this place in a while. Take it. I want you to have it. “ 

It’s kinda sad, (Y/N) thinks. That her just asking about those silly birds made Ruth this happy. That people pay so little attention to her adorably little bird room.

“ Thank you, Ruth. That is very sweet of you. And this place is adorable. “ 

“ Thank you, dear. Do you need a stamp for that ? “

(Y/N) sighs “ No. No I don’t. “ 

The Bean is a little diner at the edge of town looking out onto the Wabash River. It’s emitting a perpetual smell of coffee and waffles and breakfast food.

Steve is munching down an entire plate of eggs and bacon. Oh to have the metabolism of a teenage boy.

(Y/N) takes another sip of her black coffee, hoping that the caffeine is gonna help keep her awake and not get too tired during their drive. After all they plan on being on the road for the entire day.

The pancakes on her plate are long forgotten. She hasn’t really been feeling like eating since it all happened. It’s like she’s acting on power saving mode. Always tired. Always sad. Always working on half speed.

“ You should eat something. You need it. “ Steve remarks.

“ Are you flirting with me ? ” 

“ I uh — what ? “ 

“ Male cardinals feed females as part of their courtship ritual. A female’s partner bears total responsibility for satisfying her dietary needs. “ 

“ How do you know this ?  “

(Y/N) smiles and takes another sip of coffee “ my friend Ruth recommended me some interesting reading material “.

She doesn’t mention that the nightmares didn’t allow her much sleep and that she spent most of the night staying up reading the informational magazine. There’s things Steve just doesn’t need to know.

“ Alriiiight. “ Steve exclaims, eyebrows raised “ Hey, what’s that. You gonna send a card home ? “ he asks and motions towards the postcard she’d been scribbling on while he had been ordering their food.

“ Nah. Not really. This one’s for someone else “.

“ Alright … hey uh. I think I should call my parents “ 

She looks up from her cup at Steve’s words. This can’t be happening. She can’t go back home now. He can’t bail on her.

“ Harrington “ 

“ Don’t look at me like that, I’m not turning around and crawling back home. I just don’t want my mom to worry. I need her to know I’m safe. “ 

That’s right, Steve has a mom too, not just an asshole dad. A mom who cared and who worries and who loves. God it’s been so long since (Y/N) had one of those.

“ Okay, yeah. But um — can you not mention my name. I don’t want any news to get to my dad. “ 

“ Of course. Yeah, no worries.“ 

“ Thanks “.

Despite what Billy always said about him, Steve seems to be an alright guy after all. His hair’s ridiculous though.

It rings once, twice, three times before someone picks up.

“ Hello ? “

“ Mom, it’s me. “ 

“ Oh god Steve. Honey where are you I’m worried sick “. 

That sends a little pang to his heart. His mother is a nice lady, she loves him deeply and she doesn’t deserve for him to worry her like that. But this is something Steve has to do, if not for (Y/N) then for himself. 

“ I’m alright mom. I’m taking a friend on a — uh a roadtrip. “ 

“ A roadtrip ?” 

“ Yea. To uh — “ his mind wanders to Billy. “ We’re going to help her brother “.

“ Okay, well are you alright ? “

No. He hasn’t been alright in a long time. Since 1983 to be completely honest.

Maybe this trip is just what he needs. A way out. An escape. 

Steve leans his head against the payphone, taking a deep breath.

“ I don’t know, mom. But I’m safe and I need to just — just get away. “ 

“ Is this because of what happened with the Holland girl ? Or the mall ?“ 

Yes. All of it. If only she knew.

“ It’s just a lot lately. Can you just trust me in this, mom. That I’m doing what’s best for me ? “ 

His mother hesitates for a moment before clearing her throat.

“ Of course I do, sweet boy. But I am a mom and I do worry. I always will. “

It warms his heart. To know someone does care and someone does love him, no matter how much he messes up.

“ I know. I love you and I’ll be back soon. I promise. I just need to do this, for me.“ 

“ Be safe, Steve “ 

“ I will. “ 

Before he hangs up he can just about make out his father’s voice in the background, asking if “that’s him” and “what’s he messed up this time ? “

And it once again becomes crystal clear why getting on the road with (Y/N) is the best decision he’s made in a long time.

He walks back over to her, as she leans against his car chewing some bright pink bubble gum.

“ You ready to head out ? “

“ Yup. Your parents mad ? “

“ No. Surprisingly not. Mom just wants me to be safe. “ 

“ Aw little Stevie. How adorable. Anyway let’s go. “

As they both settle back in their seats, Steve slides the signature dark shades back onto his nose and turns towards (Y/N). 

“ Sooo, snacks ? “ 

“ Snacks “ she nods and throws him one of her signature smirks “ definitely need some twizzlers to survive this trip “.

 “ Happy Birthday to me “ a freshly 9 year old (Y/N) mumbles as she buries her feet in the warm sand. It’s almost time for the sun to set behind the horizon and color the sky in beautiful shades of reds and pinks and oranges.

For the last 8 years this has been a moment she has shared with her mom. Every birthday the two of them would come down to the beach and watch the sunset. Just them two.

Billy had the morning to spend alone with mom, going to the beach to catch some waves, and (Y/N) got to have the evening. 

They’d sit and talk for hours and hours and hours. About everything. The silliest things.

This year she hasn’t so much as called. As if neither (Y/N) nor Billy ever existed in her life.

Billy’s been grumpy all day, refusing to spend time with his sister and deciding to go hang out with some of those stupid boys from the neighbourhood that always call (Y/N) dumb names.

(Y/N) watches the sun lower itself as if to drown the light in the dark water of the ocean, when a little plastic bag lands next to her. Just a moment later Billy drops down onto the ground too.

“ Got you some candy. Twizzlers, your favorite “ 

“ Did you steal them ? “ 

“ No, dingus. I bought them with my own money. “ 

“ Good. Means I don’t have to feel guilty when eating them. “ 

It’s silent for a moment as they sit beside each other, watching the sunset.

“ Hey I’m sorry “ Billy whispers, as if speaking any louder would mean destroying the magic of the moment.

“ It’s okay. You’re sad. I’m sad too. “ 

“ I’m not sad “ he claims “ I’m angry. So angry. “ 

“ You can be sad and angry at the same time. They’re not mutually exclusive. “ 

“ Stop using big words. “ 

“ Sorry. “ 

Billy takes a big breath “ I’ve decide “ he exclaims “ that from this moment on I’ll missing her. If she doesn’t want to come home, doesn’t want to see us. Screw her. I don’t need her and neither do you. “ 

(Y/N) knows that’s absolute bullshit but she also knows that Billy has a certain way of coping with loss and sadness and maybe she doesn’t share his ways or understand them fully but she can respect them if it means he’s less angry and less sad.

“ Okay. “ 

“ We don’t need her because we have each other “ he says, placing his hand on hers “ right ? “

In that moment, little (Y/N) knows that whatever the world is gonna throw her way, it’s only half as bad with her twin brother by her side.

“ Of course. Always “ 

If only they had known how terribly short ‘always’ would turn out to be.

_________

tags:

@sargent-barnes //