#and I’m supposed to start volunteering at an animal shelter in a couple weeks which I’m really looking forward to

[unintentional-sad-wizard]

Worried that my health stuff might be acting up again augh

[all-my-love-for-harry]

Puppy love.

summary: Harry finally makes his lover’s wishes come true when they adopt a dog together.

word count: 2.2k

based on this request:

“please could you write a cute domestic puppy piece? Maybe just lazy day / taking their pup for a walk 🥺 and maybe y/n is pregnant and the puppy is super protective”

a/n: send me more ideas pls, i’m in a writing mood but idk what to write haha

you can find the rest of my masterlist here.

*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･:

Usually when people decide to adopt a dog, they’re always secretly looking for a puppy, thinking it’d be easier to handle rather than an older dog. It was quite sad, to be honest. There were dozens, if not hundreds of animals looking for a home, waiting to be adopted and it wasn’t fair people ignored big dogs with the excuse that they could be aggressive. Well, at least it to Y/N, it wasn’t fair. A dog was something she’s been wanting for a while. And was also the one thing Harry has been unable to give her. Tight schedules, interviews, traveling and touring were a few reasons why they haven’t adopted a pet, leaving it as the only desire Y/N had that Harry was yet to fulfill.

But today was the day. Y/N has finally convinced Harry and they were on their way to the shelter, ready to meet as many dogs as they could with the hope of finding the one. She wasn’t looking for anything in specific, telling herself she’d go with an open mind.

“We can take one, love.” Harry remained her when they went out of the car, intertwining their fingers as they walked inside of the building. He knew the moment they walked in, his girlfriend would be bawling her eyes out because she can’t take every single one of the dogs home with them.

“This is the best day of my life.” She whispered in excitement and Harry chuckled at the way her eyes light up.

“Oh, evening. What can I do for you?” A middle aged woman spoke from behind her desk, offering them a friendly smile while pushing her glasses.

“We’re here to—”

“We’d like to adopt.” Y/N interrupted him, squeezing his hand.

The woman’s smile grew bigger as she stood up from her chair, taking a set of keys from her desk. “Alright. Follow me, please.” She gestured the door that was a couple of steps from where they were standing and started walking, Harry and Y/N just behind her. “Are you looking for anything specific?”

“No. We, uh, we’d like to look around for a bit, if that’s okay.” Harry said.

“That’s fine, you can take your time.” She smiled at them then opened the door, revealing dozens of dogs in every color and every size. The animals started barking and jumping in their places. Y/N’s eyes filled with instant tears when she saw they had them in cages.

She sniffed and Harry looked down at her, concerned. He furrowed his eyebrows then squeezed her hand, trying to soothe her. “Thank you.” He said to the woman before passing through her and entered the room. For a moment he felt slightly overwhelmed for all the barking and noise the dogs were making, but he quickly recovered when Y/N let go of his hand to kneel in front of a Pomeranian. “He’s cute.”

“His name is Barry, oh my god.” She practically squealed as she read the little card that was attached to the dog’s cage. “Harryyy.” Y/N practically dragged the words, too excited to care.

“He arrived last month.” The woman commented from behind.

“Hi, baby. What a good boy”

Harry started to walk around the room, observing a few dogs himself. He was obviously going to let her pick their new pet, being okay with whatever she desired. But look around wouldn’t hurt either. They spent a little time apart, but Harry was still able to hear Y/N’s squeals as well as his name being called at least a hundred times whenever she knelt in front of another dog.

He smiled as small Chihuahua started barking at him. The little fella was so small it could easily fit on Harry’s big hand, and he knew his baby would love it so he called for her.

“You like this one?” She asked, smiling at the dog. “Her name’s Pippa. Oh my god, who picks their names? I’m gonna cry.”

“A few volunteers like to name them. They come a few times a week.”

Y/N nodded at the woman, returning her vision at Harry. “What do you say?”

“I don’t know. You choose, baby.” He smiled sweetly at her.

“Okay. Come see this one, I was just with him when you called me.” She took his hand in hers and pulled from him gently. Harry let her lead him to whatever part of the room she previously was and his eyes winded when he saw a beautiful Siberian husky laying on the floor.

The dog itself looked majestic in his opinion. It was a big ball of fur with a pair of beautiful, crystal blue eyes that were looking directly at him. “His name’s Thor. He’s so adorable, isn’t he?”

“Ah, I see you found Thor. Poor thing’s been looking for a home for quite some time now. A few people come by and see him but never adopt him.”

“Why wouldn’t someone want him?”

“Big dogs aren’t always practical, Sir.”

Harry pouted unconsciously. “I know he’s large, but look at him.” His girlfriend made puppy eyes at him, and he could tell she was trying to hold it together after hearing no one wanted to adopt Thor.

“He’s perfect.” He turned to the woman. “We’d like to take him with us, please.”

“You don’t want to discuss it first?”

“No need. He’s the one.” The green eyed man said confidently.

//

Thor might look like a whole ass wolf, but in reality he was the biggest softie you’d ever met in your life. In the ride back home, Y/N sat in the back of the car with him, and the dog immediately put his head on her lap, its tail never stopped moving as she scratched its ears. Being almost 2ft, Thor occupied pretty much the whole backseat, leaving Y/N squeezed by the window, not that she minded.

“How are we feeling, uh?” Harry asked after a while.

“He’s perfect. Do you think we have everything we need at home for him? I want him to be comfortable.”

Yesterday they had gone on a trip to the store to buy everything they thought they might need to welcome their new pet into their home. Two bowls for water and food, a couple of collars and leashes to take him out, every toy the store had available and a bed.

The only thing they were lacking was dog food, but it was because they didn’t know which dog they’d take from the shelter and didn’t want to buy the wrong one.

“We can make a quick stop at the store for food, it’s on the way home.”

Y/N smiled, sighing happily while leaning down to hug Thor. She got lost on all its fur, nuzzling him gently. She had read stories about how dogs from shelters often tended to act aggressively at first, as they probably had a bad life before, but she was glad Thor wasn’t like that.

//

“Thor, come right here!”

The large dog ran outside the house and towards Y/N, thinking he was being summoned to play in the backyard, but was met with its owner standing next to a massive whole in the ground, where Y/N’s freshly planted daisies were supposed to be.

“Jesus Christ, look at you!” She exclaimed. Thor’s white fur was now brown because of all of the dirt he played with. “Daddy gave you a shower yesterday.”

At hearing the word ‘daddy’, Thor started jumping around while barking happily, starting to run around in look for Harry. Suddenly, Y/N wasn’t mad at him anymore for destroying her garden, instead, her heart melted at how adorable he was.

Yeah, Thor could dig a hole in the ground whenever he wanted and he could send all her flowers flying if that’s what made him happy.

//

Today but six months ago, Harry and Y/N were on their way to the nearest shelter to finally adopt a pet together, not knowing Thor would be entering their life with its chaotic personality and its big heart, changing their life forever. Having a dog together definitely made the couple closer and stronger, as Thor basically became their child.

They celebrated with a day out. The couple took Thor to the dog park, playing with him for hours. The big husky loved to chase Harry around until the both of them were in the ground, the dog lapping his face happily. Sometimes Thor forgets its size and acted like a baby, practically begging Harry to lift him and carry him around.

There were several pictures the next day of them at the park, and the fans were collapsing over the content of Harry with Thor. Y/N thought one specific picture of the three of them walking down the street and back to their car looked so cute that she had to post it with the caption ‘six’, again making everyone die out of love.

//

One of the things Harry did first thing in the morning was go for a run. Now, before he used to go alone, as he always let Y/N sleep a little longer, but now he had an exercise buddy to take in as many runs he wanted. They were usually out for an hour or so, and when they were back, Thor always went straight to his water bowl first then to his bed to take a nap. However, after he hydrated, he went straight upstairs to the master bedroom.

Harry followed him upstairs, seeing with a smile how the dog jumped on the bed and cuddled with Y/N. Thor was a cuddler, it was no secret, so he going with her wasn’t a surprise for Harry. It was only when Harry sat down beside them and Thor started whining that the man grew confused. Thor put its head on top of Y/N’s stomach, looking at Harry.

“What’s wrong, mate?” He asked as he extended his arm to scratch the dog’s head.

Y/N started moving, fluttering her eyes open and smiling softly when her vision caught her favorite boys there. “Morning.”

“Morning, precious.” Harry smiled. “Just came back from out run.”

“Have you showered yet?” He shocks his head. “Then go, I’ll start breakfast.” She leaned towards him to kiss his check before standing up. “How do you feel about banana pancakes?”

“Sounds delicious.”

Y/N walked out of the room with Thor right behind her. Harry shrugged off Thor’s previously odd behavior and went to take a shower. After he was done, he went downstairs and to the kitchen where he found his girlfriend flipping some pancakes with Thor laying closely by her feet.

Thor’s odd behavior continued for a few days, always wanting to be as close as possible to Y/N and nearly panicking whenever she left his sight. He’d lay by her feet or on her lap if she was on the couch, and he’d follow her around like her personal bodyguard if she was on the move.

At first it was quite adorable, but then Thor started whining whenever Harry wanted to come closer, not allowing him to cuddle with Y/N.

In the seventh day, Y/N started to feel sick, she’d wake up and throw up first thing in the morning. They thought it was just something she ate, thinking it would go away in a few days. But then she started to throw up more and more and Harry started panicking, so they went to the doctor.

“We’ll run a few tests to find out what’s wrong, including a pregnancy one.”

“P-pregnancy?” Harry shuttered.

“I’m not pregnant, doctor.” Y/N assured.

“We might as well be sure.”

The results arrived in just half an hour, but it surely felt like an eternity. Harry couldn’t stop thinking about the pregnancy test. He’d be lying if he said a part of him was excited to know whether he has created a new life with the love of his life or not, but he didn’t want to get his hopes too high. And the other part of him was terrified of the possibility of Y/N being pregnant.

When they were finally back with the doctor, Harry held Y/N’s hand and squeezed it tightly. She looked at him and he gave her a smile, assuring her that no matter what the results said, they’d be fine.

“Congratulations, you’ll be parents.” The doctor lifted her head from the papers, offering the both of them a gentle smile. “You’re three months pregnant, what explains the morning sickness you’ve been experiencing.”

Harry sat there in shock, the fact that he was actually going to be a father finally hitting him. “I’m gonna be a dad.” He whispered. His head snapped up, his eyes looking for Y/N’s. “You’re gonna be a mum.”

Y/n choked a sob, standing from her place at the same time as Harry and hugged him tightly. He pulled her closer to his chest as he kissed the top of her head, a few tears rolling down from his eyes.

“I guess I’m having your baby, eh?” Now it was Harry’s turn to choke a sob, barely able to speak due all the emotions he was feeling right now.

//

“Can you believe Thor knew first?” Harry said when they were finally inside of their car again, ready to drive back home.

“What do you mean?”

“Dogs can tell if a woman is pregnant.” He said. “And that would explain why he behaved like he did.”

“Like what?”

“He panicked whenever you weren’t in the room, always followed you around. He even waited for you outside of the bathroom!”

“He just loves me more than he loves you.” She joked.

“Yeah, but he will love our baby even more.”

Our baby.

Didn’t sound that bad, didn’t it?

[lavendersoft]

Until I met you.

-Street fighter!Jimin x Reader

1/?

Synopsis: While on a date for their 2nd anniversary, Jimin loses Yoongi while being attacked in an alleyway by a robber. Yoongi sacrificed himself for his lover and Jimin could never forgive himself for not being able to do the same. The survivor’s guilt ate away at him over the months and it definitely didn’t help that he saw Yoongi’s face everywhere. In mirrors, dreams, large crowds, on trains, and even when he closed his eyes. Although, Jimin found a way to cope. He began a rigorous training schedule. Boxing, self-defense classes, Tae Kwon Do, he even started street fighting and got caught up with bad people. Anything and everything. His hands would bleed, his muscles would ache, his bones would break. Jimin was offered multiple full scholarships to prestigious martial arts schools for his talent, all of which Jimin turned down. He didn’t want to make a career out of this, he just didn’t want to be haunted by his dead fiancé. The only time Yoongi won’t haunt every moment of Jimin’s life was when he’s training, as if Yoongi is saying “I won’t rest, nor will I let you rest, until you’re stronger.” Jimin will never lose anyone that he loves again.

Everything felt like a downward spiral,

until he met you.

Warnings: (There’s a lot- and it’s kinda dark, be warned) PTSD, implied schizophrenia (sorta? take that with a grain of salt), PTSD induced delusions/hallucinations, depression, paranoia, night terrors, character death, major angst, unhealthy coping mechanisms, masochism(?), alcoholism, minor gore, mention of drug abuse, mention of blood, mention of asylums, profanity, Jimin goes through one hell of a mental breakdown.

Author’s notes: super slow burn :/ basically, in which jimin copes with the traumatic incident of his fiancé’s brutal murder by street fighting. this story isn’t yandere but has dark themes.

The air was lifted right out of Jimin’s lungs. Tears were flowing freely, his hands were stained red, he couldn’t even see the golden engagement ring through the thick blood. He couldn’t hear anything over the sound of his own sobs and heartbreak.

“Please... please stay awake. They’re coming, okay? Help’s coming. Just look at me. Look at me, please.”

He’d remembered somewhere that you were supposed to put pressure on wounds this big to stop the bleeding. If only his hands could stop shaking.

Yoongi had stopped responding about two minutes prior to this but Jimin refused to accept his fate. His last words replaying in Jimin’s mind like a mantra.

“Survive. Please, live. I love you.”

Two wallets.

Two fucking wallets with about 150,000 won split between them.

That’s how much his fiancé was murdered for.

Jimin jerks awake in a cold sweat. His bruised fist clamped around his bedsheets, heart rate much higher than it should be. He rises out of the creaking bed to stretch his overly tense muscles.

He can still feel the weight of his deceased boyfriend’s limp body in his arms.

Every day starts like this.

Every morning he’s pulled from the same reoccurring nightmare, then he starts his cold shower.

He can’t even take warm showers anymore, remembering how hot Yoongi insisted on keeping the water temperature when they showered together.

It’s been nine months.

Nine months, two weeks and four days since he lost the love of his life forever.

He hasn’t even taken off the engagement ring. It’s as if it’s glued to his finger now, his hand feels empty without it.

Jimin avoids looking in the mirror at all costs. In fact, he’s gotten rid of most of them in his home. The ones he couldn’t get rid of, he smashed with his bare hands in a fit of rage. The scars on his hands are proof.

How could he look at himself knowing how weak he was?

He scoffs.

Back then... how could I bare to tolerate myself back then? I was so flimsy and weak. Could barely open a fucking jar by myself. Absolutely pathetic.

Jimin’s heart has gotten callous. He is easily provoked and irrational. The takes unnecessary risks and is impulsive.

His therapist said it was ���self-sabotage” or something.

Just two weeks ago, Jimin bleached his hair a striking blond, almost white- which burned most of his scalp- just because. And before that, on the nine-month anniversary of his lover’s passing, he went to get a tattoo on a whim. Just because he felt like it. He drinks alcohol for breakfast and has recently taken up smoking. The smell of cigarettes remind him of Yoongi, who also used to smoke.

Jimin liked pain. It was invigorating. He likes feeling things. Feeling has become a rarity, a privilege, a novelty.

Although irritable and easily angered, Jimin is not an unkind person. He gives to charity and volunteers at animal shelters. These things have also made him feel again, because he can feel Yoongi there, the real Yoongi. Yoongi was a huge advocate for human kindness. He used to say it was never justifiable to be a hateful person for no reason at all.

Jimin clings to this principal.

But it’s hard. It’s so hard to act happy when he’s so broken inside. He almost wishes he could just-

“Don’t you dare use me as an excuse to be a miserable person.” Yoongi’s voice rings out from behind him. Jimin screws his eyes shut and covers his ears.

“Go away.”

This person- this being- wasn’t Yoongi, that much he knew. If anything, it was a demon. A poltergeist that feeds off Jimin’s suffering. Yoongi would never do that.

This is why everyone around Jimin thinks he’s the sweetest, loveliest, most endearing man they’ve ever met. If only they knew about the unyielding hellfire that burns his very core.

“Good morning, Mrs. Jeon!” Jimin’s sweet voice cuts through the morning air.

He was on his way to his best friend Jungkook’s house to meet before Tae Kwon Do training. The Jeon family owns a martial arts studio and they’ve been training together for months now.

“Oh, good morning Jimin! How are you today?” The nice woman is always so cheerful, Jimin respects that.

“I’m wonderful, thank you. Have you heard from Jungkook? He’s supposed to meet me here.” Jimin hurry’s to catch up with the woman in front of him and takes her groceries off of her arms to carry.

“Yes, actually. He was running a tad late this morning since his class ended late. He should be here soon. Would you mind bringing those up for me?” She gestured to the apartment right above the studio, where the family lives.

“Not at all.”

When Jungkook finally arrives, he brings with him thirty-two excuses as to why he was late.

“I lost my phone.”

“My car ran out of gas.”

“My girlfriend broke up with me.”

Jimin chuckles as he suits up his training gear.

“Dude, if all of those things are true, you really need to get your life together.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Jimin’s heart stops when the cold, low growl sounds from behind him again.

“You’re far from qualified to be giving life advice.”

Jimin hides his frown when the oblivious Jungkook punches him on the shoulder playfully.

“Haha! Shut up, dude! Let’s go.” He chides, padding off to the ring.

Jimin’s falters a bit behind, throwing a quick but cautious glance at the bloody image of Yoongi that glares back at him.

“Pathetic.”

“Seriously, dude! You’re way too talented at this to not make some money off of it.”

Jungkook’s been trying to get Jimin to take the scholarship he was offered by a scout that visited their studio not too long ago.

“I don’t know, man. This was just supposed to be a hobby remember?”

Jimin knew better. This was much more than a hobby. It was his anchor. It was his stress reliever. It was keeping him sane.

“Come on. We both know better than that. I see the way your face changes to stone when you fight. You have something. Something real. You could make it in the business!”

“You sound like a mafia boss.”

Jimin smiles as he eats the last of his ramen.

“Ya. I’m serious. If not a professional fighter then at least a coach. I mean, I’m doing it because I wanna be a cop but,” Jungkook sips from his energy drink. “Do you really just want to be a dancer?”

Jimin sighs. Yes. That was his dream before everything happened. He still clings to the idea. Before nine months ago, the idea had seemed just within reach. He’d applied for so many dance and art schools, even getting into a couple.

But after everything, he’d given up. He stopped dancing. He hates music. Even if he tried, his skills wouldn’t be anywhere near the place they were.

He’d totally abandoned his dream.

“Yes. I do.” He lies.

Jungkook shrugs, “Well, if anything, it’s made you a better fighter. Your moves are so fluid, it’s amazing.”

“Careful, you’re getting a crush.” Jimin jabs at him with a chopstick.

“Ugh. Please,” the younger rolls his eyes, “like I could ever. Plus, my girlfriend probably wouldn’t like that very much.”

“Oh? I thought you two ‘broke up’, no?”

“Nah. I love her too much.” Jimin finds it cute that Jungkook actually loves his girlfriend. Before, he was a player, only using girls for sex or free food.

“Don’t use girls like toys, Jungkook.” Yoongi would always keep Jungkook in place when he broke another heart.

“Well, this ones on you. Since you lost. Again.” Jimin’s giggle makes Jungkook pout.

“One of these days, I’m gonna beat you, Park Jimin.” Jungkook pouts.

“One of these days.” Jimin reiterates.

Jimin says goodbye to his friend and pushes through the restaurant door. He misses the worried look Jungkook gives him when he turns his back.

The raindrops hit the top of the hood of Jimin’s jacket as he walks down the busy street. He hates being too alone these days. Jungkook really helps keep Jimin grounded, he’s one of the only people that don’t totally annoy him now. He reminds Jimin of all the times Yoongi, Jungkook, Tae, Namjoon, Jin, Hoseok, and himself would hang out as teens and young adults. Just fooling around without any worry. No cares or responsibilities, young love, parties. That was their lives.

Until nine months ago.

The grief of losing one of the group was detrimental. It seemed like no one was recovering properly, except maybe Jungkook. That’s why Jimin cohered himself to Jungkook, he seemed to be the most stable out of them all.

Namjoon and Tae both landed themselves in jail on multiple occasions for a plethora of reasons.

Hoseok checked himself into a mental asylum for a while. Last Jimin heard, he was abusing drugs of some sort.

And Jin moved across the country, said he wanted to start fresh. But really, he was just doing what Jin did best- running away.

None of them kept contact, except for Jungkook.

The entire carefree, wild group of friends had dissipated into nothing.

He feels his eyebrows furrow into a stern look.

They all left.

They all left.

“They all left you.” His jaw clenches at the familiar, yet slightly inhuman voice. “They never cared about you. And Jungkook will leave you one day, too. No one is forever.”

Jimin’s turns down an alleyway and stops about halfway through, tears gathered in his eyes.

“No one is forever, but at least they keep moving forward. You’re just stuck.”

Yeah, Jimin truly hates being alone.

The not-so-subtle red neon sign flickers with the bright name of the “club.”

The large metal door makes a shallow sound when Jimin’s taps on it three times. A man wearing all black with sunglasses answers, “Passwo- oh, Jimin-ah. Come on in.”

Jimin nods once to the tall bodyguard as he passes him. The man towers over Jimin in height but the energy around the two doesn’t match. The man takes a small, nervous step back when Jimin starts forward.

Jimin hates how skittish everyone is in this little hole in the wall.

The biggest underground fighting ring in Korea was right next door to Jimin’s apartment, who would have thought. How convenient.

Heads bow as he passes. No one makes eye contact. Some mumble respectful greetings while putting honorifics next to his name, no matter what age or status they have.

He’s basically a king here.

But he doesn’t want the throne.

Jimin’s peers into the crowd and sure enough, sights his dead lover. He just wants this damn demon to leave him alone.

Yoongi never bothers him while he’s fighting or training. It’s like he goes dormant or something. That’s why Jimin keeps doing it. Well, that and because he wants to be strong. Stronger than he’s ever been.

And he is. He’s undefeated in this hellhole. He sort of blanks out when he fights anyone that’s not Jungkook. That’s how he earned the appropriate nickname “Demon”, for good reason. He’s heard from others that’s he’s terrifying when he’s in the ring. Although no one but his manager and couple other higher-ups dare to call him that, and he barely even tolerates that.

The last newcomer that called him that learned through a crushed windpipe to not.

He only does this to pay the bills. Everyone here knows that. It pisses some people off. For some, this was their entire life, what they were raised to do. Born to be fighting machines.

So, naturally, some don’t like Jimin. Especially those who he’s fought and won against. But Jimin couldn’t care less about what these people think about him.

“Manager-nim,” Jimin addresses an older man, somewhere in his forties, “I need you to schedule another Gold for me.”

See, the underground business is one built on ranking.

In the underground street fighting business, fights were categorized by prize earning and rank of the fighters. Gold rank fights could only be scheduled by- and usually for- the highest members, the Elites. The grand prize for a win was seven hundred million won. Only the greatest of the greatest won the prize and thus, earning an elite status (if not an elite already).

Jimin’s won it twice.

“Ya, getting pretty greedy now, are we? You just won it a couple months ago, Kid. Where’d that money go?”

“It’s gone.”

The suited man scoffs, “You need a better budgeting plan, Demon.” Jimin fights the urge to uppercut him.

“Can you do it or not?” Jimin’s patience is already wearing thin and he’s been here for a whole five minutes.

“You know, contrary to what you might believe, I’m not a money machine. The money you win when you fight comes from somewhere. Not only that, I’m not the only Elite that gets to decide. We take a vote.”

“Well vote.”

“Aish.” He growls, “You’re something else. People here are gonna start to think I favor you, and that’s dangerous for the both of us.” He pauses to look Jimin in the eyes, “You know, you have all of the qualifications to make the Elite status. Why don't you do the initiation-”

“Let me know when you have an answer.” Jimin’s made his feelings on the subject clear already. He has no intention of making this a permanent thing. This isn't a lifestyle, this isn't his job. It’s just a way to relieve his stress and make some cash.

With that, Jimin takes his leave, disappearing into the same direction from which he came. He’s truly a mysterious phenomenon.

Jungkook: hey do u wanna meet me and Jiyoo tonight for dinner?

Jimin peers down at his phone in confusion.

Jimin: uh third-wheeling really isn’t my thing lol

Jungkook: no, no we have someone we want you to meet. she’s Jiyoo’s sister and she’s just come home from college.

Jimin groans. This isn’t the first time Jungkook’s tried to set him up since Yoongi passed. He appreciates the sentiment but Jimin doesn’t think he’ll ever love someone like that again. It’s too much to ask for.

Jimin: idk man i’m pretty tired from training today. i think i’m gonna pass.

Jungkook: pretty please?

Ugh.

Jimin shoves a pillow over his face in frustration. He’s never been able to tell the kid no. And besides that- Jimin can feel the beady eyes of the shadowy figure in the corner. No, he doesn’t really want to stay here.

Jimin: fine.

—

The restaurant is filled with all sorts of people. From children to the elderly. Jimin gazes from person to person trying to decipher what kind of person they are. He tries to hinder the negative thoughts from entering his mind about them. 

Jungkook’s always late. Always. When Jungkook says “5:30” he really means “6:00.” You’d think after almost a decade of knowing the kid, Jimin would learn.

He fidgets with the sleeves of his sweater. Why was he so nervous all of a sudden? Was it because these blind dates never end well? He thinks back to the last blind date Jungkook had set him up with.

Jimin shudders.

He can still hear the innocent girl’s cries as she fled his apartment, heartbroken.

He’s pulled from his thoughts as an arm slings around his shoulder, “Hey, man.”

Jungkook’s bright smile beams at him.

“Hey. Hi, Jiyoo.” He greets the couple as they take their seats.

“Hey, Jiminie.” Jungkook’s girlfriend was super cute, he’ll give her that.

“So..?” He’s confused time see that they came alone.

“Oh, she’s coming. My little sister is always a little late.”

Later than you both?

Jimin stops himself from the bitterness that threatens to erupt again. Not tonight. He’s going to try to be on his best behavior for his friend’s sake.

He’ll save all those pent up emotions for the fight he has scheduled tomorrow.

He vaguely registers the figure that makes its way into his peripheral vision, although he pays it no mind at first.

“Oh, Y/n! It’s good to see you again.” Jungkook seems a bit overly excited. What’s all the fuss about? It’s not like-

Oh.

Oh.

Okay, so she’s, like, really pretty. So what?

“Hi, Jungkook. Nice to see you. Jiyoo!” The girl walks over to embrace her sister tightly, “Oh my God, it feels like it’s been forever.”

After they take their greetings, the woman sits down across from Jimin.

“Hello, you must be Jimin. Jungkook’s told me so much about you. I’m Y/n.”

Okay, so she has the voice of an angel, big deal.

“Um, hi- yeah, I’m Jimin.” He reaches out to take the hand she offers.

“So, Y/n’s a dancer,” Jungkook starts when the food is placed in front of them, “and she’s really good.”

“Not that good.” She blushes.

“Don’t be modest, Y/n. She’s going to a really prestigious dance school on a full scholarship!” Her sister beams.

“Oh? Which one?” Jimin presses. It’s not like he’s interested or anything. Definitely not.

“Global. Global Dance Studio.” She answers.

“Ah. I heard they were good.” Jimin knows more than he let on. That was literally his dream school.

“Yeah, but strict. The training is brutal.” She emphasizes. He knows, he had to go through the same treatment. He hates that he feels a pang of jealousy and resentment towards this person he’s just met.

“I’ve heard.” He finishes as he takes the first bite of his food.

The rest of the hour-long dinner was pretty boring, with Jiyoo and Jungkook mostly taking ahold of the conversation. Although, Jimin will admit that he couldn’t stop glancing back at the beautiful girl across from him.

And he won’t pretend that he didn’t notice her treating him the same.

He was charming and kind, as usual, but he remained on the quiet side of the conversation. Jimin knew that Jungkook could tell he wasn’t being quite as flirty as he usually is with setups like this, from the way that the younger kept trying to tie Jimin in the chit chat.

Jimin stays subtle for the rest of the date.

When the group says their goodbyes, his eyes linger on hers for longer than the rest.

“It was nice to meet you, Y/n.”

“Likewise.” She grins and Jimin feels his heart stop.

And then he leaves. Really, really fast.

That’s not good.

—

[lovelylogans]

cocoa

part of the wyliwf verse.

the sideshire files | read my other fics | coffee?

warnings: mention of puppy mills, dogs, secret-keeping, food mentions, recreational drinking (not to drunkenness) kissing, that’s about it. this one’s mostly fluff, folks.

pairings: moxiety, logince

words: 7,766

notes: bold of you to assume i wouldn’t take the canon dog in gilmore girls WHO WAS ORIGINALLY NAMED COCOA and directly transport it into this verse. picture of the inspiration behind wyliwf!cocoa here as a puppy and here as an adult, btw. she’s a mixed breed, definitely has some chow chow (hence the Fluffy, if u are acquainted w/ mash potato, he is a chow chow) and german shepherd (hence the coloring) along with some other Mystery Breeds in there, so!

thirty-five isn’t exactly a special birthday.

thirty-three, sure, maybe, repeated numbers. thirty? yeah, new decade! but thirty-five—well, it’s just a halfway point, isn’t it? patton doesn’t think there should be much going on in preparation for that. a dinner, a little party/get-together, and patton’d be happy, which he’s told both virgil and logan (and roman, when he wanted an excuse to throw a party.)

so virgil and logan being so evasive over the past couple weeks or so means that patton’s been getting as investigative as logan about what could be going on with the pair of them.

logan, at least, has an excuse—apparently, there was some random, weird deadline for the franklin that logan had run into and had to guide the rest of the staff through—but virgil has just been a little... well, a little strange.

he’s been intent on suddenly patching up the back fence, which he’d been on about when there were rumors of foxes and raccoons getting into trash, but that had been months ago. it seemed like a weird time for this desire to resurface, considering it’s january. there wasn’t really much of a chance of all that when the ground was basically frozen over—patton doesn’t know much about winter habits of foxes and raccoons, but he’s pretty sure they’ve gone for warmer climates, or at least might be sleeping it out.

he’s been reading some kind of articles that he keeps humming at thoughtfully and bookmarking on his phone, patton thinks, except virgil hastily turns off the phone’s screen and turns to smile at patton whenever he tries to peek.

he’s also been furtively ordering things—patton would think it’s birthday presents, except he caught a glance of one of the labels of the boxes and it’s from tiny company that, patton has searched, makes some specialty peanut butter cookies and the like. food is virgil’s thing, he wouldn’t just order it, so maybe patton got the company wrong?

and now...

patton knocks gently on the top of the coffee table, so he doesn’t startle virgil into hitting his head.

“um,” he says. “hey there, honey.”

“hey,” virgil says, forcefully casual.

“can i ask what you’re doing under the coffee table and half under the couch?”

“i, uh,” virgil says, and coughs. “thought i saw something under the couch. cleaning, you know.”

“yeah,” patton says, and settles on the ground. “except you’ve kind of been deep-cleaning the house for the past week.”

“um... yep.”

“i don’t think you could’ve missed something if you’d been trying,” patton says, amused, and reaches out to scratch a little at virgil’s back. the part he can reach, anyway. 

“i’m really deep-cleaning,” virgil says. 

“i kinda figured.”

“really,” virgil says, “really deep-cleaning.”

patton grins, scratches at virgil’s back again. “did you get whatever was under the couch, then?”

virgil withdraws from the couch, an old piece of paper crumpled up in his hands.

“we should really vacuum under the couches more,” virgil says, and patton leans over to kiss his cheek.

“whatever you say, darling.”

(“how do you feel about dogs?”

virgil glances up from where he’s wiping down the counter—logan, in his chilton blue-and-navy, is sitting at his counter.

“uh, i have generally positive feelings toward dogs?” virgil says. “they’re cute. i’ve never had one. wait, aren’t you supposed to be working at the franklin right now, that random deadline, right?”

ever since logan was told he’d be editor-in-chief of the franklin at the end of his junior year, and now that he’s started his senior year and has been at the helm for over five months, he’s been spending lots long afternoons at the school, deep in the journalism lab, fussing over copy and photos and ap style and page design. virgil’d be worried about him overworking himself, but he knows that mel can, has, and will kick him out if he sticks around for too long, plus dee is there to antagonize him into getting distracted, along with some other chilton friends swinging in and out.

“i made it up,” logan says. “it’s going to be a cover story.”

“a cover story,” virgil repeats slowly. “right. okay. for what?”

logan hesitates, glances around, and says, in a lowered voice to avoid eavesdroppers, “dad’s birthday is in two weeks.”

“right,” virgil says slowly. 

“i think we should get him a dog.”

virgil pauses, before he sets aside the rag. “a dog,” he repeats.

“yes,” logan says. “a dog. a canine. canis lupus familiaris.”

“why a dog?” virgil says. “i mean, i know patton wanted one when he was a kid, but, well. your grandparents.”

logan hesitates, just for a moment, before he says, “i’m graduating in may.”

virgil knows this. virgil has had several crises about it. virgil has sat with patton through his various crises about it. virgil could not possibly be more aware that logan is, in fact, about to leave the nest.

“yeah,” he says.

“well,” logan says. “i’d have suggested a cat if he wasn’t allergic, but. he’s been used to taking care of someone or something for all this time. once i’m gone... it just. it might be a good way to cope, that’s all.”

“like the exact reversal of getting a dog to prepare for having kids,” virgil says, starting to get it. “getting a dog to deal with not having a kid around as much anymore.”

“yes. precisely.”

virgil considers this—he considers him and patton in the house, alone. and then he pictures a dog, big, small, medium, resting its head in patton’s lap, patton petting the dog, hugging it. taking the dog for walks and training it—well. it would be hard work. it would be a lot of energy. it’d be a commitment for however long the dog would be alive.

but it would be a comfort, too.

“all right, then. it’s time for me to start researching dogs, i guess.”

“oh, i’ve been researching breeds and training methods and house preparation and shelters in our area for a month now,” logan says briskly, and reaches into his backpack to take out a binder, and virgil really doesn’t know what he’d expected.)

...

(“hey,” virgil says, as logan slides into the passenger’s seat of his car. “how was school?”

“good,” logan says. “i had a pop quiz in latin, i think i did relatively well on it.”

“nice,” virgil says, and pulls out of the parking spot.

this is their second time visiting an animal shelter—they’d dropped by the sideshire one, but realized that they wouldn’t really be able to keep an adoption of an animal secret at home, especially considering that patton sometimes volunteered to walk the dogs there. this time, they were going to a place closer to the city that logan’s research assured them was humane, a nonprofit society, and took part in raids against illegal puppy mills and dog fighting rings—all in all, virgil thought it seemed like a pretty standup shelter.

“okay,” virgil says, as they’re pulling into a parking spot at the shelter. “and we do have a plan for if we find The Dog today, right?”

“they’ll hold a pet for you up to a certain point,” logan says. “i’ve asked mrs. prince and roman, and they said that if we had to bring the dog home earlier than anticipated, they’d be willing to house it.”

virgil nods, absorbing this, and gets out of the car.

“right, then,” virgil says. “let’s go see some dogs.”

they see some dogs. they see a lot of dogs.

they, eventually, see the dog. she’s tiny, and absurdly fluffy, and she eagerly attempts to institute herself in their laps the moment they sit down, demanding pets and treats and love, and she’s too cute for words. she snuffles at them eagerly and wags her tail so hard virgil kind of fears that she’ll fall over to the side, but she’s so energetic she’d probably bound up again immediately, wagging her tail even faster. she’s got big, clumsy paws, and big ears, and a too-long tail, and big, chocolate brown eyes that she’ll probably grow into. when she licks at his chin, he's basically sold immediately.

“virgil,” logan says, in the midst of petting the puppy, examining her temporary plastic collar. “look at her name.”

virgil leans enough to check the little paper sheet full of the information on the outside of the weird room-crate things this shelter’s got going on, and lets out a low whistle. 

“right, then,” virgil says. “that’s that.”

“we have a dog,” logan says, with a smile that he hasn’t quite tamped down—virgil realizes, belatedly, this is logan’s first pet outside of the occasional goldfish and smuggled-in-from-the-outdoors frog or turtle, and maybe all the face-licking and snuffling and puppy eyes had sold logan, too.

“we have a dog,” virgil agrees.)

“oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh!!!!” patton hears roman squealing from where he’s in the kitchen, and patton leans his head out in time to see roman holding logan’s phone and cooing.

“what’s up?” patton says, toting the two bowls of popcorn he’d been in charge of preparing and settling back down on the couch next to virgil, and roman and logan both look up from the phone, roman grinning.

“oh—nothing,” roman says, and passes logan’s phone back to him. “just a cute, um, dance picture thing, s’all.”

“can i see?” patton asks.

“it was a snapchat,” roman says. “faded away after ten seconds.”

“oh, darn,” patton says. “what movie were we going to watch, again?”

“maybe we should watch lassie,” roman says, voice in that faux-innocent tone he’s been using when he’s up to mischief for years, and logan elbows him hard in the side. patton looks to virgil, confused.

“did i miss something?”

“maybe best if you don’t ask,” virgil advises him, and patton nods, taking a handful of popcorn.

...

patton’s decided to take a page from his son’s book and keep notes about things he’s noticed that are Weird, partially because he’s bored and partially because he’s now very interested in whatever’s going on here.

there’s the whole fence thing, as virgil had spent a good chunk of his saturday hauling out his and patton’s shared toolbox and grumbling irritably at the fence as he patches up holes and makes sure nothing can get into the backyard, sometimes retreating back into the house to stick his hands somewhere on patton’s person in order to warm up and drinking tea before he went back out there.

(“does this seem secure enough to hold a puppy?” virgil asks logan, when he comes out to the yard. “i mean, she’s really small, but she probably couldn’t fit through any of these holes, right? plus she’s growing.”

“she’ll be on a leash most of the time, anyway,” logan points out.

“i know, but—”

“virgil. the fence is fine.”)

he’s also hidden a variety of boxes away somewhere, labels that he’ll cover with his hands and say “don’t look don’t look birthday surprise!” which only makes patton want to look even more, and really, patton doesn’t think he’s a person that virgil needs to get several boxes of gifts for, so he’s dying to figure that one out when the time comes.

(“how does a dog require so much stuff?” logan says disbelievingly, sorting through the latest incoming purchase. “is this order just entirely collars?”

“harnesses, too, but she’ll grow out of them!” virgil says. “so we’ll have ones for when she does, i’m planning.”

“you’re going to spoil this dog,” logan says. “you’ve bought her bandanas.”

“look me in the eyes and tell me that patton wouldn’t love to accessorize his dog with bandanas,” virgil says, pointedly ignoring the suspiciously familiar black bandana with purple plaid stitched on with thick white thread that logan shakes at him accusingly.)

the whole deep-cleaning-the-house thing hasn’t stopped, and sure, it’s nice and tidy, but really, there’s only so much deep cleaning you can do before you can pronounce a two-bedroom, one-and-a-half bath house with one bedroom he wouldn’t go into, considering it’s logan’s room, fully clean, right?

(“i know puppies chew on things, but virgil, this is getting ridiculous,” logan says. “you’ve puppy-proofed the entire house at least five times. if she chews on something at this point, she’s to be commended for her creativity.”

“i just want to be sure she doesn’t choke on anything,” virgil says.

“i am positive the puppy won’t chew on old paper,” logan says pointedly. “and even if she does, if it isn’t a huge thing of paper, she’ll be fine.”

“don’t come crying to me when she throws up in your room, then.”)

he keeps going to the town library? sure, virgil’s a reader—not as much as logan, but maybe no one could ever be as much of a reader as logan is—but usually he brings books home and sets them on the bedside table and reads them gradually, over the course of a few days, but a few people have mentioned to him that they’ve seen virgil in the library, he’s reading books there and not at home, though no one’s really seen exactly what he’s reading.

(“what... is that?”

“um. it—apparently, it’s—i read that if we give her a hot water bottle and a ticking clock near her sleeping area, it imitates the heat and heartbeat of her littermates and helps her get acclimated to her environment better, so—so it’s a clock. for her.”

“virgil. you went out and bought a clock. for the dog.”

“okay, look, whose idea was it to get a dog in the first place?!”

“i haven’t bought a clock for the dog!”)

and now—

“babe,” patton says, dragging his fist across his still-sleepy-bleary eyes and settling his glasses on his nose, and virgil jumps before he pivots.

“hey!” virgil says. “i—sorry, did i wake you up?”

“no, just woke up and saw the time and wondered where you were,” patton says. he’d like to be coordinated about his affection, but he is very sleepy, so he just plods over to virgil and, essentially, walks straight into him until virgil wraps his arms around him with a soft laugh.

“sorry,” virgil murmurs, and kisses his temple. “i’ll be right up, i promise.”

patton peeks around his shoulder, and says, “was filling up some kind of new cookie jar really a huge priority, this time of night?”

“i—no,” virgil admits. “i just kind of got into the swing of doing dishes and wiping down the table and i ended up—well. filling up a new cookie jar.”

“i didn’t even know we got a new cookie jar,” patton says.

“surprise,” virgil says. patton reaches forward, intending to steal one of these apparently-good-enough-to-stay-up-past-midnight-for cookies, and virgil quickly closes a hand over patton’s wrist.

“um, probably not a best idea at this time of night,” virgil says. “sugar’ll keep you up.”

“that is a blatant lie,” patton says, and virgil leans down to kiss him again—quick, almost chaste.

“then it’ll be too much of a fuss to brush your teeth again,” virgil says, and sets the lid on the top of the jar before physically turning patton around. “let’s get to bed, yeah?”

“you’re being weird,” patton says, then decides, “i’ll deal with it in the morning.”

except in the morning, like it’s some kind of strange fever dream, the new cookie jar’s gone.

(”why did you decide to fill up the jar with dog treats in the middle of the night,” logan hisses at virgil as virgil’s making breakfast, logan looking for somewhere to hide the jar before patton comes downstairs, and ends up cramming it in the cupboard under the sink.

“it just happened!” virgil says defensively.)

...

the thing about instituting house rules for birthdays is that they tend to get thrown back at you.

“but i can—“

“no,” virgil says, from where he’s double-checking that the streamers will stay up if someone leans against the wall. “house rules. it’s your house, you know them.”

“virgil,” patton grumbles. “you wouldn’t be ruining my birthday if i helped with my decorations—”

“nope,” virgil says. “if i wasn’t allowed to cook on my birthday, you’re not allowed to decorate.”

patton sinks back against the couch with a huff, crossing his arms.

it’s been a very nice birthday, generally speaking. virgil made a massive breakfast, eggs and hashbrowns and bacon and biscuits and chocolate croissants and donuts, and didn’t monitor his hot cocoa/coffee consumption, for once, and logan and roman had swung by for breakfast before swinging out again (“i’m under oath,” roman had said solemnly, when patton asked them what they were up to) and they still haven’t come back, even though the party’s due to start in ten minutes.

once virgil has triple-checked everything, and fetched patton a glass of wine, he tugs patton to his feet and wraps his arms around him, smiling down at him.

“hi,” patton says, not quite able to keep the grudging tone he’d been trying to go for.

“hey,” virgil says. “happy birthday.”

a smile breaks out on patton’s face, even when he’s very sure he’d tried not to let that happen. “you’ve told me that already.”

“and i’ll probably say it again,” virgil says, and he leans down to kiss patton, and kiss him, warm and soft and the best kind of overwhelming, and patton really regrets having to break the kiss in order to breathe, but he very much likes the small, needy, breathless sound that virgil makes when he does.

the doorbell rings, and patton groans, leaning his head against virgil’s chest.

“the timing of whoever’s at the door,” he informs virgil’s sternum, “is terrible.”

virgil snorts and drops a kiss to the top of patton’s head, and patton reluctantly disentangles himself from virgil in order to answer it.

he really should have expected who it is.

“patton,” his father says. “happy birthday.”

“thanks, dad, mom,” patton says, and steps aside so that they can file into his house.

“hi richard, emily,” virgil says. “do you want something to drink?”

“stoli on the rocks with a twist, if you can manage it,” emily says.

“richard? oh, patton, here’s your wine,” virgil adds, pushing the glass into his hands again.

richard requests scotch.

“i can—”

“absolutely not,” virgil says, and presses a kiss to his cheek. “stay out here in case anyone comes to the door, yeah?”

patton sighs, and does.

the party fills up in waves—isadora and emily are engaging in some kind of silent stare-off in the corner as richard has, once again, escaped from a party with a magazine in hand—and soon enough, patton’s busy entertaining people and making the rounds. it fills up so slowly that patton almost doesn’t notice until he ducks back into the kitchen to check on virgil, how chaotic it is, how it’s just a bit too noisy—he thinks that most of the inn’s employees have shown up, as well as his friends and neighbors from throughout sideshire. 

and when he gets into the kitchen, the quiet nearly overwhelms him. patton has to lean against a counter and let out a slow breath when it hits him.

virgil glances up from where he’s been topping off some snack bowls, and sets them aside.

“hey there,” he says, and drops a kiss on top of patton’s head—patton’s cheeks flush, feeling warmer than he already is, and he beams up at him.

“hi,” patton says.

“having fun?”

"mhm,” patton says, and winds his arms around virgil. “missing my fella, though.”

virgil smiles down at him, soft, and brushes a curl off his forehead. 

“i have had,” patton informs him, “some wine.”

virgil’s grin grows a bit more wry. “that so?”

“i haven’t caught anyone at it, but someone keeps filling up my glass and i suspect remy,” patton says. 

“yeah, he would,” virgil grumbles.

“i’ll understand what’s going on between you two someday,” patton says—the slightly-joking-but-not-really rivalry between them has bemused patton for years now.

virgil snorts, once. patton’s about to poke fun at him a bit more, but there’s the chime of a text message, and virgil digs his phone out of his pocket.

“it’s logan,” he says. “i’m just gonna make sure that he’s got your surprise all set.”

“it has to be brought into the house?” patton says, and blinks up at him. “but what about all those boxes?”

“you’ll see,” virgil says, and twines his fingers with patton’s, tugging him out into the living room. patton gets parked soundly on the couch. 

“wait here.”

“for my surprise?”

“for your surprise,” virgil confirms, and patton squeezes virgil’s hand tight before he lets him go. 

“a surprise?” dot, his neighbor, asks.

“in five or so minutes,” patton says. “or, whenever virgil and logan come back, i guess.”

“oh, the surprise,” babette says, and winks at morey—neither of them holding cinnamon, which is strange, considering their cat comes with them everywhere. “morey, the surprise is coming.”

“you know what it is?”

“know what what is?” sookie asks, looking up from the tray of canapés she’s brought and is still experimenting with. 

patton’s distantly aware that other people are disrupting their own conversations in order to turn attention to his, but he can’t really care right now.

“my birthday surprise,” patton tells sookie. “virgil’s been acting weird for the past couple weeks, and apparently all the investigative skills in the family went to logan, because i’ve been trying to figure it out and i’ve got zilch.”

“well, it is a surprise,” sookie says reasonably. 

“babs?”

“sorry, sugar,” babette says, and patton sighs. just a little.

“well, i’ll find out soon, i guess,” patton says.

...

“hey,” virgil says.

“hello,” logan says, holding tight to the leash; the puppy is teething at the leash, too, still attempting to walk forward even though logan’s come to a stop. 

“hi,” roman adds, holding the box that virgil had gotten specifically for this. 

there’s a bit of weight on virgil’s shoe—the puppy’s come forward, set her little paws on his boots, and is sniffing eagerly at his jeans.

“hi,” virgil says (he does not coo) and leans down to pet her, scratching behind her ears, before he glances up to see roman grinning at him.

virgil coughs, and says, gruff, “here, give me the leash, i can get her ready for the surprise.”

logan hands over the leash, and roman sets down the box, before he digs out—

“seriously?”

“if you’re getting a dog as a birthday present, you have to put a bow around her neck, it’s practically the law,” roman says. virgil sighs and snatches it away.

“fine, fine,” he says. “go inside, text me when everything’s all set.”

roman takes logan’s hand, and logan pulls him toward the house; there’s a swell of music as the front door opens, then closes.

“okay,” virgil tells the dog. “um. so, you’re about to meet patton.”

the puppy continues to chew at her leash, still looking at him with her chocolate brown eyes.

“patton’s the best,” he tells her. “and he’s gonna love you, and we’re—you know. we’re gonna take care of you, and—and we’ve never taken care of a dog before, but we managed to raise a kid okay, and you’ve never lived with humans before, so we’re both new at this. we’ll do the best we can. okay?”

the dog tilts her head.

“i’m talking to a puppy,” virgil mutters, and shakes his head. “right, then. let’s get you all set.”

he puts the puppy into the box—it’s got a lid and a box, both separately wrapped, it has a blanket in the bottom, and cut-out handles so that virgil can carry her, and so that she gets air—and carefully removes her leash.

“comfy?” he asks.

she sits.

“good girl,” he murmurs, because reinforcing praise is important, and pets her for a bit. he looks at the bow roman had given him—big and red, of course—before he carefully ties it to her collar. she attempts to nip at it, before virgil wiggles his fingers in front of her face, distracting her.

“okay,” virgil says. “we can just sit here and wait until logan or roman texts us, yeah? and i can just keep petting you.”

so he does—at once point, virgil’s practically in the box with her because it turns out the puppy very much likes belly rubs, but it also turns out that fingers are, potentially, the best teething tool of all time (virgil is familiar with this, but it’s been about sixteen or so years since logan’s needed to chew at his fingers) so she is very conflicted between letting virgil scratch her belly and chewing at virgil’s fingers. 

virgil’s phone buzzes, and virgil removes a hand in order to check—logan’s said He’s ready—and leans in to peek at the puppy.

“okay,” he says. “i’m gonna put the lid on, and i’m gonna carry you around for a little, but you’ll be out of the box soon, okay? and you’ll meet patton, who i’m sure will spoil you rotten and pet you until you’re sick of it.”

she wags her tail.

“cool,” virgil says, and carefully sets the lid on the box, and even more carefully picks up the box, making sure that the box stays level.

before he has to consider how he’s going to hold this (frankly kind of absurdly too big) box and open the door, roman opens the door for him, grinning. also, he’s holding his phone horizontally, which means he’s definitely recording this.

patton’s smiling, but there’s a curious glint in his eyes as virgil shuffles slowly forward, very conscious of the tiny little puppy in the box that he doesn’t want to jostle.

the people at the party have also ringed around the room—babette and morey, who have remembered not to bring cinnamon, since he doesn’t know how the puppy will react to a cat, dot and larry, sookie and michel, and emily has somehow managed to pull richard away from his magazine, among everyone else—watching as virgil carefully sets the box at patton’s feet.

"logan just told me that the deadline was a cover story,” patton tells virgil. “you’re in trouble.”

virgil grins. “all of this was logan’s idea in the first place, actually. i thought it was a real deadline too until he brought me in on it.”

patton huffs, put-upon. “well,” he says airily, and elbows logan jokingly, “this better be a good surprise, then.”

“open it and see,” virgil says.

patton leans forward, and begins to pry off the lid. virgil waits with bated breath. 

as soon as he gets the lid off and seems to catch a glimpse of what’s inside, patton squeals in shock, jerking away from the box, and for a second virgil thinks they’ve horribly miscalculated and patton’s actually afraid of dogs, but that’s before he leans right back forward again and reaches down to pet the puppy.

“hi,” patton croons, and then he starts to giggle—before he puts his hands over his face, before he peeks out again, like he was checking to be sure that the puppy wasn’t a hallucination and that she wouldn’t disappear as soon as he took his eyes off her. and then he looks at virgil, eyes bright and eager and excited, laughing the whole time.

“is this real?!” patton demands between giggles. 

“of course it’s real,” logan says, and patton puts his hands over his face for a second, before leaning back forward and reaching down to pet the dog.

“oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” patton repeats, and, with a jolt, virgil realizes that he’s crying, and patton meets eyes with him, beaming hugely, and virgil feels some kind of unnameable emotion swell up in his chest—the closest he can get to identifying it is joy.

“hello,” patton repeats to the puppy, then, to virgil, “can i hold it?”

“do whatever you want, she’s your dog,” virgil points out, unable to stop his own smile.

“she’s a girl?”

“she’s a girl,” logan confirms, “ten weeks old,” and patton carefully reaches in, still giggling all the while, and carefully hoists the dog into his lap, therefore bringing the dog into the view of the rest of the room, which makes a variety of gasping, cooing noises that are really exactly what a surprise puppy deserves.

“oh my gosh,” patton repeats, and giggles even louder when the puppy sniffs at his face, and licks the tears off his cheeks. “oh, my gosh, hi there, sweetheart!”

the puppy squirms, and patton adjusts his grip, staring.

“she’s so fluffy,” he says in awe. “oh, my gosh, she’s like a teddy bear, look at how fluffy she is!”

the puppy is, indeed, very fluffy, and very stuffed-animal-esque in her adorable-ness, and patton sniffles, burying his face in her fur, just for a moment. the puppy wiggles a little, in order to keep licking and sniffing at patton, so patton resurfaces after a few seconds, crying harder than ever.

patton’s grinning, so virgil’s pretty sure he’s crying because he’s happy, but he wants to be sure, so—

“do you like her?” virgil asks hesitantly.

“i love her,” patton sobs, and virgil climbs onto the couch, so that he can wrap an arm around patton’s shoulders and kiss him on the cheek.

“i can’t believe you got me a puppy,” patton chokes out, and sniffles noisily, before pressing a kiss to the puppy’s forehead and settling her on his lap. 

“logan, technically, campaigned for you to get a puppy, i was just the one who was legally able to adopt her,” virgil says, and patton turns to logan, smiling.

“you should check her collar,” logan suggests, before patton can get any more emotional than he already is.

“her collar?” patton says.

“her name,” virgil elaborates. “which the shelter gave her and you can change it, if you want to, but—”

“you won’t want to,” logan says. 

patton adjusts the bow, and takes hold of the little temporary tag virgil’s gotten her, before they can register her with the vet near sideshire and make sure that they’ve got record of all her shots and the fact that she’s been spayed and microchip her so on, and takes a moment to read it. his jaw drops.

“no way,” he says.

“way,” virgil says. 

“her name is cocoa?” patton gasps. “that’s perfect!”

“told you,” logan murmurs.

“hi, cocoa!” patton croons to the puppy, holding her up in a way that’s vaguely reminiscent of lion king, except it’s at face-level and looking toward him. “hi there, my sweet girl! are you cocoa? i think you are!”

cocoa wriggles in protest, attempting to lean forward and lick patton’s face, and patton holds her tight in his arms, face just glowing, and yeah, wow, this was an amazing idea, go logan.

“so you’re definitely okay with the surprise pet,” virgil checks, and patton laughs, leaning forward to kiss him, the puppy attempting to free herself from between them, and it’s one of those amazing, perfect moments that virgil will keep with him forever, not to sound sappy or anything.

the party’s basically permanently derailed, after that.

people approach the puppy in groups, which means that virgil learns a bit more about cocoa: she likes fetch, but only for one or two throws before she gets distracted by something else. she really likes it when you scratch her neck, under her collar, because her back leg starts doing that thumping thing that dogs do when you’ve hit the sweet spot. she likes to play tug of war, which is normal, but she grabs onto pant legs with her teeth and clings even as she gets dragged around the room, so they’ll have to train her out of that. 

he also hasn’t really been able to seen her walk around a room, but since she’s got stubby little puppy legs and too-big paws that she needs to grow into, she practically waddles, which is both hilarious and adorable, and virgil witnesses her trip over her paws a couple times, which is cute, even if his heart stops and he half-lunges toward her in the time that it takes for her to re-establish her balance, tail wagging, and continue happily toddling along her intended path.

patton’s attention to most of the rest of the party is lost, too, since he keeps sitting on the floor and playing with the puppy, following her from group to group and randomly bursting into giggles at the sight of her doing something even slightly adorable, which, considering she is a very cute dog, is very often. he occasionally leans down to scoop her up into her arms and kiss her, which, well, virgil remembers him doing something similar with logan when logan was first able to walk reliably enough but still stumbling every few steps, so he probably shouldn’t be surprised.

patton is also half the reason the puppy is getting introduced to everyone. case in point:

“this is your grand-dog,” patton tells emily cheerfully, holding cocoa out in a way that emily would be able to take him. “you can hold her, she’s very light and very soft and very fluffy.”

emily looks like she’s about to decline the offer, like she doesn’t want cocoa to shed all over her fancy skirtsuit, before she sees virgil mouthing hold the goddamn dog behind patton’s head. she sighs, but she holds the dog, in a way that clearly denotes that she has never held a dog before—hands under cocoa’s armpits, letting her legs dangle in the air.

she stares at cocoa. cocoa stares at her, legs paddling in the air.

“you can hold her like a baby,” patton says helpfully, “that’s okay too” and emily adjusts her grip accordingly. 

and then she just. holds the dog. she doesn’t pet cocoa or anything. she’s just holding cocoa like a baby.

“isn’t she cute?!” patton says happily.

“...certainly,” emily says stiffly.

“i love her,” patton says.

“hmph,” she says, “well,” and passes cocoa back to patton, before she swipes her hands across her jacket, attempting to discard the fur.

“i’m gonna introduce her to dad,” patton says happily, and goes off to find richard as emily continues to sweep her hands across her shirt.

virgil digs the lint roller out of his hoodie, and holds it out.

"ah,” she says.

she brushes it along, and, once she’s satisfied, she moves to hand it back, before she pauses.

“where did you get this dog?” she asks suspiciously, as if virgil has specifically gotten a flea-infested rabid dog for the sole purpose of getting her to hold it, so it can infect her.

“a shelter,” virgil says.

“which one?” she says. “is it reputable?”

“you were on their donor wall,” virgil says, non-chalant. “so i’d sure hope so.”

she pulls a face at him—well, the emily equivalent of pulling a face. so, virgil one, emily zip.

“what breed is she?”

“german shepherd, chow mix,” virgil says mildly. “there’s some other breeds in there too, we think, but—”

“you should have gone to a breeder.”

“she was a rescue from a puppy mill,” virgil says, even more mildly, “so—“

emily sighs, long and irritated, before she says doubtfully, “it was logan’s idea to get a dog.” 

“yep, it was,” virgil says.

“why would logan suggest a dog?” emily says, and virgil glances around—richard is holding the dog slightly better, and tilting his head at it with the same curiosity that he does at a headline about “the youths.” 

“he’s worried about patton empty-nesting in the fall,” virgil says. “he wanted to be sure that patton still had something to take care of, so. dog.”

“and that was logan’s idea,” she says. “not yours.”

“...yeah,” virgil says.

“you must have had some other idea for patton’s birthday,” she says, as if doubting that virgil has not masterminded the whole dog plot and cocoa will eventually be trained into a vicious attack dog that specifically goes for white people in the upper tax bracket, or something, as if she is not currently chasing a ball tossed by richard, and then she slides and wipes out in a hilarious fashion before scrambling back onto her paws, tail wagging, panting eagerly, looking like the clumsiest and least threatening dog that had ever lived.

and virgil thinks about the jewelry stores he’s got listed in his private notes, the inspiration rings he’s got saved in about seven randomly named, nested folders on his password-protected laptop that you can’t find without searching for it specifically, the budget that he’s already schemed out, the various ideas that he’ll probably ask logan to help fine-tune, and he shrugs.

“nothing that can’t wait.”

...

patton’s still kind of in shock, but, like, the best kind of shock.

because. he has a dog. he has a dog!!! the surprise is a puppy!

she’s adorable! patton loves her already! whenever he looks at her it feels like his heart is made of melty gooey marshmallows! 

“no cocoa baby don’t eat that,” patton says, gently removing a piece of wrapping paper from her mouth. she attempts to follow it, despite the fact that he puts it out of her reach, and he puts a dog toy (virgil has been pulling out absurd amounts of dog supplies from every hidden nook and cranny in the house since the party ended) in her line of sight instead, squeaking it. cocoa takes that instead, lying down with a little thump, gnawing it at it.

“so, the way i get you to follow your own house rules is to give you a puppy,” virgil says, amused, picking up the wrapping paper and putting it in the trash bag that he’s filling with trash from the party, “got it.”

patton grins up at him sheepishly. “i could help if you—”

“nope,” virgil says, “absolutely not,” and runs his fingers through patton’s hair, scratching gently at his scalp, before he goes to sweep the coffee table of discarded paper plates and napkins.

“god, she’s so cute,” roman gushes, from where he and logan are sitting across from patton, the three of them kind of boxing cocoa in, but she doesn’t seem to mind. “i love her floppy little ears, and her big ol’ eyes, and her fluffy perfect face—”

“she is an aesthetically pleasing dog,” logan agrees. 

she is. she’s varying shades of brown, fawn and chocolate and chestnut and coffee and taupe, with a splash of white on her chest. her ears are a gradient of the varying shades of brown, and her snout is the same dark color as the edges of her ears. her fluff levels are truly off the charts, and she has pink little beans for toes, and her eyes are so soulful that patton’s genuinely going to get beaten out in the “best-puppy-dog-eyes-in-the-house” competition, though he passively wonders if she still counts considering she is a puppy dog, but��

“jeez, logan, you don’t have to be so sentimental about it,” roman teases.

cocoa squeaks her toy in agreement. it’s shaped like a mallard, with a goofy, cartoonish grin on its bill. 

gradually, naturally, the conversation dies down, and they’re all left in a companionable silence, except for the occasional murmur of “you comfy?” between his son and his son’s boyfriend, and patton softly entreating cocoa with a variety of pet-centric nicknames that he can barely make sense of—sweet girl, fuzzyface, sugarbun, marshmallow, kissyface—and eventually, cocoa flops onto her side and snoozes with a variety of tiny puppy snoring noises, and patton’s heart’s so full it feels like it might burst.

and once the house is relatively clean (a bit impossible to be fully clean, with the clutter that’s so ingrained into the house it’s practically a piece of furniture, patton barely notices it anymore) virgil settles onto the ground with patton with a soft huff, and briefly leans his head against patton’s shoulder, before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“good birthday?”

“amazing birthday,” patton corrects. “fantastic birthday. really spectacular birthday.”

virgil smiles, just a little. “good.” a pause, and then, “late, though.”

patton stifles his smile—virgil fussing about food and caffeine intake and about his sleep schedule has really been happening for as long as they’ve known each other. “you’re right,” he agrees. “i—d’you think cocoa needs to go out?”

“probably,” virgil agrees. “i’ll go with you.”

patton nods, and reaches out to scoop cocoa into his arms—she stirs a little, before settling in his arms just like a slumbering baby, and okay, patton might cry a little, she’s so cute?!

“remember to sleep out in the living room,” patton reminds. “don’t stay up too late, kids.”

he gets “we won’ts” that he’s not sure how close they’ll stick to, and a “happy birthday” from roman and a hug from his son, as virgil trails him toward the backyard. patton descends the patio steps, before he carefully places cocoa, paw-first, onto the grass. she folds herself up and it seems like she’s content to continue sleeping in the grass.

“no,” patton scolds, in a half-laugh, putting her on her paws again. “c’mon, puppy, do your business, and then you can sleep for as long as you want.”

cocoa seems to sigh, before she toddles forward a few steps, nose firmly stuck to the grass to sniff and investigate, and arms come around patton’s waist. patton smiles, leaning back into the warmth of it—january birthdays meant sometimes white birthdays, which were cool, but the cold was just something else—tilting his chin a little, and virgil obligingly presses a kiss to his cheek.

“you’re seriously good with the surprise pet,” virgil checks, and patton huffs a laugh, leaning back against virgil’s chest and securing his grip on virgil’s wrists, to keep him there.

“i’m seriously good with the surprise pet,” patton promises, and he feels virgil’s warm breath of relief against his ear.

“okay, cool,” virgil says, and admits, “i figured you probably would be cool with a dog, generally, since you walk dogs at the shelter a lot, but—”

“i love her,” patton says, leaning a little to see virgil’s face. “thank you.”

virgil flushes, and patton doesn’t think it’s just because of the cold.

“it was logan’s idea,” he mumbles.

“i know,” patton says, and then, “did he tell you why?”

virgil hesitates, before he shrugs. “empty-nesting,” he says.

“ah,” patton says quietly.

the fact that his baby is going to college has been on his mind every single day, since logan first got back his test scores and started sketching out plans at the kitchen table. patton’s been with him to visit a few colleges, and he’s—well, kids grow up, right? that’s what they’re supposed to do.

it doesn’t mean that the idea doesn’t make patton sad and anxious and really eager for some way to slow down time, too.

patton shakes himself, and says, “his idea, huh?”

“yep.”

patton starts to smile again, and he says, “i bet it wasn’t his idea to get her specialty peanut-butter treats, though.”

“...no.”

“or a ton of bandanas for her to wear. including a custom one that looks like your hoodie.”

“...well—”

“or the tons of harnesses and collars, or the big bed that we aren’t fully sure she’ll grow into, or all the toys, or—”

“i get it, i get it,” virgil grumbles. patton leans up to peck a quick kiss to his lips, turning more fully in his arms and wrapping his arms around virgil’s neck.

“i love that about you,” he says.

“what?” virgil says. 

“you’re a carer,” patton says. “you’re all gruff and grumbly on the outside, but if you see someone who needs help or needs to be taken care of, you’re all like, oh yes, of course, here’s this friends and family discount, what do you mean it’s brand new, this has always been here, or inviting them to your family’s christmas, or helping take care of their son, or offering couches to crash on and shoulders to cry on.”

patton pauses, and allows, smiling, “or cleaning up the house to make sure that they won’t find anything they’ll accidentally choke on, or patching up the fence so she can’t get out and nothing can get in, or doing secret research at the town library.”

and virgil’s flush definitely isn’t from the cold. virgil swallows, and says, in a voice that’s just a little bit shy and quiet, “it’s your birthday.”

“i know,” patton says simply. “i’m allowed to be sappy on my birthday.”

“course you are,” virgil says, and patton leans up to kiss him, before he turns back to squint out at the lawn. or at least, he means to.

because virgil’s fingers around his wrist prevent him from doing that, and before patton can ask, virgil’s bending just a little to press their lips together, cupping his face between both of his hands, and patton feels his heart do that happy little flutter it always seems to do around virgil. patton sighs, and if his eyes weren’t closed—when had he done that?—he’d be sure that it’d be a puff of steam in the cold air. virgil takes advantage of it, pressing in, so overwhelming but so gentle and patton can only wrap his arms around virgil’s neck and hang on tight.

when they part, patton blinks up at him, dizzy and dazed in the best kind of way.

“what was that for?”

“i’m allowed to kiss you on your birthday,” virgil teases him, smirking just a bit, and patton grins right back, hoping it looks as full of promise as he wants it to be. he leans in to kiss him again, but he’s interrupted by the sound of soft snuffling at their feet, and they both glance down.

cocoa’s staring up at them with an expression she could have gotten straight from logan—like, really, dads?

“okay, okay,” patton allows with a slight laugh, bending to pick her up again. “good girl, we get it, we can go back inside.”

virgil does lean in and give him a kiss over cocoa’s head, though, and patton beams at him with his arms full of fluffy, ten-week-old dog.

they climb the stairs, and virgil moves to the closet, and patton collapses onto the bed, letting cocoa down. she paces a few circles, before she curls up into a cozy-looking ball.

virgil glances back, and says, “patton.”

“what?” patton says innocently, sitting on the bed beside cocoa.

“if we want her to sleep in her actual bed, we have to start training her early,” virgil says.

“she’ll be lonely,” patton points out.

“i specifically bought her a hot water bottle and a clock to make sure that wouldn’t happen,” virgil says.

“um—?”

“hot water bottle to simulate warmth and clock to simulate the heartbeat of her littermates, to help her adjust,” he explains, and yeah, wow, patton adores him.

“virgil, i hate to point out the obvious,” patton says, grinning, “but i happen to know two people who get pretty warm in their sleep and who both happen to have heartbeats.”

virgil hesitates.

“just for tonight?” patton says, pouting just a little. “for my birthday.”

virgil sighs. “i know what you’re doing,” he grumbles.

“you can think about it,” patton says, and gets up to tug lightly at virgil’s hand. “we can do some other stuff, first.”

virgil’s eyes start to get that dark, familiar gleam that makes a secret, almost illicit-feeling thrill shoot down patton’s spine.

but later, when they both slide under the covers that night, freshly showered and fully intent on going straight to sleep this time, virgil makes no noises of protest about the cuddly ball of fluff that’s nuzzled her way between their bellies, and even when her tiny paws dig into their stomachs in her sleep, and she wakes them up when she adjusts, and they both have to contort into awkward positions rather than wake the dog and move her, virgil doesn’t make a noise of protest.

she never really ends up trained to sleep in her own bed at night, either.

[hyunnie-bunches]

Bloodsuckers VII

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Genre: Supernatural AU, fluff?, angst?

Pairing: Vampire!Baekhyun x Vampire!Reader

Word Count: 1800

A/N: So maybe I lied last time because this 100% raises more questions than it answers but answers are coming soon I SWEAR.

Tags: @marimsun

———————————————————————————————————————————————

My head cracks against the ground, sending waves of splintering pain throughout my skull. I want to stay down. I am tired, my senses exhausted and limbs aching. I didn’t even know vampires could get tired.

“Again,” Baekhyun says, voice hard and expression harder, as he throws a blade by my face.

I ignore the throbbing in my head, the fatigue of my body, and reach for the hilt, pushing myself off the ground. I am competitive and proud and I don’t back down easily. That is the reason I’m still going. Not because I don’t want to disappoint Baekhyun. Not because the need to please him runs deeper than any pride, any competitiveness ever could. Definitely not because of that at all.

It had been a few weeks since we moved into the little cottage in the middle of the woods Baekhyun had claimed to be his own. We’d restricted ourselves to animal blood to avoid detection at first, but ever since the heat from the hunter attack had cooled down, Baekhyun had ventured into the town every once in a while to get us fresh food. We couldn’t do it often, or it would raise too many questions in a town that small, but still every other week or so, he would get us someone that was not likely to be missed and we would share. Somehow the days he seemed to go hunt aligned perfectly with the days I did well in whatever training he had planned for me that day. Unexpectedly Baekhyun was an unnecessarily strict, no-nonsense teacher. He didn’t restrict himself to one form of fighting, and he went hard when it came to strength and speed building exercises. One would think having super-speed and super-strength meant you didn’t need to exert any effort on training anymore, but Baekhyun insisted on them anyway. Apparently, they help with control and discipline. 

My vision is hazy and I blink a couple of times to focus on his figure in front of me. He is already in a fighting stance. He isn’t even using weapons. It bothers me. That I am so much weaker than him, that I am so much weaker than I was before as a human. I had learned all my fighting as a human, I had known how to move that body to my wishes, I had grown familiar with its flaws and learned how to account for them. My new body was foreign and while training drills were one thing, fighting one-on-one with someone who was as skilled as Baekhyun was a whole different ball-game. It was frustrating to have it be so useless when I knew it was capable of so much more.

I take a moment to steady myself. To look at him, notice his posture, hear the air as he makes his moves. But it is futile — there is so much else to notice too. The way his eyes shine in the dim light, the breeze blowing his hair, the scruff of his feet on the ground as he bounces on them. It is so hard to focus, so hard to catch the telltale signs of an attack when there is so much about the world, about him there is to take in. This is the hardest part to adjust to - the sheer sensory overload. Baekhyun insists the only way to get used to it is to wait until my brain adjusts to my body, but patience is not my strong suit. I miss when he strikes — again — and I feel as his fist connects with the side of my face, the momentum jerking my body to the side. I arc my blade blindly, trying, hoping, to connect with something. My wrist is caught in seconds, the blade wrested from my hand, and I feel its tip press into the base of my throat.

I close my eyes. A part of me just wanted him to press in. God, death would mean such a nice nap right now. Sure, it would be painful, especially before I lost consciousness, and I’d probably wake up with a nasty headache and the worst sore throat but it would be so worth it. I’m just so tired.

Alas, however, the blade moves away.

“You’re not focusing.” He turns the blade around, offering me the hilt. “Again.”

“I’m trying, okay?” I can’t help snap. Regret and annoyance war within me.

“Not hard enough.” He doesn’t even look back as he moves into position again. I think it’s his lack of disappointment that hurts me the most. Like he expects no more of me than the pathetic, weak, thing I’ve become. I know it is not true, that he understands what I feel like, that he has gone through it himself. But at the moment, his tone just makes me feel so useless. So dependent on him. For training. For shelter. For food.

I steel myself. I had to get better. I turn to face him. My blade is raised high. His left foot, which is in the back, twitches. A ladybug flies to my left somewhere. His head tilts to the side. I hear a siren from somewhere in the city. Baekhyun’s eyes flick to my blade. I see his body turn. He is going to lunge for the blade.

I am moving my body around before I realize it, limbs moving on instinct rather than thought. If I can just move enough to be able to reach behind his head as he moves forward, I could hit him in the back and win. But I move too fast. I’m always too fucking fast. I have moved to block his body before he’s halfway to me, effectively giving away my knowledge of his move and my plan of defense. He changes intention midway, choosing to take me down instead of simply disarming me. He uses the momentum he has already built to push his body weight into my mine as his leg wraps around one of mine and destabilizes me. I am falling to the ground again. One of Baekhyun’s hands is around my wrist to stop me from moving the blade and the other around my throat before I land.

For a second we just stay there. Staring at each other as he sits with his knees parted around my waist and his fingertips pressing into my skin. Then he gets off me, leaving me dizzy and disoriented.

I don’t get up, closing my eyes and attempting to clear my mind. “I don’t know what to do, Baekhyun.” My voice comes out weak and defeated. I am taken aback by it. I didn’t know I could sound that way. “I am exhausted. There is so much — too much — to see, hear, smell, feel.” My eyes are still closed but I hear his footsteps as he walks towards me.

“Is it as bad as before?”

I sigh. “I thought I was getting better. I’m fine in the drills. But-“ I swallow. “But when I’m tired or when I’m fighting you-” I pause again, but Baekhyun doesn’t speak. “I just- I don’t know how to focus. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to focus on. There is too much happening at the same time.”

I can hear the rusting of grass, feel the movement of air against my skin, as he settles into the grass beside me.

“Focus on a single thing.” The hardness is gone from his voice and I open my eyes. His face is open and comforting and I feel the ridiculous urge to just hug him and cry at how horrible I feel. I shove the impulse down viciously. “The human body is a connected being. Every movement causes a ripple effect. Find one thing - anything to focus on and you’ll learn to be able to tell how the changes in that mean different things - let you know about different moves of your opponent.” I frown and he continues, “I always focus on a person’s mouth. It’s an easy tell. Most people close their mouth, tighten their jaw, or open their lips to yell before they attack.” His gaze flicks to my own lips as he talks and I see him swallow. “But the eyes are the easiest. Start there. Notice what your opponent is paying attention to and you’ll be able to anticipate their attack.”

He gets up and offers a hand to help me do the same.

“And Y/N,” He continues. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You were too well-trained before. You’re used to relying on your body. But your body isn’t the same as it used to be. It’ll take time to unlearn before you can learn again. Let yourself have that time.”

I just give him another nod. “Again?” I ask in a resigned voice.

He looks me over before giving a response. “Maybe we should stop for tonight.”

I hate the relief that involuntarily floods my body and releases its tension at his words. Picking up the scattered few weapons around us, we make our way back up to the cottage. We’re debating whether the ideal blade length is more dependent on the height or weight of the bearer when we reach the front door.

“But can you imagine a 3-foot person holding a 2-foot sword? That’s more than half their height! It would be absol-“ My words are cut off as Baekhyun turns on the lights and a red-haired figure sprawled on our couch comes into view.

We both tense immediately, but Baekhyun makes no move to attack the man in front of us and so I don’t either.

“Baekhyun.” The man says by way of greeting. His eyes slide over to me. “I see your oath to never sire anyone didn’t last that long.”

“What are you doing here?” Baekhyun asks, completely ignoring his question.

The redhead’s face hardens and there is no trace of amusement in his voice when he speaks again. “He’s back.”

His words seem to leach out any remaining warmth in the room.

“Does he know you’re here?”

A shake of the head. He gets up and walks closer to the two of us. “But you understand that if he asks me directly, I cannot lie. But I will not volunteer any information myself though. That much I can promise.”

Baekhyun relaxes visibly. “Thank you.”

Once more his gaze flicks to me. “You should leave.”

Baekhyun gives him a small nod. The man pushes past us and heads towards the door.

“Chanyeol,” Baekhyun calls out, then turns slowly to face him.

“It was good to see you, brother.”

Chanyeol gives him a small sad smile. “Go. And don’t leave any trace behind.” In the blink of an eye, he has vanished.

[jonsastan]

Jonsa: A Dream of Spring @jonsadreamofspring

Day 6:  Parallels / King and Queen / Memories Aka: Jonsa Homecoming King and Queen Au

If you looked up the term ‘golden child’ in the dictionary you would probably find a picture of Sansa Stark. She was a straight A student, she was considerate of others, she was responsible, she volunteered, and started the school’s composting initiative. She was clever and kind and beautiful. So it really didn’t surprise anyone when she was nominated for Homecoming Queen.

Jon Snow on the other hand wasn’t exactly your typical Homecoming King but he got nominated anyway. 

“It’s probably just some stupid underclassmen that think he has dreamy eyes.” Jeyne said as Sansa stood at her locker pulling out books for her next lesson. “He’s not going to win or anything.” Sansa made a non-committal sound. 

She didn’t really care who won Homecoming King. She didn’t really care if she won Homecoming Queen. It might look good on her applications to university, but it wasn’t like it was her only achievement at school. Jon was in some of her classes and was her brother’s best mate so they knew each other, but they weren’t really friends. Sansa seemed to be involved in every aspect of school life, volunteering, organising, studying, tutoring; but whenever she saw Jon he was either with Robb, Theon, or walking his dog. He wasn’t exactly typical Homecoming King stuff. 

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

“Did you see that you and Jon are in the lead for Homecoming King and Queen?” Robb asked, sitting on the bench next to where Sansa was cooking dinner. Both their parents were working tonight, so Sansa was on cooking duty and Robb on cleaning duty. Arya was on bedtime duty, which never ended well. She told scary stories and then Rickon couldn’t sleep unless he was curled up in Sansa’s bed. 

“Yeah I saw the poll.” She chopped carrots for a moment. “Did you nominate Jon?” She asked, trying to sound nonchalant. 

“Nope, I think it was Theon.” Robb stole a carrot slice from the chopping board. “As a joke. You know Jon, he’s the most awkward introvert in the whole North, so Theon probably thought it would be a laugh to nominate him.”

“That’s kinda mean.”

“That’s Theon.” Robb shrugged and stole another carrot. “I don’t think he realised how much Jon helps people behind the scenes, didn’t realise how popular Jon was, in a quiet kind of way.” Sansa stopped chopping and looked at her twin brother. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, he tutors underclassmen pretty much every afternoon-”

“He’s not at the tuition program.” Sansa objected, her head tilted slightly. 

“He doesn’t like the program, says it’s too focused on ‘improving grades and not actual understanding of the subject’.” Robb made air quotes. “He also helps out at the vet, you know Davos’ vet?” Sansa nodded. “And the animal shelter. He’ll bring extra lunch to school because some kids don’t have any.” Robb shrugged. “And he’s got pretty okay grades.” 

“I didn’t know.” Sansa muttered. 

“Jon doesn’t brag about it.” Robb hopped off the bench and walked over to the fridge, opening it and perusing the contents. “How long ‘til dinner’s ready?” 

“About 20 minutes.” Sansa replied, finishing chopping the carrots. 

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

Sansa petted Lady as she waited in the small room of the vet. Lady needed her shots and Sansa had organised to walk her around alone so her mum and dad could watch Rickon’s lacrosse game. Of course being a lacrosse game for the under 7’s it mostly ended up in one kid hitting the other with the stick. 

Sansa heard the gentle tap at the door and held onto Lady’s leash as the vet nurse entered, even though Lady would never bolt for the door, or jump on someone. She did begin to wag her tail excessively and that’s when Sansa realised it was Jon Snow who seemed to be reading over Lady’s history.

“Hello Lady.” He said, kneeling down and ruffling the dog’s ears. “Hi Sansa.” She couldn’t help but smile slightly at Jon’s priorities. Dogs first, then people.  

“Hey Jon, how are you?” 

“Not bad. Working here a lot. How are you?” He asked, taking the lead from her hand and moving Lady to the fancy table that lowered to the floor then rose to be right height for the vet.

“I’m okay. Trying to get my dress sorted for Homecoming.” 

“Oh right. That’s soon, yeah?” 

“Two weeks.” There was an awkward pause as Jon examined Lady’s teeth and made notes for Davos, the vet. “You have a date?” She asked for want of something to ask. 

“Nope, flying solo. You?” He chuckled before lowering his pen. “Of course you have a date.” He shook his head and smiled slightly. 

“Actually, I don’t. I was thinking about just tagging along with Robb, but he’s got an actual date.” She said feeling a little annoyed at the way he’d said the last comment.

“Yeah, he told me.” 

“He didn’t tell me who!” Sansa exclaimed feeling slightly betrayed by her brother. Probably thought I’d tease him.

“Fryd.” 

“Football Fred or Lacrosse Fryd?” She asked. Jon turned to her. 

“Wynafryd Manderly.”  

“Lacrosse Fryd.” Sansa muttered, nodding her head. 

“She doesn’t play lacrosse.” 

“She’s Rickon’s coach. It’s why Robb has been attending the games with an almost religious fervor.” 

“What about football Fred?” 

“Robb’s been hanging out around the football team more often than usual and Fred Flint is fit.” 

“Makes sense.” Jon nodded and they lapsed into silence for a moment. “So do you maybe wanna go to Homecoming alone together?” He asked, running his hand through hair that was just long enough to tie into a half up style, avoiding looking at her. 

Sansa moved toward Jon and Lady, patting her dog. 

“Yeah. I’d like that.” She smiled at him. 

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

“What colour dress are you wearing to Homecoming?” Robb shouted making Sansa jump and her hand jerk causing a harsh black line across her, otherwise perfect, notes. 

“Pink!” She shouted back without much thought. It wasn’t until later, when she was getting ready for bed she wondered by Robb wanted to know. She crossed the hall and tapped on his door. 

“Oi! Why did you want to know what colour dress I’m wearing to Homecoming?” She lent against the doorframe, watching as Robb stuffed books into his school bag. 

“Theon, Jon, and I went to buy corsages and he asked me to stealthily find out your dress colour so he could match the corsage.”

“And shouting it at me is stealthy?” She raised a bemused eyebrow at him. He shrugged. 

“At least your corsage wont clash terribly with your dress.” She nodded in agreement before returning to her room. 

The was sweet of Jon.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sansa check the contents of her tiny clutch purse for the fourth time in the space of about 5 minutes. 

Phone? Check. Money, just in case? Check. Lipstick? Check. Keys? No! Wait, Jon is driving, you don’t need keys.

She let out a sigh and glanced at the clock. Jon should be arriving any moment. She lifted a leg and examined her sparkly pink shoe, smiling. She liked these shoes, they were bright, and girly, and thoroughly impractical. 

“You look lovely.” She turned and saw Jon standing in the doorway, an awed smile on his face. He wore an all black suit with a pink pocket square, the shade matching her dress exactly. She smiled. 

“Not too shabby yourself.” He reached out a hand to help her stand and she took it, enjoying the warmth of his palm. 

“My dad let me borrow his car for the night so we don’t have to ride in my shit box.” He said, walking her down to the fancy black car. She knew Jon’s dad was rich, he’d have to be to attend Winterfell Prep, but she also knew Jon wasn’t close to him. 

“That was kind.” She offered, not wanting to spark anything negative. 

He opened the passenger door for her. “It was nice.”

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

“Your Homecoming King, Jon Snow and your Homecoming Queen, Sansa Stark will now take the floor!”  The over excited MC announced. 

It was corny, and old fashioned, but a part of Sansa loved the fact that the King and Queen would have a dance as the rest of the class joined in. 

Jon lead her to the middle of the floor. He placed a hand gently on her waist and there was a moment of complete stillness and Sansa was sure Jon could hear the beating of her heart. Then the music began and Jon guided her around the dance floor. 

“You dance surprisingly well.” She commented after a while, noticing Fryd wince slightly as Robb trod on her toes. 

“Thanks.” He smiled gently at her. 

The song ended and was followed by energetic music, more suited to groups than couples. 

“Would you like some punch?” Jon said into her ear, his lips brushing her earlobe. She nodded. He took her hand and led her over to the punch stand, procured two glasses, and gestured to a quiet little alcove not far from them. 

“So how does it feel to be royalty?” She asked, sipping the overly sugary drink. Jon chuckled. “A privilege I neither sought nor wanted. What about you, your grace?” He said with a small bow. Sansa laughed. 

“It’ll look good when I apply for uni I suppose.”

“You didn’t want to be queen?” He asked looking surprised.

“No, it wasn’t exactly the ambition of my high school career.” She shrugged. “But my mother did say I have the perfect shaped head for a tiara.” Jon laughed at this before taking a sip of his own drink. She noticed a droplet of punch clinging to his lip and had an impulse to kiss it off. 

Jon was sweeter than she’d realised, kinder too. He thought of others first and was considerate of those around him. And he looked great in a suit. 

“So do you think people understand our whole ‘going alone together’ thing?” She asked as a means of distracting herself from Jon’s lips. He looked at his shoes before answering her. 

“I kinda think the whole matching corsage and pocket square might have suggested friends going together, at least.”

“At least?” She asked, taking a half a step toward him. 

“Some people, maybe some people who are here with a really clever and funny and beautiful girl, people who have trouble talking with other people, people who think said girl has a really cute dog and a nice brother but not as nice as her, might think that this was a date.” He suggested, staring at his shoes again. Sansa half smiled.

“Would these people also happen to have stupid plastic crowns on their heads?” He looked at her and smiled. 

“Yeah.” She moved closer again, reaching her free hand out to tangle her fingers with his. 

“I kinda think it’s a date too.” She whispered.

And then Jon was kissing her or maybe she was kissing Jon. Either way it was only a matter of moments before Theon wolf whistled loudly at them.

[kangyunas]

⁚ ⁛  oh my god ! you can’t believe who i just saw. it was  kang yuna !  they really resemble  seo soojin , don’t they ?  i heard they started their career about  one year ago  as the  main dancer + lead rapper + vocalist  in  v-nyx , but it sure seems longer, doesn’t it ?  they always seem so  optimistic ,  elegant  +  selfless  in interviews and to their fans, but their latest scandal made them sound like  timid ,  sensitive  + cautious … oh well, must’ve been the bad lighting. did you know they came all the way from  seoul ,  south korea  to new york city ?  it was really brave of them to sacrifice so much. you think they’re survive the spotlight ? 「+ seo soojin 」

god so i’m sleep deprived and idk what i’m abt to write so let’s see how many tws i can avoid adding. apparently , sleep deprived me is good at avoiding tws so that’s cool.

 —   𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒈𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒏𝒇𝒐.

on march 9th, 1998, kang yuna was born and raised in seongbuk-dong, seoul.

if the neighborhood wasn’t enough to tip one off, the kangs were well-off; her father having been the ceo of the family business in and around medical equipment while her mother was off signing paperbacks for her avid readers.

— quite a happy  little  family, which she pointed out time and time again to her parents soon after she learned how to walk and talk. and sing and dance, as they soon realized.

and who were they to ignore their precious little girl’s requests ?

(  ... ok, so they already planned on having another child but it made her much happier to think that she convinced her parents for a sibling  )

but by the time she was on her way to english preschool, she doted on her younger sister; it seemed endearing to those outside of the household, but beyond the surface, was an unfortunate side effect of two hard-working people that were too busy to come home and have dinner with their children.

only when she turned nine did she realize  why  she saw less and less of her parents.

as it turned out, her mother had an affair with one of her publishers and she’d taken advantage of yuna’s pleas for a sibling as a cover around the time.

her father found out, over the years, due to how much their youngest  didn’t  look like him — and more like that one publisher.

long story short, the teen lost her mother and sister as she got back home from school, leaving bare rooms and sour memories, their belongings all gone.

the news was publicized almost immediately and she and her father had to deal with the aftermath. bright flashes, handheld mics, and condescending tones became their norm for a little while.

from then, she saw her father even less... those early morning flights, late night meetings, or long business lunches really holding him captive. other than the times he’d try to show her the ropes of running the company, she saw the man maybe twice a week if she was lucky.

she quickly learned how to take care of herself without the help of their staff.

doing a lot of the house chores by her lonesome, it offered her some peace of mind. for whatever reason, her father took that as a sign that she was preparing to be a housewife.

arranged to be engaged to a business partner’s son by the age of sixteen, yuna tried her hardest to get out of it.

the most rebellious and impulsive thing she did was sneaking out to go to an open audition after being cast by a company scout at a talent show.

her father refused to let her become a trainee for two years, for obvious reasons, but yuna was adamant and in the end, he let her go.

(  suddeN i know i’m sorry i didn’t know how to get here without taking another 3pg essay to explain as;dlkf  )

she trained hard as a main dancer for a couple of years before she found her girls.

though she was very shy in meeting and training with them, she immediately found a safe place in their group. in their little family.

tbc.

    —   𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚.

vvvvvv timid, even though she was raised to be a businesswoman

performing on the stage and in front of the cameras is a bit of a different story

but incredibly shy

will try to get a smile on your face, nonetheless

wears her heart on her sleeve tbh, she can’t tell a lie without her eyes getting glassy

the Mom Friend™

she’s used to taking care of the others honestly

no matter how much of a mess they make

probs cuts up apples and orange and peels grapes for snacks

and makes sure they eat something for breakfast

also packs the girls’ lunches when they have indv schedules

a pure bean

    —   𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒔. 𝒕𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒆𝒓 𝒅𝒖𝒑𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒕.

once agaiN, this is basically soojin w a few exaggerations here and there

has a black belt in taekwondo for some reason probs so she can kick my ass

speaks english fluently bc she went to those fancy pants schools all her life

hates being called a chaebol / doesn’t want the attention that comes of it

loves cherries and avocados but like,,,,,,, not together

volunteers at the local animal shelter when she has time

could own a tesla but she probs has a minivan or a hatchback bc she a soccer mom

may look like she knows what she’s doing but is in a perpetual state of confusion

yuna at all times: ???¿¿?¿??

connections??????? haven’t thought of them yet but am always down to brainstorm but it’s like 3am and i’m supposed to be up at 8am goD,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, but as always, IMs are always open so pls come and plot with me and my bean ~

[clarabosswald]

this is a really long and really pointless rant

so remember the animal shelter i used to “volunteer” (do national service) at? i still go there from time to time. like once a week or two. but not as much as i used to. mainly because a lot has changed.  my former boss quit, because the ceo - her boss - is a fucking piece of shit who borderline abused her. the job was her life. i asked her - if it wasn’t for him, she’d have stayed in her position for years.  they got a new person in, a new shelter manager. she’s a nice woman, she’s got a good heart. but she’s new, and insecure, and the ceo basically got maximum control on the place.  they got rid of the cats. there were two cat rooms - “catteries” - they got rid of those, and put dogs in the rooms instead.  cats are the most neglected domestic animal in israel. but i’ve always felt how mr ceo doesn’t give a shit about them (and he’s a fucking cat owner). they also didn’t get as much money from cat adoptions as from dog adoptions, which i feel is the main reason for this change. the new shelter manager told me they were just gonna switch things around, and i’m sure she thought that was the truth, but nope, it’s just more dogs (more money makers).  and it’s fucking idiotic, because it’s not as if people are gonna stop abandoning their cats at the shelter. now there’s just not gonna be any place to put them in. the other thing - which i also blame the new manager for - is the utter neglect of the long time residents at the shelter. they’re naturally the ones closest to my heart, because i know almost all of them ever since they got to the shelter (a couple are there from even before i started volunteering there, which was over 3 goddamn years ago).  i know all of their little quirks and i know their history, and the ones who were adopted and then abandoned - i know exactly why. i know their behavioral problems i know their stories, their barks, their sad looks. all those dogs are long time residents because they’ve got behavioral issues on some level.  and no one’s promoting them. no one’s talking about them. and i’m so fucking angry. because they’re making those “sob stories” posts on the shelter’s fb page, “look at this poor dog, nobody looks at them, another day passes and nobody adopts them” - and those posts would be about dogs that are at the shelter for like, 2 fucking months at most. there’s a dog that’s been there for more than 4 years. funny little guy. got his heart broken by an adopter who abandoned him. started biting. but his triggers are well known. he’s insanely smart. he’s got this sharp personality. and the best little kisses. they haven’t posted about him in months.  there’s a dog - this one... this one is the reason i’m writing this post, because i’m madly in love with him. his name is ralph. he’s almost 2 years old. he’s been in a cage since he was about 4 or 5 months old. he’s some sort of ridgeback or pitbull mix - like, around 35 kg, maybe 40 - absolutely beautiful, he is. and i’m crying again writing this because he’s such a sweet boy. he’s so fucking loving. he’ll lick you for 10 minutes straight. and he’s trying so hard... all of the time. he’s so easy to train. he’s so eager to please.  and he’s got a big behavioral issue. when on a leash, outside, other dogs drive him mad. not because of aggressiveness - it’s got to do with frustration, it’s a long story. when not on a leash, he’s perfect with other dogs. but when on a leash, he’s got to have muzzle on. muzzle training him was so hard. but so rewarding. it really calmed him down. but before we (the old crew, mainly my old boss and i) muzzle trained him - god, he ripped so many of my cloths, just biting them because he got so, so frustrated. and i didn’t care. all the tears and pains i spent on him, it was for his sake, to get him to a better future. to give him a chance. and now there’s another bully-type dog at the shelter, and they’re posting about him so much. because the poor thing is deaf and already god abandoned like twice and doesn’t he deserve a good home? and i’m burning with anger because that dog, he’s at the shelter for like, a few weeks? and ralph’s been there for... over a year and a half. and they’re scared of him. i know it for fact. the ceo wanted to send him off to be a police dog, and we barely stopped him from doing that. the new shelter manager is terrified of him. she told me that pretty plainly. and my chest hurts so much thinking of him just... waiting there. in his cell. with the poop covered yard floor (they clean it once or twice a day but it’s still poop covered most of the time. big dogs = lots of poop, there’s not much you can do about that). and not a day passes without me beating myself for not being able to adopt him myself. because i’d have done it in a heartbeat, but i’m living with my family and we’ve got a dog and 3 cats and more importantly 2 parents who’d never let me do it. and he’s just there and nobody’s fighting for him, or for his cellmate vivian who’s also been there for nearly 2 years and was never adopted even once because she’s a big dog and plain-looking so nobody looks at her twice. and there’s eddie, who was the sweetest dog and got adopted and something went terribly wrong and his behavior became unpredictable so now nobody dares give him another chance. or santana who was adopted as a puppy, and her family loved her dearly until she started showing behavioral issues and they got rid of her like a rotten fruit. and chika who’s this black lab-type dog, who’s also prone to biting, so she’s also muzzled when outside and who’d adopt a big black muzzled dog? and they’re all there for months and months and the very people who’re supposed to be advertising them like crazy, who’re supposed to be fighting for them, are just hiding them and instead are posting that new pretty husky or this new pretty australian shepherd, giving them sob stories for being at the shelter for like a week tops, and i’m so fucking mad. so fucking mad that this shelter who used to be this unique place who’d be fighting for the literal underdogs, because just another shelter boasting that they got another pretty dog who’ll turn into a moneymaker. 

and there’s literally nothing i can do about this.

my old boss, who’s now just a friend, pretty much cut ties with the place, and i can’t blame her, because if i were in her place i’d have gone mad. 

i’m already going mad.

[ginger-and-mint]

How about ficlet where a nice vampire and his human boyfriend spend the night in the estate of an Enemy Vampire Hunter to allay his suspicions about them...which includes the poor, underfed vampire having to finish an immense meal of human food. He remains calm, eats everything, gives no sign of discomfort, and walks with his boyfriend back to their room, where he collapses on the bed because his poor belly isn't used to holding solid food and the boyfriend comforts him.

So I’ve decided that this is the same vampire from this thing I wrote before. His name is now Theo(dore).

Here’s some hasty backstory for him:

shortly after being turned, he was taken in by a group called the Coven, who taught him how to survive as a vampire.

the Coven’s schtick is that rather than exsanguinating random innocents, they create hit lists of people who’ve committed crimes and their members prey exclusively from this list as a form of vigilante justice.

eventually something happens which sours Theo to acting as judge, jury, and executioner and he leaves the Coven.

around the same time (possibly relatedly? idk yet) he meets Darren, who becomes his boyfriend

now he’s sort of living in the shadows, hiding from the Coven and other people who want to kill him, ‘cause being a lone vampire is dangerous….

CW: mentions of blood-drinking (implied to be fatal) and nausea.

Theo knew she was a vampire hunter. It was neither ignorance nor stupidity that got him to the point where he was sitting at her dining table with a fake smile plastered on his temporarily-defanged face.

The whole Coven had been terrified of her. After all, she was like something straight out of primetime TV—a successful lawyer living in a beautiful suburban home with her husband and three golden retrievers. She volunteered with underprivileged kids, made generous annual donations to the local animal shelter, and in her spare time, she tracked down vampires and killed them dead.

“If anyone in this city’s gonna kill you, it’s Selena Chang,” one of Theo’s old Coven buddies had once said. “She’s ruthless. She worms her way into your social sphere and flips the lid on your coffin, so to speak. She’s so bad that if she started tracking you tomorrow, you’d be out of the Coven until you could shake her. If you could shake her.”

“Shit, really?” Theo had said. “What would I do?”

“You’d figure something out. Or not.” A toothy grin. “The only thing you can do is convince her you’re not a vampire. Ignore her and she’ll stake you in your sleep. Try to reason with her and she’ll sweetly agree to let you go, and then stake you in your sleep. Basically, one wrong move and you’re dead meat.”

Theo had thought about that a lot since leaving the Coven. One of his small comforts was that he didn’t have much of a social sphere these days, unless you counted the late-night clerk at the corner shop where he regularly went to buy ground beef and aspirin. But he’d forgotten about Darren.

Darren still had a normal life. He didn’t think twice when a friendly new face showed up at his aerobics class and struck up a conversation. One evening, Theo had gone over to Darren’s place and found the face of his nightmares sitting on his boyfriend’s sofa with a glass of blood-red wine.

She had invited them over for dinner a week later. “My husband loves to cook. He’ll be delighted to have guests.”

“That’s kind of you, but um… the buses stop running your way pretty early,” Theo had said nervously. “And we, uh, we don’t have a car.”

“Oh, that’s no trouble,” she’d said with a smile. “You can stay the night in our guest room. We have plenty of space.”

And that’s how Theo had ended up staring down a plate mounded high with vegetarian lasagna, steamed broccoli, and creamy mashed potatoes. There was a big basket of rolls on the table and chocolate cake had been promised for dessert.

It was probably delicious. From the look on Darren’s face, the smell must’ve been irresistible. But Theo’s body reacted to it as though he were looking at a plate of spare car parts. No water in his mouth. No desire in his guts. Just a vague nauseous hunger. He’d sucked as much juice as he could from a packet of cheap ground beef that morning, but that’d been like a drop in an empty, empty bucket.

“Well, everyone,” said Selena Chang with an impenetrable smile, “dig in!”

Theo put a lump of lasagna in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. It felt like a pebble dropping into his stomach, but he sighed and smiled as though it had been delicious.

Everything was packed with garlic, of course. There were whole cloves of it in the lasagna and the potatoes had been whipped with garlic butter. Garlic wasn’t gonna kill him, but it wasn’t gonna make him feel very good either. He’d learned that very soon after he’d been bitten, when he’d woken up in the middle of the night ravaged by bloodthirst. At the time he’d mistaken it for desperate hunger and so he’d dug some garlic bread out of the freezer and devoured the whole thing. God, he’d never been so sick.

From the way his stomach was starting to feel, he guessed today would probably smash that record. But Selena Chang was staring him down and he wasn’t ready to die yet.

So he smiled and talked and ate and hurt and hurt and hurt.

- - -

As soon as the guest room door shut behind them, Theo collapsed backwards onto the bed, groaning.

“Are you okay?” Darren asked.

“Urghhhh. No.” Theo wrapped an arm over his stomach. “I can’t believe I got everything down, ugh. Feels like I’ve eaten rocks.”

“That was a lot of food. Even I’ve got a bit of a bellyache from it. Those potatoes were heavy. And that cake was—”

“Oh god, shut up. Ughhh. I need—I can’t—can you—?”

“Of course.” Darren pushed Theo’s hands away and unfastened the belt he was struggling with.

Theo groaned as his belly surged outward. It felt more like a nauseous wave rolling through his stomach than a relief. “Ohhhh, god… d’you think she’ll stake me through the heart if I puke all over her guest room?”

“Probably. Just for ruining these fabulous Egyptian cotton sheets.” Darren sat down on the edge of the bed and stroked Theo’s hair. “You did so good back there.”

“Yeah? You think I convinced her?”

“Absolutely. I almost believed you were having the best meal of your life. You didn’t look uncomfortable at all.”

“Huh. Guess I’m better actor than my high school drama teacher gave me credit for…. Oh my god, I feel so sick! Like I’m stuffed full of garbage.” Theo put a hand to the side of his belly. It was swollen. Nothing compared to how full and round it used to look after he’d had a proper feeding, but that was a different kind of swollen than this nauseous, achy misery. That was a wonderful, contented, satiated sort of swollenness….

He dropped his voice to a whisper. “I want blood.”

Darren put his hand over Theo’s, gently rubbing the bloated belly. “You want to put more into this thing?”

“I could fit a couple raw steaks in there. God, I really could.” Theo had to swallow the saliva that had filled his mouth. His stomach gurgled—stuffed full and yet still so, so hungry….

Darren stared down at him, eyes soft. “Theo… if you need to, you know I’d let you—”

“No way. I already took from you last week, I’m not gonna—”

“But I’d let you.”

“No. You need it more than I do.” He paused, taking a quick breath. “I can’t, anyway. My stomach is upset as hell and if I puke blood under this roof, I’m as good as dead.”

Darren’s fingers slipped down from Theo’s belly to one of his jutting hipbones. They slowly traced up to where his ribs were showing through his skin.

“You need a proper meal,” he said quietly. “I can see you wasting away. You can’t survive on beef drippings and a pint or two from me every other week.”

“Yeah, well, what I am supposed to do? Climb through a window and drain the nearest helpless virgin? If I take anyone from the Coven’s hit list, they’ll find me, and you know I don’t want to be like them anymore—”

“I know.” Darren slipped down to lie on the bed next to Theo. “We’ll figure something out.”

“If I murder any more people, I’d deserve a stake through the heart! I can’t let myself—”

“Theo! We’ll figure something out! Okay?”

Theo shut his mouth. He briefly considered the word we and what a beautiful, wonderful word it was.

“But we’re not gonna figure out anything out tonight, are we?” Darren went on.

Theo cleared his throat. “Maybe we could figure out how to settle a stomach that hasn’t handled any solid food in over a year?”

Darren carefully pushed up Theo’s shirt and planted a kiss on the crest of his churning belly. “There. Did that make you feel better?”

Theo let out a short, painful laugh. “Try a hand on my belly and a kiss on my mouth,” he said, and he sighed as Darren obliged.

[ohwhatamessiam]

Give  -Part 1

Summary: Bucky and (Y/N) had an amazing yet brief relationship in Bucharest before all hell broke loose. Two years later they reconnect in a bar in Brooklyn, but things have changed and neither are the same people they were before. Will their relationship survive or is a break up inevitable?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: I don’t think there’s any. Just a slow burn with lots of angst and the beginning of fluff within the time frame of pre and post-Civil War events.

Author’s Note: Hi guys! So I wrote this for @bladebarnes’s #bladehits2kchallenge with the song Give by You Me At Six. I’m generally a long form writer and I started this as a one shot and it became a lot longer so I’m breaking it into parts. I’m sorry if this is horrible and I suck at writing in second person so all this is in first person (still a reader insert). I haven’t written any fanfic in over a year, and I’ve never written any Marvel fanfic so this is new for me. Hopefully I’ll have the next part posted in the next two days. A huge thanks to @lostboyinneverland​ for beta-ing for me, and @irishdancr24 and @fangirlisms-22 for talking me into writing this. Also here’s a Spotify playlist to listen to while reading the entire fic. Hopefully you all will like it, and if you do let me know!

source: bbuchanann

I sat alone in a bar in Brooklyn, waiting to break up with Bucky Barnes. It was the same spot I’d met with Steve Rogers at a year ago when he checked in on me. More than two years had passed since I’d last seen Bucky. Since he’d last kissed me in the doorway of my apartment in Bucharest. Since he’d walked away from me for the last time.

That day was supposed to be goodbye, but to both of our surprises he’d survived the manhunt for him after he was framed with bombing the UN conference in Vienna. Steve had done what he could to protect him, reversing the roles of their childhood friendship and keeping Bucky alive and hidden. Of course I couldn’t know where Bucky was, and what mental or physical state he was in, only that he was alive. Steve had told me he was safe and I believed him. Sam Wilson had alluded to Bucky being unable to hurt anyone, which had caused me to feel a little more apprehensive about his current state.

Steve had set the meeting up, calling me a week ago and telling me that Bucky was ready to see me. Two months before, I’d woken in the middle of the night to a text from him saying, “he’s awake.” I’d been aching to see him for longer than felt humanly possible, but all my waiting strengthened my decision. I couldn’t keep waiting around for him. As much as I loved him and every fiber of my being wanted to be with him, being apart for two years without hearing his voice, without even a word from him, made me wonder what I actually meant to him.

Did he even think about me over the last two years? Were Steve and Sam just pitying me and making sure some Hydra crony couldn’t find me and try to get answers out of me? I’d lived the last two years of my life trying to save my love for Bucky, treating myself like a woman whose man was caught in a war, and would return when it was done. Did Bucky even still think we were together? Was there even a relationship leftover for me to be breaking up?

I’d spent the last two years thinking about him. Waking up in the middle of the night wanting to be with him. Just wanting to even hear his voice. But I got nothing, so I busied myself. Getting a new job, volunteering at an animal shelter, spending more time with my friends, but nothing filled the hole in my heart. And I’d faltered, spent days angry at him followed by weeks when I was sad and desperately needed human contact. But no one could fill his space. And so I continued to wait.

My knees bounced nervously underneath the bar’s counter, an almost empty whiskey already sitting on a cocktail napkin in front of me. This bar was the perfect place to meet because it was quiet enough to talk but just busy enough to disappear from without attracting attention if need be. The bartender with a full beard and sparkling green eyes paused in front of me, noticing how tightly I was wringing my hands together. “Everything okay?” he asked, leaning against the wooden counter.

“Just nervous,” I tried to smile but it was strained. “I’ll take another.” He nodded at me, grabbing another glass, dropping a couple ice cubes in it, and pouring more whiskey for me. I threw back the remaining contents of my current glass and left it on the counter.

“Let me know if you need anything else,” his eyes flashing a worried look my way. I nodded at him and tried to smirk. After another moment of hesitation, he continued onto the other customers and I was left alone with my thoughts again.

I took one more gulp of the liquor, feeling it burn its way down my throat in a cruel and slow way. Torturing my esophagus, the same way the waiting game of the last two years was torturing me. Just as I placed my glass back on the counter, I heard the front door swing open.

His eyes met mine before his feet even entered the building, and his smolder made me want to melt in my seat. Instead I straightened my back in my stool and took in every detail of him. He looked, different. His hair was gone, cut shorter than I’d ever seen it in person and it reminded me of the photos I’d seen of him from the 40s. He was clean shaven, his cheekbones and jawline on full display, and he’d slimmed down a little. He was still massive looking, but leaner than when I’d last held him, and maybe his clothing had something to do with that. He was wearing a pair of tight fitting black jeans, a pair of combat boots, a white t-shirt, a black leather jacket, and his gloves. There wasn’t a layer besides his jacket in sight.

He ran his fingers through his hair as he got closer to me and a smile stretched across his lips. Everything I’d planned flew out the window. It was as if my breath had been kicked out of me for two years and suddenly I could inhale. I slid down from my bar stool on shaky knees and allowed myself to be pulled into a hug. The feel of his hands on me, his chest against mine, the fresh and woodsy scent of his after shave, the twinkle in his eyes, his wicked smirk, and his husky “hello” threw me into a sensory overload. Suddenly I was reliving every milestone and moment of ours together in Bucharest.

The first time I laid eyes on Bucky Barnes was in the stairwell of our apartment building in Bucharest. It was the day I moved into the studio directly below his.

Bucharest was the 6th place I’d stayed in 4 months, and the city I was staying in the longest. My post-graduate school travel excursion could last for only so long before I had to start paying off my student loans, Bucharest was the most affordable city I’d be in, and therefore I was able to sub-rent an apartment for an entire month compared to a couple weeks in a dingy hostel. I knew I wasn’t moving into a palace, but just walking up the stairs, seeing all the cracked plaster and cement of the pinkish walls told me that living here was going to be interesting if nothing else.

The apartments sat close together and the walls were thin. I’d bothered to buy a couple sets of cheap dishes, silverware, pots and pans, and a set of bed sheets. Nothing I would mind leaving behind or throwing out, but cooking for myself was much more affordable than eating at a food stand or cafe everyday. I’d climbed the 12 floors worth of stairs with a box and bag balanced on my left arm, and dragging my luggage and backpack with my right.

I saw his baseball capped head bob down the flight of stairs above me and the way he darted down them quietly and quickly made me think he would push right past me. I leaned my suitcase on the corner of the wall and fished my keys out of my pocket. As I twisted the key into the deadbolt I felt his presence directly behind me, large and powerful but also timid. I rushed to yank the door open and jam my foot into the frame. As I swung the thin door open I heard my luggage start to slide down the wall. I whipped around to try to catch it while also balancing the rest of my things but that was no easy feat.

Bucky grabbed the handle before it hit the ground and placed it in my hand, his gloved fingers gently brushing mine. I slid my bags onto the floor of the apartment and then carefully put down the box of breakables. Pivoting on my heel I looked for him in the hallway but he was already gone. I leaned onto the red metal railing and searched for him on the staircase. His dark, broad figure was already 4 floors below me, but I still shouted thanks in broken Romanian, “M-mulțumesc!” He didn’t slow down or respond to my gratitude, but I watched him take the remaining flights until he exited the building, a small spark stirring in my gut.

The second time I laid eyes on Bucky Barnes was on a busy street lined with vendor stalls, paper kiosks, and to my luck, a few benches. It was only a couple blocks over from the apartment building, and I’d been reading and people watching there when the weather was pleasant. Staying inside the tiny studio with cracked walls, a half-fallen apart kitchen, and stained and slightly smelly furniture only seemed to dampen my mood. Exploring the city and absorbing the culture through watching the people and their interactions with one another was my escape.

It hadn’t even been a week since I’d seen Bucky, but the thrill that ran up my spine when I caught his form in front of a produce stand made me straighten in my seat. It wasn’t cool enough for him to need a jacket over a long sleeve t-shirt, yet he was bundled tightly. Unlike the last time I’d seen him though, he had no baseball cap on. His dark brown hair was tucked behind his ears and looked like it could use a good wash, but it still appeared soft looking in the light. I lowered my book onto the bench as I leaned forward to get a better look at what he was doing.

He was rolling fruit between his gloved hands. Starting with a pair of apples, he closely inspected their skin for blemishes or bruises, and then he moved onto a basket of plums. He tested their firmness and weight in his palms, and after another moment picked out four to purchase. As he reached for his money in his back pocket a soft breeze started to pick up on the street, causing the vendor’s canopy to blow upward. As he handed the middle age woman behind the table the money, the breeze grew into a slight gust. He reached down to place his plums in a bag, and as he did so the back of his hair blew up.

As he straightened with his paper bag in hand, his hair continued to stand upward. I let out a snort that came out louder than expected, and I covered my mouth immediately with my hand to smother the laugh that followed. Bucky’s head turned to locate the origin of the sound instantly and his dark eyes met mine for a moment. I dropped my gaze instantly, placing my book back in my lap but the damage was already done.

Bucky weaved back through the crowd, never removing his stare from me. As he reached the opposite end of my bench he paused for a second, knowing I’d been watching his feet move across the concrete without looking up. I glanced at his face one more time to find him fighting off a smirk. Then he stepped past me and onto a busy crosswalk, leaving me to watch him walk away again.

[pinkstarbeam]

Pidgance Cat Cafe AU

blame @gladelockwood for planting this little seed in my braid. In this AU the cat’s are all adoptable and taken from kill shelters meaning they are given second chances, some have injuries, but the staff takes care of them very well and they also have experts come in when needed for the babs. Also on the summer basketball practice, that’s something my school used to do so I added it in for memories sake from when my brother had to go and do then came home like dead af from heat because we live in the kinda south.

Katie basically was given the job after her brother Matt’s boyfriend, Takashi, better known as Shiro heard that she needed one and seeing as he had seen first hand Katie was good with animals via the Holt’s family dog he figured that she would be a good fit at the cat cafe he worked at with his and Matt’s polyamorous girlfriend Allura

Katie’s first day she falls in love with this small orange kitten that like straight up loves anything electronics wise, got your phone out? This cat want it. She immediately adopts him after her approve and names him Rover though not even a week later she adopts this middle aged cat that always seems to always sleep on the windowsill by the plants so she names her Flower.

About a month into working at the cafe she noticed a guy come in looking around all angry like, Katie being the one of the floor at the moment hurried over to the tanned male to make sure he was okay

“Sir are you okay?”

“Where is Kei-” He stops foot in mouth as he looks down at Katie

The guy, Lance, had originally came to chew out his fellow basketball teammate Keith who had made him look like an idiot at practice only to find instead of the mullet emo teen a cute girl with eyes of honey and hair or caramel.

“Keith?” Katie finished his sentence “He just got off five minute ago.”.

Lance didn’t know what was worse, that he missed tongue lashing Keith or Keith was working with a really cute girl.

Lance went to open his mouth when he felt something rub against his leg, looking down he seen a black almost offset blue cat with eyes brighter than the sky on the sunniest days purring as it rubbed against him

Katie laughed “I think blue likes you, she may not be a kitten, but she is still as wild and loving as any kitten here.”

Lance smiles and picks up the cat, he had came in wanting to pick a fight, but instead was coming home with a new cuddle buddy.

The next day he came back and watched as kittens chased after Katie who was running around on the floor dragging a cat toy while laughing at the cats, the rest of her coworkers setting up for the day, but they didn’t seem to mind her playing with the cats.

“Oh hey Lance!” Hunk called as he came out from the kitchen “Were not quite open yet, but feel free to sit and wait.”

Lance nodded smiling at his friend before walking to a table near where Katie was playing with the cats

He was about to say something when he watched Keith walk up behind her and tickle her

Katie laughed and her body went slack as a defense “Keith you ass!”

Keith laughed “You’re supposed to be working not playing.”

Lance felt slight jealously bubble in him, but it stopped when Shiro walked out wiping his hands on a rag

“Keith leave Katie alone, she’s been picking up your shifts since practice started up.”

Katie shrugged “What are best friends for.”

Keith ruffled Katie’s hair “I owe you.” he said heading back to the kitchen

‘Their just friends Lance calm down.’ Lance thought to himself

Later at practice he decided to get some insight on the brunette he had a growing crush on

“So uh, how long have you known Katie?”

“Why?”

“J-Just wondering! You guys seemed close this morning is all.”

“Oh well, her brother is dating mine, plus when I moved here in middle school she was my first friend.”

“I thought your first friend here was that weird kid that had giant glasses and a metal mouth that always talked about aliens.”

Keith started laughing

“What?!”

“That was Katie! It’s called puberty dude.”

“Well puberty hit her like a fucking truck.”

Keith’s mood changed as he heard Lance’s comment on puberty towards Pidge

“Stay the fuck away from her.”

“What why?!”

“Oh please, everyone knows you’re a player.”

Lance rolled his eyes “I’m a flirt not a player.”

“I don’t give a fuck, Katie doesn’t need a guy like you in her life.”

And with that Keith left the locker room annoyed

Lance grinded his back teeth, he didn’t care what mullet thought of him, he was gonna pursue and prove he wasn’t a player

Another month passes and much to Lance’s dismay Keith fucking blocks all his attempts such as always being his waiter on days when Katie and him work same shifts, and walking/driving Katie home after work so Lance doesn’t have a chance to volunteer or follow

However one day Allura puts out a help wanted sign that Lance snatches up and is like, stop me now fucker.

So now Lance is also working at the cat cafe which weirdly brings in more customers? Like some of the girls that come in squeal over how cute Lance and Keith are and how they are obviously a couple. The rest of the waitstaff finds it amusing as hell.

One day Keith is home sick so Lance takes his shift and finds that other than Hunk who is in the back, its just him, Coran, and Katie working 

He sticks to Katie like glue and learns things about her like she still really likes aliens and cryptids and she actually still has really bad eye sight, but wears contacts in public for convenience

They finally exchange numbers and start texting regularly, when school starts back up they start having lunch together though it irks Keith, but he doesn’t say anything since it makes Katie happy to have more friends to talk to about, and besides Lance is a meme who can talk to her about the memes Keith knows nothing about

Around Christmas, so about half a year later the cafe decides to do a secret Santa gift exchange type party

Lance, the fucking master of ugly sweaters shows up in all his sweatered glory despite the fact that they live in California and it’s literally like 80 out, Lance please you’re gonna get heat stroke.

Katie is wearing a alien t-shirt she made Christmas-y by velcroing a red nose to wear the aliens nose would be, Keith is the only one who is amused by this.

During the party Katie ends up falling asleep on Lance who is using everything in him not to freak out

Matt noticed “She was up all night working on her secret Santa gift, i’ll take her home.”

“N-No!” Lance squeaked “I-I mean i’ll take her, you enjoy the party, I should go home and change anyway this sweater is hot.”

Matt just shrugs 

“Don’t forget to grab the number present you drew when you came in!” Allura called from the kitchen.

Lance grabbed his own bag he brought which was the number Katie drew, 3, and then a box labeled 5 which he couldn’t pinpoint who it from seeing as it was wrapped in plain brown paper.

Once at her house, Lance laid Katie down on her bed upstairs after getting permission from her Mom

Lance smiled at Katie’s room, it was covered in space related things, but still had girly touches like a make up vanity and strong lights

Sitting down at Katie’s desk he decided to open his gift, unwrapping it he felt his heart stop because holy fuck was the gift cute as hell, but it was also from Katie

Inside the box was a hand knitted cat beanie with a letter that said “Thanks for all your hard work! - Katie ‘Pidge’ Holt”

He slid the beanie on as he heard Katie move in bed

“Lance?” she asked

he turned to look at her “No, go back to bed you look exhausted.”

Katie laughed “I need to take out my contacts first.” she said getting up and walking to the bathroom only to return with thick circular frames on, her hair down out of it’s signature side pony,and a retainer in, this was the Katie everyone except him and maybe Hunk had seen

“I brought your gift here so if you wanna open it now before you sleep you can.” Lance added as Katie sat down

“I see you got mine.” Katie pointed out as she grabbed the bag

He smiled “I did, it’s really nice! It’s come in handy for snowboarding trips.”

Katie opened the bag to find inside was an alien head shaped backpack 

“Did you have a feeling i’d pick your number?” she laughed 

Lance shrugged “Well Matt, Keith, and you are all into aliens so I thought i’d get something alien related. Besides if Allura or Shiro got it they’d just give it to one of you guys.”

Katie nodded smiling at the bag “Well thank you very much.”

He nodded “Well I should head home, my curfew is at nine since my Dad is on a business trip.”

“Alright, be safe! Good night.”

“Good night, love you.”

“Wh-What?!”

Lance immediately realized what he said and turned red “N-No I-” he ran a hand through his hair “My siblings, that’s how we say goodnight and i’m just so used to it.”

“O-Oh..” Katie began “I was about to say at least buy me dinner first.”

Lance smirked “Consider it done, seven tomorrow?”

“It’s a date.”

[takinginair]

I Am Volunteering To Not Volunteer, Thank You

The Elephant Sancuary in Chaing Mai, Thailand, where Elephants have care takers and roam free for the first time in their lives. 

I will be the first to tell you that I lead an extremely selfish life. How can I not? There is absolutely nobody that needs me, and I have not even a fish that depends on me for survival. Because of my zero attachments (I.E. a husband or children) I have chosen to spend a lot of time volunteering. 

Volunteer work is something I have done since I was in high school. I had to complete 8 hours of community service to graduate and I ended up harvesting celery and taking it to a homeless shelter with my church. I felt so alive that day and ever since, I have spent time helping fabulous organizations care for people and animals all over the world. Which is why I find it odd that people have been telling me to volunteer to distract myself from Diogo’s death.

First of all, let me be clear, there is not enough drugs or distractions in the world to take my mind from Diogo. Although, I do not expect anyone to understand this, and honestly, I never want anyone to refrain from speaking to me out of fear they may have a bad idea. But at this time in my life, volunteering is a bad idea. 

Telling a person in crisis to volunteer is like telling someone who is drowning that there are starving children in Africa. What is someone that is barely keeping their head above water supposed to do with that information? Likewise, telling someone who is starving in Africa that someone is drowning in the Pacific Ocean, is absolutely useless information to them. There is nothing that they can do for anyone else when they barely have the resources to keep themselves alive. 

People that should volunteer are: single and bored, married and bored, young adults, teenagers, children that are supervised, people that need to be involved, selfish people, selfish teenagers, ignorant people who seek education, people without friends, people that are highly skilled in a niche and have loads of time, and people who actually want to help. Anyone that fits into one of these categories should definitely volunteer regularly. 

People who should NOT volunteer are the following: people in current crisis, people in shock, people that are currently having surgery right now (also, stop reading this it’s dangerous), people performing said surgery, people that are not able to help themselves, people who are not mentally capable, dangerous people,people who are currently flying a plane, people who are currently studying for the bar, people who are currently in a residency to become a doctor, and again, especially people in crisis. 

There are a million ways to help over a million people. When I lived in California I used to volunteer with an organization that gave out free breathalyzers at the local baseball stadium on $2 beer night. It was a blast! I’ve also worked with food pantries, church organizations, activity boards for the military and single adults. I am all for volunteer work. If I am ever having a bad day, volunteer work is the best way to realize that I am truly blessed. But I am not having a bad day! My world has been shaken to pieces, and that’s different.  

Volunteer work will only add to my burden. It will make me feel worse because i will start to see that my desperation is coupled with the hopeless desperation of many other people. The hardest thing for me to hear right now is another persons tragedy because my heart is already broken and any more bad news just turns my heart into dust and pulverizes my nerves to nothing. 

I’ve had strangers contact me and tell me their stories of family with suicide. I appreciate the community but it’s hard for me to take right now. Upon hearing the news a co-worker absentmindedly said, “Oh my friends teacher killed herself last week, also.” I’m sure he thought he was relating to me, but he wasn’t, and he just filled me with more tragedy. How do I respond to that? “Well, I’m so sorry for your loss? I wish I could relate to you but I lost a lover and you kind of know someone who lost someone they kind of knew...” 

I am not in a frame of mind to offer any service to anyone. Like a victim of domestic violence, you tell a battered spouse to volunteer with other victims of abuse while you’re bandaging their face. You hope they can survive their tragedy then maybe, in time....in a long time, they can use their experience to help others. 

I truly wish I could become some spokes person for suicide or even get lost in rivers of elephant piss as I clean up the tragic abuse that mankind has inflicted on the animal kingdom; but as you can see, I’m not in an optimistic state right now. Also, to all of those who have lost a friend’s-cousin’s-dog’s-owner to suicide, I wish I could relate and feel sympathy but I’m just inside my own broken world right now. 

 Volunteer work can really soften a heart, but I am hardened right now. I’m in a place where I see my own problems as worse than anyone else’s. And I know that’s not accurate, relatively speaking. But in my own world, it’s totally accurate that my tragedies affect me more than your tragedies affect me.

Can you imagine me at a shelter now? “Oh  you don’t have shoes, well, the love of my life killed himself. Go eat a cookie and beat it!” I have nothing positive to offer right now. I am not in a place of sympathy. I am bitter and weak and feeling more mortal than I have ever felt before.

If volunteering helped you get through a crisis - great! Good on you! However, I would like to be the first person to volunteer to not volunteer, if you don’t mind. Please,  just give me a minute to catch my breath, I promise I’ll be running next to you leading the next crusade to world peace soon. 

Building the library at the children’s home in Kon Kaen, Thailand, where over 50 children attend school and live on the grounds. 

[stevenstamkos]

We need fluff STAT!! Dealer's choice on pairings or lack thereof. Here are some prompts: a pet shelter volunteer notices they've got a repeat visitor - do they need help adopting a new doggie, or are they just there to look 👀? Or how about a ruined first date/somebody in the pairing doesn't even know it's a date. Or? Or. Somebody has a seeeecret admirer and gifts keep showing up in their locker. Said admirer knows *way* too much about them and their peculiar preferences/habits.

You get a THREE IN ONE DEAL bc I LOVE YOU (and Bolts tumblr)

1. Pet shelter volunteer, Brayden/Val

Volunteering at the pet shelter is easy, it’s fun, and it means that Val gets to be surrounded by cute faces all day. Like the Shetland mutt that he’s grooming right now in preparation for her new owners.

“Hey, your repeat’s back.”

Val continues to brush the Shetland’s coat, ignoring Braydon even as something inside him perks up at the news. The dog stands still and patient for him, licking her nose, tail swishing.

Braydon is still hovering in the doorway. “Val, your repeat visitor is back.” He gestures to the Shetland. “I’ll take her, you take him.”

“Fine,” Val says quietly. He hands Braydon the brush and heads to the front of the shelter, toward the guy awkwardly hanging out by the fake hydrangeas.

Brayden - E not O - jumps when Val materializes next to him. His hair is a mess, like he’s been running his fingers through it repeatedly, but the smile he flashes Val is as sweet as it’s been every time he’s come around. “I was starting to think I got my days mixed up and you weren’t volunteering today,” he blurts out and then immediately blushes.

“Wednesday, I’m here.” Not that it wasn’t already obvious, him being here. Val gets a little stupid sometimes around particular shelter visitors, okay. It’s a fault he’s willing to live with.

“Yep. You are.” Brayden’s smile widens, sharp little teeth flashing, because the universe is a fucked up place that exists to torture Val.

“You ready to adopt today or still looking?”

“I’m still looking.”

That’s what Brayden has been saying twice a week since he showed up here a month ago. Val sort of wonders what he does, since he apparently has a ton of spare time to hang out at pet shelters cooing over dogs.

“Right. Follow me.”

Brayden would make a good pet owner, Val thinks, if he ever makes up his mind about adopting. The dogs love him, and his hands are gentle as he plays with them, eyes closed and smile infectious as he lets them lick his face. When he smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkle a little.

(Val is carefully not thinking about how much he might miss seeing Brayden twice a week, hovering over the hydrangeas.)

“The Shetland, did she…?”

“Adopted this morning, yeah.”

He wonders if he is imagining the look of relief on Brayden’s face. Probably too much to hope that this boy cares about the animals as much as Val does.

“That’s good,” Brayden says. “I’m happy.”

“Me too. Her new owners look like they’ll be good to her.”

The spotted dog in Brayden’s lap whines a little and licks his chin, startling a laugh out of him.

Val kneels so he can give his favorite German shepherd mix a good belly rub, watching as Brayden scratches under his spotted puppy’s chin, a thoughtful look on his face. Brayden’s voice is quiet when he speaks. “I just, you know, didn’t feel ready yet. Figured looking wouldn’t hurt though.”

“It doesn’t,” Val says quickly. “No rush, whenever you feel ready.”

“I think I might be now,” Brayden says.

Val stands, brushing off his knees and helping Brayden up. The puppy is still in Brayden’s arms, and he clutches her tightly as she squirms, tail wagging furiously.

“So um, I wasn’t sure if I felt prepared, and I kept coming up with reasons not to just come in here and you know. Cause like, I’m a little new to this, I’m new to Tampa, and I wasn’t sure if I could handle it. And I - I travel a lot. For my job. Sometimes a week or more at a time. So I might not be home a lot. And I thought, maybe it’s a little unfair - ”

Val nods along. “To leave your dog alone.”

“Yeah, exactly, and - Wait.” Brayden pauses. “Wait, not the dog.”

“Not the dog…?”

“I’m doing this all wrong.”

Brayden puts down the spotted dog, who immediately flops onto his feet and begins chewing the bottoms of his jeans. Brayden gently nudges her away. Val waits patiently.

Brayden takes a deep breath, hands disappearing deep into his pockets. He gives Val a nervous smile. “Look, d’you wanna go for coffee for something?”

What? That’s…not really what Val expected him to ask. “What?”

“I just um, I was wondering if you wanted to go out…with me.”

Like, a date? Val blinks a few times. His mouth moves on automatic. “I get off at four.”

“Great!” The look of relief that breaks out over Brayden’s face is very nice, even as a part of Val is still processing what just happened. “It’s 3:30, I can stick around until you get off. There’s a nice coffee shop nearby, we can grab a snack or something.”

Oh god, this is like a date. Val mindlessly bends down and scoops up the nearest dog, mostly so he can hold onto something while his mind tries to put together the fact that Brayden - cute, young, energetic, earnest Brayden - just asked him out. As a prelude to…what? He doesn’t want to hope. “That sounds good.”

They smile at each other stupidly for a while, Val still clutching one of the dogs, until one of the other pups rolls into his ankles and reminds him of where he is.

“Right. Are you actually going to adopt one of our dogs though?”

The blush lingering on Brayden’s face deepens as he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “I uh, wasn’t really looking at the dogs when I came in the past couple of weeks. I mean, they’re cute dogs! But um, I was sort of not really paying attention to them. So I might need to come back and look some more.”

Which, you know. Is totally fine by Val.

2. First date, TyJo/Kuch, TyJo/Pally/Kuch

As far as first dates go, Kuch considers this one a probable-success, even though they’ve just sat down. The wine is poured, the waiter is politely attentive - “We’re just waiting for one more.” - and Tyler is looking flushed and interested and very pretty. He is nibbling happily at the chocolates Kuch got him, making pleased little sounds and all sorts of amazing faces. Things are going well, mostly, until Tyler brings up their missing companion.

“Wonder what’s tied Pally up tonight.”

“Prep for tomorrow’s game.” Kuch smiles as he thinks. “I was late for our first time. Guess it’s Pally’s turn to be late first date.”

He doesn’t notice when Tyler stills. “Late first date?”

“Yeah, you know. But he gets better, promise! He will be on time for the second date.”

Tyler’s jaw drops a little. “This is a date?” He looks completely bewildered, his voice shooting up a few decibels. A couple heads turn in their direction.

Kuch feels his smile drop off his face, replaced by the deep frown he gives the beat reporters when they ask him stupid questions after a loss. “You didn’t know?”

“That this is a date? I didn’t think…”

“Дерьмо́ [shit].” He didn’t know. Kuch covers his eyes with his free hand. He can feel the tips of his ears burning, the blood rushing hot to this cheeks. Okay, probable-success was maybe too early, too optimistic.

“Nik, are you okay? I’m confused, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Kuch says roughly. “This is fine. Um.” He stands up, blindly putting his napkin on the table. “Be right back.”

He walks very quickly to the bathroom, carefully not looking over his shoulder at where Tyler is probably still trying to figure things out. The men’s room is nicely decorated, all polished chrome and marble with elegant touches. It’s exactly suited to Kuch’s tastes, but he barely looks around as he locks himself into a stall to hyperventilate a little.

Tyler didn’t know this is a date. Tyler probably thought - what? That this is just a very nice, black-tie, high-end Triplets dinner? Bring your linemate to dinner night?

He hears the door open, tentative footsteps on the tiled floor. “Kuch? Nik, are you in here?”

For a wild second, Kuch considers hiding out in the stall for the entire night. But he’s not a coward at heart, and that would be stupid anyway. These dinner reservations don’t come easy. He reluctantly unlocks the door and steps out.

Tyler’s face is apologetic when he looks up at him. “Were you freaking out in there? I was afraid you ran out of the restaurant.”

“And left you alone? No.”

“Yeah, I was hoping you didn’t do that. It would’ve been embarrassing, getting dumped at the altar on the first date.”

Kuch isn’t sure what “dumped at the altar” means, but he can guess what Tyler is saying. “Sorry. Need to think.”

“It’s fine. I’m sorry I yelled.” He steps closer, smoothing down Kuch’s tie where it had gotten rumpled in his distress and fixing the lapels of his suit jacket. “I was just surprised about it being a date, that’s all.”

“Pally said ‘Come to dinner at the fancy restaurant with us and then we will go home together.’ What did you think it was?”

“I thought it was like, teammate bonding! Dinner and videogames! You two are dating already, what was I supposed to think?”

“Pally likes you.” Kuch watches as Tyler’s eyes go wide with interest. “I like you,” he adds slowly.

“Really?”

“You are pretty.” He shrugs, trying for nonchalant and probably missing by a kilometer. Thankfully, he has a pretty good poker face, though linemates - you never know, they can probably read him better than the reporters. “Pretty face. Pretty hockey.”

“Oh,” Tyler says, and then he’s dragging Kuch in by his tie and messing up his suit jacket all over again.

When they stumble out of the bathroom back to their table, Pally is sitting there fiddling with his cutlery and looking over the menu. He looks up as they approach, and his eyes light up when he takes in their disheveled appearances.

“Did you get started without me?”

“Little bit,” Kuch mutters. He is fairly certain that he missed a button, and one of his cufflinks is missing. Those were expensive.

Tyler points an accusatory finger at Pally. “You’re trying to date me too!”

“We both are,” Pally tells him patiently.

The wine glass closest to Tyler gets emptied before he takes his seat. When he does though, his face is pink and a little sheepish. He waits for Kuch to settle into his own seat before he speaks. “Again, sorry about freaking out.” His words are directed at Kuch. “I was just surprised.”

“Good surprised or bad surprised?” Pally asks.

Kuch smooths his napkin over his lap and tries not to let his eyes linger on Tyler’s flushed neck. It would probably torture him all night, wondering if the pinkness is from blushing or from beard burn.

“Good surprised. Mostly. Didn’t think I had a shot, since you two are,” Tyler flaps his hands at the two of them, which Kuch thinks is supposed to mean “together” but could really mean anything. “But I mean, I’m interested.” His eyes are bright and excited.

“Good,” Pally says, and then he reaches across the table and finishes buttoning up Kuch’s shirt.

3. Secret admirer, Heddy/Stammer

The first gift is a membership card to an exclusive golf club near Steven’s home, addressed to him: Steven Stamkos. It’s nice, because Steven hasn’t gone golfing in a month, and - well it’s not like he can’t afford to, but this is a nice reminder, and the membership card in general is nice. He wonders who left it in his stall.

It could be a once-off, except two days later after a routine off-day practice, he finds a Lightning-themed pizza cutter still in its box, resting on top of his shinguards.

Steven has a lot of Lightning stuff, accumulated throughout nine years with the team. He doesn’t have a Lightning pizza cutter though, and he takes a moment to marvel at the tiny perfect logo stenciled on the handle. The end of it has a hilarious mold of his face.

“Pizza at my place tonight?” he asks the room at large.

Most of the boys have their own plans, though Victor and Jo are both free for the night. As Steven is confirming the time, Stralsy sends Jo a strange look, and then Jo is suddenly tripping over his words.

“Actually you know what, never mind. I have to Skype Nate tonight.”

“The Avs are playing tonight though,” Steven says, but Jo is beating a hasty retreat, so it ends up being just Steven and Victor. Which is just fine in Steven’s opinion. They eat and chat and play some videogames, and then Victor sleeps over on the couch even though Steven told him that it would throw out his back.

A week later, he gets a Star Trek-themed ornament for his rearview mirror. It’s perfectly lovely, because he secretly loves Star Trek, and he openly loves his car. He hangs it up immediately and Victor makes a nice comment about how well it goes with his car.

Then his favorite cheat food that he doesn’t let himself eat. Mini Donuts from the Mini Donut Factory aren’t part of his diet plan, but he loves them so much.

“I shouldn’t be eating so many,” he tells Victor guiltily between bites as he offers the box to the rest of the boys.

“Cheat food,” Victor says simply and helps himself to one.

So far, all of the gifts have shown up at his stall in Amalie, so Steven figures the gifter must be someone who works in the building. But three days into their West Coast road trip, he walks into the Ducks’ away locker room to find a blue bundle wrapped in plastic underneath the S. Stamkos 91 plaque.

The material is soft against his fingers as he rips open the package. At first he thinks it’s a blanket, but as he unfolds it, he discovers that it is a onesie. A Lightning onesie, with a zip that goes all the way up to the hood and the team logo on the chest.

It fits him perfectly, of course.

“Why are you wearing a onesie?” JT asks when he comes into the room.

Steven spreads his arms. “You like it?”

“Yeah dude, I totally need to get one like that. Looks comfortable.”

Steven spends the rest of the road trip wearing the onesie in his hotel room, claiming jealousy every time one of the boys tries to chirp him about it. And almost all of them do except the Russians, who don’t speak much anyway.

Victor never does either. He looks Steven up and down the first time Steven answers his hotel door in it, but he doesn’t say anything, wordlessly offering a box of takeout with a smile.

“It’s comfortable,” Steven says, which is kind of unnecessary because Victor isn’t judging him.

Victor nods. “You like it.” It’s not a question. This is why Victor is Steven’s favorite.

They watch a few episodes of House Hunters together, and then Steven tells Victor about a wedding he’s been invited to a month from now. “Better dig up one of my nicer suits,” he jokes. He has a lot of nice suits. Steven likes to think he’s a stylish guy.

When they return to Tampa, there is nothing in his stall from his secret admirer for the next two home games. He tries not to feel disappointed about it.

They’re hosting St. Louis for their third home game in a row, a back-to-back, and Steven is a little more tired and a little more sore than usual. He arrives early and dresses blindly for the game, pulling on his shoulder pads and taping his socks. It’s only when he’s reaching for his helmet that his knuckles bump against a small black box.

It looks like a jewelry box, one that would house a ring or something. His heart thumps unsteadily. The mystery gifts are nice, and he’s been poking around trying to find out who they’re from, but he hasn’t figured it out yet. And he doesn’t think he’s ready for that kind of commitment.

Inside the box are a lovely set of cufflinks engraved with his initials. The cufflinks aren’t outrageously expensive, but they are very nice, so they couldn’t have been cheap. Steven stares down at them, mind blank.

“Something wrong?” Victor asks. He finishes taping his stick and picks up his gloves.

“I just…the gifts. You know I’ve been getting gifts over the past weeks, right? The onesie and the mini donuts and the golfing membership. And these.” He shows Victor the cufflinks. “I don’t know who it is, and I don’t know what to do.”

Victor’s eyes are clear and blue when he looks at Steven. “Maybe they’re shy. Let them come to you. Don’t rush it.”

But Steven can’t stop thinking about it. There doesn’t seem to be a pattern to the series of gifts he’s received over the past few weeks. Some are silly and fairly cheap like the pizza cutter, some almost too nice for a mystery gifter. The one common factor is that every one of them is thoughtful and was chosen specifically with his tastes in mind. Whoever is sending them must know him, and well.

He plays like crap that night, but Kuch turns it on like crazy and Vasy is playing his heart out, so they scrape by with a 5-3 win over the Blues.

There’s nothing in his stall for another two weeks, despite Steven camping out in the locker room for hours at a time, trying to do a little bit of spying. He begins to let his guard down, and then he finds the Rays tickets. There are two.

The room is empty, the boys having cleared out quickly after practice for their pre-game naps. Steven carefully picks the tickets up, heart thumping.

“You don’t have to use both, if you don’t want to,” comes a soft voice behind him.

It’s Victor, hovering awkwardly by the door, his Tampa Bay Rays hat pulled over his eyes. Steven swallows.

“That was you. All the gifts.” Victor nods, a slow confirmation, and god, Steven has been so blind this whole time. “Why?”

“Why do you think?” Victor is keeping a healthy distance between them, giving Steven space to bolt. Because that’s classic Victor, thoughtful and patient and understanding, and at the heart of it, Steven’s best friend for years.

He looks at the two tickets in his hands, thinks for a long moment about the parade of gifts that showed up in his stall, each one picked with utmost care for him. It’s obvious what the answer is.

“You’re coming with me, right?” he asks, gesturing with the tickets.

Victor smiles and walks closer, closing all that distance between them until they’re standing chest to chest. “Only if you want me to.”

“Yes,” Steven says, easy as anything. “Of course.”

[reytonbleyer]

The Things We Do For Love - Chapter Nine

The worst part of loving someone is realizing you need to let them go. Unless you didn’t have to… Unless you never knew.

ff.net // wattpad

CHAPTER NINE: Look Your Past in The Eye

Time had flown by for the last couple of months. As expected, Chris loved the idea of holding the fundraiser at Topanga's and having a place and date to work with, organizing the event was much easier, though all the same time consuming. For those two months that lead up to Thanksgiving, Riley and Christopher spent practically all their time together, making sure everything was perfect for the big night. It didn't go unnoticed by Maya.

It'd been a while since Riley spent most of her free time with Christopher anyway, but things had escalated to a whole new level these past few weeks. She barely ever saw her roommate anymore, the girl she once called best friend. Lately, even when Riley did spend time with her, their conversations had mostly become shallow and that was, of course, when they didn't fight.

As for Riley, she was just glad for having something to keep her mind busy and the fact it was all for a good cause was a big bonus. Working on this project with Chris was the best idea she'd had in years. It got her parents off her back, it eased their hearts to Riley her engaged on something again, after living life on standby for so long, and it was a good excuse to get herself out of virtually any situation. Whenever someone would corner her, for example, which seemed to have become Maya's new favorite hobby, all she had to do was excuse herself to solve whatever 'pressing issue' about the fundraiser that needed her attending.

But there was more. Being at the shelter... it reminded her of Lucas. At first, Riley had tried convincing herself she wasn't doing it because of him, she told her heart time and again that this was about helping the animals and helping Chris and while those were true... she'd be lying to say Lucas had nothing to do with it.

When Christopher took Riley to the shelter with him for the first time, he was awfully excited. He was a few months away from graduating business school back then and he'd been helping the shelter with their administrative issues for over a year. She smiled and listened intently to everything he had to say, as Chris filled her in on all the projects he had for the place and showered Riley with funny stories, reason why she didn't have the heart to tell him his tour, though entertaining, wasn't at all necessary. She'd been there before. With Lucas.

He too had volunteered at Pet's Haven, all throughout sophomore and junior year of high school. However, when senior year came around, the pressure to excel academically and get accepted to a good college became too much, to all of them. It'd been really hard for Lucas letting go of something he was so passionate about, but he'd done his best to stay positive, certain there was a greater purpose behind it all. She still recalled lying with him on his bed, it was late afternoon and Lucas had just stopped by the shelter to deliver the bad news and, while he was clearly upset, he managed to smile in the comfort of Riley's embrace.

'It's not the end. I can't be there right now, but I'm gonna study real hard and, someday, I'm gonna go back and help again, except this time I'll be a vet, which means I'll do a lot more than just bathing, feeding and cleaning.' He'd laughed then; God she recalled it so clearly. If Riley closed her eyes she could practically feel him snuggling his head between her neck and shoulder, while she caressed his hair.

Those words had been replaying in her head nonstop for months, ever since Chris told her how bad the shelter was doing budget wise. Despite his efforts to keep the place running, two companies that'd been donating for years withdrew their help and there was a very real chance Pet's Haven would close its doors. The long lost memory flashed back to Riley's mind more vivid than ever. She couldn't let that happen. She had to do something... for him.

Riley didn't understand it herself, if she was honest. Why was she suddenly so keen on keeping Lucas's promise alive when she'd spent the better part of her last two years running away from just about anything that reminded her of him? She never talked or asked about her ex-boyfriend, part of her felt like she didn't have the right to. And Lucas had never contacted her either, so he probably didn't want her to know anyway. She just prayed her sacrifice had been worth it and he was doing okay.

Maybe it was the fact nobody knew about her bond to the shelter. Her friends knew Lucas had volunteered there, though Riley doubted they even remembered it, but as far as they were concerned she had no reason to be attached to the place. Christopher had no idea either, to him she was probably just being a supportive friend. It put the pressure of. It was the first time since their breakup Riley had a chance to think about Lucas, do something for him even, without anyone knowing or trying to intervene. It was the first time she'd been able to reminisce in some happy memories of their relationship, without being whiplashed back to reality by the familiar pain they were usually accompanied by.

On that morning, on Thanksgiving's eve, she arrived at the bakery early, having to be there for when the food and drinks were delivered. Chris would unfortunately be working at the office today, but he had promised to leave as soon as possible and go straight to Topanga's after so he could help. She had guaranteed him it was okay, Christopher had graduated a little over six months ago and he'd just gotten a new job at a pretty great company, she wouldn't want him to risk it by missing work. Plus, Maya had volunteered to help.

Riley hated to admit, but she'd been hesitant to accept the blonde's offer at first. One of the best parts about this whole idea was the fact she could enjoy the memories she cherished without reliving the ones that haunted her. With Maya there, that would very likely be ruined. As of late, Riley could feel her muscles tensing up whenever her friend wanted to talk, the more time passed the more pushy Maya became of 'the-Lucas-subject', instead of simply letting it go like Riley desperately wanted her to. Still, she missed her, so she said yes.

Now, they worked in silence on opposite sides of the bakery, the brunette sat at the counter rechecking the list of items that had just been delivered, while the blonde hung the photos Riley had taken of the shelter on one of the walls.

"These look great, Riles." Maya smiled, looking down at the picture of a puppy "And the flyers came together really nicely too."

"Thanks." She answered absentmindedly, still focused on the list "Chris and I had some trouble with the design, but all in all I think the end result was pretty good."

"You should have told me. I could have helped." Maya hated the sadness in her voice, but she couldn't help it. It hurt to know it didn't occur to Riley asking her for help with the design. She was an art major for God's sake.

"I didn't want to bother you." Riley said carefully, noticing the shift in Maya's tone.

"Of course." The blonde sighed "So, what are your plans for tomorrow?" She changed the subject, determined not to let the conversation die down, not when this kind of alone time had become so rare for them.

"Well, you know, same old. My family is coming over, Mom is planning a big feast... I figured Josh would have told you already."

"Yeah, yeah, that's right, he did, it just kinda slipped my mind." No, it didn't. It just so happened Maya had no idea how to even make small talk with Riley nowadays.

"You coming with him?"

"I guess so. I've always loved spending the holidays with your family and I doubt Shawn would miss it. So yeah, we'll probably join you."

"We'll be happy to have you." Riley answered politely, ignoring the strange taste the words left in her mouth. Why did she feel the need to be so formal with her best friend?

Finally done checking the delivery, Riley looked around for what to do next, deciding to start with the table spreads "Maybe we should put on some music." The brunette suggested, bothered by the uncomfortable silence filling the space between Maya and her. Today will be a good day, she repeated in her head like a mantra.

The blonde couldn't look away as her friend hummed to the songs, working her way through the tables. Riley was smiling. She was really smiling, almost like the old Riley would. Was this actually happening? Could it possibly be that Riley was finding the way back to herself at last? Eventually the brunette caught Maya's attentive stare, knitting her brows at her for a second, before returning her attention to the task at hand.

"What?" She asked within a chuckle, still feeling Maya's eyes on her.

"Nothing, you just, you look happy." Maya answered; a weak smile on her lips.

"Isn't that a good thing?" Riley's voice came out more defensive than intended.

"Yes, of course it is, it's just that, I mean, you've been kinda down for a while and now... you know what, just forget it." She shook her head, mentally slapping herself.

"Well, I am. I'm happy." Even as Riley said it, she was aware of how unsure she sounded. She knew Maya noticed it too, the pitch in her tone, the uncertainty behind it, so she kept trying to convince the blonde... or perhaps herself "It's a great cause, you know. Plus, I've had a great time working with Chris."

"Oh I'm sure you did." She hadn't meant to say it, the thought escaped her. And of course the harshness of her tone didn't help. But it was out there now, she couldn't take it back. Maya closed her eyes, bracing herself for the inevitable.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Riley snapped back, not entirely surprised by the comment.

The blonde took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of her nose. Of course they would argue, how silly of her to believe this could just be a fun time with her best friend. Hands curled into fists, Maya turned around, brown orbs boring into blue ones. She hated to fight with Riley; it was emotionally exhausting to say the least. Nevertheless, Maya was way too fed up with the past two years of biting her tongue, trying to save a relationship Riley didn't seem all that interested on being a part of. Next think she knew all her bottled up disappointment had metamorphosed into words.

"It means you've replaced me. It means you've kicked me out of your life without warning and moved on to the next best thing." She all but yelled, an edge to Maya's voice Riley had never heard before.

"That's not what happened." She whispered, frozen and wide eyed, taken aback by Maya's sudden outburst.

"Yeah? Then what did happen, Riley? Help me here, because from where I'm standing it looks a hell of a lot like you ditched me for you new little best friend." Her voice was even louder, but this time slightly hoarse. Maya's jaw tightened, she could feel her eyes burning with the gathering tears already so she refrained from blinking, trying to focus on the anger rather than on the hurt. She wouldn't cry, not now.

Riley seemed to finally have snapped out of her initial shock, cheeks reddening with rage as her heartbeat fastened, her tone just as furious as the blonde's.

"It's my life, Maya! I get to be friends with whoever I want! And yeah, I'm friends with Chris. I'm sorry I didn't realize it had to be a choice between him and you. But you know what? He's the one who's always there for me. He doesn't judge and he doesn't push and he sure as hell doesn't rub my wrongs in my face. But you? Lately that's all you do! You're always accusing me of something. And I'm so tired of you constantly questioning my choices!"

"Don't I have a good reason to?" She didn't yell this time, her voice steady and cold. Maya watched as realization hit the brunette.

"You did not just say that." Riley muttered through gritted teeth, her eyes filled with fury, but glassy with tears.

Maya's first instinct was apologizing, but she forced herself not to. She'd had enough. She knew Riley was hurting but so was she. And it was about time her friend understood just how done Maya was with this situation. So if she no longer cared enough to ask, Maya would give Riley a piece of her mind.

"Yes, I did. And it's true. Ever since you stole that stupid letter you've been making mistake upon mistake and I tried to give you time and be understanding, but I can't anymore. I'm not gonna hold your hand while you go down willingly. And you know what? Of course Christopher won't tell you any of this! Do you know why? Because he has no idea! He doesn't know you like I do and he doesn't have a clue about what you did. So go ahead, push me away, it's not like you've been doing it for the past two years. I'm tired of pretending everything is fine, Riley, it's not! And if you could look your past in the eye for two seconds and stop pretending your problems don't exist, you'd see you're drowning on them."

Maya didn't wait for Riley's response; she couldn't even look at her. In a matter of seconds she was storming out of the bakery, leaving behind a stunned Riley completely speechless. The brunette stood still, staring blankly at the door, her breaths heavy as the first tear rolled down her face. She closed her eyes causing a few more to emerge, her right hand reaching up her chest, making sure her heart was still beating, no matter how broken. Her sobs echoed around the empty bakery as her legs gave in and Riley fell to her knees.

- x -

"Everything looks beautiful, honey." Topanga smiled at her proudly.

"Everyone seems to be having a great time." Cory added, wrapping an arm around his wife.

"Thank you. And thanks for coming too and for letting me use the space of course." She attempted to sound cheerful, all the while avoiding her parents eyes so maybe they wouldn't notice Riley's smile didn't reach hers.

"Don't even mention it!" Topanga rubbed her daughter's arm reassuringly "Now go, we wouldn't want to steal the hostess for too long."

She nodded and walked away, glad to be alone for a second. It'd been a long day, which was thankfully coming to an end. This was not how she'd planned today to go. It was supposed to be fun and spirit lifting, instead all she wanted was to call it a night and crawl into bed. She'd cried for hours straight after her fight with Maya, only stopping to the ringing of her phone. It was Chris calling to tell her he'd managed to get off work early and would be at the bakery shortly, which meant she had no more than a few minutes to put herself together and get back to work. Riley must have done a good job at disguising her inner battles, since Chris didn't make any questions. Either that or he simply knew she wouldn't want to talk about it.

It didn't matter really, soon enough he was cracking jokes left and right or ruining one of Riley's favorite songs with his terrible singing voice and, though she didn't find it in her to join him, she was more than glad for his company and the comfort that came with it. At least she still had Chris. With his help, she managed to finish prepping everything in time. Riley ran home for a quick shower and change and soon enough they were welcoming their guests at Topanga's and taking turns making the rounds. Against all odds she'd survived the day, she just had to get through a couple more hours.

"Good evening, ladies and gentleman."

Riley blinked at the familiar voice, turning around in search of its source. A second later her eyes found Christopher standing by the bookshelves on the back wall. He looked incredible on his button down deep red shirt; the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His recently cut brown hair was styled to the side, his shinning caramel eyes perfectly matching his most charming smile, as he faced the crowd, a microphone on his hand.

"Thank you all for coming tonight and so kindly dedicating your time to our cause. I cannot tell you how much it means to us. I've been a volunteer at Pet's Haven for almost three years now and I can honestly say it's been one of the best and most humbling experiences of my life. It's inspiring to witness all the hard work these people put into saving such fragile lives that for some reason were taken as disposable by someone else. I've seen animals brought to the shelter near dead leaving it with a family. Because that's what we do, we take care of them, protect them, until some loving people can find their way to us, claiming their place as rightful owners of the cute little guys you've seen all over the walls tonight."

It was amazing, he had full control of the room. The bakery was packed with people and Chris had somehow managed to captivate every single one of them. To say Riley was proud of him would be a huge understatement.

"It takes time, effort and love. But don't worry, all of those we've got covered. However, it also takes money and that's where hopefully you come in. We've just recently lost two of our biggest sponsors and, without their donations, we can't afford to keep Pet's Haven alive. So we turn to you tonight, on Thanksgiving's eve, hoping you're willing to give a little back. There's no such thing as a small donation, I assure you that. Just please look deep into your hearts and give as much as they tell you to, however much you can. Don't do it for me, do it for them." Christopher gestured to the pictures, taking a second to look at them himself. The room was dead silent, people held their breaths waiting for him to finish his speech with some heartfelt line, when he rolled his head forward, a chuckle escaping him "Because their puppy dog eyes are way better than mine."

The whole crowd roared with laughter, giving him a standing ovation. Christopher smiled and bowed his head in thanks a couple of times, his eyes scanning through the room until they finally landed on Riley "Thank you, thanks everyone. I promise I'll stop babbling and let you return to your drinks and food in a second, but I can't possibly do that before giving a very special thanks to a dear friend of mine. So get over here already, little Matthews!"

Riley could feel her cheeks burning as she made her way to Christopher, every eye in the room glued to her, people clapping and smiling encouragingly. Once she approached him, Christopher extended her his hand, which she took gladly. Intertwining their fingers, he smiled through his next words, though still speaking on the mike, his eyes never left hers, as if they were the only two people in the room.

"Tonight wouldn't have happened without you. Not only did you come up with this wonderful idea, I've also seen you work harder than anyone to make it happen. I can't thank you enough for your generosity and dedication. I'm so incredibly proud and honored to call you my friend. So thank you for allowing me into your life and for being the person you are." Finally Christopher returned his attention to the room, gently pushing Riley forward as he spoke "So everybody, please give a big round of applause to the woman who made tonight possible, Riley Matthews!"

Riley jokingly curtsied, unsure of how to act before that many people, but smiling relieved once she heard Chris laughing behind her. As the audience returned to their own conversations, dispersing around the room, she turned back to her friend, who was already sweeping Riley into a hug and spinning her around.

"The fundraiser is a success and it's all thanks to you!" He cheered, letting go of the hug, but holding onto her shoulders.

"Me? You were the one charm talking them into opening their wallets!" She poked his chest playfully.

"Fingers crossed it worked." Chris grinned, taking Riley's arm and lapping it through his, as he guided them across the sea of people filling Topanga's.

Maybe she could have some fun tonight after all.

- x -

"Bye Mrs. McCarty. Thanks for coming and thank you so very much for your generous donation." Christopher said pleasantly, holding the door open for the older woman.

"Oh but of course. How could anyone say no to that face?" She rested a hand against his cheek, smiling suggestively.

"Hum, thanks... have a good night." He waved her off and closing the door once she was gone "That was the last one."

"For a second there I thought she'd ask you to take her home." Riley mocked him, buttoning up her coat.

"I know, me too!" He joked, a horrified look on his face.

Their laughter died down, being replaced by silence, the same insistent feeling Christopher had tried to shake all night resurfacing. Despite the smile she'd put on, something seemed off with Riley this evening... and he might know just the reason why "I didn't see Maya tonight."

"That's because she didn't come." She answered shortly.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Only then did Riley raise her stare to his and suddenly no more words were necessary "Okay."

Having finished gathering his belongings, Christopher observed curiously as Riley fumbled through the cushions on the sofa. Slightly confused, he looked around, spotting her purse on the coffee table "Hum, hum." He cleared his throat dramatically, calling her attention and waving the bag around for a second, before finally handing it back to Riley "Can I give you a ride home?"

"I'd love that." She nodded with a smile "I just need to turn the power off back in my Mom's office and lock the place up, but you can go to the car, I'll only be a minute."

"Okay." He watched as she started making her way to the back of the bakery "Hey, Riley." When she turned around Christopher was smirking at her, his voice soft as he continued "You look beautiful tonight."

"Thank you." She whispered looking down, her cheeks reddened by the compliment.

He smiled to himself, happy with her reaction, and turned around making his way to the car. Riley hurried to her mother's office, not wanting to leave him waiting outside in the cold any longer than necessary. She was about to turn off the lights when she heard Topanga's familiar door bell. Chris had probably forgotten something. She walked back to the front of the bakery to check.

"Did you forget any..." Riley stopped mid sentence, all air knocked out of her lungs, shock filling her veins and heart racing as her brain tried to make sense of the unbelievable image before her widened eyes.

"Hi." Lucas whispered through a shy smile.

[carasueachterberg]

Every evening when I sit down to post in this diary, I think—nothing really happened. (except on Wednesday – that was a little too exciting) And yet, when I look through the day’s pictures and start to write, there’s always something to tell.

That’s probably true of all of our lives, not just one rescue dog. So much happens every day that we take for granted and should instead be awed by in gratefulness, but I suppose it’s human nature to think it has to be exciting/tragic/titillating for it to be worthy of writing or reading about. Daisy is teaching me to slow down and appreciate the moments.

This week was made up of a lot of little moments, but her world stretched and she gave me lots of clues to her history and maybe a few that will help to unlock her heart.

I appreciate any help you can give in sharing her story. I really believe it simply she needs to reach the right heart—someone who will recognize her as family and choose to adopt her. Daisy has so much love to give and every day I see more of her huge loving, funny personality.

If you’d like to read her story in real time, you can follow along on Facebook at Cara Sue Achterberg, writer.

Here are this week’s entries:

Diary of a Rescue Day 29:

This is gonna be super quick because I’m late for bookclub and I’ve had a crazy busy day involving a horse dentist, vet, and an unexpected drive to my oldest son’s college (and back).

So, obviously, I didn’t see Daisy much, but this morning I caught some pictures of her with her fork. For some reason, unknown to me, she loves this fork. I don’t even know how she got it in the first place, but she likes to keep it close by – in her crate or on the dog bed.

Every time I see her carrying it I am never quick enough with the camera, but this morning Ian was in the room and she carried and carried it as if she didn’t trust him not to take it if she put it down, so I got these pictures.

There really is a silly, mischievous dog hidden in there under all that fear.

#funnypup #anothergooddog

Diary of a Rescue Day 30:

Once again I didn’t see much of Daisy today. We had a little time this morning. She spent the better part of the day back in the puppy room since Nick and I were in New Jersey to see Addie perform in a show at Rowan.

The puppy room was the best place for her since my oldest, Brady, is home on spring break and there have been plenty of extra young adults at our house. I don’t know if all the extra activity is making her anxious but since her fork is still in the kitchen, she’s taken to carrying around a stuffed football. Guess it’s her security football.

#peoplearescary #footballshelp #togetherwerescue #anothergooddog

Diary of a Rescue Day 31:

It’s been an amazing Daisy day! She spent most of the morning walking laps in the kitchen with her football. She reminds me of the old polar bear at the Baltimore Zoo who used to walk/swim the same pattern over and over. You could stand there for hours (and we did because one of my kids was so amazed by it and was sure if watched long enough he would break his pattern); he followed the same route over and over for days, weeks, years.

Daisy’s pattern is in and out of the crate, then around the kitchen island, then in/out crate, around the island, ad nauseum all the while clutching the football in her mouth and emitting an occasional whine. I made applesauce and then banana bread to keep her company and then I couldn’t stand watching it anymore so I convinced Nick to bring Frankie and go for a walk with us.

Once we left the drive (a first for her), she lit up. Running and sniffing and even trying to reach Nick and Frankie. By the time we got home, they were walking side by side! I saw more tail wagging and happy energy than I’ve ever seen from her. I’m very encouraged. Clearly, she is happier outside and loves going on a real walk. We’ll do lots more of that this week if weather allows and this blasted snow finally goes away.

She’s back in kitchen pacing at the moment, but at least I know how to make her happy and I’m hopeful she and Frankie will eventually be friends. I think the new pacing is just anxiety over the addition of Brady (and his people).

#peoplearestillscary but #theoutsideworld is exciting!

Diary of a Rescue Day 32:

Confessing right up front that these pictures are a day old. I was busy/distracted today by all the activity at my house- new foster dog, college kid home (with friends), a lot of writing to do, needy horses, sick kid, so I never managed to take a single picture of Daisy. But! She had a good day.

Another OPH family member, Ronni, came by to drop off a donated bag of my favorite brand of dog food and stayed to take a walk with me. She walked Gracie and I walked Daisy. Once again, Daisy was happy and brave – walking beside Gracie (who miraculously ignored her!) and scampering playfully or walking happily. Not an ill word was spoken. (Which is saying something since Gracie is usually a bit of a bully).

The pictures are from Daisy’s walk yesterday with Frankie, plus a couple of her with her football which she has carried around most of today. But you can substitute Gracie for Frankie and it was exactly the same.

This pup will be such a fun, sweet, loving dog for a lucky adopter. Now we just need to find that adopter!

#choosetoadopt #anothergooddog

Diary of a Rescue Day 33:

Other than the fact that she carries the football everywhere with her now, Daisy is becoming more and more like a regular dog. Tanis came over and we walked Frankie and Daisy (who carried her football the entire 2 miles) up the road and back. Neither of us thought to grab a picture, that’s how ‘normal’ she’s becoming.

Daisy’s looking so much healthier and is really a good weight now. She remains petrified of the guys and we are just accepting that for what it is. With me, she is incredibly loving and affectionate and I have no doubt that she is ready to share that love with an adopter – it will need to be a female adopter. Maybe this thing with men will just take time. Her fears are firmly entrenched but hopefully not immovable. After all, she is always initially frightened of new women and it takes her time to warm up, but she does.

I’m very curious to see how she reacts to children, but haven’t had a chance to find out. I need some young kids who can move slowly to test her out on. I have a feeling that she might trust children.

We have a new foster dog in the house, but so far Daisy has ignored him when he walks by, as she does both Gracie and Frankie.

Happy to report it’s really been an uneventful day at this foster house.

#easydoesit #daybyday #togetherwerescue #anothergooddog

Diary of a Rescue Day 34:

A pretty big day for Daisy- she made a new friend! Molly patiently sat on the floor with me for a good hour and Daisy circled and circled with the football in her mouth getting closer and closer to Molly.

Finally, she got brave and reached out to take a treat from Molly. That was the beginning. After that, there were kisses and pets and more treats. She showed her playful and affectionate side, which is something only I ever witness. There is hope for this dog!

We had a bad moment shortly after which resulted in me ending up with a banged knee when I dove to separate Daisy and Frankie who got in a scuffle. The last time they tangled, it was my fault because I intentionally let Frankie in to meet Daisy, but this time it was Frankie’s fault because he barged past me at the gate in his hurry to greet my friend Gina, who had just arrived to help walk dogs. He didn’t even see Daisy who was saying her goodbyes to Molly.

Daisy is fiercely defensive when it comes to other dogs and I think that trait may be as entrenched as her fear of men.

Frankie is fine, just chastened, and I am pumped up on ibuprofen, hoping the pain and swelling are temporary. (I was able to walk dogs so I’m probably just being a baby.)

Never a dull moment here at this crazy dog house.

#dontbesopushy #newfriendsaregood  #togetherwerescue #anothergoodog

Diary of a Rescue Day 35:

Thankfully Nancy stopped by today and did a little photo shoot with Daisy so I’ll have some MUCH better pictures to post once I figure out how to see and download them without upgrading my Dropbox (I tried opening a new Dropbox with a different email but they were on to me…).

Daisy had a quiet day, but she needed one after the excitement of yesterday. My friend Linda is visiting and making slow steady progress in winning Daisy over, and hopefully we can get her out for a hike tomorrow.

Daisy did great at the photo shoot- racing around in a circle because she was happy to be outside with me, chasing a ball (slowly), gnawing on a stick, and startling at the chickens. Can’t wait to see the results!

My bad pictures do show you how much weight she’s gained. (And her messy room)

#justwait #modeldog #togetherwerescue #anothergooddog

Thanks for reading!

If you’d like to know more about my blogs and books, visit CaraWrites.com or subscribe to my monthly e-newsletter (which is rarely monthly, but I’m working at it…everybody needs a goal).

If you’d like to know more about the book, Another Good Dog: One Family and Fifty Foster Dogs, visit AnotherGoodDog.org, where you can find more pictures of the dogs from the book (and some of their happily-ever-after stories), information on fostering, the schedule of signings, and what you can do right now to help shelter animals! You can also purchase a signed copy or several other items whose profits benefit shelter dogs!

If you’d like to know how you can volunteer, foster, adopt or donate with OPH, click here. And if you’d like more pictures and videos of my foster dogs past and present, be sure to join the Another Good Dog Facebook group.

One last thing! I will be leading a group of eight volunteers on a week-long trip to volunteer in some of the shelters we work with in North and South Carolina. We will be posting stories, pictures and video of our adventure. You can see all of it by following our Facebook page, OPH Rescue Road Trip. We promise to share the dogs we meet, the heroes we help, and the reality of shelters in the rural south. It may not always be easy to see, but hopefully it will also inspire you to help the many, many dogs in need. And if you’re so inclined, you can support us with donations through our Road Trip Fundraiser.

I love hearing from readers, so please feel free to comment here on the blog, email carasueachterberg@gmail.com or connect with me on Facebook, twitter, or Instagram.

 Best,

Cara

Released August 2018 from Pegasus Books and available now

  Diary of a Rescue Week Five:  It’s a Big Wide World! Daisy's little world is getting bigger... #choosetoadopt #anothergooddog Every evening when I sit down to post in this diary, I think—nothing really happened. 1,985 more words

[ratherbeem-blog]

Twenty-two things to do at twenty-two

Hi. My name’s Emily. I’m a recent university graduate, and six weeks or so ago I started my first “real” job as a programmer. I mostly write XML and XSL at the moment, but someday soon I’ll be working in Perl and Java too, as well as a bit of web stuff. I enjoy my work, and the people I work with are pretty great.

Today’s my 22nd birthday. We get the day off work on our birthday, and then we bring cake to work either the day before or after. I’ll be picking up some cake this afternoon, and then going out for dinner with my boyfriend, James.

I found university difficult because of the lack of structure to my day, and being in full-time work is much better for me as a person, at least so far. I do think that there’s a danger that I’ll stagnate without quantifiable targets though, so I’ve decided that I’m going to challenge myself. To be all cutesy, I’m going to make it a list of twenty-two things that I want to do as a 22-year-old.

1.       Start a blog and keep it updated at least fortnightly.

Starting the blog is the easy part, but keeping it updated is the important part. I had a student blog, and I found that having the pressure to update it regularly kept me seeking out new and exciting things on campus, so this is an accountability blog I suppose. Because it was a paid blog for the uni, I wasn’t able to write about the full spectrum of things I was feeling or doing and I think that going solo will give me a bit more creative freedom, especially on my lower days.

2.       Read a book every month.

I really don’t read enough of substance, and don’t remember the last time I actually finished a book. I feel guilty that my reading is basically limited to mindlessly scrolling through Reddit. Maybe I’ll post a monthly “what I’m reading” or something here.

3.       Get involved in my local community.

I just moved to a new town, and I’ve not really made many friends here outside of work. There aren’t many twenty-somethings like James and I here, but I’d like to connect with the community in some way, even if it’s a one-off. There’s some community projects back home that I’d still like to go back to as well.

4.       Give more time to old friends.

I have a really close-knit group of friends from sixth form, most of whom I hardly see any more because we’re all scattered to the winds. They all live in really beautiful parts of the country, so it would be nice to visit some of them soon, rather than relying on all being back in our hometown at the same time.

5.       Hold a dinner party.

I love cooking, and I love hosting. We had a couple of James’ uni buddies over for lunch a few weeks ago, but I’d like to make it A Thing that I do semi-regularly.

6.       Borrow a pet.

I grew up with cocker spaniels, and dogs are very special to me. James is more of a cat person, but both us love animals generally and volunteered at a cat shelter over the summer. We live in a flat so we can’t have pets just yet, but we’re hoping to look after someone else’s.

7.       Save a £3000 emergency fund.

I make OK money for a graduate, but not great money for a programmer, so this is achievable but will be a challenge. I basically wiped my savings from my part-time job during my final year of uni, so I’ve not got much to start with. I’m a huge fan of The Financial Diet, and £3000 fits in their target of three to six months of living expenses.

8.       Go abroad with James.

We’ve been together a year and a half, but we’ve been friends for much longer. We’ve done a few domestic trips (Edinburgh, London, Manchester, Norfolk, Shropshire…), but I’d like to see a bit more of the world with him. I travelled a bit with family as a teenager because of perks from my dad’s job, but I haven’t left the UK so far in my 20s.

9.       Flesh out a homemade recipe book.

As mentioned above, I love cooking and it’s a very sentimental process to me. I want to have hard copies of my favourite recipes in one convenient location and not to rely on memorising URLs.

10.   Find out or create a new “fun fact” about myself.

When I was 18 I got an entire county banned from ordering astroturf samples. I’ve been using that as my fun fact for a few years now, and I think it’s about time I find a new one.

11.   Sort my health out.

Like a lot of students, I procrastinated on things that were good for me. I’ve recently made the step of going to an optician and registering with a GP, but I need to go to the dentist and also speak to my GP to address some other concerns I have about my own physical and mental health.

12.   Build relationships with my family.

A lot of people think I’m an only child, but I actually have two brothers and a sister who I barely ever talk to. My older brother and sister have kids who are closer in age to me than they are, and because we didn’t grow up together I never really formed a proper bond. I’m fairly close to James’ family, especially his mum, and I want to show them that I appreciate them.

13.   Learn a skill.

I started a watercolour class a few weeks ago, and it’s going well so far. I’ve got a long way to go until I’m a master, so it’s something I’d like to improve over the next year.

14.   Figure out how the central heating works.

I’m genuinely stumped. We’ve been lucky with the weather so far in this flat, but I can feel the evenings drawing in and I don’t want to freeze in my sleep during winter.

15.   Go a month without eating meat.

I already don’t eat much meat – James and I make a point of not buying any meat to cook at home, so all of the meals we currently make are vegetarian or vegan. I currently do eat meat sometimes when we go out to eat or sometimes when snacking on things that other people bring to work. I’d like to challenge myself to stick to the things that I believe are right.

16.   See a show.

I usually tell people that I don’t listen to music much, but the truth is that I enjoy musicals. I went to see Hamilton in London with some friends in March, and I’ve seen smaller amateur productions too. I think Come From Away is beautiful and I hope that I can see it in Europe.

17.   Get my five-a-day.

I know that the evidence says that we need to eat more than five portions of fruit and veg per day for optimum health, but I think this is a realistic and achievable goal. My parents didn’t really “do” vegetables when I was growing up – maybe one of peas or baked beans at dinner, or a couple of vegetables with a meat and potato roast, or a grim-looking iceberg lettuce leaf. I’ve generally felt better since leaving home and eating wider range of vegetables in higher quantities.

18.   Support local businesses where possible and sensible.

The town I’ve moved to has a great market which I go to every week to buy eggs and some of my vegetables. It’s pretty comparable to the local Asda in price for most things, and stuff is generally high-quality and in-season. I want to continue doing a significant portion of food shopping at the market and at independent retailers where it doesn’t break the bank. James and I also found a cute little bakery that we want to try the bread from soon.

19.   Reduce my plastic consumption.

I already use a reusable carrier bag, lunchbox and water bottle on a daily basis, and try to buy vegetables without plastic packaging where possible, but there’s definitely more I could do to cut down on plastic. Even if it’s just learning to use non-applicator tampons properly (I really want to try a menstrual cup, too, but I think ditching applicators might be a first step for me), or choosing retailers with less packaging more often, I want to make a difference to my habits.

20.   Sweep James off his feet regularly.

I love him and I want to show him that more. Growing up I was always scared that I was too tomboyish to have a boyfriend, because I didn’t really want to conform to the traditional feminine gender roles in relation to others, but I was lucky in finding someone who thinks the same way. James accepts me for who I am, and I accept him for who he is.

21.   Take at least three steps towards taking charge of my career.

I’m very happy with my job, but I want to make sure that I have skills to move on with and find something even better when the time is right. The fact is, I got a 2:2 in my degree, and I know that it will make some things harder for me. I want to network or to learn an extra programming language or to get some management experience or some extra responsibility or some volunteering to boost my CV so that I have stuff to back me up if and when I need it.

22.   Be my own mum.

I feel like, being the last bullet on a long list, this should be something poignant and meaningful, but it’s not. I’m messy and badly organised and need to take responsibility for myself. I’m not a teenager living at home any more, and I need to get stuff done like a real adult.

When I started this list, I thought that twenty-two bullets would be so hard to fill, because I didn’t even realise I wanted to do twenty-two things this year and that it would be kind of overwhelming. But looking at it now, there’s so much that I want to get done which doesn’t even fit on this list. I’m currently feeling very motivated and excited for the year ahead. I know it won’t always be easy but I want to see what I can achieve in these next 365 days, and I hope someone out there will find some sort of meaning in reading all of this.

Anyway, I’m off to eat and buy some paper for my painting class.