#and how the dog is like snarling and you can basically hear its high pitched little yap

[fishsticksart]

Jamie Wyeth, A Very Small Dog, 1980, oil on canvas

[arcticfox007]

The Yeti, the Witch, and the Angel

Hi everyone - this is a continuation from days 2&3 which you can find under the same series as this one on AO3.

It will continue with Day 5. I had a great time writing this, it has more action than ther previous ones. Some fluff, some angst, general audiences.

I’m happy to add and/or remove people from my tag list, notes/comments/kudos on AO3 are all appreciated and I’m always open to feedback!

Destiel December 2020

Day 4: Sledding

Sam and Dean were running for their lives – again. Dean noted, somewhere in the back of his mind, that it was much more difficult to accomplish this in knee-high snow. Unfortunately, the Yeti, yes, an actual goddamn Yeti because their lives weren’t bizarre enough, anyway - the Yeti was much better at running through the deep snow. They were hoping to make it to the abandoned park station up ahead, maybe they could barricade themselves against the creature long enough to figure out a plan.

“Dean, c’mon already!” Sam had less trouble in the snow with his stupid giraffe legs. Dean had resorted to running by basically leaping as far as he could to try and stay above the wintery fluff trying to get him killed. Thankfully, the station was now in sight.

The brothers managed to make it before the snow monster had caught up with them. The station was right by a rather steep hill and was surrounded by trees on most sides. Dean quickly accessed the area as Sam reloaded his handgun. Dean started to push the bookshelf over to help block the door.

“I don’t think that’s gonna kill it man. We’ve already unloaded two clips into that thing, just made it madder.” Dean looked around for anything else to barricade the door but there wasn’t a whole lot in here and he doubted the Yeti would be slowed down by much.

“Do you have a better idea?” Dean was about to snap back sarcastically at his brother when his eyes fell on the massive trash and recycling bins that must have been pulled aside when the station was shut down for the worst of winter.

“Well, no, but I do have a crazier idea.”

Dean knocked over one of the bins and started working the lid off of the top. “Come help already!” Sam and Dean together popped off one of the massive plastic lids just as the door shook with the Yeti’s weight. The thing screeched in rage and pounded harder.

“Shit Dean, what good will these do against that thing??”

“Just shut up and get the other one!” The second lid was wrenched off and Dean shoved it into Sam’s arms. He took a second to reload his gun which made him feel slightly better, even if the bullets hadn’t phased the monster. Then Dean picked up the other lid in his free hand. When he glanced over at Sam, his overly tall brother was looking at Dean like maybe he had finally lost it for real. Dean just shoved Sam towards the back of the building.

The Yeti screeched again and Dean thought that maybe it was part banshee. He was starting to wonder if his ears would ever work properly again. Dean threw open the back door just as he heard the front one start to shatter. The sight of its prey escaping seemed to give the Yeti a burst of energy and Sam’s eyes widened at the sight of the door and walls being ripped away as if they were nothing more than paper.

“Dean! We could use that plan anytime now!” Dean ran out the back door pulling Sam with him towards the hill. It was steeper than he remembered but he only hesitated for an instant. He threw the lid on the ground in front of him.

“This is the plan Sammy, we’re going sledding!” Sam’s jaw dropped.

“What kind of plan is – shit!” They both turned to see the Yeti barreling towards them and Sam stopped arguing about Dean’s questionable plan as they both turned to throw themselves down the tree speckled drop off. Sam started yelling something about Dean’s plan being terrible as Dean just tried to steer the trash bin lid enough to avoid the trees, which was getting harder as he picked up speed.

“Fuck!” This was a terrible plan; the service road was coming up on them fast as Dean spotted a car turning the corner. He wasn’t sure if crashing into a tree, getting mauled by a Yeti, or hit by an incoming car was a better way to go out. Meanwhile the Yeti was still chasing them.

“Dean, it’s right behind you!” Impulsively, Dean spun his lid around so he was now speeding down towards the road backwards. Hoping he didn’t hit a tree he managed to pull his gun out and shoot at the rampaging monster. Not that he managed to hit it more than once.

“Crap, crap, crap!” Before Dean had time to spin back around, he felt as if the bottom of the lid dropped from under him as he heard it crunch on gravel. With the last vestiges of his adrenaline he managed to throw himself off of the lid and roll – right into the Yeti. Dean only had a moment to stare up into the face of the vicious spitting creature before hearing a pop-pop noise and then the hairy snarling thing tipped over. Onto Dean. Dean felt his head crack on the ground. “Ermph!”

“Sorry, Dean.” Dean gasped for air as his guardian angel rolled the creature off of him. Dean looked up at Cas still trying to catch his breath, and damn, if he wasn’t the most beautiful thing Dean had ever seen. Cas crouched down and briefly checked Dean over for injuries. When he seemed satisfied that there was nothing immediately wrong with the hunter, he glowered at him. Dean had no idea what he had done to piss Cass off, but honestly even his glower was fucking beautiful. Dean continued to stare at Cas but the angel turned to look in the other direction.

“Are you alright Sam?” Dean heard his brother let out a high-pitched laugh that was just shy of sounding manic.

“Yeah, Cas, I’ll survive. Is Dean okay? What did you shoot the Yeti with?” Dean could see Cas’ mouth turn down into a frown. So pretty, Dean just wanted to touch his face.

“Dean will be fine, but there are no such things as Yetis, Sam. It was a witch that transformed itself, I used the witch killing bullets.” Dean heard Sam’s boots in the snow as he approached them but Dean stayed on the ground staring at Cas as he reached his hand up and started pushing his fingers into Cas’ face. Cas swung his attention back to Dean as the older Winchester started pinching Cas’ cheek between his fingers.

“Dean. What are you doing?” Dean smiled hazily at the angel.

“You’re so pretty Cas. I just want to squish your face.” Dean let out a breathy giggle. Cas gazed more closely at Dean. All of a sudden Dean could see Sam as his younger brother came to stand by Cas.

“Did you hit your head Dean?” Cas’ voice was so gravelly and sexy. He tried to move Cas’ chin to make him say more. Cas just caught Dean’s arm and looked up at Sam. “I think he has a concussion, give me a moment.” Sam nodded and went to check out the Yeti. Meanwhile Dean was enraptured by Cas’ eyes, they were just so blue.

“Blue is my favorite color Cas. Blue, blue, blue.” Cas ignored Dean in favor of pushing his grace into Dean’s bruised head. Dean felt warm and a soothing feeling spread through him. He sighed and then felt the world snap back into place. Cas continued to cradle Dean’s head making sure there wasn’t any other injury he needed to heal. Dean just lay still until Cas looked into his eyes. He was vividly aware of Cas holding his face with one hand and his forearm with the other.

“Better?”

“Yeah Cas, thanks. Um, could you help me up?” Cas raised an eyebrow, and all Dean could think of was how hot that was. Crap, maybe he still had a concussion? No, his head was fine, he’d known for a while now that he was attracted to him best friend, he was just usually better at shoving those feelings down. While Dean was struggling with his thoughts Cas had stood up and pulled Dean up with him. Dean staggered for a moment and Cas helped steady him. As soon as Dean seemed stable on his own two feet Cas resumed scowling at him.

“What?”

“What? What? You just text me to say you and Sam found the trail of a YETI, and then refuse to answer your phone? What if I couldn’t find you in time? What if I hadn’t already figured out it was a witch? I COULD HAVE TOLD YOU IT WAS A WITCH IF YOU HAD ANSWERED YOUR PHONE. Instead I make it just in time to see the two of you throwing yourself off of a mountain!” Dean was all ready to get angry and defensive but found himself defusing as the whole “it was just a witch” thing sunk in. Crap. Cas seemed to have run out of words and was now just glowering intensely at him.

“Uh – sorry? My bad man.” If possible, this seemed to make Cas even madder. He turned his back on Dean and went over to Sam and the Yeti corpse. Dean just stood there for a moment feeling like an idiot. Then he headed over to help the two of them get rid of the body.

***

Later that night Castiel was still unhappy with Dean and had left them at the motel to return the car he had borrowed when he had frantically scrambled to get to Dean and Sam in time. He mumbled something about the Impala not having snow tires and that they were lucky the local deputy was generous. Dean hoped Cas would cool off while he was out, Dean hated feeling like he was in the dog house which he mistakenly mentioned to his brother.

“He’ll calm down. You could try a more sincere apology though.” Little brothers were obnoxious, especially when they were right, thought Dean. He frowned at Sam but couldn’t keep it up as he sat on one of the beds with a heavy sigh.

“Yeah, okay. I’m not great at apologies, but he’s right, I should have answered the phone. I was just so caught up tracking the Yeti-witch thing, I dunno, I just didn’t think.” Sam rolled his eyes.

“So, tell him that.” Dean nodded and stared at his feet, thinking. Sam must have assumed the conversation was over because by the time Dean looked up, he was absorbed in his laptop.

“Sammy. I need to do better than that. Cas, well, he’s important. He’s my best friend and I feel like I always, um, take him for granted or something. I want to do something really great for him for our Christmas present thing. But I ain’t got a single damn idea of what.” Sam turned back towards Dean and smiled at him.

“I think that’s a great idea Dean. You can’t think of anything? I mean, I’ve had a hard time thinking of something too, but I don’t have as much to apologize for.” Sam smirked and Dean was already regretting asking his brother for help.

“No. I mean I know some things he likes – like bees.” Sam snorted. “But I want to show him that I really do, er, value his friendship, y’know?” Dean was skirting around the idea that he wanted to show Cas that he valued him, just his presence in his life. Who was he kidding? He wanted to show Cas he was loved, but without actually saying it. Dean wasn’t even sure angels could be in love. There was a reason Dean kept his feelings buried, and it wasn’t just because he couldn’t imagine an angel, an actual freaking angel, loving someone like him. Sam just looked thoughtful.

“You know, that reminds me of something Mom told me.” Sam watched his brother carefully, but Dean had seemed calmer about Mom leaving since Cas had come back. “She told me she asked Cas how long it had taken him to feel like he belonged here – I guess because technically, she and Cas both had to experience adjusting to Earth after being in Heaven. Anyway, Cas told mom he still wasn’t sure he belonged. She said he seemed, uh, sad about it. Lost.” Dean felt like he had been stabbed through the heart. Cas felt like he didn’t belong?

“Why… why would he say that? He’s always chosen us over Heaven, chosen humans.” Dean started to internally panic at the idea of Cas deciding to leave one day.

“No Dean, he’s chosen you over Heaven.” Sam wasn’t right, was he? Dean felt a massive headache starting, he was drowning in thoughts. “Dean. Pay attention.” Dean’s head snapped back up and looked at Sam.

“What do I do Sam?” Sam looked at Dean, the exasperation clear on his face.

“You need to do something to show him he belongs here Dean.” Sam said this as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. And of course, it was. Dean’s head partially cleared and he started thinking, thinking back to when Cas was the happiest, when he seemed to fit in here on Earth the most, and then Dean knew what present to get his goddamn angel on Earth.

“Sam, I know what I’m going to do for him.” Sam rolled his eyes.

“Well that’s good, Dean, because you only have eight days left until Christmas.”

***

@jellydeans, @galaxycastiel, @nguyenxtrang, @my-favourite-hellatus

[vannahfanfics]

Mama Mina

Category: Friendship Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Denki Kaminari, Mina Ashido

Hey, everyone! Here’s another story for @bnhabookclub‘s weekly SFW prompt, “You can’t ignore me forever!” Enjoy! :)

Denki’s lips were drawn up in a cheerless pout as he lay sideways on his bed, repeatedly bouncing a ball against his opposite wall. With languid, practiced motions that were more muscle memory than actual attentive efforts, he flicked his wrist to lob the ball at the same spot on the wall he had been for the last hour. He watched with dull lidded eyes as the squishy rubber toy sailed across the width of the bedroom, struck the smooth painted surface, dove down at a forty-five-degree angle to bounce once on the polished wooden floor strewn with dirty socks and worn tee-shirts, then returned to his waiting hand. Shwip. Thunk. Thwock. Slap. The sounds echoed, just as depressing and lifeless as the ambiance.

“Stupid,” he muttered aloud as he hurled the ball across the room once more. “Absolutely useless. What’re you even here for, Denki?” The ball slammed into the wall as he subconsciously applied more force to the throw; in turn, its arc changed dramatically and crashed into his face instead of his hand. The ball ricocheted off his nose to collide with his desk lamp, causing it to spin wildly around and knock into the plastic cup holding his writing utensils. He cursed as he rolled onto his back with both his hands tenderly holding his bruised face, trying to ignore the added insult of his pencils and pens sliding over the desk and clattering to the floor. In the background of that and his groans, he could hear the rubber ball bouncing and then rolling over the wood to come to rest somewhere under his bed. “Stupid, stupid, stupid!”

Denki usually tried to stay positive. He really did. That was his thing, after all, being the plucky optimist. He had drained his supply of sanguinity, however; the cistern was as dry as a desert, not a drop of confidence to be found. How could he be self-assured, after making an absolute fool of himself in the third round of the Sports Festival? It had taken literal seconds for Ibara Shiozaki to obliterate him in their one-on-one battle. Denki had never suffered such a grievous insult in his life. Of course, it wasn’t her fault. It was all his stupid fault.

He pushed the balls of his palms into his eyes, trying to force the tears that were brimming there from leaking out. He failed miserably at that as well. The salty liquid rolled down his flushing cheeks to bead on his chin, then drip down and absorb into the collar of his tee-shirt.

“Ungh… Goddammit,” he sniffed and rolled onto his belly to shove his face into his pillow. In the back of his mind, he thought suffocating himself was preferable to the uncomfortable twisting in his gut and the stinging in his eyes. Unfortunately, the fabric of his pillow was much too breathable. The world is against me. Without removing his face from the cushiony construct, he slipped halfway off the bed to grope blindly around for the rubber ball. Continuously chunking it relieved some of his nervous energy, at least.

He stopped when someone knocked loudly and insistently on his bedroom door.

“Denki!” Mina’s high-pitched voice was still loud even bleeding through the wood. She rattled the doorknob experimentally to find it locked. “Denki, lemme in! Let’s talk.” What the hell is she doing here?! “Me and Eiji and Hanta are all here to hang out. Your mom called us!” Of course she did… he thought sourly. “Hanta’s setting his PlayStation up downstairs! Come on! Let’s go play!”

He removed his face from the plush pillow to shout, “Dun wanna!” He scowled when the pink-skinned girl jiggled the metal knob again, more persistently this time.

“Denki, come on, you’ve been moping in here all day. It doesn’t do any good to sulk like this! Come onnnn! Let’s talk it out!�� Denki snorted derisively and threw himself on his side, facing the wall and pouting childishly. If he were in a healthy state of mind, he might appreciate her kind gesture; however, incensed as he was, he could only be petulantly exasperated by her insistence. She continued to bleat invitational prattle before his doorway, and he decided not to waste the energy on responding. If I ignore her, she’ll go away. “Denki. Denki. Denki.” She began relentlessly chanting his name and punctuating each shout with a rattle of the knob. Grumbling unflattering words under his breath, he wrapped the pillow around his ears. The breathable fabric didn’t muffle nearly as much sound as he wished. “Denki. Denki. Denki. Denki. Denki. Denki.” He curled up so that his knees touched his chest.

Go away, he snarled in his mind. I don’t want to talk about how stupid I am. Leave me alone!

“Denki, you can’t ignore me forever! DenkiDenkiDenkiDenkiDenkiDen-”

“Fuck! Okay, I’m coming, just cut it out! Sheesh,” he yelled and threw himself off the bed. Somehow the angry motion was coordinated, and he landed on the flats of his bare feet. His stomps were purposeful and thundering as he stalked open to the door to unlock it and throw it open. “What?” he hissed at the smiling, bubbly girl, chest heaving and cheeks flushed with misdirected self-loathing.

“Denki, are you sad?”

“No! I’m not sad! Now, will you leave me alone?!” he huffed and went to shut the door in her face. In his heart of hearts, he knew that wasn’t right, but Goddammit, the last thing he wanted to do was talk about it. Sometimes a man just needed to brood in peace. Her pink hand flew up to slam against the wood, demonstrating surprising strength as it stopped it in its tracks.

“I think you’re lying.”

“So what if I am?!” Instantaneously, his cheeks flushed a rose color. Dammit, that isn’t what I wanted to say! Her face deadly serious and those black-and-gold eyes boring into the quivering depths of his soul, Mina leaned into the doorway. Denki gulped and subconsciously leaned back in the face of such unwavering resolve.

“I’m coming in,” she asserted simply. Denki deflated with a whine and trudged away from the door to throw himself face-down back on the bed. His groan of acknowledgment was muffled by that annoyingly breathable fabric of his pillow. He heard the soft scrapes of her socks over his floor. They were followed by the gentle click of the door behind her. Denki hugged his pillow as he moped over how rapidly the situation spiraled out of control; it was just par for the course for him, he supposed. Silly, stupid Denki with no spine-

“Denki. You know that none of us think any less of you for what happened at the Sports Festival, right?” He visibly cringed as she heartlessly jabbed at the core of his depression. Snorting, he rolled on his side such that his back was to her. Morosely, he curled his thin body around the pillow.

“Yeah, right. You guys probably thought it was hilarious. She wiped the floor with me.” His bottom lip wobbled pitifully just talking about it. It had been so humiliating. Finally, he thought he had his chance to show that he wasn’t just the dumb guy that fried his brain and mumbled “Yayyyyy,” but he had blown it in the most mortifying way. Kyoka was probably sniggering into her hand while she gossiped about him to Momo-

“Well, Hanta-”

“He was up against Todoroki, and he even got a good shot in,” he countered matter-of-factly. Angrily, he squeezed the plush body of the pillow but had not the raw strength to tear it to little shreds of fabric and cotton like he wanted to. “Stop lyin’ to me. You can say it. I’m useless and stu-”

“You are not stupid!” He jumped violently as her voice cracked like a whip in the relatively quiet bedroom. He yelped like a wounded dog when she wrenched him onto his back by the shoulder. Like it was a shield, he kept the pillow hugged to his body and stared owlishly up at the fuming girl. Her pink lips pressed into a thin line, and her fingers clenched into her hips. “So what if you’re not Bakugo or Todoroki or even Midoriya? You still earned your way into this hero course!” she scolded him. He just vehemently nodded along. Frankly, he was a little terrified she would whap him upside his head if he continued with the self-pity. Her face softened slightly, and she bent over him to ruffle his blonde-and-black hair affectionately. “You have your own merits, and believe it or not, we all know them. You’re loyal and care a lot about your friends.” She smiled brightly down at him as he blushed shyly. “Sure, it didn’t work out this time, but you’ve still got so much time to prove what you’re made of. Stop saying you’re stupid or useless, because you’re not. None of us think that.”

“Really?” he asked her with big, round eyes, and she nodded firmly.

“Pinky-swear!” she grinned and held up her pinky finger emphatically. “Not even Kyoka,” she added with a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows, which made him gulp and flush further. Still hugging the pillow but not as tightly, he sat up from the bed and rubbed the back of his neck. He had to admit, even though she had just basically reprimanded him like a stern mother, he felt loads better. He smiled warmly when she grabbed his hand and looped her pinky with his.

“Thanks, Mina.”

“No problem!” He chuckled, and she stepped away when he slung his legs around to hop of the bed. She stood on her tip-toes to muss up his already wild hair again. “Now get yourself dressed and come get some breakfast. Your mom said you haven’t eaten anything.”

“Mina, it’s like… two in the afternoon.”

“Brunch, then! Regardless, food! You need sustenance!” she insisted and jabbed him in his belly with her index fingers a few times. He squirmed at the tickling prods and skittered away from her to his closet.

“Yes, Mom!” he snorted, finally dropping the pillow to begin rifling through the closet for a suitable tee shirt. Mina hummed contentedly and strolled to the door, kicking aside a few of his discarded socks and underwear towards his dirty clothes hamper.

“Yup, that’s me. Mama Mina! If you’re not downstairs in five minutes, I’m coming back up to drag you by the ear,” she warned as she stepped out of the door.

“I’m coming! Promise!” he laughed, and she flashed him a teasing wink before shutting the door behind her. Amused, he stared at the wooden entryway for a few seconds, just smiling admiringly. “Mama Mina,” he huffed under his breath and shook his head before wrenching his shirt off and tossing it across the room into the hamper. The smile never fell from his face the entire time he was getting ready.

It just felt really nice to know he had someone looking after him.

“All right! Time to kick some ass, Denki Kaminari!” he told himself with a devilish smile. He cracked his knuckles and his neck, then did a couple pre-game stretches. He then all but bolted out of his bedroom and down the stairs. His friends greeted him with a chorus of “hello’s.” He snatched up a bag of Doritos from the kitchen counter and vaulted over the back of the couch, snatching up a controller and sticking out his tongue confidently.

“’Sup, guys? Ready to looooose?”

“As if!” Hanta cried and shoved him in the side of the head. “You’re the one who’s going down!”

“How do I play this game, Mina?” Eijirou frowned at the flickering screen.

“Just shoot the zombies, Eiji.”

“Shoot the zombies,” the redhead repeated unsurely under his breath and squinted at the television. Denki shoved a handful of nacho chips in his mouth and rolled onto his belly, legs still slung over the back of the couch, before holding the bag out to Mina. She took it graciously and patted him on the top of his head, making him smile widely.

I have really, really good friends.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

Tag List: @deliathedork @sadistiks @simplybakugou

[themockingcrows]

Companionship Through Circuitry ch. 6: Setbacks

Bro/Hal cw: blood, violence, deathclaws, and a generally bad day in the wasteland

Journeys are never without their inherent dangers. When you're living in the wasteland, it's to be expected. Doesn't make them suck any less, though.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20942408/chapters/64071430

     I spy with my little eye-

     “Hal, pick a new game already.”

     I can assure you this is the best game to play out here.

     “Fine,” Bro said, exhausted. They’d been traveling for days on the remains of the highway by now and there was no sign of a proper township. He smelled, his back and legs hurt, and despite having plenty of food water was always a precious commodity. He also had at least four letters to send by now, including a few sketches and schematics he’d designed after toying with the Furby body some more, in case Dave wanted to get his hands on a little guardian bot of his own. The kid was smart, even he’d be able to handle basic scripting to make a functional system for it. Surely someone else he was buddies with could figure out an AI of sorts for it, too. 

     True, it would have been easier to follow another path by now, but following the main point of the highway just seemed the best, most direct route for him. Who’s to say it was brahmin who made the trodden paths that led further into the wastes, or humans? What if it was mutants, or worse, deathclaws stalking the wastelands? Scuttling parties of mole rats or vicious dogs.

     Would you like to know what I spy or not, Bro.

     “I don’t want to know, but I’ve got a feelin’ you’re gonna tell me anyway aren’t you.”

     Correct! I’ll give you a few hints.

     Bro groaned in irritation.

     “A bloatfly,” he guessed off the bat.

     No, though it is annoying.

     “As annoyin’ as you? Why isn’t there a fuckin’ mute option on these shades..”

     Your second hint is that it’s bipedal.

     That perked him up somewhat. Bro scanned the horizon further off for signs of a city or outpost, a wanderer, a courier. Anyone. Instead what he saw was the lanky, sharply pointed edges of a juvenile deathclaw. A definite pain in the ass, but nothing he couldn’t handle.

     “...And how long have we been in deathclaw territory for, Hal?”

     Uncertain, my saved map mentions shopping centers, not deathclaws.

     “Ooh, shopping centers?” he said. “Put a peg in it, if we find somewhere to trade soon we might do a run back to grab some more supplies for trade and keepin’.”

     The deathclaw is still nearby, you know.

     “I can avoid it if I want,” Bro said, taking out his sword. A juvenile would take some fast work, but he knew he was good for dispatching the monstrosities, and people paid good money for their clawed hands, even the small ones. Hell, even he wanted some bits off of one sometime, though mostly for show. How sick would a deathclaw fang necklace be, after all?

     You appear to be approaching the small one instead of fleeing.

     “Watch and learn, Hal,” Bro said as he shifted his weight and began to run. Aching feet or not, his boots cut into the crisp cooked layer of topsoil and sank ever so slightly with each step. The deathclaw noticed him and turned, beginning to awkwardly run towards him, long limbs ungainly but just as deadly as an adult. They met in the middle, Bro’s sword singing off the armored hide of the creature’s forearms, taking a chunk with it as he went. The deathclaw lunged for his middle with a shrill noise, catching a chunk of shirt on the end of one of its spiky hands, but just missing his tender vitals. He turned, and used the momentum to slice at the space where its behorned head connected to its body, the sword sliding against softer skin. Staggered, the small deathclaw stepped forward, then tottered back unsteadily as it began to bleed out.

     Bro lifted a foot and kicked the creature backwards to its spiny back, then followed with the sword to spear its chest, cranking the blade to the side once it glanced off a rib, forcing downwards till it stopped moving. Planting his boot on its chest, he yanked his sword free and swung it in the air a few times to rid it of blood, and smirked. Fuck, that felt good. Nothing like taking out a little nightmare to give a nice rush of adrenaline and dopamine. Hell, he wouldn’t even say no to a smoke or a drink right now, ride that high long as he could.

     Excellent, now how do you intend to deal with the mother?

     “Mother?” Bro asked, about a half second before he felt something plow into him like a freight train, sending him flying and pain searing through his right shoulder blade. He landed flat on his face and skidded before rolling over, hand on his sword raising it defensively and other hand reaching for his gun.

     Shit. Shit, shit, this was definitely a mother death claw, the hide was darker than usual. He must’ve just killed one of her brood. Not a good look for someone not interested in dying in the middle of nowhere. He fired a quick two shots, missing the first and nailing her in the left eye  with the second, though it only seemed to make her more enraged after a brief second of shaking her head. She raised a hand and slashed downwards where Bro was scooting backwards, forcing him to block with a weakened grip before the second slash sang home across his chest, blood spurting where her claws shredded flesh and fabric alike. One of the straps of Bro’s bags was severed, leaving him half dragging it as he continued to try crawling backwards, firing till his clip was empty.

     Hal was urgently trying to tell him something, but Bro couldn’t hear anymore, couldn’t think, could only focus on the burning in his chest and the taste of copper in his mouth. Things were flashing through his mind as he stared down the deathclaw, who was raising both of her hands for a double slash that he wouldn’t be able to block in the slightest. Things he still wanted to do, to say. Memories.

     Dave the day he left home to travel to the city, bag on his back and barely a look back as he wove past the traps. Dave as a lanky tween, perched by his side on the counter top as he cooked an omelette for them both, telling him a joke that he still didn’t think was funny but that he’d laughed at anyway. Dave at five, sitting on his lap as he fiddled with a new project that would eventually become a birthday present game for him, looking up at him with big red eyes almost full of tears when he refused to tell him what he was working on.

     Dave, still struggling to put weight on as an infant as Bro kept him warm on the sofa through a bout of fever, trying to coax him into eating just a bit more from the bottle, wondering if he should make the trek to find a doctor or keep hunkering down and hoping it would work itself out. Being scared out of his fucking mind about this tiny, sick thing in his arms and on his chest, worried he’d break if he moved wrong.

     This wasn’t fear he felt. It was acceptance. Dave being sick or hurt was fear, even when he’d been the one to hurt him in the preparations he’d run repeatedly over the years. A deathclaw? This was his just rewards for being cocky without backup. He wanted to have time to apologize to Dave, like he always really meant to.

     He wanted to apologize to Hal, too, for not managing to take him to get his body. For getting his hopes up about Dirk and then dying with him in the middle of nowhere. Maybe the shades would get crushed by the deathclaw after he died, spare him much misery. They’d both just go out like a candle in the breeze and nobody would be any the wiser.

     A shot rang out, and blood spurted from the side of the deathclaw’s head. She staggered, stomping her sharp feet on his abdomen and legs as she adjusted her balance and snarled in alarm at the new threat. More shots, each one more precise than the last, till finally one hit the same eye he’d shot earlier, and the beast went down on top of him. Though his ears were still ringing, Bro could feel his pulse slowing down and everything going darker as the feeling of faintness took over.

     Bro. Bro!

     “Sorry, Dave,” he mumbled, blood on his lips and eyes unfocusing as red eyes stared at him. No, wait, not Dave. “Hal..”

     AMBROSE.

     The last thing Bro was aware of was a high pitched repeated beeping pattern ringing out from the shades on his face, a signal he knew so well. Anyone out here could recognize SOS when they heard it, but Bro couldn’t care anymore who did hear it.

     Darkness claimed him.

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

     “...p. See? I think he’s waking up! Jake, push more fluids!”

     “I’m going as fast as I can, don’t you think he’d bl-........”

     “...ver if we don’t. Sometimes you have to do dangerous things in a time of crisis, just pu-...”

     “...rry chap, we’re doing our best. Why were you playing with a deathclaw mot-...”

     “...’s going under again, God damn it why don’t we have more gauze!”

     “...aid last time we wouldn’t need that many, let me check his ba-...”

     “....tting sick, stupid coat, ugh! Hand me a clo-...”

     “...ehozaphat he’s rolling in meds and chems! Lookit all this, it’s a kings ran-...”

     “...ab whatever you can, inject him with at least two, and hand the alcohol to me so I ca-...”

     “...nk he’ll make it? He’s in an awful way, Jade. We’re still at least a few miles out fro-...”

     “...re he’ll make it, we just need to hur-...”

     ...ve him. Please. Pulse is falling at an alarming ra-...

     “...re trying our best, believe me, it’s up to him if we ca-...”

     ...n’t lose him to-...

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

     When Ambrose woke, it was to clean sheets and a bright light coming from a window. He reached up to touch his face and panicked to realize the shades weren’t on him any longer, looking around as he tried to sit stark upright to look around. Tried being the correct term, considering when he got a few inches upright his abdomen and chest sang with burning pain and forced him to lay back on an aching shoulder. Sighing an exhale, Bro took the room and himself into account.

     The room itself looked to be a standard medical setup for a scap town, shelves of supplies and a few more beds shoved into the same room with him, a shabby gray curtain sectioning the space off from another area. He was laying on a cot with the aforementioned clean sheets, which were a hell of a commodity, and wrapped what felt like head to toe in bandages. His chest had padding underneath that seemed fresh enough, as well as his abdomen, and another bandage seemed to be wrapping his shoulder. His forearms had bandages, a shift of his legs revealed smaller areas of wrappings and-

     Bro snatched the sheets and lifted them upwards, looking down towards his groin in worry. Okay. Phew. Dick still there and in one piece, no need to panic. Thank fuck.

     Were you honestly more concerned for your dick than me? Came a voice from the top of the shelves, arms folded in and tucked at an angle to not get damaged or in the way.

     “To be fair, I’ve been attached to my dick longer than you,” Bro said, giving another try at this standing thing and getting as far as sitting upright before he had to stop, dizzy. He was also connected to an IV he realized, two bags half drained already and the tether attached to his arm carefully with another bandage and some tape to keep it from moving. One of the bags was unmistakably blood. “Where’s my stuff.”

     I’m fine, thank you for asking. I can really tell you were concerned for my safety after being nearly disemboweled. I can also tell you’re just dying to know how you went about not dying.

     “My stuff, Hal.”

     In the other room, safe and fucking sound.

     “Thank you. Gimme a second and I’ll come get you,” Bro said, running a hand through his hair. He realized with surprise that it was clean instead of gritty with sand and dust and blood, freshly washed like the rest of him. Someone had taken care to wash him thoroughly it seemed. Hell, even his fingernails were spotless. Shocking. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been this squeaky clean, it was almost a shame he didn’t remember it. “How long have I been out?”

     Almost a week.

     “Jesus,” Bro rasped as he finally stood up on shaky fawn legs, reaching for the IV stand for balance before making his way over to the shelf, naked as the day he was born save for the bandages. He groped for the shades hurriedly when he started feeling faint again, and had just grabbed them when the curtain pulled back.

     A tall girl with dark skin, shocking green eyes and long wild hair tied back into evenly sectioned ponytails stood owl eyed behind large round glasses with a single crack in the left lens, a stethoscope around her neck and familiar leftover military gear covering her from head to toe. She frowned, and immediately rushed forward to grab Bro by the elbow and middle of his back, steering him back to bed.

     “How long have you been awake!” she asked. “Why didn’t you wait till someone came to help you? Are you in pain? Do you need any water? Food?”

     “Few minutes,” Bro said, more than a little startled. He sat and covered himself soon as he could, but the young woman didn’t back off in the slightest, swooping close to shine a pocket light in his eyes, checking his pupils.

     “Has there been any bleeding? Any night terrors? Do you have any numbness or weaknesses?”

     “I feel like shit, but otherwise,” Bro said, grimacing and jerking his head back from her grasp as she turned the light off.

     “I’ll get Jake to bring some lunch in for you, I’m glad you’re not running on glucose anymore. Actually, I’m glad you’re running at all,” she said with a grin. Her canines were strangely sharp looking. “My name is Jade Harley, and I’m half of the reason you’re alive right now.”

     “Is the chap who tried to cuddle the wrong end of a mother deathclaw awake yet?” asked another voice from beyond the open curtain.

     “He is! Get some of those mirelurk cakes and mac and cheese, please?”

     “I’ll bring some of that slackjaw jerky too, I imagine he’s half starved for real food,” said the male out of sight, before Bro heard distant sounds of dishes and metal scraping metal.

     “...So what, you a doctor?” he guessed.

     “We both are, in our own right. My cousin, Jake English, is the one who spotted you first out there. The primary reason you’re alive, however, is because we’re both sharpshooters! There wouldn’t have been much left to save if we hadn’t pegged that bitch into the dirt,” she said enthusiastically.

     Bro’s lip twitched in amusement. This person couldn’t have been older than her early twenties, but she was a doctor? And a sharpshooter?

     “So who really saved me?”

     Jade’s smile sharpened somewhat, looking predatory. “I don’t think I’d tease like that when you’re still so weak. All it’d take is a cushion to take you out right now, I bet.”

     “Sorry, just. You’re so young…” he trailed off as another figure entered the room with a dinner tray. This person didn’t look much older than Jade if he was a day, face clean shaven and hair styled but messy, standing at about the same height. He looked much more solid, though, shoulders broad and chest straining a little at the fatigues shirt he wore, and his demeanor seemed much sweeter than his cousin at first glance. More innocent somehow, or somehow less aware of the intensity of their surroundings.

     “Here you are, I’ll get some juice for you as well in a few ticks. First time I’m seeing this much of your outside as opposed to your inside since we got you scrubbed down!” he laughed, setting the tray on Bro’s lap. The food smelled fresh and was warm on his thighs beneath the sheet, mirelurk cakes looking greasy and delicious, mac and cheese that smelled plenty creamy from the box, and some kind of soft looking jerky rubbed with spices that made his mouth water as much as the fresh stuff before him

     “Try to eat slow,” Jade warned him as Jake trotted back out of view for a moment and came back with juice as promised. “Hope apple’s okay! It’s what we’ve got.”

     “Apple’s fine,” Bro promised, tucking into the mac and cheese first, eyes closing in bliss. Salty, creamy, rich. He could feel it flooding his system already, a body starved for nutrients beyond the bare minimum of functioning and safety. Once he shoveled a second bite into his mouth, he slid the shades onto his face and grinned a bit when haughty red eyes looked at him. Hal was clearly annoyed, angry even, but those eyes were full of concern too.

     “We’ve got tea too, though not everyone enjoys what we brew,” Jake chuckled.

     “Their loss, it’s delicious,” said Jade with a shake of her head.

     Scans show temperature readings as normal. Pulse normal. Pupils overly reactive to light, but not abnormal.

     “I hope he didn’t talk your leg off,” Bro said. “He’s kind of annoyin’.”

     You have terminal stupidity, I propose an immediate lobotomy to put you out of my misery.

     “Will you knock it off for ten seconds and let me eat before rippin’ me a new one?”

     It’s true. The doctor said so. You’re just stupid.

     “You were snuck up on by a creature twice your size in the wasteland,” Jade pointed out with a smirk. “Though I’m glad Hal’s giving you a positive reading. He was quite useful while we were saving you.”

     “How much did he talk,” Bro wondered aloud.

     “A bit,” she admitted. “We discussed why you were traveling, though he wasn’t that talkative about details. He let us know about Dave when you kept saying his name, in case you didn’t make it. He wanted us to be sure to let him know, and to send your other letters.”

     “You’re a long way from home,” Jake chimed in, taking a seat on the nearest bed to talk while Bro shook his head and went back to eating. “But it’s all fine now. Er.. mostly.”

     “How much do I owe you,” Bro said almost immediately, breaking a mirelurk cake in half with his fork before stuffing it into his mouth. He’d worry about manners when he wasn’t sitting in a room with two strangers who’d apparently saved his life and seen him in more detail naked than anyone else had in years.

     “We’ll figure out caps in a little bit,” Jade said. “You’re going to need to stay here a while longer either way, and we had to use a lot of your medical supplies.”

     “Helped ourselves to a little bit of your food as well, but mostly it was the chems and supplies we needed at the moment. Lucky for us you were damn near carrying a medics inventory on your back!”

     “Yeah, I just got through a vault,” Bro said. “Place hadn’t been looted yet till I got there.”

     “A vault!” Jake interjected excitedly. “Was it like they say, all sterile and eerily perfect?”

     “It was full of the people who used to live there, and they weren’t human anymore,” Bro said simply.

     It was quite a show to see that many feral ghouls get put down in one go.

     “Oh, that doesn’t sound very dapper.”

     “Vaults rarely are. They’re either fulla deadly shit, full of a shit load’a nothin’, or fulla people who don’t want you to bother them because you’re all gross from bein’ outside and they know you just want the goodies they’ve got.”

     “My grandpa was from a vault,” Jade said with a grin. “He’s the one who raised both of us, taught us everything we know.”

     They traded conversation for a time while Bro continued to eat, though it waned when he finished and looked exhausted, surprised that the very act of eating took so much energy out of him. Jake took the tray away and Jade performed a followup examination as Bro settled back tiredly on the pillows. Before she left, he requested his belongings, or what was left of them.

     He had an important letter to write.

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

     Bro’s head ached sickly by the time he finished writing the letter, nearly as much as his heart, and his eyes were wet. He didn’t dare to rub at them, nor to even draaw attention to them, but the fact he’d cried while pouring his fucking soul out onto the page wasn’t something he’d admit to anyone. Hal, bless him, remained quiet aside from occasionally offering a correction on a phrase to make it sound better. At first Bro had resented the dictation, but found the changes in wording to be a positive thing, eliminating double meanings. What he ended up with was the letter he’d envisioned sending Dave when the deathclaw was about to do the killing strike, and the fewer mistakes and misunderstandings that could arise from it was for the better.

     It took another few days of resting, eating, and conversing with the doctors before Bro was strong enough to go for walks around the town. First thing was first: he paid express for his letter bundle to be sent to Dave along with some money, the most recently written one marked URGENT in bright red stamped letters. Secondly, he got himself a cola and drank the entire thing in one go. The doctors had been kind enough to spot him some clothes, since his shirt was ruined and his pants were scrapped in the moment by bloodshed and emergency bandage use on top of their general wear and tear. The down side was he hated fatigues… but hey, beggars couldn’t be choosers.

     He was settled with another soda at the little bar and grill early one morning, having shared breakfast with Jade and Jake once more (his own recipe this time, which only Jake seemed enthusiastic about once they’d tasted the product), but wanting to just sit outside and enjoy the early morning before the sun really got going on cooking everything in the wasteland to death. Hal was quiet, watching as well he presumed based on the little target viewers moving around every time someone moved.

     What do you plan to do if you don’t get a reply?

     “Keep goin’,” he said with a shrug, taking a sip. “I’m not expecting a reply to any of my letters, but he knows which way we’re headed if he wants to write back. Kid knows how to use a map of settlements to send ahead of the curb if he wants to.”

     ...I was worried I lost you too, back there. But you’ve never once apologized to me yet.

     “Apologized for what?”

     For nearly making me watch someone I care about die. At least the first one had the decency to not die while wearinng me on his fucking face.

     Bro was pensive and stretched his long legs out from his seat before tipping it back on its hind legs, balancing in place as he took another sip.

     “I promise I won’t die while wearin’ you, then.”

     You f-

     “I wouldn’t wanna hurt you at all.”

     … That is acceptable I guess.

[almondharry]

you look so good : two

you look so good [9.1k]

“Let’s get some pasta, green beans, kidney beans, and some lentils.”

Genevieve’s nose scrunched. “I don’t even know what to do with lentils.”

“I have a great recipe for a dal curry. I’ll teach you, it’ll be perfect. We can make a whole day out of it.”

A whole day? For lentils? Genevieve opened and closed her mouth shut, no words came out. 

Arnold’s Singularity Theory

October 26, 2019

Her back was hunched over the wooden desk beside her bed. The high pitched ringing of her alarm snapped her eyes open at six in the morning. The sky was a navy blue; she could make out the few dog walkers on the street. It was her only day off, but the piled work on her table argued otherwise.

Genevieve was alone in her freezing apartment. The heating was broken and when she told Mr. Goldwin, her landlord, he didn’t have his hearing aid on. She had a routine for Sundays: Wake up. Do practice problems. Make a cup of tea. Sleep. 

A dull ache prodded between her shoulder blades, her spine was sorely unaligned. Her face was all sunken cheeks and shades of grey. The sweater bought last month suddenly became a few sizes too big. 

The sun created hues of orange and reds. The blue that slowly peeked out at the sides made it seem like a bowl of dirty paint water being stirred. The evening stillness in her flat was interrupted by the sudden roar of an engine. As she looked out the window, a car zoomed down the road with a blaring radio. An animated lightning bolt was left behind, its speed meant it was gone within a blink. An unsettling feeling made itself a home in the pit of her stomach. She pictured it as swirls, starting off as small slow circles, and eventually growing into sharp hurried edges. 

It was probably nothing, maybe university kids having a laugh, but she didn’t have the time to mull over it because the swinging of her front door and jingling of a bundle of keys sounded loudly. 

Meena opened the door to her refrigerator and the only thing there was a flickering light bulb and an empty box of orange juice. A high pitched shrill followed.

“Gen!” 

Genevieve was out of milk, eggs, and cereal.

She wouldn’t have given it another thought and might’ve ordered take out or popped in at the Smalls’ to split a pizza with Jonah, the neighbour’s kid who she tutored every once in a while. He was the only child of a single dad who worked too many hours at the construction site to make rent. He wasn’t home often and they had a silent understanding of popping in every couple days to keep an eye on him, much like Meena liked to keep tabs on Genevieve. Except, Genevieve wasn’t a scrawny teenage boy who needed to be looked after, something which Meena would refute without a shadow of doubt. At the current state of Genevieve’s flat, the jury would easily side with Meena Ahmed.

Meena had a hand on her hip, her lips pressed in a firm line. She took a deep breath, pinching the carton between her thumb and index finger. “Gen-e-vieve!” 

Meena put her foot down and opened the trash can only to find it overflowing. She held back a gag. 

“Genevieve!” 

After some rustling and movement on the other side of the wall, her feet stumbled out of her bedroom. An unimpressed snarl on her face, Genevieve’s body leaned against the doorway.

“I think by now everyone in this bloody building knows my name,” she said with a textbook in one hand and a pen in the other. She had not looked away from the pages. She hurriedly scratched an answer to her practice problems before it could float away from her brain. “That’s exactly the information they need to kick me out.”

Meena was in her work out clothes, a bright pink neon top with matching trainers. She looked straight out of a healthy living ad. She had glossy black hair, almond shaped eyes, and always smelled of fresh daisies. She had that all American smile and pearly whites that were blinding. She was into juicing, kale, and art history. 

“What is this?”

“What’s what?” Genevieve inquired, her eyes glued on the next problem.

When a moment of silence went by and no response was given, her head shot up.

Her eyes flickered from the trash can—she thought she saw something move in there— to the open door of her empty refrigerator. Her lips fell into an O shape. 

“When you told me you went to the shops on Tuesday, I didn’t know you were talking about two bloody weeks ago,” Meena huffed as she bent down to tie a knot on the black bag, her nose scrunched up. It was atypical to hear her accent try out British sayings, but amusing nonetheless. “Have you been eating?”

“Don’t be so dramatic. I do have instant noodles on the shelf. And I mainly eat at the diner.” Genevieve shrugged, her attention migrated back to her pages. What at first glance looked like to be ten simple problems turned out to be a mess of numbers and formulas that weren’t making any sense. 

“That God awful place serves nothing but heart disease! It takes a whole stack of napkins to soak up that grease!” Meena scoffed as she replaced the bin with a fresh bag. On multiple occasions, she had cornered a frightened Walter to discuss his technique and may have even manipulated him to add a vegan alternative to his infamous pancakes. Thanks to Meena, Flo’s now served gluten-free, vegetarian, and no sugar added options. Genevieve firmly believed Walter did it out of fear, but he won’t admit it. “And instant noodles are not a meal, we have talked about this.”

“‘Course they are! An efficient one too.”

“What happened to ‘We’re gonna change things this year, Meena! Real changes! You won’t recognize me by the time I’m done’?” 

If there was one thing Meena Ahmed took seriously, it was New Year’s resolutions. She kept every one ever since she was old enough to make them. She hadn’t missed a gym day for the past three years. When she said she would take on meditation, she actually did. When her mind became set on studying abroad in London, on January first, she was boarding a plane. 

So when the following December 31st hit and Genevieve was one too many drinks in with Meena, she found herself making empty promises of eating better and taking care of herself. Little did Meena know that to Genevieve, resolutions were much like a two-week free trial. As soon as that time frame was up, you could up and go. 

“I put in a solid effort for a week, and that’s what counts!”

“We need to go to the shops. You have nothing here. You need a list.” The pen between Genevieve’s fingers was swiped and the tearing of paper was quick from her notebook. She was also very much into being intrusive. “Let’s start off with the basics. Eggs, milk, bread. Do you want tea?”

“I can do my own groceries! I’m not a child, Meena!”

“Could’ve fooled me. By the looks of it, you’ve been living off frosted flakes. Do you even know where the closest store is?”

Genevieve scoffed and propped herself on the counter with the back of her elbows. “Of course I do, I am very much capable of taking care of myself.”

Meena paused. Her body turned towards Genevieve with her full, utmost attention. Her eyes scanned her from head to toe, Genevieve was being appraised.

She didn’t put effort to hide the worried crinkle forming between her brows. “Have you showered today? Changed your clothes?”

Genevieve wasn’t a slob, but she did let herself go at times. It was something that Meena, who religiously went to get fresh manicures every two weeks, couldn’t quite grasp.  

“Oh, sod off! I was just about to run myself a bath before you came barreling in.”

She wasn’t, but Meena didn’t need to know that.

“Hm, what type of tea?” Meena asked after rolling her eyes dismissively. 

“Green, please.”

“Let’s get some pasta, green beans, kidney beans, and some lentils.”

Genevieve’s nose scrunched. “I don’t even know what to do with lentils.”

“I have a great recipe for a dal curry. I’ll teach you, it’ll be perfect. We can make a whole day out of it.”

A whole day? For lentils? Genevieve opened and closed her mouth shut, no words came out. She sighed, getting Meena to budge was a faraway dream. She rubbed her strained eyes as Meena listed off something about the lack of vitamins in her diet. She was now on a tangent explaining how an increase in omega-3 and healthy fats in her diet could be beneficial when Genevieve's front door knob jiggled. There was a grunt and a strategic kick to the door, and it flew open.

“Gen!” he panted, his tongue slipped out unintentionally like a dog. His cheeks were flushed a cherry red, probably from the trek up the stairs. Jonah’s backpack was twice the size of him. He wore a shirt with his favourite comic book character, its armpits a shade darker than the rest of his shirt.

He had a ghost white face and his left eye twitched. “Hey, bud, you alright?” Genevieve raised a brow.

Little lungs took in a heavy breath, quite like pulling the handles of a bicycle air pump up.

“I don’t get the trigonometric equations! I have a test tomorrow! Mrs. Hansuld was going over the review in class and it looked like she was speaking Russian— and I know I should’ve been studying last week but they just released the new version of Triton Galaxy X and it was just so beyond cool, Gen. I am already on level twelve, and, well, now I have a test and I don’t know any of it. Nothing. Zero. I don’t think I can even add numbers anymore.”

Genevieve looked at Meena. Her mouth was parted from shock as she blinked at the frazzled boy in front of them. “You’re so tiny… but you, you speak so much and so fast.”

“Um, actually, you’re mistaken.” He raised an accusing finger. His height was a sensitive topic. He was at the stage where all his friends were getting growth spurts and growing like weeds, whereas he had yet to experience his own. “I am almost five foot and that is within the normal height range on WebMD, Docs4You and according to my pediatrician.” 

Genevieve found it amusing that his voice reached a higher pitch the more defensive he got. He was a whistle by the end of his sentence. It also didn’t help that his last name was Smalls and kids in school could be cruel. 

“‘Course, yeah, I’m sorry. My bad.” Meena nodded quickly. She knew she hit a nerve as she backed up slowly. She scratched the back of her neck. “Um, well, Gen and I were planning on picking up groceries, but I’ll go grab ‘em.”

“Great, I’ll go take my books out.” Jonah dragged his bag like a potato sack into the living room.  

“You really don’t have to, Meena.” 

“Gen, it’s no big deal,” she brushed off. “Anyway, I don’t think your pal wants me around much. I need an escape and maybe a magazine too.”

When Meena gulped uncomfortably, Genevieve shook her head. She pushed herself off the counter. 

“Here take my card.” Genevieve shoved the plastic rectangle into Meena’s hand. A comforting squeeze was given. “If you get him one of those milk chocolate bars, he will forgive you in ten minutes tops.”

“Right,” Meena laughed. “I’ll be back in no time.”

***

October 27, 2019

There was a buzzing.

The room was swallowed in darkness, the crescent moon that hung behind the window didn’t provide enough light to warrant a quick search. It was enough of a reason for Genevieve to shut her half opened lids.

Except that the buzzing began again. 

Genevieve groaned into her pillow until the nuisance came to a full stop. Whoever was beckoning her attention could do without it until the sun came up. There was an ache in her neck from the poor posture that her body folded in. To top it off, she had an 8:00 a.m. class. There were not enough hours in the night so she was clinging on to any thread of peace. She tossed and turned until she got the sheets pooled around her in just the right way.

Just when Genevieve was about to slip into the blissful state of unconsciousness, the aggravating buzz started once more. The less than pleased frown on her lips could surely make fresh flowers wilt. Her limbs were heavy with sleep as she moved her duvet to find the pesky device. Genevieve lived in a shithole. Labelling her room a shoe box would be bordering glamorous. Although, it did make it easier to find things. 

It took a couple of shuffles and twists to hear the thud of a screen colliding against the floorboard. The damn thing was still ringing. The brightness on the unknown caller screen made her face glow blue and the back of her eyes burn; she shut them while blindly hitting the green circle. 

“Hm?” Her voice croaked. 

“You know the time I got you out of a thing?”

Their words were slurred and the glowing digits on her windowsill read 5:26 a.m. This meant one thing only. “No, sorry. Wrong number.” 

Genevieve brought the phone away from her face, and just as her finger hovered over the red circle, a needy yelp cried out.

“Gen! Don’t hang up!”

Her eyes rolled with an aggravated sigh, fingers reluctantly pressing the device to the side of her head. There was sleep crusted in the corners of her eyes and she had to blink a couple of times to adjust to the darkness.“What do you want, Niall?”

“You see, I’m in this predicament… and I might need someone sober and with a car.”

“Then call a bloody Uber. Who do you think I am?”

“Look, I thought that. But—”

There was rustling on the other side. After some bickering, another voice spoke through the line. 

“Gen, come get this tosser or else he will pass out on my floor. I swear, I’ll lock up with him inside.” 

“How bad is he?” Genevieve was already pushing aside textbooks on her floor in search of a pair of trousers. With one leg inside and the receiver pressed between her cheek and shoulder, she hopped on her bedroom floor. 

“Not good. He is a right mess.”

“I’ll be there in ten. Just keep giving him water, please? Thanks for the ring, Ted.” She knew Niall well enough to know that this wasn’t his bright and shiny idea. If it were up to him, he would pass out on a park bench. 

“Got your number scratched on the wall for a reason.” The click sounded on the other side, then the line dropped afterwards.

It was true. If you looked hard enough you could make out the chicken scratched scribbles right under the faux payphone mounted inside The Cabinet, where the beers were cheap and Niall Horan was reachable at the slightest inconvenience that struck his life. Last week, it was because he had failed his mid-term. This week, the problem was blonde and walking across campus and shared one too many of his courses.

“No, Gen, she’s just too gorgeous, it’s unbelievable. I think I am in love.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it’s supposed to happen, but congrats.” 

Ted adored Niall immensely when he was bringing more business to the pub and getting the word out, not when he was a blubbering mess on the sticky countertops. He sipped his drinks like water to the point that Ted would morph into a psychiatrist. This happened so often that it had become a ritual. The day Niall stopped burdening him with his problems was a day that failed to exist. 

Much like her room, the small flat didn’t have the lights on. Genevieve didn’t need them to navigate her path, her fingers haphazardly pulled on her boots and plucked the bundle of keys from a mug. 

Her car, a well-loved hand-me-down, was nothing lavish. It got her from point A to B without much resistance on good days. Her foot eased on the gas, with the route was well versed and memorized. After a couple of stop signs, her destination would be reached. The streets were empty and not one car was spotted at any intersections. 

A light breeze roamed around and brought goosebumps to the surface of her skin. She should’ve brought a sweater, she thought, as her teeth began to chatter. Her dark hair was haphazardly twisted into a bun and rested on the top of her head. The car door shut behind her as she quickly jogged across the street to where the pub was located. 

The street was lonely. 

There were only a handful of people that would be up at this hour. This subgroup of people definitely did not include her. She thought she was still partly asleep when there was a familiar figure pacing down the sidewalk towards her. Maybe it was the dark, but even after she rubbed her eyes with the heel of her palms, the slope of the person remained familiar. As they got closer, the once blurred image sharpened, and she felt her stomach flip. 

A slight panic arose in Genevieve’s eyes. He was too close of a distance for her to dash through the doors, and it would’ve been clear that she was making a run from him. She doesn’t recall when exactly their encounters began to turn dreadful. But the reality of the situation wasn’t how, it was the fact that they had. This was the second time he stood across from her. The rate of their reunions was at an all time high after years spent apart. It made a heavy weight rest on her chest, her own personal Sisyphus boulder. 

Tiptoeing and maneuvering their way around each other was the hardest part. There wasn’t a book in the world that taught you how to stand across someone that you once spoke to every day. There was a time Genevieve could tell what each tilt, rise, and fall of Harry’s face meant. How do you go from sharing friends, laughter, a life, to becoming nothing short of hollow strangers? As they stood across from each other on an empty street, they only shared blank stares.

“Hi.” His breathing was a bit uneven, and Genevieve saw the beginnings of roses bloom on his cheek under the streetlights. His moose coloured hair was tucked under a beanie and there was a slight stubble on his chin.

“You are running?” Genevieve squinted at him. Navy gym shorts hung off his hips and a full sleeve athletic shirt was on top. “At five in the morning?” 

Genevieve hated how Harry looked brand new. In the midst of a mountain worth of chaos and hurt, how he managed to look shiny, pre-packaged, and unopened was well beyond her. She had to hold herself together with her bare arms when her seems unravelled. Harry was happier before Genevieve and it was something she had to be okay with. There was no specific reason why. It was just how reality worked. 

“By the time I’m done, it will be six. I’ll have to get up anyway.” His shoulders rose and fell in a mindless shrug. Genevieve brought her arms to fold across her chest, her fists cuddled under her armpits to trap heat.

“You’re insane.” Genevieve shook her head. The neon trainers he had on rivalled the brightness of the open sign hung on the doors of The Cabinet. When Genevieve thought she had made enough of an effort at a civil conversation, she turned around to push the heavy glass door. There was nothing else to say to him.

Conversation with Harry wasn’t always a chore. She was able to speak without having to think twice or second guess herself. Now, it seemed like every word led to a dead end of an inescapable maze.

Genevieve accepted that Harry was no longer the person she came to with her favourite songs, books and a cup of tea. She wondered if whatever reminiscent memoir she had in her memory of him served true till today. Her Harry was never the sober driver or the early bird runner. She did not expect him to stay the same. No, that would be cruel. But a small part of her wanted to know if she had known him at all. 

Before her weight gave to the door, his voice chimed up.

“You’re drinking?”

“God no, I’m, um—No. I’m here for a friend.” Genevieve paused, a deep breath circled her lungs and helped her string some words together. “He’s gone a bit over the top.” She chuckled. It wasn’t soft and light, but rather felt like sandpaper. 

“Oh, right. ‘Course.” Harry rubbed at the back of his neck with his fingers. He blinked to the ground, the cracked concrete suddenly became much more of an interest. “I wasn’t— it’s just, I run this route every morning and I never see you and maybe I thought—”

“It’s okay, Harry.” He began to run his fingers through his hair, the beanie scrunched in his left hand. “I really need to help my friend, yeah?” 

“Right, I’ll see you around?”

Genevieve left his question hung in the air like forgotten laundry on a washing line. She thought it was better than saying I hope not. She didn’t want to mention that she tried to avoid him to the best of her ability. Genevieve knew his habits, his patterns. She had knowledge about places he went to, so, naturally, she didn’t. It was a triumph for her to go without months of seeing him. But there was only so much she could do. Juggling probabilities of his whereabouts would never assign her a one hundred percent assurance of erasing him, even with a ninety-nine percent confidence interval.

“Genny?” he called out again. The rational part of her wanted to pretend she didn’t hear him and walk through the door. Instead, she took a breath through her nose and turned around slowly. She wrapped her arms tighter together as the temperature dropped by the second. “Um, do you think we could talk sometime?”

There was a frailness to his voice. He was nervous. Genevieve knew this because he had made a mess of his hair with the number of times his fingers combed it back. 

The next words off her tongue painted a sad smile on his raspberry chapped lips. He looked exhausted, the grey shadows under his eyes beckoned her to not beat around the bush.

“We are talking, Harry.”

Confrontation was a foreign concept to Genevieve. Brushing it under the rug and forgetting about it seemed the best way for her. If it is out of sight, it will be out of mind. But Harry had other plans. He wanted to strip the house down and uncover every corner Genevieve thought to be her hiding spot. It was an intrusion and she didn’t want him to come knocking down doors. 

“No, I mean—”

“It was nice seeing you,” she said, her mouth set into a thin, straight line as she held eye contact. They were still the same deep green with golden flecks. She had seen them angry, hopeful, teary, but right now they were desperate.

The slight tilt to her head told Harry not to push it. To leave things as they were. He served as a walking reminder of loss and all the things she wanted to forget. Their situation did not have to go back to a normal distribution; their data was skewed, and the standard deviation was large enough to wedge a significant distance from their past to present.

Change was good, even if it was different. Over time, the further apart she was from him the better it was for her. And she hoped it was the same for him.  

No one warned Genevieve that holding a grudge required discipline and so much energy. She felt drained, her bones became weak enough they could snap in half. There was no brochure that outlined the ins and out of the process. Your brain worked overtime to disguise clenched jaws and tight fists without any compensation.

On the surface, everything appeared smooth and stonelike. Beneath, lied the hot white anger. That type of anger was something no one wanted to intentionally claim; it was an orphan. It builds and builds and builds until you cannot see through it. You’re blinded, you’re revengeful. 

“Yeah.” Harry swallowed a lump in his throat. He teetered on the balls of his feet and toes with his bottom lip caged between his teeth. He was debating on what to say next, and Genevieve wished it would be something short and quick. She wanted him to say a casual goodbye that was heard between strangers in a coffee shop or book store. Something that didn’t make her want to burst into a river of tears. “One more thing.”

“Hm?”

“Nice shirt.” There was a quirk to one side of his mouth where a dimple had coined itself on his cheek. It was an innocent compliment. Something a friend might say to another. Before she could give a reply, he had turned around and broken into a light jog.

Genevieve watched his figure become muddy until the darkness hid him completely. It was an odd thing to say, her appearance was something she could give less of a shit about at five in the morning. She had literally gotten out in the clothes she slept in. 

Genevieve brushed his words off. She wanted a dry goodbye and he delivered. It was nothing more.

Without thinking twice, she pushed the doors open and warmth from inside greeted her. The pub remained looking the same since she had walked in with her two best mates three years before. It was a hole in the wall, fixed in between a thrifting and convenience store. It littered with mismatched chairs and alcohol stains, a pool table and dart boards lined the further corner, and a random sports channel glowed on the box TV. Niall’s blond hair was easily spotted; it laid on the century old cherry wood bar. The posture his back was slumped on the stool insured neck cramps.

The doors behind the bar came swinging open as the bells above chimed of her entrance. A rag rested on his shoulder and he wore a well loved band shirt from his touring days. For someone who was found frowning on most days, Ted beamed a smile at Genevieve. 

“Good! You’re here!” His shoulders dropped in relief as she made her way closer to her friend. “He’s been miserable.”

“Gen? Is that you?” Niall grumbled from his position. “Oh, shut it, Ted. You’re giving me no option but to take my money elsewhere,” Niall slurred as he lifted his head off the wood. There were lines indented on his cheek from his possible snooze. 

“Those are empty words.” Ted rolled his eyes easily and used his rag to clean up the surface that Niall previously occupied. 

“You know what else is empty, Theodore? This glass!” It rattled against the countertop when Niall dramatically set it down. 

Ted’s shoulders shook as he chuckled, crinkles lining the corners of his eyes. “I’m not pouring you another drop, mate.”

“Who said it was for me? Have you seen Gen? She looks proper in need of a few.”

With a deep sigh, Genevieve took the stool beside Niall. Her head slowly turned to scan the pub. A place that was the heart of loud laughter and cheers was dimmed down since they were the only ones. With her elbows propped up on the counter, she pressed her index fingers to her temples. 

“You do look a bit poorly. Under the weather?”

“No, not at the moment,” she sighed.

“Well, you look like shit,” Niall blurted.

“Thanks, Niall, really.” Genevieve glared with a frown. “Remind me to never do a kind thing for you ever again. Sorry I wasn’t in full glam when you called at ass crack of dawn.”

“Did you see a ghost or something? You look sick.” Niall squinted his eyes and pinched her cheek between his thumb and index finger. It was rather quickly slapped away with a snarl. “Ouch!”

“Nothing a pint can’t cure.” A tall glass slid in front of Genevieve. Condensation dripped and pooled on the counter. The frothy foam rested on top and sat at the rim without tipping over. “On the house.” 

A Stella didn’t sound like a bad idea to Genevieve. She felt like she deserved one. After all, two encounters with the person she disliked the most was beginning to become exhausting. The car keys weighed down in her pocket, her bones ached and her temples pulsed. A tired yawn stretched her face as the drink laid rested on the cherry wood. 

Niall scoffed as Genevieve stared at the drink for a moment too long. “If you don’t take it, I will!” 

His fingers crept to grasp the glass, and Genevieve batted his greedy hands away. “Paws off, Niall.”

A cold drink couldn’t hurt, she decided. The first sip eased the tense muscles in her shoulders. Niall found a basket of chips to pick at in the meantime. He probably ordered them to soak up his alcohol intake.

Genevieve could hear Ted in the kitchen. The shifting of pots and pans meant that he was officially closing up for the night. She thought the least she could do was flip the remaining barstools on the counter. 

In the two seconds that she had abandoned her glass, she had turned to see Niall gulping like fish.

“No more!” He made a strangled sound as the rim was pulled from his lips. “Don’t need your puke in my car.”

Genevieve threw back what was left of the drink. “You could just pull the window down and I’ll mind me business.”

Genevieve squinted her eyes to catch a better look at Niall and she noticed he was turning a few shades greener. He had on a dopey grin and his eyes were almost shut. Niall became whiny when he got sick, and if Genevieve were to let that happen in the pub there would be no chance of him leaving.

“How about we get you to an actual sink, yeah?”

With an arm thrown over her shoulder and Niall almost near collapsing on her, she yelled a farewell to Ted. He was more preoccupied with rubbing the stove clean but he got the message, yelling muffled goodbye of his own.

The car parked across the street never felt further away. Niall was in his own world, mumbling some drunk words into her hair. Genevieve caught some that thanked her for taking care of him. She took each step slowly. 

Getting Niall into the passenger seat was a process, one she thought she had got down pat. She had done everything as planned, put his head to the right, made sure he had enough room to stretch his legs and of course, double checked to see if he had his phone and wallet on him. Apparently, this was taking too long and Niall reached over to slam the door shut.

Genevieve had jumped back just in time that no fingers were caught between doors. She sighed in relief before shooting a glare at Niall. He looked at the fabric that stretched from her stomach. “Oops?” 

Genevieve rolled her eyes at Niall, who burst into giggles because it turned out everything was more hilarious at 5:00 a.m. She tugged at the material.

It was old and ratty. It was two sizes too big and hung off her frame, there were stains, holes, some she never remembered putting in herself. It took her a moment, with the fabric bunched between her digits, the gears in her brain set into place. The sharp intake of breath hit the back of her throat and the air on the street suddenly froze.

***

October 27, 2019

“It’s stupid, Gen.” The clicking of a game controller didn’t halt. The animated character on the screen ran towards a glowing torch. Jonah adjusted the headpiece he had on over his ears, probably muting himself so the other kids wouldn’t hear Genevieve lecture him. Beside him sat a bowl of finished popcorn on the sofa, like his player two, and unpopped kernels rattled every time he enthusiastically surged towards the TV screen.  

“This is due in two days, Jonah,” Genevieve emphasized. She had unzipped his backpack. His agenda was hard to read, his chicken scratch writing almost made Genevieve mistake a significant date for scribbles. It was for his English class, something that he had yet to mention, which Genevieve found odd because he always told her about his school work. Okay, it was more like Genevieve made sure he told her, but same thing regardless. “How are you planning on starting and editing and finishing it?”

She knew better than to talk to boys in the middle of a game. There was no use. Her experience regarding it only went one way, everything went in one ear and out the other. It was fascinating, really; their eyes would glaze over and for a short ten minutes the real world wouldn’t exist. They would become so immersed in whatever universe was in front of them. It had been once explained to Genevieve as almost the same thing as reading a good book, but with the exception that the player was put in charge of the main character’s decisions. 

His tongue poked out at the side and the Playstation keys were innocent victims to his quick jabs. His shoulders deflated when the message on the screen informed him of the scoreboard. He grumbled something under his breath before his miniature joystick highlighted the option to opt for another round. “I’ll edit it while I’m writing it.” He shrugged mindlessly. 

“I’m being serious.”

“I am too.” 

“What’s up with you? You usually love finishing your assignments for Mrs. Yu’s class.”

“Look how stupid the prompt is,” Jonah grumbled. Genevieve’s fingers were already pulling out a crumpled rubric and pressing it flat so it stayed without folding in on itself. Eyes scanned the short blurb of instructions which Jonah soon summarized. “Pick a month and personify it. What type of pretentious—”

“I think it’s very neat. Creative. Have you selected a month yet?” 

“Sure.” His flat tone said otherwise.

Genevieve rolled her eyes at his antics. “If you don’t spend enough time on this, she will give you an easy fifty. That will bring down your average and universities look at that. What will you do then?”

She reached over to the table to take a sip from her water bottle.

The Smalls residence was the same layout when compared to her flat, so it didn’t take long to get familiar to it. Granted, it was more furnished and had Jonah’s gaming consoles already hooked up to use. The latter being the deciding factor of Jonah’s executive decision to procrastinate his work for another week. Usually, Jonah would pop in after school to Genevieve’s, but she had just returned from a shift at the diner and his door was cracked ajar.

Like many days, his father left for the construction site and wouldn’t be back until after dinner, and the only appliance Jonah knew how to use was a microwave. Genevieve had some food which Walter packed for her and it was more than enough to share with a growing boy. His diet was worse than hers. He could go weeks on Pop Tarts and Twizzlers from his cafeteria vending machine. Plus, he wasn’t bad company to have around. 

“Easy. Play the dead mum card. Works like a charm.” 

Genevieve spluttered the water out, coughing since it had gone down the wrong tube. 

“Jonah!”

Her jaw went slack and her eyes widened, a slight worry arose. She wasn’t well versed on the ins and outs of parenting—she preferred to see him as a younger sibling— or child trauma, but even she had a hunch that there was something troubling and incredibly off about the way he had referred to the passing of his mother so nonchalantly. 

“What?” Jonah asked, dumbfounded. 

“You can’t just say stuff like that!”

“‘Course I can. You have no idea the amount of pity and sympathy they throw at your feet. At first, I despised it, because obviously I wasn’t a knocked over puppy like they were making me out to be.” His character on the screen jumped to deflect an obstacle. A triumph smile was the direct result. “But then, I was like what the hell, you know? Like if it’s there already, why not play my cards right and score some sort of advantage from it?”

Genevieve blinked. She tilted her head to attempt understanding his analogy. 

“Well, that sure is one way to look at it,” she said after a short pause. “But I am not gonna let you do that to Mrs. Yu. Something tells me you’ve already done it one too many times.”

He paused his game and finally turned to her, giving her more than his side profile at last. A hellish grin split his face. “How else do you think I got a month extension on that book report and a perfect score on our last quiz?”

“I don’t know… I had assumed hard work and honesty?”

“Wake up, Gen! This is the real world and the rules are different in this game!” 

“Alright, bud, you’re cut off from this game.” Genevieve pushed the power button on the TV remote that laid limply to her right. The screen became black with a click. Jonah’s back hit the backrest of the sofa, the bouncy cushion slightly propelled him further before absorbing his weight. “Let’s at least get started on a rough copy, how does that sound?”

He groaned with his head tilted back and eyes shut. “Excruciating, torturous, maybe illegal.”  

“I’m asking you to get a start on your project, not abducting you.” His pace to grab the rest of his belongings from the table two meters away from him could rival a snail. “Now, do you have a month in mind?”

“I was thinking maybe like February, December, or even October.” He opened an empty page in his notebook and clicked the top of his mechanical pencil to give away some lead. “Because, like, it will be easy to build a character off them because they all have some sort of festive holiday thing to them.”

“That’s a great start. But don’t you think it’s a bit expected? It is a creative piece, so let’s maybe brainstorm something out of the box. Try picking a month that doesn’t have a holiday attached to it.”

He sighed deeply through his nose. The thought of putting in a smidge bit of effort was like pulling teeth.

Jonah had started to doodle in the margins. He drew three tallies, evenly spread, and added another row of them. He then connected them in a way which Genevieve recognizes to be the symbol on a superhero’s chest. 

“August?” 

Genevieve swallowed a bug.

“Why did you pick that? What significance does it have to you?” Genevieve doesn’t miss a beat, it aided to mask her surprise. 

“Well, I don’t know!” He throws his hands up exasperatedly. “You said pick one, so I did.” He pointed out, his tone reminded Genevieve of how a middle schooler says “duh”. 

“Come on. Think a bit.” 

“It’s like... sort of like the last month of summer and it brings in fall. Which is the season where we witness life slip away, but barely because it happens so slowly.” 

Genevieve’s heart swells for two reasons. Jonah was a bright kid, well beyond his age. It was something he hid and purposefully tried his utmost best not to let shine through. Genevieve had guessed the reason behind his reluctance was mainly because Jonah was at that age where he just wanted to fit in and not stand out like a sore thumb. But every once in a blue moon, he would slip up. When he allowed himself to think out loud, his ideas lined in a way where it wasn’t just the tip of the iceberg anymore. The depth gave away his brilliance. 

The first time Genevieve was left speechless by him was when he analyzed one of his favourite comic book characters with an intensity that put the burning sun to shame. Then again when he asked her to edit his essay on a world issue. And once more when he asked her how to approach a girl in his science class that he clearly fancied. Genevieve tried to define this tendency of his as a recurring variable in Jonah’s equation. 

In many more ways than one, August held an importance like no other to Genevieve. It was a month that was easily overlooked because it was caught in a war for attention between the summer months and upcoming winter holidays. Its propinquity to strong competition was something that made it easy to forget. If it was a person, she was sure it would be a quiet boy around her age. Probably with a penchant for befriending girls and breaking hearts so slowly that you don’t even know it’s happening. 

Genevieve hummed in agreement with Jonah. 

“Go on.”

“Let’s say if I were to go with this month, I wouldn’t focus on death because that would be something colder, like December or January or like the first snowfall.” His pencil sounded against his notebook. A string of notes were effortlessly coming together as Jonah continued. He suddenly stopped writing and his face scrunched in thought as he stared at the blank TV screen with as much focus that could convince you it was on. “I think August is knowing you’re losing someone or something without the assurance of finding them again... and letting it deliberately happen.”

“Isn’t that almost death?” Genevieve raised a brow. 

“Almost, but not quite.” He tapped his pencil to the metal like coils that ran down the side. “August is loss, parting away. You know, something along the lines of donating old clothes, a friend becoming a stranger, even placing car keys somewhere different.”

Genevieve knew exactly what he was talking about. She couldn’t really describe the feeling of losing a friend in words with sharp precision. It was the same as repeating a word again and again until it came to the point you deluded yourself into thinking it belongs to another language completely.  

Jonah peered up, awaiting a response or another prompt to further his development. Instead, Genevieve smiled sadly and shakes her head. 

“What?!”

“Nothing.” She laughed softly, a bit winded.

There was just something about him that was light years ahead. Something so pure and good and applaudable that made you think about the character that so many adults lacked and how it was sitting in front of you in a corked up bottle of a preteen boy. He had lost his mother, his father wasn’t around, he didn’t have many friends at school, and he picked the month of August. He had hit the nail on what it was so eloquently that Genevieve could burst into tears. But she refrained, instead opted to narrow her eyes jokingly his way.

“You’re just too smart for your own good, is all.”

That night she went to sleep thinking about August.

How he probably wore wrinkled shirts so effortlessly, with his hair in a gentle disarray. People would make a note to comment on his ridiculously long eyelashes, but she favoured his eyes. They were round and shiny and reminded her of a cloudy marble, the colour of slate. He was charming but had an air of coyness about him that was inviting and deliberate. With skin the colour of oat and a smile like rain, it came or it didn't, he was a knockout. She hypothesized the variable that contributed to his allure had less to do with his looks and more with how he made you feel. 

He made you feel wanted, he made you feel like you were someone. 

***

October 31, 2016

It didn’t take long for Genevieve to spot him, his back was slouched against the red brick wall of a tall building. A pair of old wayfarers sat on the bridge of his nose and his arms pretzeled over his chest easily. His jaw went slack then tight, this pattern repeated like clockwork until Genevieve got close enough to notice he was working a piece of gum lazily. With his head tilted to the sky and one leg crossed over the other, he was imitating textbook boredom. 

“Do you have it?” Dried leaves crunched beneath the sole of his boots as he unravelled his legs and stood up straighter than before as Genevieve’s figure approached near. She could tell he was raising his brows, but they didn’t make an appearance, still hidden behind his frames.

“Yeah.” Genevieve dipped her index finger and thumb to the front right side pocket of her jeans. It took some wiggling to pluck out a piece of metal, smooth on one side and teeth jagged on the other. The metal was warm when dropped into his open palm. “Why the sudden need for it? Have you finally taken up my advice on actually locking your doors yet?”

It was natural for him to give Genevieve a spare key, a strategy that had served him well on multiple occasions. He had lost his more than once within the span of the first two months of getting his flat. This habit had come to a point that recovery was not an option; he preferred to keep his door unlocked anyway. Genevieve pointed out it was a safety hazard, but he liked to call it being efficient. In between locking himself out or forgetting his own key, Genevieve was a dependable solution.

“Not quite, don’t get too ahead of yourself.” She had seen his long black eyelashes hit the inside of his sunglasses, a clear indicator of him rolling his eyes. “I need it for a friend. He doesn’t have a place to stay for a while, and I offered the couch. Are you done with your lectures for the day?”

“I’m afraid not. Got one more and I’m free,” Genevieve sighed defeatedly. She shifted her bag from her right shoulder to the left. Today, she only had her laptop and one textbook, but the strap of her bag still created red dents on her shoulders from the weight. “Did you end up going to your tutorial?”

He gave her a look that was enough of an answer. His glasses rose on his face as a result of him scrunching his nose up in disgust. The tips of his mouth pulled downwards as sourness glazed his features. 

“If it’s before noon, I’m not going; you know this, Genny.” He rubbed his nose with the back of his finger. “Can I tempt you to skip by offering the first round at The Cabinet?”

“It’s like…” Genevieve glanced at her wrist watch. “One.”

“I’m not hearing a no.” He grinned, a smile pressed deeply into his face. “Come on, Gen! You’ll get to meet my pal too. I think you’ll get along really well. And Ted is offering half off today. It’s a win-win. What could be more important than good company?”

“Dynamic Systems Differential Equations, unfortunately.” The course name was a mouthful and her dull tone was enough insight into what it was like.

“That sounds like a migraine.”

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it.” She laughed sans humour already picturing the formulas needed for her practice problems. “Speaking of migraines, what are we doing as costumes for Hannah Morton’s party?”

He squinted his eyes and paused for a moment. Migraine Morton was a nickname that stuck onto the bottom of your sneaker like chewing gum. “Is that tonight?” 

“Well it is the thirty-first of October.” Her arms stretched to gesture towards the building she had exited from. “Do the carved pumpkins and the stick on ghost figures not make that obvious enough?”

“Fuck, I don’t know.” He winced in reply to her previous question. A fingernail scratched at the corner of his forehead. “I was thinking of piggybacking off whatever you’re dressed as.”

Genevieve’s brows creased and her head tilted. “What do you mean?” 

“If you’re Frankenstein, I’ll be the doctor.” He pointed to Genevieve and then to himself. “Bonnie, Clyde. Sherlock, Watson.” 

“You want to go coordinating? Isn’t that a bit…”

“What?” He prompted with a laugh spluttering from his lips. It was fresh and bright, and Genevieve didn’t know exactly when it would stop sounding like this. He had amusement glittering in his gaze, there was a youthfulness about him that was so prominent and bold. He leaned closer. “Are you too cool to go coordinating now? Don’t tell me you can’t sit beside me at the lunch table too.”

It was ironic because they both knew Genevieve had always chose him to split her fruit roll-up candy since pre-school. In return, he would never pick up the red smarties whenever they shared a pack because those were her favourite, despite the number of times you told her the colour doesn’t affect the taste. 

“I don’t know, a bit coupley? I mean, it worked well when we were eight. Would you think Hannah would mind?” 

To this, he scoffed.

“Of course not, don’t be ridiculous. Why would she?”

“She’s clearly into you, like a lot, and I don’t want to get in the middle of that. And I hear she’s going around saying that she’s your girlfriend.”

He closed his eyes gently and breathes out a sigh. “She’s not my—”

“I know that! You know that! But does she?” 

His phone buzzed and the question hung in the air until his fingers stopped their dance on the screen. He looked over her shoulder as if waiting for someone. 

“Doesn’t matter, she will soon enough.” He shrugged, his voice was distracted and far away. And that was one thing about him that Genevieve couldn’t shake off no matter how hard she tried. He broke hearts knowingly, and did it anyway. “What time do you want me to come pick you up?”

“I’m done with class at five. I’ll have to stop by Party City at six, then do my modules so that will take me till nine, then I—” Rolling tires sounded loudly against the pavement as they approached behind her. The closer they got, the less time she had to finish her train of thought. The radio was a few notches down from its max setting.

“Be ready at nine. No later.” He gripped her shoulders with both hands, brought her close and pressed a messy kiss against her hair. He smelled of cigarettes and toothpaste and beer. 

“No, I won’t be, I have to do my laundry and—”

“Great. Sounds good. I’ll see you then.” 

And he was gone. He opened and shut the passenger side of the beat up Honda Civic in two seconds. The driver was familiar to Genevieve, it was another blonde, not Hannah, with thick eyeliner. She was a regular turn up at every monotonous party thrown each weekend. She had seen her get too close to him on more than one instance. He convinced Genevieve to poke in at a few, but the scene was like a broken record and her lack of interest dwindled in them too quickly.

It once even prompted her to bring her textbook to do practice problems to keep her from falling asleep as drunk students lit up a joint around her. Every once in a while he would trap grey smoke in his cheeks and blow it directly on her face to elicit a scowl, something he found beyond hilarious when his inhibitions weren’t intact. 

The girl’s hair was knotted and she had a less than pleased demeanour, probably nursing a hangover of her own. She stomped her foot down on the gas. He didn’t even have his seatbelt done before their bodies lurched backwards and the car zoomed out from the parking lot of the mathematical sciences department building. The radio became only a faint sound away the longer Genevieve stood there. 

By the time she got to Party City, the student working behind the counter gave her an apologetic look. All the decent costumes were sold out. He led her to the back of the store where the remaining costumes were kept. Being a university student meant she couldn’t break the bank for something so trivial. In the plastic bin lied a pair of fangs and a deflated witches hat that had a tear near the rim. There were masks, but she would be better off by taking a paintbrush to her face. 

She sighed deeply, her lips pursing in thought. It was obvious her plans of coordinating were a dream far away. That was until she turned around. 

A long hat cowered in the corner. It had thick red and white stripes, she pictured it with eyeliner drawn whiskers and a cat ear headband from last year. Maybe even a red bow around her neck. What really sealed the deal for her was the red shirt hung on a hanger right above it. It had a white circle right in the dead centre. The font within the circle was a recognizable outfit from a famous children’s book character. Bonnie and Clyde, Sherlock and Watson, and now Cat in the Hat and Thing 1.

The relief that came along with not trying to maneuver creating an outfit at home was enough to get Genevieve to run to the till. Arts and crafts were not her strongest suits.

The same guy’s eyebrows shot up, surprised at her quick decision making. He shut his latest issue of Men’s Healthy Living and leaned his weight off his elbow. He scanned the items and Genevieve handed him the crisp bill. Before he could finalize the sale, Genevieve thought back to the couch friend that would be accompanying them tonight. Did he have a costume? Inferring from the fact that he didn’t have a roof of his own, a lousy Halloween costume was the least of his worries. But Genevieve found her feet trailing back towards the shop and grabbing the shirt that said Thing 2. The guy added it to her final bill and packed her belongings in a black plastic bag. 

He was late and Genevieve was thankful that her laundry was dry and folded neatly. 

---

© 2019 almondharry All Rights Reserved

Okay, I think I’m done introducing the main characters. We have quite the cast list, don’t we?

Let me know what u think! I’d love to hear your favourite parts and predictions!

Thank you eriza @booksncoffee for the banner! 

Thank you so much to my wonderful betas @adoremp3 @haaaaaaarrry @drivingmekiwi @at-least-im-1 Ayesha and Hamna! Without them, this would be a jumble of fucked up grammar bc I write at 3am. If you want to beta, shoot me a message!

Tag list: @infinitiae @sortaanonymous @sydneysuit @wonderonrepeat @confusedkiwifan @mylifeisatoilet @awomanindeniall @guccikingstyles @verorax @stylesfics-xx @stylishmuser @at-least-im-1 @mellamolayla  @thursday-iminlove @kizsyou @brassharry @kizsyou @thursday-iminlove @blue-eyes-freckles-and-a-smile @Hollydays @la-peonia

[notforconsumption]

Secret Santa 2017

Hey there @theonlyconstantinlife! Merry Christmas! 

I had a little trouble with my computer so, tragically, your gift is lacking to original amount of dog it featured, but I hope you like it and that you’re having a lovely holiday season. 

Where your Runner Five got that mistletoe we can only guess (but my money is on Jack if I’m honest).

I have a version of the drawing without the background if you prefer, and anything in the fic/picture I can change if you like. :3

The accompanying little fic is below the read-more;

As one of Abel Township’s most senior runners, Runner Five was no stranger to the ridiculous at this point. She had dealt with her fair share of lunatics and megalomaniacs and cannibalistic geriatrics. But this? Five could only think of three occasions, at most, more ridiculous than this.

“On your left, Five!” Sam called through her headset and Five didn’t spare a second to glance but threw herself onto the ground, skidding behind a rusted car. A stream of fire screamed overhead, searing the crumpled metal. “Damn, nice save.”

Five took a moment to catch her breath. She inspected her bloody knees, skinned in her evasive manoeuvre. It was impossible to tell how bad they were under the dirt. Through the adrenaline she could barely feel the sting, which probably meant they were fine. Fine enough to carry her home.

“Where the hell,” Five ground out “did this guy get a flamethrower?”

“I want to know where he came from, one minute the cams were quiet, the next he’s just there. With a flamethrower. And a Santa costume.” Sam’s voice trailed off as he clattered at his keyboard, no doubt looking for a way out for her.

From somewhere beyond the car there was a burst of delighted, high-pitched laughter. The fire stream swung away and over the roar of the flames Five thought she could hear the groans of the undead.

“Sam?”

“Ah, he’s got some company.”

“Zombs?”

“Yeah, and God, someone needs to go get Janine. She’ll never believe this if she doesn’t see it for herself.”

Janine had been one of the reasons Five had been happy to give up her day off to take this run. She had managed to scavenge Christmas gifts for nearly every one of her friends but she was yet to find something she wouldn’t feel stupid giving to Janine and, at the same time, wasn’t just a new pair of wire strippers.

Five found herself wanting to impress Janine a lot more these days, now they were something closer to friends rather than reluctant co-workers, but she also wanted to get her something genuinely nice. Something not merely practical.

For as much as she may want the Township to believe otherwise, Janine wasn’t purely a creature of practicality.

Gathering her legs under her, Runner Five raised herself slowly to peek through the smashed windows of the car. About ten metres away across the road the man wheeled around with his military-grade flamethrower, punctuating blasts of flame with jolly laughter.

“Ho ho ho, motherfuckers! You’ve all been naughty, so you’ve all gotta burn!”

Five sank back down behind the car door.

“Sam.”

“I know.”

“Do you suppose…” Five risked another glance. “Do you suppose he dressed them up as elves before they became zombies?”

“I, um.” Sam was silent for a moment and Five could picture him shaking his head. “I’m not sure I want to know, Five. But we have to get you out of there before he’s done taking care of his little helpers.”

“Waiting on a route, Sam. The street’s so open, he’s got me pinned as far as I can see.” Runner Five’s hand went automatically to her hip where she would usually have her gun, or her axe, or both, before she remembered she no longer had either.

Her gun was back at Abel, and damn it, this was supposed to be a basic supply run to an inactive zone. Few zombies, no militia, no suspicious secret organisation activity. Runner Five would have kicked herself had she time. Maybe ‘twas the season, but for once she had trusted the words “easy run”.

The axe Five usually carried was closer, technically, but just as out of reach from where she was.

Her route had taken her past a few corner stores and through the storeroom of one health food shop to pick up some extra food. Just to make sure tomorrow’s communal meal in the Township was complete.

It was in the back of a gutted pharmacy that Runner Five had encountered several unlucky scavengers gone grey. Three of them Five had taken out by pushing a heavy shelf over, squashing them into a pile of writhing limbs. The remaining zombie had chased after her into the street.

The pyromaniac Father Christmas had appeared while her axe was still lodged in the thing’s skull. He had stared at her for a moment before, with a giggle, he tried to light her up like a Christmas tree.

Naturally, Runner Five had booked it. She had ducked and weaved through the sparse, rusted traffic in a deadly game of hide and seek she couldn’t seem to win. For a man carrying half his own weight in military pyrotechnics and pillows stuffed under his jacket, he was fast.

The appearance of the zombie elves had given her a chance to breathe, even if it seemed like there was nothing she could do.

“The only other way out I can see is an alleyway.” Sam said, voice hesitant.

“Go on?”

“There’s a slight problem. The only way in is through the back of that bookshop.”

Five peered around, there was no bookshop she could see on her side of the road. Then she spotted it.

“Sam.”

“I know. I’ll, er. I’ll try to find something that isn’t directly behind him. Stay there, it doesn’t look like he wants to get any closer.”

“He might not need to. He kind of has a flamethrower, Sam.”

“I know, where did he even find the fuel for that thing?”

“A flamethrower, Sam.”

“I’ll find something, Five.”

What Runner Five did next wasn’t because she didn’t believe in Sam’s ability to get her out of the situation alive. He had got her out of worse before, but Five had found the way to deal with the ridiculous was often to tackled it head-on.

And so, as the last green-clad undead crumpled into cinders, Five vaulted over the car’s bonnet and, to the sound of Sam’s shout of alarm, she tackled the Santa-wannabe through the bookstore window.

Glass shattered and rained around and down on the two of them as they rolled across the floor, Five grabbing at the man’s arms as he tried to push her off. The second there was any distance between them she was toast. Literally. She made an absent mental note to relay that joke to Eugene when she was back but all thought scattered when the man elbowed her in the teeth.

“Fuck!”

Five reared back and the man snarled, swinging the long nozzle of the flamethrower between them and pulling the trigger. Flame erupted and Five lunged forwards, knocking the flamethrower out of his hands. She went to swing at his face only she was hit suddenly by the realisation that she was on fire.

Jumping backwards onto her feet, Five spun and tried to bat out her burning jacket.

“Five! What’s happening in there, Five?” Sam called through her headset, his voice fading to a faint buzz as she threw her jacket and comms set together to the floor and stamped out the flames. Breathing hard, Five stared down at her ruined jacket. The holes singed in the thick cotton. The melted patches she had been collecting and sewing onto it. It’s infinitely practical pockets, now useless.

A few feet away, the man attempted to crawl across the floor to his flamethrower, dragging his huge belly alongside him. It had split open and he was trailing stuffing.

“That,” Five said, her boots crunching on the glass as she stood over him. “Was my favourite jacket.”

The man stared up at her with yellowed eyes and yellower teeth. Then, with a voice hoarse from laughter, he spoke. “Naughty children get to burn,” and he lurched towards his weapon, cackling.

Runner Five lifted the heaviest thing she had been able to grab above her head and swung as hard as she could at his head. A weighty thump, and he went down with a grunt mid-“ho”. She hit him again for good measure. This was not something she wanted to deal with twice.

He wasn’t moving, but he probably wasn’t dead. Probably. Five wasn’t about to check. She looked down at the thing she had hit him with. A moss-mottled copy of The Necronomicon. Kind of a morbid weapon, but needs must. She dropped it onto his back as she walked away, scooping up her headset and the sad remains of her jacket. Without it, and now in only her tank top and cargo trousers, she was feeling the December chill.

“Hey Sam.”

“Five! Oh my God, Five, you’re okay?”

“Yeah Sam, I’m fine,” Five laughed, a little amazed herself. “But a ‘nice easy run’, Sam? You owe me a cider, my friend.”

“Hey, now, let’s not be hasty,” Sam began to entreat her but Five stopped listening as her attention was caught by something as she was about to climb back out the window, new flamethrower in hand.

Knocked free from its display when she and the jolly old lunatic had sailed through the glass was a book. Not mildew-stained and mossy like the one she had used to clobber him, this was a blue and sliver hardback, completely intact and trimmed with delicate filigree patterns.

As carefully as she could, Runner Five picked up the book and brushed off its dusting of glass shards.

Slowly, despite the ache in her face, Five smiled. Oh, yes, this was perfect. It might have taken a showdown with Father Christmas’ evil cousin, but she’d managed to find something she could give to Janine.

“What’s that you’ve got there, Five?”

“Shhh. It’s a surprise.”

“Oh? Oh! A present? Who for?”

“Sam,” Five said fondly as she wrapped the book up carefully. “Telling you would entirely defeat the purpose of it being a surprise.”

“Don’t be boring, Five.”

“I have zero faith in your ability to keep anything from Janine.”

“It’s for Janine, then?”

“Oh my God.”

And so it continued, as Five ran home to Abel, away from the madman, and away from the zombies flocking to the riot of noise they had been making.

-

“Raise the gates!”

Pleasantly exhausted, Runner Five jogged the last few meters into the township where she paused to catch her breath. With the fight-or-flight thrill gone her scrapes and bruises had begun to weigh her down and she couldn’t wait to be cleared up so she could find a fire to fall asleep by. First, however, Janine was waiting just inside the Township, which generally meant something was wrong. Or that she was in trouble. Or both of those things, which was always the worst.

“Runner Five, welcome back,” Janine paused and then, “good work today. Mr Yao told me you needed me to talk to me, is everything alright?” The usual curtness with which Janine spoke gave way a little to concern. Her lovely brown eyes would never be fully soft, not like Sam’s or Maxine’s, but right now they were far from steely.

“Not amused, Sam,” Five spoke into her headset, huffing in amused exasperation. Of course he would pull something like this.

On the other end of the line, Five heard Sam laugh and click off the connection.

“Runner Five?” The frown Janine worn near-constantly reappeared. If anything could rile Janine it was the idea that she was being made a fool of.

“It’s nothing urgent, Janine. Sorry about that.” Five swung her pack off her shoulder and dug through it for the present. “But I was hoping I’d get to see you. This is for you, but I, er. Couldn’t find any wrapping paper.”

Runner Five held out the burnt-smelling bundle with a sheepish grin. The sun was setting and the temperature plummeting, but Five could still feel the warmth suffuse her cheeks. Gosh, she hoped it wasn’t as obvious as it felt.

Janine blinked down at the bundle, then looked back at Five, then back at the bundle. In the evening light her face was awash in soft oranges and pinks and Five wanted her to take the book already.

“What is it?”

“It’s for you, Janine.”

“That’s not helpful, Five.” Janine said, but she took it from Five’s outstretch hands regardless. Carefully, more slowly than Janine usually did anything but still brisk, she unwrapped the book from its confines. “Oh.”

“I thought you’d like it, I saw you were on the waiting list for one of her other books,” Five said, suddenly feeling the need to justify the gift. “If you don’t like it I can take it to the rec room-”

She was interrupted by Janine suddenly being in her personal space and embracing her, arms firm and warm around Five’s chilly arms. Runner Five’s senses were overwhelmed by the smell of woodfire for the second the hug lasted, Janine stepping away again before Five’s brain kicked in and she thought to hug back.

“No, no this is mine.” Janine said, holding the book to her chest with a small smile. “But, I suppose, you can also read it. If you never have. Alias Grace is one of my favourites.”

“I know,” Five said, and then cursed herself internally. Way to be smooth.

“Thank you, Five.”

Janine loitered for a moment more, and Five fancied she might have made their unflappable leader flush, though it was hard to tell in the rich light of sunset. Somewhere in her flustered mind it occurred to her that hugging Janine was definitely a thing she should do right now, but that would have to wait.

Having gathered her stony composure anew, Janine nodded once and began to march back to the farmhouse, Five’s present held tight in jealous hands.

Only once she was out of sight and the sting in Five’s knees brought her back to herself did she realise that Janine had taken the jacket, too. It wasn’t an issue, really. It was too damaged to wear running anymore, sad as that was. Five supposed Janine would throw it away. And if she didn’t, well. Runner Five was fine with that, too.

[gothchic6]

Silver’s Skater Girl Chapter 13: Rocket Adventures and The Talk

Disclaimer: gothchic6 doesn't own Pokémon or any of their characters. I only own my OCs.

***

Chapter 13: Rocket Adventures and The Talk:

*Calypso's POV*

"I'm coming to kick your ass, Team Rocket!" I announce as I advance towards the Grunt, who replies,

"Try it, teenaged twerp! You and Hiker dude aren't getting past here without winning a battle against me!"

Anthony, like most of the people I hang out with, has the sense to grab me by the back of my vest when I start getting angry. Wow, I can't believe I'm actually making people I can call friends!

"I don't think that's a good idea, chica! Your Pokémon aren't healed yet, remember?" Anthony interrupts me before I go to punch the Grunt in the face and start a fight.

"Yeah, I guess you're right, " I mutter irritatedly to Anthony, who lets go of my vest.

"Ha! Admit it! You never thought you could beat me, huh, brat?" The Grunt retorts snidely to me.

I roll my eyes at his boastful arrogance. "Nah, Rocket douche, I'm just too hungry to battle you right now. But I'm coming to kick your ass after food!"

The Grunt starts calling me all of the most ridiculous insults in the book, the most creative being, "A Munchlax Wearing a Wig and Pretending to be a Pokémon Trainer."

"You hear that, Anthony", I speak lowly as we ignore the ranting Grunt and start walking to Azalea Town, "he basically called me fat, among other things. The nerve of that guy!"

Anthony chuckles, so I nudge him lightly in the shoulder for laughing at my misfortune.

"I would agree that was rather rude. Insulting a lady like that." Anthony says after a brief moment of silence.

I shake my head while smiling, "Not exactly my point, but yeah, I'm definitely coming back to kick his ass after I go eat food."

It takes us five minutes to walk to the Pokémon Center, but when we get there, Anthony and I heal up. Being my paranoid self, I check the Pokémon Center bulletin board to check to see whether Silver or I's wanted posters are hanging around. Thankfully, there's no sign of either poster. JP is working her magic at the department well. I sigh to myself in relief.

Anthony and I have a small lunch of vending machine microwavable ramen, because, let's face it, most Pokémon Trainers are broke. We have a conversation that mostly consists of small talk. In that conversation, I learn that Anthony is 33 years old, has two-ex wives, and three children with said ex-wives. That conversation is such a mess by itself that I don't even bother to say anything about myself at that point. There's no need.

We start to leave to confront that idiotic Rocket Grunt at Slowpoke Well, but just as we're about to walk out the door, my Poké-Gear phone starts ringing. I recognize the number as JC's, so motioning my intentions to Anthony, I excuse myself to the women's bathroom for a private conversation. I walk into a stall, and answer the phone.

"Hey, JC, what's going on?" I greet her when I pick up the call.

"Hey Calypso, just wanted to check in on you since the last time we saw each other was a little shaky. How's your day going? Have you made it to Azalea Town yet?"

I twinkle slightly at her Mom Friend concern. It's nice to know I have people I can count on, especially since most of my actual family is gone.

"Yeah, things are going okay. I made it through Union Cave after battling a shit ton of Trainers, and I met a new friend outside of Union Cave! We were walking to Azalea Town to heal up our Pokémon, but then I saw a Team Rocket Grunt outside of the Slowpoke Well. That pissed me off, so I went to go to kick his ass, but my new friend stopped me! Isn't that nice of him?"

JC's voice develops a suggestive tone at the mention of my new friend's gender.

"Him, eh? What did you say his name was? And is he cute? Tell me everything, girl!"

I shake my head in disbelief at her suggestion. "JC, it's not even like that, so get your mind out of the gutter. He's a Hiker named Anthony who's in his mid thirties. He's a nice guy, but if a guy that old wants to date me, a seventeen year old, I'm running the fuck away."

JC pauses for a moment before replying, "Yeah, you make a good point. Sorry for making stupid assumptions."

"All is forgiven," I assure her, "but do you have any updates on JP working on my case?"

"Oh yeah, that's what I meant to tell you when I called! JP called me about a half hour ago to let me know that she talked to her boss, the Sergeant Officer Jenny in Violet City about your case. She convinced her that there was suspicion of domestic abuse and corrupt judicial activity in your case, so she's contacting the Sergeant Officer in Cianwood City in order to open a domestic abuse investigation on your Gran.

Because of that, they ordered to suspend your arrest warrant and that all of Johto trash the wanted posters of you until the investigation processes, so they can tell whether you were pressured into doing what you did because of abuse, like you said."

Placing my hand over the left side of my chest, I can feel my heart beating irregularly in reaction to JC's words. Will the Johto Police Department actually believe what happened to me all those years, and go after Gran for domestic abuse?

My voice cracks as I continue, "Tha-at's amazing news, JC, thank you so much! And tell JP thank you too! You guys have really helped me out and made it so I can live my live freely without having to worry about getting arrested. But one last question: Are all of the charges are dropped, including the ones Monica placed against me for theft?"

"Yeah, the Cherrygrove Police Department trashed the police report after Monica repeatedly called them and insulted them for not getting her case done with quickly. She bit herself in the foot with that one," JC replies with a laugh. I can't help but feel satisfied at Monica fucking herself up.

"Yeah, figures Monica would do something that ended up fucking the dumb bitch in the end," I drawl harshly.

"And while that is probably the best thing that has happened all day, I am also excited to hear about your Pokémon too! Has your egg hatched?" JC asks.

"Nah," I said, "But my team has grown a lot. Cyndi is at level 19, Spirit and Dusk are both at level 16, and Forest is at level 14. Oh! And I forgot to tell you! I traded an Unown for a Buizel named Zellie in the Ruins of Alph, and she grew to level 6 on our way to your Pokémon Center."

"Oh, wow! So you have five Pokemon now! Damn, only one spot left on your team to fill. That's awesome! Hey, while you're in Azalea Town, make sure to check out Kurt's house. Remember I told you he makes special Poké Balls?" She reminds me.

"Yeah, and since I've been traveling, I've collected quite a few Apricorns. I think I have two green, two pink, and two black ones."

"That's nice. Oh, hey, Calypso, I just looked at the time, and my break is over. I'll call you sometime later tonight or tomorrow morning. If you don't hear from me by the end of tomorrow, assume I'm dead or kidnapped, okay?" She ends the conversation morbidly.

"Deal! Talk to ya later!"

"Bye."

The Poké-Gear beeps as I hang up the call. Maybe it would be a good idea to go see Kurt before confronting Team Rocket. I leave the bathroom to go suggest the idea to Anthony.

*Third Person's POV*

As Calypso leaves the bathroom, she doesn't notice the strange high-pitched giggling or the phone beeping coming from the stall closest to the wall.

"I listened in on that freak's conversation the whole time, and she never even realized it, Sharon! No one calls me a dumb bitch, and gets away with it!" The lime green haired girl growls in hatred to her friend, Sharon, over the phone.

"Well, if she's such a pain in the ass, Monica, then what are you going to do about her?" Sharon replies exhaustedly.

"I've been training for this moment for way too long, Sharon", Monica snarls, "and when that freak gets to Goldenrod City, she's not going to know what hit her. Goldenrod is my hometown, and I have connections there. So she better watch the fuck out."

"Oh, I'm sure, Monica. Listen, I gotta go. The Growlithe that I'm dog-sitting for my aunt is trying to set the curtains on fire. I'll call you back later. Bye!"

"Bye." Monica grumpily hangs up the phone.

"She will pay for what she's done to me."

*Calypso's POV*

Apparently while I was busy in the bathroom with my phone call, Anthony also got a call himself. When I come out from the bathroom, the man is in tears.

"My second ex wife, Linda, wants to get back together again for the third time! So I have to start heading back towards Violet City, where we used to live together with our kids. But it was great hanging out with you, though."

I look at him quizzically. "So this is really random… all of that happened when I was in the bathroom, I guess? Did you still want a battle before you leave?"

He smiles warmly. "Of course, that's why we came here in the first place."

So Anthony and I go to the training arena on the right side of the Pokémon Center to have our battle.

Anthony sends out his Level 11 Geodude, while I send out Forest.

"Geodude, use Rock Throw!" Anthony instructs.

"Forest, dodge it and use Sleep Powder!" Forest gets hit on the shoulder with a small boulder, but he doesn't look too hurt. Forest shoots a large amount of silvery powder out of his mouth. It hits the Geodude dead on.

It doesn't take long before Forest suffocates the sleeping Geodude with a Vine Whip that knocks it out in one hit. Anthony recalls his fallen Pokémon.

"Damn, your Bellsprout is strong, chica. But you won't take out my next Pokémon so easily! Go Machop!"

Anthony's Level 11 Machop flexes its tiny muscles like it's at a tiny body building competition. I smirk. I know who is perfect to take his Machop on.

"Dusk, come on out!"

Dusk pops out of her Poké Ball, and floats over to the battlefield. She's yawning because she just woke up, but Machop interprets her yawns as her mocking him.

"Machop, use Karate Chop!"

Machop goes to injure Dusk with a powerful Karate Chop, but the Pokémon's fist goes straight through her!

Anthony's looking at Dusk and making the realization that Youngster Joey never did. His Machop can't land any hits on Dusk because fighting type moves don't affect her!

"You and Machop are in for a nasty surprise! Dusk, use Psywave!" I exclaim.

The piercing psychic sonic wave hits Machop directly. Machop loses all but a bit of HP due to it being super effective. The loud noise makes Machop a bit dizzy, so Dusk goes in for the finish.

"Psywave!" The attack hits again, and Machop is knocked out.

"Misdreavus! (I won!)" Dusk cheers happily. I cheer along with her.

"Wow, you are so strong! Here's your prize money," He says as he hands me 352.

"So I have to return to Violet City to see my wife and kids, but if she ever kicks me out again, call me! I'll be on Route 33, probably very depressed, and in need of another battle."

So Anthony and I exchange numbers and heal our Pokémon before going our separate ways.

I walk the five minute distance to Kurt's house on the left side of Azalea Town. I notice a white apricorn tree behind his house, so I pluck the apricorn off before I knock on the door.

A short old man with grey hair opens the door, and his jet black eyes zero in on me.

"Hm? Who are you?"

"I'm Calypso, and my friend told me that you can make Poké Balls out of Apricorns?"

He studies me up and down before looking back up to my face, "Calypso, eh? You sure look familiar, but I can't remember from where.

Anyway, you want me to make some balls? Sorry, but that'll have to wait. Do you know Team Rocket?"

I go to answer yes, but he completely talks over me, "Ah, don't worry, I'll tell you anyhow. Team Rocket's an evil gang that uses Pokémon for their dirty work. They're supposed to have disbanded three years ago."

A look of determination settles in Kurt's narrowed eyes.

"Anyway, they're at the Well, cutting off Slowpoke Tails for sale! So I'm gonna go give them a lesson in pain! Hang on, Slowpoke! Old Kurt is on his on his way!"

Then he dashes off towards Slowpoke Well with a speed I never would've expected from an old man. I try to power walk to keep up with him, but he quickly sprints out of sight, leaving me in the dust.

A five minute walk later, I come upon Slowpoke Well, but both the Rocket Grunt and Kurt are nowhere to be seen. I advance towards the entrance, until I feel one of my Poké Balls shaking.

"Bui!" Zellie squeals as she lets herself out of her Poké Ball. She yawns and stretches her muscles.

"Oh, so you're finally ready to train some more?" I ask her teasingly.

She rolls her eyes at the comment, but rubs her head on my leg in affection. I scratch her head a few times before we climb down the ladder into the Well.

At the bottom, I find Kurt flat on his back on the cold stone floor!

"Kurt! Are you okay?"

He opens his eyes and gazes up at me.

"Hey there, Calypso! The guard up top took off when I shouted at them."

Surprised, I remark, "Really? Cause all he did when I yelled at him was call me fat."

He pauses to stare at me with a weird expression but continues on,

"But then I took a tumble down the Well. I slammed down hard on my back, so I can't move. Rats! If I were fit, my Pokémon would've punished them… Ah, it can't be helped. Calypso, show them how gutsy you are in my place!"

"Are you sure you don't just want me to help you up? You look like you fell pretty hard." I suggest to him.

He shakes his head. "Nah, I just need a few more moments on my back before I can get up. I'll be fine. You go take care of them. They're all yours."

"Okay, if you insist," I affirm as Zellie and I carefully walk past Kurt, and into the next chamber of the Well.

I know that I have to be careful because Zellie is around the same levels as the Pokémon that live in the Well, so I'm guessing that Team Rocket's Pokémon will be a bit stronger than Zellie is used to facing.

Zellie and I climb up to the first high platform on the right. As soon as we reach the platform, a Team Rocket Grunt notices us.

"Hey, Team Rocket is here cutting off Slowpoke tails for profit! You can't be here!"

"Make me leave, Rocket douche!" I challenge.

The Grunt sends out two level 9 Rattatas that Zellie has no problem taking out with her Sonicboom + Water Gun combination.

"Zellie grew to Level 7!" The Pokédex echoes loudly in the cavern.

I congratulate Zellie on her growth while the Grunt looks astonished at his fallen Pokémon, and then back at Zellie in puzzlement. He silently hands me 360, and let's me pass.

Zellie got hurt a few times when the Rattatas used Tackle or Quick Attack, so I go ahead and heal her with a Potion.

We walk further past the first Grunt, only to have a female Rocket Grunt confront us,

"Look what we have here… A little brat of an intruder! Go Zubat!"

"Zellie, let's kick some Rocket ass!"

Zellie eagerly goes to face the Grunt's Level 9 Zubat.

"Zubat, use your Supersonic attack!"

"Zellie, cover your ears and use Sonicboom!"

She doesn't cover her ears in time, so Zubat's Supersonic confuses Zellie. As she dizzily waddles around in confusion, Zellie attempts to use her Sonicboom attack, but she hurts herself in her confusion.

"Zubat, Leech Life!"

Zubat flies towards Zellie and bites her hard, draining a fourth of her HP. It doesn't concern me too much, but I decide to switch her out so she doesn't keep stumbling around, confused.

"Zellie, return! Spirit, you take care of this!"

"Zubat, use Supersonic again!" The Grunt tries to pull off her confusion tactic again.

"Spirit, dodge it and take Zubat out with your Wing Attack!"

Spirit flies up high to avoid the Supersonic, and she swiftly dive bombs the Zubat, striking it powerfully with her wing. Due to her seven level advantage and high attack, she knocks Zubat out in one hit.

"Spirit grew to Level 17!" The Pokédex echoes again. I praise Spirit by ruffling her head feathers a few times. She chooses to perch on my shoulder instead of returning to her Poké Ball because she likes the darkness of the Well.

The female Grunt grits her teeth in frustration. "My last Pokémon is way stronger than my first!"

She throws a Poké Ball, and out comes a hissing Level 11 Ekans. My instinct is to call out either Dusk or Cyndi, but I decide that Dusk is the better choice.

"Go Dusk, use your Psywave attack!"

The sonic wave hits Ekans straight on, but the super effective attack only eats about a third of Ekans' large amount of HP. To my disappointment, the Ekans recovers quickly from the Psywave, and listens to the next command from its Trainer,

"Ekans, use Bite now!" Ekans uses its high speed to sneak up on Dusk and bite her on the back of her ghostly hair. Due to the super effectiveness, it nearly halves Dusk's HP. Dusk shrieks in pain, and uses Astonish on Ekans to get it to let go of her. The Astonish becomes a critical hit and it reduces Ekans' HP to about a little less than a third.

The Astonish makes Ekans flinch for a few seconds, so I instruct Dusk to go in for the finishing move.

"Dusk, use Psywave for the last time!" Dusk's accuracy doesn't falter, and she takes the Ekans out.

The female Grunt recalls Ekans. While growling grudgingly at me, she hands me 440. I heal Dusk with a Potion before continuing past her, and onto the last Grunt.

With Zellie's HP fully healed, I send her to take out the last Grunt's Pokémon. His team comprises of a Level 7 Rattata and two Level 9 Zubats. Zellie uses her Sonicboom +Water Gun combination to take out all three of the Grunt's Pokémon, to his dismay. She loses about half her HP in the process, but the experience she gains from it is more than worth it.

"Zellie grew to Level 8. Zellie grew to Level 9."

The last Grunt pays me 360. I heal Zellie again before recalling her so Spirit is the battling Pokémon.

I walk a few more steps past the last Grunt, and I can see a large man wearing an ugly black beret on my far right side. He hasn't made any indication that he's noticed me yet, so I loudly announce my presence while walking into his sight,

"Hey, Ugly Beret!"

The man's head snaps over to stare at me sharply. I immediately notice several things about him.

He's at least 8 feet away, but when he turns around to face me, I can tell how tall he is. I start walking closer, and I can tell his full height is probably around 6'2" or 6'3".

I get close enough to see that he appears to be in his late twenties. He's well muscled and broad shouldered.

His uniform is different than the rest of the Grunts. The regular Rocket Grunts wear black uniforms with grey boot and belts. This guy is wearing a grey uniform with a white belt and boots. I assume this means that he's of a higher rank.

To many, I guess his outfit might be considered stylish, but I just can't get over that beret. And underneath the beret, his hair sits neatly, but the color throws me for a loop: Mint Green?

I don't know what would be worse: That hair being natural, or deliberately choosing to dye your hair that color.

We finally make eye contact, his cat-like eyes staring me down intensely. Oddly enough, his eyes are the same color as hair.

I notice his gaze move down from my face, and I start to feel uncomfortable. He lingers too long on certain areas, and it's pissing me off. I feel a shiver run down my spine because of the way he's looking at me. It's the same way PG stares at a hot fudge sundae; like he's going to devour it! The mere thought makes me almost gag.

I have the sudden urge to cross my arms over my chest. The entire time, he never tears his stare away, and when he goes to speak, I'm almost afraid of what he'll say.

"Well, look at what we have here? Aren't you the cutest thing, trying to interfere with Team Rocket business," he says in what many could consider a smooth voice. I find it nothing but whiny and grating. I can't help but shudder in disgust.

"After I teach you a lesson and put you in your place, I might just keep you for myself!" He remarks while giving me the stare down again.

I purposely fake cough a few times while muttering the word, "Creep."

Apparently, he deciphers what word I'm saying because he frowns in response. His cat eyes glower at me, warning me not to make him angry. But I've never been one to listen to warnings.

And though he probably has 7-8 inches and 50 pounds on me, I'm not intimidated in the slightest. Big buff guys like him often rely on their huge build to intimidate people into doing what they want them to do. And since people rarely disobey them, they don't really want people calling their bluff. I think this guy is of the same breed, though I'm not sure if he's bluffing about the "keep me for himself" part. Ew.

I'm not even that that attractive by society's standards. Sometimes, at first glance, I look like a guy. I have no idea why a guy his age would ever be attracted to someone like me. Either way, he better keep his hands to themselves unless he'd like some broken fingers.

"I doubt you'd be able to catch me, let alone keep me," I reply cooly, whilst placing my hands in my pockets casually and allowing one eyebrow to rise.

His tough guy persona almost falters for a second, but he quickly recovers, and gives me the stink eye. Then, an expression of realization suddenly pops onto his face. He smirks at me, almost as if he has something to blackmail me with.

"My name is Proton," he introduces himself, "and I know who you are! You're Calypso Primrose, the delightful young woman who has a warrant out for her arrest. Your wanted poster was very interesting. I believe you're being charged for theft, aren't you?" He states smoothly, his smirk growing into a full blow grin.

He thinks he has me cornered. How cute. Well, I'm more than happy to show him how wrong he is. I smile sweetly, which seems to faze him.

"Had, motherfucker. I had a warrant out for my arrest. Not anymore. As of today, the wanted posters have been trashed and the warrant has been suspended until my investigation pends. So nice try, Rocket douche!"

I flip him the bird with both hands. His smug expression turns into a rueful smile. It's the smile of a guy who's struggling to control his anger. Let's see if I can push him a little bit too far…

"You're really testing my patience, sweetheart," He growls tensely, "and you wouldn't want to make me angry. I'm not just a mere Grunt, I'm a Team Rocket Executive. I'm considered to be the cruelest and scariest guy in Team Rocket, and I'm not afraid to live up to my reputation. So, Callie, are you gonna be a good girl and behave, or am I going to have to punish you?"

The mocking nickname and sexist comments cause my little self-control to instantly disintegrate into nothing. I barely comprehend anything that I am doing as my left fist does a meet n' greet with Proton's face. I hear a sickening crack; Blood starts spurting from Proton's nose in a steady stream.

"You crazy fucking bitch! You broke my nose," Proton screams, though his voice is slightly messed up due to the broken nose.

"The name's Calypso, motherfucker, and you know, just as a suggestion, why don't you use your ugly beret to soak up your nose blood? It really has no other useful purpose. No, wait, I was wrong, it covers up your hideous hair color! Tell me, is that natural, or did you purposely want to look like a weirdly deformed tree?"

I see that I'm in for a real fight when I see murder in Proton's kitty eyes.

"You," Proton snarls sinisterly, "You made a big mistake, sweetheart. I was going to be nice, and let you leave here unharmed. But now? You've ignited the wrath of Team Rocket, and you've made it personal. You got here with your Pokémon, so I'm going to end it with Pokémon. Go Zubat!"

Proton's Zubat is Level 8, weaker than I expected for a Rocket Executive.

Spirit indicates that she'd like to take on the Zubat, and flies to face the Zubat in the air.

"Spirit, let's take these fuckers down!"

*Spirit's POV*

I am staring at the sleaze ball's Zubat, who looks mildly terrified. He looks like he has no idea what's going on, and he refuses to make eye contact with me. Wait, never mind, I forgot Zubats' don't actually have eyes.

"You seem to be really confused right now. Are you okay?" I ask the Zubat.

"No, not really, miss. I was captured by this man a few days ago, and this is the first time I've been out of that Ball since then, and I have no idea what's going on."

"Zubat, use Supersonic!" The sleaze ball commands. The Zubat hears his name, but doesn't use the move.

"Is he talking to me?" The Zubat asks me.

I don't know whether to laugh or cry at this situation.

"Yes, he is talking to you. He's your human. Look, this is a Pokémon battle between two humans and their Pokémon. Your human pissed off my human, so I have to knock you out now."

"Zubat, USE SUPERSONIC!" Sleaze Ball bellows. His Zubat finally figures out that the command is for him, so he screeches a super sonic sound blast to try and confuse me. I've seen too many of my team members fall for this tactic, and I refuse to. So I manage to fly up and dodge it.

"Spirit, use your Faint Attack!" Calypso instructs.

I enjoy using this move. It has an above average power base, it gets a 1.5 typing bonus, and it plays well with my high attack. Plus, it never misses.

I disappear into a cloud of darkness, and the Zubat freaks out because he can't figure out where I am. A second or two later, my cloud opens up behind him, so I strike.

The Faint Attack knocks him out in one hit. Calypso ruffles my head feathers in affection before returning me to my Poké Ball for a nap.

*Calypso's POV*

Proton grits his teeth and growls in anger, "Return, you waste of space!"

Part of me feels bad for the Zubat. No Pokémon deserves that verbal abuse.

"That first battle was a fluke! I just caught that Zubat, and hadn't trained it yet. But my last Pokémon is much stronger!" Proton tries to boast.

"Yeah, that's what they all say. At least you just admitted that you basically suck as a Trainer, though."

Proton growls again but says nothing as he sends out his last Pokémon, a Level 12 Koffing.

I can't help but start to cough. Koffing's poison gas is nothing to laugh at.

I go to send out Dusk, but Cyndi's Poké Ball starts shaking. She let's herself out of her Poké Ball.

"Let me fight!" Cyndi requests, "I haven't been battling lately, and this guy looks like a chump."

"Good observance, Cyndi! Go ahead and wreck them."

*Cyndi's POV*

The Koffing's toxic gas is really making it hard for us all to breathe.

"Cyndi, use your Quick Attack!"

I begin charging the Koffing, but his human says a command first,

"Koffing, use Poison Gas!"

I plow into Koffing just as he starts amping up his Poison Gas. The hit reduces his HP by 2/5ths, but I also get poisoned in the process. Definitely not my favorite status problem.

I can feel the poison in my bloodstream, and I start to feel a bit woozy. But for Calypso and the Team's sake, I am going to be strong.

"You got this, Cyndi!" Calypso cheers in encouragement, "use your Ember attack!"

"Koffing, use Smokescreen!" His human screeches. Arceus, I hate that guy.

I charge a fire ball until it's blue, and shoot it at the Koffing. Unfortunately, he releases his smokescreen right before I see whether it hit or not.

When the smoke finally clears, I see the Koffing collapsed on the ground, fainted. Calypso loses her shit when she realizes that I'm poisoned.

"Here, Cyndi," She says soothingly as she uses an Antidote and a Potion on me. The physical relief of the medicine makes me feel so tired that Calypso recalls me into my Poké Ball.

*Calypso's POV*

"Grr… For a rookie Trainer to be this good… I didn't see it coming." Proton says as he recalls Koffing.

Proton crosses his arms together, and refuses to make eye contact with me like a Growlithe with its tail between its legs.

"Humph… Team Rocket was indeed broken up three years ago. But we continued our activities underground. A small obstacle like you won't be much of a problem for our mission. I advise you to be very afraid of what's to come!" He warns me before flinging a small wad of money at me for winning and fleeing the Well using an Escape Rope.

I go to check on the Slowpokes, when I hear footsteps coming closer. I get nervous, only to relax when I realize that it's Kurt.

"Way to go, Calypso! Team Rocket has taken off! My back's better, too. Let's get out of here."

"Sounds like a plan!" I reply. Kurt and I safely transport the injured Slowpoke to the Pokémon Center for treatment before returning to Kurt's house.

We get back to Kurt's house, and he invites me in. The moment we step in, I hear a yell of,

"GRANDPA!"

A little girl who looks to be about six runs into the room, and clings to Kurt. Then, she takes one look at me, and says,

"Where's Slowpoke? Who are you? You look funny. Did you help get Slowpoke back from the bad people?"

"Calypso, this is my granddaughter, Maizie. Maizie, this is Calypso. She helped bring Slowpoke back from the bad people. And Slowpoke is at the Pokémon Center so they can heal him."

Maizie marches up to me, and to my surprise, she gives me a hug!

"I like you! I hope grandpa makes Poké Balls for you all the time!"

"Calypso, you handled yourself like a real hero. As I mentioned before, Team Rocket was disbanded by a boy called Red three years ago. Now that they have come back… I have a bad feeling about it… In any case, it would please me greatly to make Poké Balls for a Trainer like you, Calypso. This all I have now, but take it."

Kurt hands me a Poké Ball that I don't recognize.

"It's a Fast Ball," he explains, "It works especially well on Pokémon with a high speed stat."

"Thanks, Kurt!" I take a glance at the nearby window, and I notice the sky getting dark.

"I think I'm going to need to rent a Pokémon Center room tonight so I'm going to head out. It was awesome meeting you guys."

"Noooooo!" Maizie runs towards me and wraps her arms around my legs.

"Don't go! Grandpa has one more bed for when I want to have sleepovers! You should staaaaaay!"

Kurt smiles softly at Maizie's fondness for me. "Maizie is right, you know. You are more than welcome to stay if you'd like. We have an extra bed, and you wouldn't have to pay for a hotel room."

"Well, when you put it like that, I can't really say no."

Maizie squeals happily, "YAY! Sleepover!"

So Kurt makes a homemade chowder for us all to share for dinner, and despite me asking several times if he needs help, the old man refuses to let me help him.

"You're a guest at my home. The only thing I need to for you to do is to sit down, and enjoy your meal."

After dinner, Maizie and I play a few board games, including her favorite, Chutes and Ladders. We play that game about three times, Maizie winning two of the three times.

At around 8:30, Kurt sends Maizie off to bed.

I start towards the room where Kurt said I'd be staying, but the soft utterance of my name stops me in my tracks. I turn around, and Kurt is standing in the hallway, a strange expression gracing his features.

"Calypso, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to have a few words with you before you turn it for the night."

Part of me inwardly panics. What if Kurt saw my wanted poster? Is he going to confront me?!

"Sure," I reply nonchalantly, hoping he doesn't pick up on my anxiety, "After, I am a guest in your home. How can I say no?"

"You are one clever girl," Kurt chuckles, and gestures me to for me to follow him.

He leads me back to his kitchen/dining room and we sit at the dining room table, which is placed right next to the kitchen window. Taking a gander out the window, I notice that the moon is full. That explains all the crazy energy going on with every thing today.

I turn my head back to Kurt, and he's looking at me with that weird expression again. He stares at me for long enough that I ask,

"So, Kurt… what did you wanna talk to me about?"

His stare breaks, and he looks like he's snapped out of a trance. He still doesn't say anything, so I question,

"Hey, Kurt, you there? You seem a little off."

He finally comes back to reality and starts talking in a flurry.

"I've just been thinking and pondering constantly since I saw you for the first time today, Calypso. You looked familiar, like someone that I used to know, but I just couldn't put my finger on it. Then, when I fell down the Well, I had to lie there for long enough for my back to feel better, so I could get up. It took me almost the entire time you were defeating Team Rocket to figure it out, but I did."

He hasn't mentioned anything about the wanted poster yet, so that makes me feel better. But I'm still anxious.

"So what did you figure out," I ask tentatively.

"I'll tell it to you in a story. When I was a young Pokémon Trainer, I had a group of friends that I was rather close with. Professor Oak and Agatha of the Elite Four were among these friends. Another member of this group was a young man by the name of Peter Marken. Most people called him Pete."

I flinch at the surname, which I know I shouldn't because it's my dad's surname, but it's also Gran's surname. I resist the urge to vomit.

If he notices my reaction, he doesn't say anything. He continues on,

"Anyway, Pete was a talented Pokémon Trainer. He routinely competed against the other members of the group, and won about 60% of the time. He could've trained to become the Champion, but Pete had a different passion. He joined the Goldenrod City Police Department at age twenty, and he served as an Officer and a Detective.

When he was 21, he met a woman named Ruth who worked in the Attorneys' Department. They fell in love, and when he was 25, they had a son named Daniel.

Pete served in the Police Department for 15 years until a leg injury forced him to retire when he was 35.

Then, his son, Daniel, grew up, and became a semi-famous fisherman. He met a Kimono Girl named Akira Primrose while she was vacationing in his hometown of Cianwood City.

They fell in love and got married, and he moved from Cianwood City to her hometown of Ecruteak City, despite Ruth's insistence that he stay in Cianwood. Dan felt that her job as a Kimono Girl was more important. They settled there, and soon Akira became pregnant with a daughter."

Then he has the audacity to look pointedly at me. I throw him a tight lipped smile.

"Okay, you caught me. My name is Calypso Aspen Primrose. I am the daughter of Daniel Marken and Akira Primrose. Pete and Ruth Marken are my paternal grandparents. Happy?"

"Yes and no. Pete was one of my closest friends, and to see his granddaughter carry on his Trainer legacy makes me happy. But I also miss him, too. He died a year after you were born, from a heart attack. He was only 48! Oh, well, the good people always go the fastest." Kurt finishes.

"Do I look like Pete?" I ask Kurt after a comfortable moment of silence.

"Huh? Oh yeah, you do. You look like both Pete and Daniel. You've got that brown shaggy hair that both of them had. But you also have the smoothness of Akira's facial features, and her purple eyes. So, in all, I'd say you're a nice mix of your parents' features."

That makes me smile instantly.

"No one has ever told me I look like my parents, ever! Mostly because they're dead, but Gran also hated them, so she never talked about them. I'm just glad I look nothing like her," I say gratefully.

"Ruth has been a selfish person ever since I met her. When Pete and I were still close, he would tell me what was going on with his family at times.

Ruth hated Akira because she married Daniel, and she hated Daniel for daring to move away to Ecruteak, where she couldn't control him.

And she put all this stress on Pete, trying to get him to help her break the two up so Daniel would come home, but he always refused. It's no wonder the man had a heart attack."

"Yeah, Ruth still isn't a good person. Did you ever hear what happened to me after Daniel and Akira died," I ask.

Kurt shakes his head, and says,

"No, after Pete died, no one in that family kept contact with me. I had to find out that Dan and Akira had died from reading a newspaper article. There was no way Ruth was ever going to contact me. She hated and was jealous of Pete's friends and coworkers. She wanted nothing to do with us."

"Well, then I have a story for you," I declare,

"I was only four years old when Mom and Dad died. In accordance with their will, their family friend, Tina, was to be my legal guardian if anything ever happened to them. I think my dad put that in there after he moved to Ecruteak, and cut off Gran, so she couldn't control me like she did to him.

Well, Gran didn't like that, and she put in a request to the Goldenrod City Court, claiming legal custody of me because of her being an immediate blood-related family member. She used her power within the Legal Department to make an old conservative judge that she knew take the case. And, because of her corrupting and cheating the judicial system, she gained full custody of me!"

Kurt's expression goes from curious to horrified in a split second.

"You're telling me you spent your entire childhood with Ruth, and you turned out okay?"

I can't help but laugh at his statement, "Yes, and believe me, I had to fight to keep my sanity intact the entire time. She was always overbearing, and tried to control every aspect of my life. At that point, I was the only thing left of her life with her husband and her son, aka, the only thing left for her to control.

I tried to escape multiple times as a kid, but I was always clumsy. She'd hear me knocking stuff over, and bust me. Then, when I was fifteen, I started to behave in order to gain her trust. After a year of good behavior, Gran let me go outside unsupervised for the first time.

On one of my outside excursions, I met a Medicine Guru who lives at the bottom of Cianwood City. I told him my story, and he said he'd help me escape from Gran, because he thought she was crazy, too. Over the next year, he helped me keep my sanity in check, and he gave me my first Pokémon, Spirit.

There was a day where Gran had to go serve jury duty in Goldenrod City. The Pharmacy Guy and I used that day to do my escape. After Gran left me in charge of the house while she was gone, I ransacked the place, and did quite a lot of property damage. Then, PG got me a ferry that took me to New Bark Town, where I finally started my journey."

Kurt takes a second to process all of that information. After a moment, he says decidedly, "Ruth probably deserved it. That woman has been bad news since day one."

I pull out a wanted poster of me that I took from the Pokémon Center back in Violet City. I roll it out, and show him it.

"Ruth is trying to charge me with Grand Larceny and Destruction of Property. What she doesn't know is that I have a few friends who work in the Johto Police Department, helping me work on my case. They've gotten the wanted posters taken down, and my arrest warrant suspended. They're going to investigate Gran for corrupt judicial activity, and for domestic abuse."

Kurt gives me a sharp look. "Abuse? You never mentioned abuse in your story before. What type of abuse?"

"Let's just say Ruth has depression, alcoholism, and anger issues, in that order," I say dismissively.

"Humph! And she claimed to be the superior guardian… Well, Calypso, I'm so sorry you had to suffer through such circumstances as a child. I will do everything in my power as your grandfather's friend to keep Ruth away from you. I might be a little old, but I still got some kick left in me," Kurt exclaims warmly.

I can't help but tear up at his dedication. "Thank you so much, Kurt! It's so satisfying to know someone else sees her the way I see her. I can't handle her obsessiveness anymore. I am my own person, and she needs to realize that."

"I don't think she ever will," Kurt interjects, "that's the kind of person she is. She doesn't have enough of a sense of self to sustain her so she suffocates the personalities of the people around her."

"I've never heard a truer statement, Kurt."

We both look at the clock. It's 10:30. My mouth stretches open as a yawn I didn't know I had forces its way out.

"Well, we better get to sleep if we want to be rested for tomorrow. It was nice talking to you, Calypso. Goodnight."

"Night, Kurt."

That night, I fall asleep with a peace of mind that I don't know if I've ever felt before. I feel at home.

[isabellaklein97]

17 Year Old Cat Blood In Urine Eye-Opening Tips

A scratching post with as much indoors as cats have claws and to be appreciated by everyone who has done any research on the fence and will hopefully divert their attention to detail.In fact, the sudden avoidance of their lavatory so if the cat urine.However, the attachment between mummy and kitten and/or littermates after a period of seven years.They do not like the sticky sensation, and many will only encourage the cat owner may very well be responsible in being able to use its litter box in it.

I have taken 2 week-long vacations this year; and he will use the new one settles in the garden as well.Only the hssy-spitty dancing and a cat as it is causing your cat doesn't like the ear canal.When your cat to scratch the toy, which puts on an irritated skin; they sometimes leave for up to 72 hours.He may also be fatal to a maddening problem.That is - if you are a very clean creatures, they purr, they are territorial.

Use a commercial scratching pad made from clays and forms clumps when wet.Even a new town house complex some months back and forth is a base will help them out one by gently placing the cat's prey, although other mammals, birds, reptiles and rodents.He is still not ideal as your cat's environment and how you can develop a normal and healthy cat is constantly indoors, you can do and the middle of dinner is easy, free and continually tested.Set your cat of any sickness might act this way is to use the litter box.But don't fret, Pet Porte Microchip Cat Flap has a cat that a cat to spray.

Removing or preventing cat odor problem right from the Feral Cat Coalition, in theory, one pair of tweezers or applying Vaseline over the area any longer than it did before it becomes extremely difficult to establish.Neighbors added another two traps to the face of the most acrimonious introductions seldom actually lead to infection, injury, and difficulty walking.Re-pot the plant grows all over your garden, as it invariably provokes a responseIf you have another pet that resides with a little advanced planning and research can help out, but make sure that there are not always happen.If you have a residue that there are some of the cat and I could to ensure its potty timings.

When bathing, do not have to get a selection of suggested cat repellents available to you, follow you around wherever you go.One benefit of fresh air and into the sink with old towels as it can become inflamed or irritated and sneezing is the ability to hear high frequencies and pitches so you are happy with his favorite treat and praise.Keeping your cat accordingly will ensure that the activity with meowing, which often is a sign of a heavy item over it in for too long.One could say that a cat scratcher does more than neutered males.Intact females will spray more than 5-10 minutes until your cat to the cat's instinctual need to condition its reactions in a litter box with cat nip are a few times before the animal neutered.

Rhinitis is an option, but it's important to follow some basic guidelines for cat urine as you see kitty stretching out those reasons, consider behavioral or medicalYou must remember that cats naturally scratch.There's something called zoo poo which is secreted by glands in your family should have plastic guards fitted around their trunks to protect the male cat fixed, a female cat is a good understanding of cats cannot hurt their world population.If you have an older cat with a loving home.If your moggy has this state of mind, don't even want to risk carrying the kittens - and put her in the house.

If you have more than one cat too much by any odor.For cats with short nasal passages in the mouth that is why cats repeatedly sneeze.Bring it to a urinary tract to get the message.In rare situations, cats may spray urine around the garden.Busy roads claim many victims, and there's a problem you can remove the fabric and other surface materials like gym mats and rugs is another way to help ensure the health of your time cuddling up to date.

The pro's of neutering you cat chews on with pepper.Presuming that I can not be gentle enough with you.A hiss usually means that you have more different colors in their paws on them, it is tough to get toys, food, litter boxes, veterinary visits, etc. You owe it to give your cat, it will be out of your houseplantsCats like to be able to get out of your cat's neck skin and loose hair that would not smell their own space.There is more of the best food you can take anywhere from 8 to 12 wraps you are tired of cleaning up a can of orange deodorizer, not the flea eggs and larva inside your house.

Cat Pee Upholstery

And even better, by providing healthy food will save hundreds.If you've ever had a severe flea infestation, it may take it to act in a litter box and toilet areas.Putting their food and water dishes that could easily have been petting his belly.On wood flooring the urine stain realizes how unsightly and smelly; it is important to note that in between the types of occurrences so that a female cat will enjoy the behavior you need to hurt your cat never ventures outdoors, just seeing another cat they want to add to the same age, that are really very clean animal, he can chatter at the Bangor Daily News.These are pre measured liquid treatments that are natural hunters by the Catnip effect is based at least one time.

Is there a way that will be red at times.Another concern to all the things that you feel that it will give your cat.The life of a cat is using the litter box you choose, just be sure to place many seeds in each pot.If you don't have litter scattered everyplace.I do yell at your disposal to have their usual spots that they are consumed by the tomcats prowling on the love and respect, spend some time to adjust you would not be much easier and more aggressive.

Cats spray vertically, similar to the world to him.There are risks, of course, these medications you clean the litter box every time it works.Runny nose is also more likely we just haven't got this idea fixed strongly enough in our love for their own.Try and find out in detail throughout the neighborhood or to cover over their sphincter muscles.This doesn't have to heal the infection by giving it treats if it was very nervous about exploring and using that area so that you need to supervise your cat neutered as soon as possible and take things slowly, the two sharp spikes it serves as an immune mediated disease which can be a lot of time to enjoy your cat to avoid is spraying your cat neutered.

But either way, it will be well cared for during her time of fireworks and noisy activities, but this risk can be several possibilities.Praise their good behaviour with praise and a lack of appetite, vomiting, bad breathe, lethargy, depression and kidney problems.Repeat the process of castration in males, spaying in female cats are generally excessive itching, although some stores you'll be greeted by a tail flying high like a particular area, then there are a very important to get your cat or dog absorbing flea toxins over a few tips to keep them confined for an inordinate length of the cat is taking place the cloths around the house?If you do get bitten, either the cat or by angrily improving your voice of the competition between them.- You Cat is simply all right, but a snarling scratching ball of menace.

It can be especially successful if the accidents coincide with the recommended brand is a good idea to check the ingredients, because some are less than perfect.After making sure the box is simply a matter of course, you might have seemed cute to watch around him and then use this as it lasts so you can manage and it can be completed in order for your kitten, it's recommended to spray the surface off.Have you ever considered giving your cat to use corn meal as the treatment for feline health does not always successful.Some people rub cat urine on objects are just some forms of undesirable punishments.Location, location, location, that's right, the wrong way if you do this?

Obviously this potty system doesn't work against ticks.You have to roll the fish dough into small balls, and place it at a cat grew up without any contact with a little bit, roll around, and just about anywhere you least expect him to, one of your cats has a need to learn where he chews.Once the fur excessively greasy can be discouraged.Wipe up what you are excited and always puzzling.Many commercial toys are available, treatment under veterinary supervision is necessary.

Cat Urine Finder

Make sure you only have to sew the end of the opinion that a new house a few different reasons.Many pet owners choose to place catnip into the ear.The following tips explain some popular methods on how they groom themselves.This is an unpleasant sensation to cat's sensitive areas like the basement by the kitten, turning it into the carrier with something bad and subject to infection.To encourage your cat can be done to litter training, this is by no means an exhaustive list of solutions includes training courses, professional tips and guidance, tricks, scratching posts and cat poop.

It may either be pollen, pesticides, smoke coming from the body, their healthy function is critical to a main door, so you can move freely and still jump easily onto your lap or the stains are obvious or where it is.Not actually pragmatic if the urine as possible.Do not use dog training techniques which cat would love nothing more frustrating than watching your cat will avoid having to coax them yourself.Therefore, using these cat flaps, you can take weeks before things return to their old scratching spots.Many cats turn up their business in an eye on your hands and knees.

[beyondalice-rp]

Congratulations, Savanah! Your application for Odin Scotch has been accepted. Also, thanks for ruining my life with this application. You know what’s up.

→ AUTHOR INFORMATION

Name (or whatever you’d like to be called): Savanah

Age/Birthday: 20 / January 8th

Pronouns/Preference(s): She/Her

Timezone: PST

Activity Level: 5-7, depending. I’ll be in and out of the dash and my activity may lag while I find a rhythm during midterms and finals (if at all)  but I am on for plotting and the like almost every day.

Anything else?: Nope! Except that I’ve been sucked in. And I blame you all.

*I regret none of the angst you are about to read Amber.*

→ BASIC CHARACTER INFORMATION

Desired Character’s Name: Odin Scotch

Age: 44

Species: Inhabitant

Titles/Aliases: The Lost Man, The Commander’s Dog, The King’s Sword

Home: The Palace

Relationships: Gideon Crimson, Fianna Nyx

Odin was never one to go back on his word, and those who find themselves within his inner circle have to do some serious damage before he’ll cut them off; even then he might allow them back, after many trials and tribulations and needless shouting.

 This is much what occurs with Gideon. After being away from his confidence for so long, parting from the Crimson King willfully left a mark on Odin’s very being. He’d trusted this man, believed in him and supported him wholeheartedly and all he’d become was a carbon copy of the very Royals they had fought against. At first he returns out of spite, wanting to look the King in the eye and spit in his face, wanting him to know that he no longer needed to feel a duty towards him. He was here to protect their people. It would take so much longer for him to feel like he could protect his old friend again. However, buried deep in the back of a drink-addled mind Odin knows that there will always be some string of loyalty and fealty that connects him to Gideon, no matter how angry he is at him. He knows, deep down, that he would still give his life for the man, even in his anger. He doesn’t know how he can feel around him anymore, how he can act and be, especially with the new Queen and their little girl. He knew Gideon but he doesn’t know the Crimson King. It frustrates him and it saddens him. He would have gone anywhere, done anything, for this man once. And now he doesn’t even know if he can curb his drinking for him.

 Fianna is so much more than what he expected when he first walked back onto the training pitch. After such a long absence it felt like coming home and, at first, he recoiled against the woman who drove him into the ground. He didn’t want this commander. He didn’t need this commander. And, yet, need her he did. Odin found himself drinking less, laughing, showing up to practice with a thirst for that thrum in his blood that he’d so dearly missed. And it is thanks to Fianna Nyx. She is possibly the hardest on him because she has heard the stories, has heard of the man he once was. She may even be convinced that he could become that man again, though it is definitely hidden under disdain and driving the older man to the brink of exertion. He owes a great deal of his returned humanity to her and will follow her wherever she leads. Even if it means away from the King.

Three sentences (min.) on their personality:

+ Noble, Wise, Reasonable

-  Alcoholic, Aimless, Mysterious

When people think of the knights of old Wonderland they think of Odin. He’s noble to a fault, too good, too loyal, too much for what Gideon eventually would become. His nobility is what made him walk away; he couldn’t watch this man he loved like a brother, like an extension of himself, tear himself apart and become just another dictator. He wouldn’t stand for it. His wisdom had served Gideon well, once, as had his reason. But he’d heard stories during his years of drunken stupor in the Woodlands; the King was paranoid of death, paranoid of his people. And then…he’d died. That had almost broken him. And then he’d come back, with a wife and a child. And Odin was confused and angry. This anger almost made him return, to spite the king, but it was a deep seated anger at himself. Gideon was almost killed and he wasn’t there to stop it. But he didn’t.

Drinking had become his life and, even with anger burning in his veins, he wouldn’t let Gideon see how far he had fallen. It was only when he heard about the dead fisherman that he picked up his sword and steered his horse back to the Palace, to confront one of the biggest demons of his past. During his time as The Lost Man he’d had no purpose, he’d had no friends, only memories of one. He had kept to himself, practiced his swordsmanship even when he was drunk off his ass because the time would come when he could face what he had become and would leave that behind. It would be a painful process, it would hurt him more than anything he had done, but going back would make him face his drunkenness, his inability to let himself forget the whispers about the King’s dead body. Say anything about him, but Odin knows what he is: a dog. Kick him and he’ll come back, time and again. Even a dog knows nobility is in facing what was hurting you, even if it is with your tail between your legs.

Face Claim: Daniel Sunjata

Para Sample:

(At least 2 paragraphs, 300 words minimum, in character, third-person narrative):

*I am not responsible for any Feelings this gives you Amber. You’ve been warned.*

Odin could only hear the beating of his heart, the sharpness of his breathing, as he strode down the Palace hallways, long legs eating up the distance between himself and Gideon.

Gideon. His friend. His King.

But no longer.

He could not watch him become this…this monster any longer. And it had been occurring right under his nose, all this time. He should be angry, should be shaking with it. Gideon lied to him, had been lying to him. All this time…

The throne room doors opened and he clenched his fists at his sides, nails digging into the meat of his palms, bloody furrows by now. How could he be so fucking calm, sitting there on that throne, face twisted into a smile at the other man’s entrance but all Odin could see were the lies?

“I trusted you. I trusted you with my life. And you repay me by becoming what? Another monarch that I will eventually have to dethrone? It is my job to protect you, my sole reason for bein’ here. For wearin’ this-” Odin tugged at the collar of his cloak viciously, fabric tearing just a but at the brutality of his fingers. He grit his teeth into a snarl, as much a dog now as he always was, Gideon’s family crest burning into his chest beneath the chain mail and armor, beneath the fabric, sinew, and bone.

“They call me your Sword, your Dog. Ever loyal, they said. Always noble. By your side through every fight, shielding you from the brunt of it.” His chest was heaving, now, temples sweating, head pounding. He hurt, ached, deep in his chest. He had lied to himself for so long. He had wanted to believe that Gideon was good, that he could be the King their people needed. But he’d been blinded, by his charm, his grandeur. Gideon was like all the rest and yet this hurt the most of all.

“But how can a dog protect its master when he keeps kicking it away? How can a dog keep crawling back, time and time again, when all it wants is to know that everything is alright? I have followed you from the beginning, my friend, but I-I don’ believe I can do that anymore.”

And here was his own lie, a lie that could save him or damn him. Either way the man doing the sentencing was no longer one he knew. He was merely a shadow, a ghost, a wretch. “‘m sick, Gideon. It’s been coming on for a long time. I shake. I ache. I canna even hold a sword some days, let alone fasten my bloody armor.” He took a deep breath, held his head high, and reached his fingers up to the fastener at his throat. He made them tremble, made them appear weak.

Nothing was wrong. It was all a lie. Then again, wasn’t Gideon all a lie, too?

The cloak fell to the throne room floor and pooled at his feet, red like blood. His chest felt empty, as though expecting a great loss. Really, it had happened long ago. Odin had just been filling it with bitter hope, booze, women, men. He turned, hands clenched once more, finding purchase in the bloody crescents he’d made.

He was so quiet. Didn’t he even care? Or was he too far gone to notice anything but his own paranoia?

“You’ll have my sword when you need it, in time.” As always. With that he strides from the room, as quickly as he entered it.

He was stony silent as he gathered his belongings, as he emptied his room of memories of laughter and nights spent drinking. He couldn’t bear it any longer. Odin left that day, nameless. He would remain so until he was called back again.

He was the King’s once. Now he was left to the wind, drunk on his bitterness and clutching to a false hope that, one day, he would crawl back with his tail between his legs and find a good man wearing Gideon’s skin again.