#and i did expect to be hit with homesickness when i drove through my old town. i did expect it to ache

[crimeronan]

god i still really do hate this place. i've been staying with my mom in a small familiar city which has been wonderful, i've loved it. but right now i'm driving through my rural hometown and the level of nauseous malevolence i feel is like. Astonishing. it doesn't even make sense because rural oregon looks exactly the same aside from having different species of trees and i LOVE it. sometimes a sickness and a rot just lives inside a specific geographical point, i guess. you root yourself to it. i can't wait until i'm done seeing my dad and can go back to the little baby city with the parent i actually like. holy Shit.

[morningfears]

Back Home

Rating: PG-13 (Blink and you’ll miss it homophobia, some swearing)

Summary: Calum and Elizabeth are going to Hangout with Michael and Crystal in Gulf Shores, Alabama. However, they’ve decided to make a stop in Elizabeth’s hometown, first. Calum gets to see firsthand what growing up in the middle of nowhere was like and, while he’s at it, ask her parents for her hand in marriage.

Word Count: 7k

Calum watched as sunlight filtered through the thick growth of trees lining the road and into the car, illuminating Elizabeth’s face as they drove along a seemingly deserted back road in some tiny Alabama town he didn’t remember the name of. Her eyes, a beautiful green that he hoped their children would someday inherit, were hidden beneath a pair of sunglasses she’d stolen from him but he could clearly see how she was feeling from the smile on her lips and the way that she relaxed in the driver’s seat.

They were on their way to her parents’ house, located in an even tinier Alabama town, where they planned to spend a few days before joining Michael and Crystal in Gulf Shores for the Hangout Festival. It was a new experience for him, he’d never been to either her hometown or Hangout, but he found himself looking forward to it. He found himself looking forward to the blistering heat (“It’s actually not that bad yet,” she’d told him as they packed their bags, “it’s only hit ninety once this week.”) and the solitude she’d described when telling him about growing up in the middle of the woods. But his excitement was nothing compared to hers.

Elizabeth had always been vocal about her dislike of southern politics, southern hypocrisy, southern weather (“It can’t make up it’s damn mind! One day, it’s eighty degrees and sunshine. The next, it’s thirty and you’ve got snow flurries. But maybe that’s just April,” she’d once said, and Calum had never forgotten it), and her own accent - one that Calum could hear but just barely - but he knew she missed certain things. She missed the food - her mother’s, specifically - and some of the people. She missed being able to smile at someone as she walked down the sidewalk and not get a funny look in return. She missed manners, being expected to say hello and ask how someone was doing when she walked into a shop, and not getting a dirty look if she called someone over the age of thirty ma’am. 

But, more than anything, she missed her family.

Though Calum and Elizabeth had been together for nearly three years, he’d only met her parents once. It was at her college graduation, less than a year into their relationship, and the meeting was fine. Her parents, while polite, didn’t exactly love him right off the bat. They hadn’t cared how well the band was doing, that he’d made a career out of music and that it was going well, nor did they care about how much he already loved their daughter. He was different, a musician that didn’t look anything like the sweet southern boy her mother had always imagined she’d marry, and that was enough for them to write him off as a novelty.

They imagined that Elizabeth would grow tired of Calum after a while, that she’d get tired of the long, lonely nights while he was away on tour, and that she would begin to see things from their point of view. They imagined that she would tire of California, that her southern roots were planted just deep enough, and that she would tire of Calum and return home to them. But, so far, she hadn’t.

And Calum desperately hoped that she never would.

While her parents had accepted her desire to stay in California and to keep Calum in her life - her mother even liked him, enough to bake him a loaf of bread that apparently no one else in her family liked - there was a bit of a rift. Calum’s parents traveled to see him every so often (and he packed up to see them when he could) but Elizabeth’s parents didn’t like to travel. She told him once that her mother was so afraid of flying that even a Xanax couldn’t calm her enough to get on a flight and that she was such an awful car passenger that a twenty-nine hour drive, even. with regular stops, might actually kill her. They’d only been to California once, to see her graduate, and that had been such an ordeal that Elizabeth never asked again.

Her schedule, while freer now that she’d finished school, was less flexible than his own. She had work, a job that required her to stay in Los Angeles most of the time, and that made going home (as well as joining him on tour) next to impossible. She went home for big holidays, Christmas and Thanksgiving, but even that was starting to become difficult as she and Calum began to intertwine their lives.

She hadn’t been home since November - they’d spent Christmas with his family in Australia - and was beyond homesick. Most of the meals she made were recipes her mother talked her through over FaceTime so when Michael and Crystal asked him if they would want to join them for a week in Gulf Shores, Calum jumped at the opportunity to surprise his homesick girlfriend. He worked with her boss - a lovely woman from, coincidentally, Georgia, who had become more like a mentor than a boss - to get her a week of vacation. He called her mom and asked her if it would be alright for them to stay for a weekend before they headed to the beach (of course, she was so excited that she cried and Calum didn’t quite understand half of her words through her accent but he felt the love). And he managed to keep their final destination a secret until they landed in Mobile.

Just before they landed in Mobile, when the pilot announced their destination, the look on Elizabeth’s face was more than enough to make Calum’s year. He took a picture of it, just to remember the look of awe and love she’d given him, before he kissed her and confirmed that they were headed to see her parents. He told her, as they navigated the airport and headed toward the car rental, that they would be spending the weekend with them before heading down to Gulf Shores to spend a few days exploring and experiencing Hangout.

He was certain the smile hadn’t disappeared since.

Although he’d offered to drive, Elizabeth refused to let him behind the wheel. Calum normally drove on their outings - mostly because he was a much calmer driver than her and knew how to handle Los Angeles traffic without having a minor panic attack - but she’d been insistent. The closest airport to her parents’ house was in Mobile and the quickest route took them through a maze of backroads that, according to her and Michael (who had gotten lost on more than one occasion during his trips down south), didn’t appear on either Apple or Google Maps. Elizabeth, however, knew the route like the back of her hand and was comfortable navigating the winding curves and deserted country roads.

“Did you go to Mobile a lot as a kid?” Calum asked, his voice breaking the silence for the first time since they’d left the city limits. He’d been content to just look, to soak it all in, and apparently, so had she. It was like she was recommitting the entire route to memory and he didn’t want to disturb her. However, he was curious and, with her, he never let his questions go unasked.

“Not really,” she hummed, glancing over at him for a moment before returning her gaze to the road beyond the windshield. “It’s almost a three hour drive. It wasn’t a big deal to make the trip but it was more special occasion, you know? We came down here to get dresses for formals and, like, my prom dress. I came with my grandparents some because my paw-paw went to the doctor down here. He took me to Hot Topic for the first time and my mom swears I haven’t been normal since.”

Calum grinned at that, both at the casual use of ‘paw-paw’ (something he knew she hated saying because of the obviousness of it’s origin and the way it seemed to draw out her accent) and the mental image of a pre-teen Elizabeth exploring Hot Topic for the first time. There were pieces of her, bits of her past, that he had never seen. They were never intentionally hidden, it wasn’t as if she locked them away and refused to show them to him, but they were just things that didn’t really come up in the course of their daily lives. Memories of childhood, old habits that had long since been forgotten, seemed to return to her as they drove through the curved roads and he was looking forward to getting know who she was before she moved to LA.

The drive passed far quicker than either imagined it would. Calum watched Elizabeth’s face more often than he watched the scenery pass them by but both were equally captivating. She pointed out certain buildings, little shops or restaurants, that she’d visited as a child. She informed him when they left one town and entered another. She made him promise they could stop by a diner, a little building that looked like it could only fit about five people at a time, on their way back to Gulf Shores (they would make the return trip, the same way they’d just come, and drive through Mobile to get there), as well as made him promise they could stop and get ice cream at a farmer’s market that would apparently ruin his desire to eat any other ice cream ever again.

It was endearing, seeing her so excited for such small things, and Calum decided that he would do whatever she wanted, stop wherever she wanted, just to see the carefree smile she’d been sporting since they stepped out of the airport remain on her lips.

The closer they got to her hometown, the more relaxed she grew in the driver’s seat. She smiled as she pointed out her high school (“It sucked. I hated every moment of it, but it still feels nice seeing the building, you know?”) and the one gas station in her hometown. Calum smiled as he imagined her driving these very roads as a teenager, singing along to All Time Low and wholeheartedly agreeing with the pop punk standard of needing to leave her hometown. He marveled at the lack of traffic lights, at the lack of buildings, and grew more and more astonished the farther they got from her high school. She’d told him she grew up in the middle of nowhere, far away from civilization, but he thought she was joking. However, as he realized that he could count on one hand the number of buildings they’d seen since leaving the city limits of the town closest to her home, he realized that that wasn’t the case at all. 

But it was nice, in an odd sort of way. It felt serene, like a quiet place where you could disconnect from the world, and Calum wondered what it was like to grow up here.

“It was miserable,” Elizabeth answered candidly when he asked. “The nearest grocery store is twenty minutes away, if you’re speeding, and they don’t even have half of what you need. It’s just the essentials, really, like milk and bread and stuff. If you wanted anything good, like ice cream or candy or snacks, you’d have to go to Walmart. The closest Walmart, the only place where you can get stuff like dish soap and good shampoo - well, as good as Dove is, I guess - and toothpaste that doesn’t cost six bucks a tube is forty-five minutes away. The nearest hospital is an hour away. Same with the nearest mall, movie theater, bowling alley… The list goes on. There wasn’t much to do here as a kid. You just kind of exist, you know? I played outside al to as a kid. Shocking, I know,” she added, grinning in Calum’s direction as she caught the surprised look on his face.

He couldn’t imagine Elizabeth, the girl who hated her hands being dirty more than anything else, playing outside in the southern heat. He almost asked what her neighbors were like, what the other kids in her neighborhood were like, when she added, “I didn’t have neighbors so I just kind of had to entertain myself. It was lonely and boring.”

Calum watched as she focused on a turn she was making, down a road just off the main highway, and he imagined that they were getting closer to her parents’ house. “Do you miss anything about it?” he asked, his voice soft as he watched her bring one hand up to play with the butterfly pendant laying against her skin. “Other than your family and the dogs, of course.”

“Of course,” she laughed as she glanced at him and smiled. She paused for a moment, as if to think about it, before she shrugged. “Not really,” she hummed as she returned her gaze to the road ahead. “I mean, I miss the food but if I really want it, I can make most things myself. The only thing I haven’t mastered yet is collards and I think that’s just because I can’t get good ones in LA. I miss the quiet sometimes, mostly when I’m trying to sleep, and being able to see the stars but I love living in an actual city with things to do and places to go. Yeah, some stores are still twenty minutes from our house but if I really need something, I can get it from somewhere else. And, I mean, I love the diversity of the city. I didn’t know anything about other cultures, about other people, when I moved to LA and it’s been amazing to see it all and to see how open everyone is to new things. I mean, yeah, I hate some things about LA and it’s a different world for me, for sure, but, at the end of the day, it’s home now.”

Calum nodded his understanding at that. He realized that she loved being surrounded by options. She loved having the ability to get in the car and go get coffee or just go to Target if she felt like it and her hometown wasn’t exactly the most stimulating place he’d ever found himself. Everything looked as if it had seen better days, decades ago, and he didn’t begrudge her not wanting to return for good. However, he was glad that he was getting the opportunity to at least spend a weekend in the middle of nowhere with her and that joy was only magnified as they approached a small dirt road that he quickly realized housed her parents’ home.

“Am I going to get to hear your southern accent?” he asked, an excited lilt to his voice as they drove down a tree lined dirt road, careful not to hit the rocks and tree limbs that cluttered it. “It’s so faint now,” he reminded her. She, like him, had adapted to Los Angeles and he accent had faded. It was still there, more so than his own, but it only truly appeared when she was angry or excited or exceptionally tired and unable to control her speech pattern. It was faint and Calum missed it. He thought it was cute, he liked the way it sounded when she said his name, but he knew it had been a source of annoyance for her when she first arrived in the city. He also knew that she herself wasn’t very fond of it so she didn’t lament its loss at all.

“Probably. At least, it’ll be thicker here than it is in LA,” she confirmed with a sigh, not at all pleased by the thought. “I try not to control my voice so much around my family. I just talk, I guess. But I still don’t get why you like it so much. It’s gross. And, besides, you’ll get tired of the southern twang real quick with my family. I’ll provide translation services if necessary.”

Calum laughed at the deadpan comment and nodded his appreciation. She knew how much trouble he had understanding her mother sometimes (usually when she was angry and ranting during a phone call) and had warned him that the rest of her family - with the exception of her brother - was worse. The accents grew thicker and thicker, harder and harder to understand, and she herself sometimes found it difficult to navigate a conversation. But Calum was looking forward to seeing her at ease among members of her family and grew excited as he spotted a comfortable white house looming in the distance.

“Here we are,” she informed him with a smile, her cheeks round and pink (from the heat or excitement, he couldn’t tell) and her teeth on display, as she caught sight of the cars parked out front. “Holy shit, everyone is here.”

Everyone seemed to be an understatement. There were several cars, all parked in front of her parents’ home, and Calum couldn’t even begin to guess who had appeared to greet her. Her mother had told him that her brother, his wife, and their children would be there to greet them. He also imagined that her nana would be there. However, he couldn’t fathom who else her mother could have invited. But, as Elizabeth put the car in park, a horde of teenagers, all in their mid to late teens, rushed out of the front door, down the steps, and swarmed the car.

“Lizzie, you’re home,” one girl with blonde hair and braces cheered as Elizabeth climbed out of the car. Though she looked to be about sixteen, she stood several inches taller than Elizabeth and dwarfed her as she pulled her into a hug. “I missed you! I have so much to tell you. I got a car! I can drive now. And a boyfriend! You went to high school with his brother, Austin.”

“Let her go, May,” another of the girls, this one shorter than Elizabeth and decidedly the oldest of the group, urged as she shoved her arms between the pair, “I want to hug her.” She wrapped her arms around Elizabeth’s waist and pouted up at her as she said, “Lizzie, I start college in August. I’m going to LSU and I don’t know what to do. Help me!”

“She’s my aunt!” A high pitched voice squeaked as a short girl with glasses and braces that bore a clear family resemblance to Elizabeth shoved through the others. “Aunt Lizzie!”

“Hey, guys,” she laughed, clearly overwhelmed by the affection as she struggled to fully climb out of the car. “It’s good to see you all, too. What are y’all doing here?”

“We waited to have maw maw’s birthday party today so we could celebrate that, you being home, and me graduating high school all at once. Oh my god, is that a boy? Lizzie has a boyfriend!” the second girl, whose name Calum still didn’t know, yelled as she caught sight of him climbing out of the car. He offered her a smile, amused by the apparent novelty of Elizabeth bringing someone home, and waved at her before he reached back into the car to grab his bag. “Lizzie’s never brought anyone home before,” she told Calum as he walked around the car to stand at Elizabeth’s side. “We thought she was a lesbian but just didn’t want to tell us.”

“Oh my god, Haley,” Elizabeth groaned as she reached out and nudged the shorter girl away from her. “Go away. All of you, go inside. I’ll be there in a second.” When the girls turned and began running back toward the house, Elizabeth groaned and turned to bury her face in the crook of Calum’s neck. “Jesus, fuck. This is why I never brought anyone home,” she deadpanned as she glanced up at him from the corner of her eye. “I’m going to go ahead and apologize for everything that’s about to happen.”

Calum, who was struggling to hold back his laughter, shook his head at her statement. “Don’t worry about it,” he assured her with a smile as he leaned in to press a kiss to the crown of her head.  “Family can be embarrassing but, at the end of the day, they love you and want to see you happy.” He paused for a moment, thinking about the comment the girl had made, before he asked, “Before we go in, they don’t know you’re bi, do they?”

“No,” she sighed as she removed herself from his grasp and opened the back door to grab her own bag from the seat. “They… I don’t know. I can’t tell them and, I mean, right now, it doesn’t matter. But, no. There are a lot of things they don’t know about me. I didn’t realize you’d be thrown to the wolves on the very first night so I’m going to apologize again for anything they say that’s offensive. I’ve tried so many times to educate them but it’s so tiring when they don’t want to learn, you know? My mom tries, sometimes, but it’s easier to just pretend for a few days than keep pounding my head against a brick wall.”

Calum wasn’t sure what he could say to that statement and he knew that, sometimes, all she needed was a hand to hold. So, instead of putting his foot in his mouth, he gripped her hand in his and brought it to his mouth to place a gentle kiss against the back. When she shot him a halfhearted smile, he squeezed it a little tighter and said, “Lead the way, love.”

Though Calum had been overwhelmed by the barrage of teenage girls that bombarded the car, they were nothing compared to the barrage of adults that swarmed them as they entered the house. He held Elizabeth’s bag and watched as, one by one, adult after adult wrapped Elizabeth in hugs and shouted variations of, “Lizzie Belle!” He stood off to the side, a small smile on his face, as he watched them tell her how proud they were of her for finding a life in Los Angeles or how beautiful she looked. It was sweet, an onslaught of love, but he imagined that she was incredibly uncomfortable with the outpouring of compliments as she thanked everyone. She didn’t like to be the center of attention, not when there were so many sets of eyes on her, but he could tell that she was glad to be at home as she hugged her nana and held on tight.

“Here, let me help you with that,” a voice called over the din of the living room and Calum glanced over to meet the eyes of a man he recognized as her older brother. The family resemblance wasn’t very strong - likely due to their different fathers - but he could see bits and pieces of Elizabeth in him. They had the same dark, wavy hair (though her brothers had started graying) and kind smile but that was where the similarity ended. Her brother, slightly taller than Calum and significantly bigger, looked as if he spent a good deal of his time outdoors and was covered with tattoos.

“Thanks,” Calum said as he handed the bag to Elizabeth’s brother and followed him through the small path he’d carved behind the crowd of relatives. “Calum,” he introduced, holding his hand out as they entered a long hallway, “nice to meet you.”

“Josh,” he returned as he shook Calum’s hand before gesturing to a room with a closed door, “this is Lizzie’s room. Y’all’ll be in here.” Josh dropped the bag onto Elizabeth’s bed and Calum followed suit before he paused to glance around the room.

The room was exactly what he’d imagined it would be. The curtains were black and red with a light blocking curtain behind them. The queen sized bed was tall, so tall that Elizabeth needed a step-stool to climb onto it, and covered with a black duvet with white polka dots and nearly a million pillows at the head. Posters covered every inch of the walls and Calum spotted All Time Low, Green Day, and even a few One Direction posters thrown into the mix. A bookshelf rested in one corner and was filled to the brim with books, CDs, DVDs, and old trinkets. He spotted a stack of yearbooks on the top shelf and decided that his night was going to spent combing through her memories.

As Calum lost himself in exploring her bedroom, he didn’t realize that a small velvet box had fallen out of his bag. He’d tucked it into the pocket for safety but it jostled loose when he tossed the bag onto the bed and hit the floor with a thud. As he ran his fingers along the CDs littering her bookshelf, stopping and grinning when he came across their self-titled album - something he was absolutely going to tease Elizabeth about having later - Josh bent down to pick it up.

“You know, Lizzie’s never really been a jewelry person but, from the way she talks about you, I can see her being alright with wearing this.”

Calum turned, surprised as he had forgotten that Josh was still in the room, and blinked as he stared at the box in his hand. He didn’t know what to say. He’d been planning on asking her parents for permission, something he knew she thought was old-fashioned but a sweet gesture, and was mildly terrified of the response he was going to get. However, as Josh smiled at him and held the box out to him, Calum felt a small bit of ease wash over him.

“You think?” he asked as he shoved the box back into his bag and ensured that it wouldn’t fall out again. “I don’t - I know we’ve just met but I…” He paused, unsure of what he should say to him, before he simply stated, “I really love her.”

“I figured,” he nodded as he took a seat on the edge of her bed and jerked his head in the direction of the living room. “Anyone willing to put up with all this has to be in love. Momma said you were the one who called and asked if y’all could come down,” Josh said as he glanced toward the door of the room. “Lizzie doesn’t get to come home much so it meant a lot that you called and set this up for her. Momma’s hard to get through to sometimes. She doesn’t think anyone’s good enough for her kids, especially when they keep them so far away from home, but that made her happy. That gave her a reason to like you. I don’t think they’ll say no, if that’s what you’re after. But, you do know that Lizzie won’t care what they say, right?”

Calum was floored to hear Josh speak so candidly about their mother. Elizabeth was never so open about it. She rarely spoke about the bad with her family - only when she really needed to convey the importance of something - but he knew that there was a tension that he would need to overcome where her family was concerned. He was more of afraid of their denial than hers but to hear Josh predict that they would approve made his heartbeat calm and the tension in his shoulders ease.

“I know,” he laughed as he imagined Elizabeth raging against a denial from her parents. She was an adult, she was free to do as she pleased, and if she wanted to marry Calum, she would. However, having that approval was more of a symbolic gesture that Calum hoped would extend an olive branch to her parents and assure them that he wasn’t trying to steal their daughter or keep her from seeing them. He opened his mouth to thank Josh when footsteps interrupted him.

He glanced up to see Elizabeth step into the room with a small child in her arms, no older than two, and Calum felt his heart skip a beat at the sight. “There you are,” she hummed as she glanced at Calum and gave him a smile before she turned her attention to her brother. “Dad’s looking for you. They’re getting the crawfish ready to put out. They need some more hands.”

“Alright,” he sighed as he stood from the bed and clapped Calum on the shoulder. “Nice meeting you, man. We’ll have a beer later, talk some more. Lizzie says you’re in a band. I wanna know about your music,” he said before he leaned in and wrapped an arm around Elizabeth’s waist and pressed a kiss to the baby’s head. “Hey, girl. Good to see you. Don’t drop my child, please.”

“Like I would,” Elizabeth huffed as she nudged her brother away from her. “You literally threw me across a room as a baby. I’m clearly not the one anyone needs to be concerned about. Isn’t that right, Sawyer?” The baby in her arms cooed, grinning up at her, and Josh rolled his eyes as he let go. 

“Keep bringing up the past, damn. Can’t let anyone make any mistakes around here,” he grumbled playfully as he left the room and left Calum, Elizabeth, and Sawyer alone.

“Sorry for letting him steal you,” she apologized as she stepped closer to him and smiled when he reached out to offer the baby his finger. “I try desperately hard to keep anyone I like away from him. When I was twelve, he called out this guy I had a crush on on Facebook and the guy never spoke to me again. He was, uh, a little… overprotective?” She paused, glancing down at the baby in her arms, before she cooed at her. “You’re gonna have such tough time dating, honey. He’s gonna give your dates the ultimate interrogation and it’s not going to end well for anyone involved.”

Calum laughed as Elizabeth pouted at the baby and felt his heart melt as he watched them interact. He’d been thinking a lot lately, about children and marriage and the future, and every image of the future he got, Elizabeth was in it. He wanted her to be the one walking down the aisle to meet him. He wanted her to be the one to carry his children. He wanted her to be the one he grew old with. He wanted her, then and forever, and it made his heart ache in the best way to see her look so happy holding a small child.

“You look beautiful like that,” Calum breathed before he could stop himself. When Elizabeth rolled her eyes, brushing him off with a comment about how much she’d been sweating from the sweltering heat, he shook his head. “You always look beautiful but you look even more so holding the baby,” he elaborated, smiling as she glanced down at the giggling girl in her arms. “It looks natural.”

“It’s taken us a few times to get this right,” she hummed as she tickled Sawyer and grinned at her. “She threw up on me the first few times I held her. But we’re good now, right, honey?” When Sawyer cooed at her, reaching out to tug at her hair, Elizabeth smiled and glanced at Calum. When she met his amused glance, she grinned and shook her head. “I know what you meant, bub. It’s nice. I’ve thought about it and I want it - children, a family - with you. I’m sure there are other things we need to work on before that but I want that.”

“I do, too,” Calum confirmed with a grin as he leaned over to press a soft kiss to her cheek. When the baby slapped at his chest, he laughed and pulled away from Elizabeth with a grin, “But maybe now isn’t the best time to talk about our family plans, huh?”

“Nope,” she agreed with a smile,  “not when there’s a cranky little lady that needs her mom and two adults that need beer and crawfish.”

Calum quickly found himself in the backyard, passed around by relatives as Elizabeth introduced him to each one. Her mother, who had been finishing frosting a red velvet cake, grinned when she spotted him and nudged an uncle that Calum had already forgotten the name of out of the way. He was almost surprised at the hug he received, the affection was a little startling, but he decided not to question it as Elizabeth’s mother wrapped her arms around him and squeezed.

“Thank you,” she said as the others around them dispersed to give them a moment to talk. “My Belle doesn’t get to come home much and she’s always so worried about taking off so I’m so glad you convinced her to come home for a little bit. I’ve missed my baby. And it’s good to see you again. I haven’t seen you in nearly two years. I miss your hair,” she laughed as she pointed out the buzz cut he’d gotten recently.

“Lizzie does, too,” he laughed as he rubbed a hand over the bleached hair on top of his head. “She liked playing with it while we were watching TV,” he added quickly, afraid of how the first part of his sentence sounded. “I’m glad that everyone was able to come. She’s missed everyone.”

“She has,” her mom nodded as she glanced around the backyard and smiled as she caught sight of Elizabeth sitting with the girls and chatting animatedly about whatever topic they’d gotten started on. “Everyone’s missed her. It’s not the same without her here but she’s happy in LA. You make her happy. I’m glad that y’all have each other,” her mother told him with a smile and Calum breathed a quiet sigh of relief at the sincerity in her tone. He was afraid that Josh had misread the situation, that he wasn’t nearly as favored as he imagined he was, but to hear her say that eased the nerves he felt in the pit of his stomach. However, they quickly returned as she turned to face him and said, “Josh said you had something you wanted to ask us?”

Calum blinked, surprised he was being put on the spot so quickly, and nodded slowly. “I, uh, yeah. But it can wait. It’s fine.”

Her mother smiled at him and Calum could see the understanding on her face. “If it’s what I think you want to ask, I’d prefer you didn’t. The answer is yes, by the way, from both of us.  But we still want to hear your proposal.”

Calum laughed as he found himself being dragged into the house by Elizabeth’s parents. Her brother and grandmother — whose opinion really, truly mattered — followed them into the laundry room (the only room that seemed to be empty) and listened carefully as Calum asked for permission and detailed the proposal he had planned in Gulf Shores.

The rest of the weekend seemed to pass in a blur. Elizabeth taught Calum how to eat crawfish - her brother showed him how to suck the head, though he didn’t imagine he would be giving that a try - and her maw maw taught him how to shell butterbeans and peas as they sat in the shade of a pecan tree and worked on seven five-gallon buckets of peas and beans. They took him to a fish camp, an old cabin-like building in the middle of nowhere that made the best friend fish he’d ever had, and showed him the river where they went tubing when Elizabeth and Josh were young. And on their last night, he and Elizabeth sat on her parent’s front porch with a bucket of peas a piece and watched as the dusty afternoon turned to night.

“I’m really glad you did this,” she hummed as she glanced away from the bucket in front of her and over at Calum. “I never thought I’d say this but maybe all I needed was to come home and shell peas for a few days.”

Calum, whose fingers were sore and stained from the hulls, couldn’t imagine having spent every summer in this fashion but it was a nice glimpse into her world and he agreed. It had been restful, something of a recharge, and he found himself grateful for the experience. “It’s been nice,” Calum agreed with a smile as he watched her work for a moment. “It’s been good to see you in your element. I know that this isn’t your life anymore but it was nice to see where you come from.”

“I’m glad it didn’t send you running for the hills,” she teased as she tossed a hull into the bucket and shook her head. “You know, if you’d told me as a kid that I would move to LA, I wouldn’t have believed you. But if you’d have said that I’d move to LA, find someone as amazing as you, fall in love, and then bring you home someday to show you what my life was like before? I would’ve called you insane. But it felt right. Letting you in, letting you see this part of my life. It felt… it felt like it was time, you know?”

Calum reached out to squeeze Elizabeth’s hand but said nothing as they continued to shell their peas. If he’d spoken, he would’ve poured his heart out to her. He would’ve confessed just how much he loved her, just how much she meant to him, and would’ve ended up proposing on her parents’ front porch. Instead, he let his touch convey everything he wanted to say and hoped that would last them until they made it to the beach. 

Saying goodbye was a rough affair. Elizabeth’s mother and nana cried. Her father held onto her for so long that her mother had to pull them apart. They all made her promise to visit again soon and sent them on their way with enough food to feed an army. Elizabeth let Calum drive on the return trip and watched as he navigated the streets she regarded with a fondness that she never imagined she would feel. She felt bittersweet, glad to have gone home but sad to be leaving, and hoped that the festival would cheer her mood.

However, what she was met with was something far greater than she expected.

As they arrived at the beach house she, Calum, Michael, and Crystal would share for the weekend, she was under the impression that they’d arrived before Michael and Crystal. However, as they entered the house to find it decorated with photos from her and Calum’s relationship as well as flowers, she realized that she was wrong. They’d been in, long enough to help Calum set up his surprise, and were waiting somewhere in the city for Calum to make his move. It didn’t click, not at first, what the point of the set up was. But as she dropped her bag and began to look at each of the photos, it soon dawned on her.

“Calum,” she began, her voice quiet as she turned to him, only to see him on one knee behind her. “Oh, fuck.”

At her exclamation, Calum laughed and held his hand out for her to grab. “Come here,” he laughed, smiling as she stepped closer to him and allowed him to hold her hand in his. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while and even spending a weekend shelling peas can’t deter me,” Calum teased as he glanced up at her. Her hand rested over her mouth, her fingers shaking as she watched him open the small velvet box to reveal a beautiful ring. “I love you, so much. Whenever I imagine the future, I imagine you in it. I want it all with you. I want to have a family with you, I want to grow old with you. I want to marry you and spend the rest of my life by your side. I love you, Lizzie. Will you marry me?”

Elizabeth, though she imagined the proposal was coming, couldn’t speak. Instead, she nodded her agreement and kneeled onto the floor to wrap her arms around Calum’s neck. He laughed, relief and joy bubbling in his chest, as he wrapped his own arms around her waist and held her tight against his chest. He held her there for a moment, relishing in the moment, before he pulled away just enough to press a kiss to her lips. “I love you,” he breathed against them, his eyes shining with joy as he moved to place the ring on her finger, “I can’t wait for forever with you.”

“Forever isn’t long enough when I’m with you, Hood,” she quipped, her smile bright and her eyes glittering with unshed tears as she pressed her lips to his once more. “I love you, Cal. Thank you for being the most amazing man and for loving me the way you do.”

Calum knew that the future was rapidly approaching. He knew that, no matter how far away it seemed, everything would change in the blink of an eye. But with Elizabeth by his side, with her hand in his, he imagined that he could tackle whatever the universe threw at him.

And as they sat on the back patio, curled up together on a lounge chair and looking out at the water with Michael and Crystal to their left and the sound of pre-Hangout revelry to their right, Calum couldn’t think of any other place he’d rather be.

____________________________________________________

Author’s Note: This is literally just seven thousand words of self-indulgent bullshit. I don’t know. I felt it and I’ve wanted to do this for a while. It wouldn’t leave me alone so I spent my day alternating between this and Rose Tattoo. Also, with tag lists I lowkey feel like I’m annoying people if I tag them (which is the point, I know) but tell me if you don’t want to be tagged in everything. Anyway. I need to write something for Ash now. I’m, like, in an Ash mood.

Tag List (like this post or message me if you want to be added! If you don’t want to be tagged in everything, just let me know): @toolazymyguy , @irwinkitten , @jamieebabiee , @glittersluke , @spicycal , @lusbaby , @everyscarisahealingplace, @brokenvirtualheartcollector , @if-it-rains-it-pours, @blisshemmings , @calumscalm , @lovemenowseemenever , @ijutreallylovezebras , @rhiannonmichelle , @p0laroidpictures​ , @tomscuddles , @loverofmineluke​ , @harrytreatspeoplewithkindnesss​ , @blueviiolence​ , @loveroflrh​ , @empathycth​ , @luckyduckydoo​ , @tobefalling​ , @bandsandbooksaremykink​ , @watch-how-she-burns , @megz1985​ , @wokeupinaustralia​ , @lucidlrh​ , @canterburyfiction​ , @cal-is-not-on-branding​ , @jaacknaano​ , @findingliam-o​ , @idk-who-i-am-anymore1​ , @sammyrenae68​ , @flowerthug​ , 

[darks-ink]

Absurdism Chapter 9

It’s the Danny show today, featuring MVP of this chapter: Danny’s phone.

Rating: Teen/K+ (a lil swearing, because teenagers, man) Warnings: - Genre: Family, Hurt/Comfort Additional Tags: Sibling Bonding, Family Bonding, Alternate Universe - Halfa Jazz AU, Jazz makes friends

[AO3] [FFN] [more Absurdism on Tumblr] First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

---

Chapter 9: Doppelganger

Danny let loose a barrage of (low powered) ecto-blasts, watched as Jazz’ shield wavered but held. His core rumbled in his chest, proud.

Because, sure. His presence here wasn’t ideal, and he supposed it wasn’t strictly necessary either. Based on what he had seen, Jazz would’ve managed alright on her own, too. But he was here, wasn’t he? So he might as well help.

Plus, there were only so many situations in which he got to help, and he got rewarded by people actually liking him. As Phantom, he saved Amity’s people over and over and over, and what did he get? Hatred and vitriol. Even the few that liked him changed their minds on a whim, like when Walker—

Oh.

Like when Walker attacked with Wulf.

Danny had completely forgotten about Wulf in this universe. Jazz never went into the Zone, so she never got in Walker’s bad graces. Which meant that the prison ghost never sicced Wulf on her.

Uh. Well. That was… That was something he needed to deal with. This Wulf might not know him, but still. He couldn’t leave the ghost in Walker’s hands.

“What are you thinking about?” Jazz asked, her voice snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Huh?” he said, eloquently.

She rolled her eyes. “You zoned out on me. What were you thinking of?”

He debated not telling her, but… he would have to go in the Zone to free Wulf. She needed to know if he wasn’t around to fight ghosts for her.

Instead he shrugged, a sheepish smile on his face. “I just remembered something I did in my timeline that hasn’t happened in this one. So I, uh. Figured I should go do that.”

“Why would you do that, instead of me?” she asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “It’s my universe, isn’t it?”

Danny made a face. “I mean, yeah, but it’s… complicated. Look, Jazz, it was a really rough confrontation, and one you avoided in this universe.”

“Okay, so?” she challenged, crossing her arms and looking every bit the stubborn teenager she was.

“So,” he said, “it makes more sense for me to handle it than for you to handle it. Besides, in my timeline I wasn’t strong enough to win, and I’m not gonna make you go through the same.”

“If you weren’t strong enough then, what makes you so certain you are now?” Her eyes were narrowed, bright and set.

He rolled his eyes. “Because I’ve got two years of additional experience. It’ll be fine, Jazz. And even if it won’t be, I need you to stay here. In my original timeline I got Sam and Tucker to bail me out when I took too long. I need you to be that backup in this universe, alright?”

She glared at him for a moment, before inclining her head in a nod. “I guess. But I’ll need to know where you’re going, then.”

“Right. In the Ghost Zone, kinda close to the Fenton Portal, there’s this huge purple building. That’s Walker’s prison, and that’s where I’m going to free Wulf. If I’m not back for our next training session, I need you to come look for me there.”

Her eyes grew wide. “A prison?! You’re expecting me to break you out of a prison?”

“Well, yeah. It’s a Ghost Zone prison. Regular world stuff, including us in our human forms, can go right through it. Which is why I’m not expecting it to be much trouble, but, well.” He shrugged. “You never know with Walker.”

Jazz squinted at him, but nodded, slowly. “I guess,” she grumbled, low. “Go flail at Walker. And Phantom… Danny?”

“Yeah?” he asked, meeting her eyes. She barely called him Danny anymore, wanted to keep him and her own brother separate. It was saved, now, for the special moments.

“Stay safe,” she told him.

He grinned back. “I promise, Jazz. I’ll be back before you know it.”

---

“Bye Mom, Dad!” Jazz yelled, and the front door closed. Danny peeked over the edge of the building he’d spent the night on, meeting her eye when she glanced up.

Jazz waved, a friendly gesture. Her eyes were narrowed, however, a warning. A non-verbal “stay safe”.

He waited for another moment or two before turning himself invisible. Go time.

Invisible, he left the roof. Phased through the walls and floors of FentonWorks until he reached the lab. It looked like his parents’ lab usually did; shiny chrome, with all kinds of half-assembled inventions scattered everywhere, and everything lit with the sharp white light of the ceilings lights, combined with the eerie green of the Portal.

Well, no time to get nostalgic and homesick. He had a job to do!

Determined, he pushed onward and through the Portal. The Ghost Zone was…

It was just like always, really. Maybe it was just because he didn’t go there all that often, but the place always looked the same to him. That’s kind of why he insisted on making maps, but he would just have to do without those for once. That would be fine, right? It was only one time.

It only took one time without supervision for him to get trapped in a different universe, his traitorous mind whispered to him. He ignored it.

Walker’s prison was pretty close to the Portal, but… but Danny didn’t want to go directly there. It was selfish, yes, but he wanted to see a little more of the Zone first.

Amity Park was always his home, but this Amity wasn’t his. He never felt quite right, quite at home. Always had to hide, stay out of sight. In the Ghost Zone, he could just be. No ghost would be able to tell that he didn’t belong, and even if they could, somehow? They wouldn’t care.

It was just… freeing. To go where he wanted to, and have no one care, not really. Because in here, the ghosts could tell how strong his core was. Most wouldn’t be eager to pick a fight with someone like him.

He flew, directionless and course-less. No destination in mind. Just flying for the sake of doing it.

Which, of course, was the moment he stumbled upon a familiar face.

The brakes of Johnny’s bike screeched as he tried to stop before hitting Danny, twisting the handlebars to dodge. Danny jerked himself the other way, but it wasn’t quite enough; his foot hooked on Johnny’s leg, forcing them both to a sudden stop.

Danny coughed, pushing himself back onto his feet. Johnny hadn’t fallen all the way down, but he was clinging onto his bike rather perilously.

“Shoot, sorry,” Danny apologized, one hand coming up to rub his neck. “Should’ve been paying a little more attention to where I was flying.”

Johnny squinted at him, a suspicious air about him. “Yeah, man. You lookin’ for more fights, or something?”

“No, just too caught up in my thoughts. Sorry.” He grinned sheepishly at Johnny, then realized… “Hey, where’s Kitty? Aren’t you two usually glued to each other’s sides?”

“How would you know?” Johnny asked, eyes narrowing even further. Then he scoffed, shook his head, and looked away. “If it matters, we’re fighting. Kitty’s jealous because I keep looking at other ladies even if we’re out together.”

“Ah.” Danny made a face and dropped his hand back to his side. “That’s… unfortunate. Not to get all up in your business or anything, but… have you tried talking it out? Communication is important, y’know.”

The biker ghost grumbled. “I don’t want relationship advice from a little punk like you. What’s it even matter to you? It’s not like we’re causing trouble in that city you and the girl are protecting.”

“You aren’t, no.” Danny finally placed this moment. If this matched with his universe, and chances were that it did, this was when Kitty overshadowed Paulina to make Johnny jealous. And he really didn’t want Jazz to deal with any of that—if she would even fall for it, knowing that it had happened to Danny. “Look, Johnny. I know Specter and I didn’t make a great impression when we met, but we’re not just fighting ghosts to protect humans. We want to make Amity a good place for everyone, and that includes you and Kitty whenever you come by. I don’t want you two to drag innocent humans into your fight, alright? Just talk it out like grownups, yeah?”

Johnny rolled his eyes. “Like grownups? You sound like a kid. How old do you think we are?”

“Not that old.” Danny shrugged. “Look, you get what I’m trying to say, don’t you? I might not look like it, but I know a thing or two about relationships. Talk with each other, and even if it doesn’t work out, at least you’ll know what’s up. Now you’re both agitated and frustrated and neither of you knows what’s up.”

“Ugh.” Johnny grunted. “Yeah, I guess that that makes sense.”

He settled back onto the bike properly, then leaned over the handlebars to point at Danny. “But I ain’t doing this for you, you hear me? I’m doing this for me, and for Kitty.”

“Of course,” Danny agreed peaceably. “Wouldn’t expect anything else.”

“You’d better believe it, punk.” Johnny squinted at him for a moment longer, but whatever he saw seemed to satisfy. His bike roared to life as Johnny drove off, following the narrow rocky pathways towards the Portal.

Danny watched him go for a moment, then heaved a steadying sigh. Well, that was one problem less for Jazz to deal with. But enough stalling; he should get going, before he runs into another (un)friendly face.

He made his way to the prison quickly, and then promptly realized that he hadn’t actually planned ahead this far. Well, unless you count “break in and free Wulf” as a plan, which… well. Danny might consider it a suitable plan, but Sam, and Tucker, and Jazz all keep telling him it’s not, so. Maybe he should plan ahead a little better.

The whine of a siren snapped Danny out of his thoughts and, oops. He probably should’ve moved a little further away from the prison he was trying to break into.

Some of Walker’s guards approached him, clubs raised threateningly. Danny’s muscles tensed, fingers balling into fists, energy pouring from his core.

But, no. He forcibly relaxed himself, let the guards drag him into the prison. Who needed to break into a prison, when you could just get brought into it? Sure, it was a little unconventional, but he managed to break free just fine in his own universe. The timing was a little off, but he was sure he could still count on the same ghosts.

Actually, that would explain why he hasn’t seen some of his regulars in a while. He had completely forgotten that Walker had arrested them in his timeline, and that they hadn’t gotten free until their mutual jailbreak.

Whoops.

Rather than face off against Walker, Danny is brought directly to the regular cells. Huh. Guess that he’s considered a regular rule-breaker now. More proof that Danny had so far been successful with hiding his half-ghost nature from the others, which was… good, probably? He wasn’t keen on Vlad figuring out that there were two half-ghosts around for him to convince.

It didn’t take long for the guards to return to bring Danny to the canteen and, ah. Yep. There were all those ghosts he’d been halfheartedly missing. He felt kind of bad—he should’ve remember sooner. None of these guys deserve to deal with Walker. Oh well. Live and learn, right? He could deal with the guilt later.

Danny quickly moved over, sitting down at the table with Skulker, Technus, Desiree, and the Lunch Lady. All four look rather confused to see him. Lunch Lady, especially, was squinting at him rather suspiciously.

“Whelp,” Skulker said, cautiously. “What are you doing here?”

“Organizing a jailbreak.” He shrugged, faux casual. “I could try to break in first, but, well. This was easier.”

Skulker nodded thoughtfully, but it was Desiree who spoke up, an odd tone to her voice. “You really are something else, aren’t you?”

“I try.” Danny grinned at her, then inclined his head towards Lunch Lady, remembering that they hadn’t met in this universe. “Hi, sorry, I don’t think we’ve met yet. I’m Phantom, and you’re the Lunch Lady, yeah? I heard about you from my sister, Specter.”

The suspicious expression faded from her face now that they had finally been introduced. She nodded back, hesitantly. “Yes. The girl, she was most helpful with fixing the menu.”

“Yeah, she’s good at that.” Danny turned back to the group as a whole, where Desiree nodded in agreement. “Anyway, like I was saying. Jailbreak. Any of you guys want to help?”

Skulker’s metallic face split in a ferocious grin, and Technus followed suit, baring his oddly angular teeth. Lunch Lady nodded forcefully, and Desiree gave an affirming smile as well.

All things considered, the actual jailbreak was almost laughably easy. Hell, Danny had managed it once while he was fourteen, and on much worse terms with these guys. Doing it now, with much better standings? Piece of cake.

They overwhelmed the guards quickly, storming through the prison’s hallways. Danny flew along for most of the way, until he reached the junction where everyone else would head to the exit.

“Skulker,” he called out, moving over to the empty pathway. “I’m gonna split. You guys stay safe, and remember Amity’s rules, yeah?”

Skulker, still grinning viciously, saluted him. “You have my respect, whelp. Don’t disappoint me.”

And with that, he turned around and re-joined the stream of escaping ghosts.

“Well, no point in stalling,” Danny muttered to himself, twisting towards the special holding cells again. “Let’s go, Fenton.”

He found Wulf’s cell easily enough, the hallways empty and abandoned. All guards must’ve gone to stop the massive outbreak. A lucky break.

Once Danny had located Wulf, he shifted back to human form. He could break Wulf’s cell door, but he was fairly sure that Wulf could escape himself once he was free of the collar and chains. No need to draw unneeded attention.

Danny phased through the door, shivering a little at the weird feeling. It was intangibility, sure, but it wasn’t quite right. It felt differently from regular intangibility. The lack of control, maybe?

It was dark in the cell; Danny could barely make out Wulf’s cowering shape. The ghost was curled up in the corner, his black fur lit jaggedly by the glowing chains around his wrists. Two bright green eyes peered out at him, but they were narrowed to slits. Wulf didn’t trust him.

That was okay, though. He could work with that.

Slowly he crept closer, knowing that Wulf couldn’t get away if he wanted to. Danny crouched in front of the ghost, reached out one hand, then paused. He doesn’t think he has enough power to break the collar in human form. He’ll have to shift, making Wulf the first full ghost in this universe to know that Danny is half ghost.

He swallowed away his hesitation, and backed up a few steps.

Light flashed, the cell lit up bright by his transformation. He tried to make it quick, as if he could coax his shift to do such things, but it wasn’t enough. Wulf had balled up even further, his ears flattened to his neck. Scared. Scared of what Danny might do to him.

Danny crept closer again, hands raised placatingly. He wished he knew more Esperanto, wished that he could assure Wulf of his intentions. Instead he had to settle for trying to emit reassurance, his core rumbling soothingly in his chest.

He didn’t know if it worked, or if Wulf was just too scared to fight back, but Danny got his hands on Wulf’s collar. He swallowed away the hesitation, the worry, and wriggled his fingers in the tight space between the metal and Wulf’s soft fur.

And he pulled.

Energy poured from his core, through his arms and his fingers. Sparked bright green, straight into the metal of the collar.

And he pulled.

With a hiss—or a sizzle—the collar released. It clattered onto the stone floor, emitting a shrill beep as it deactivated.

Wulf opened one hesitant eye, flicking it to the collar and then back to Danny. He tried to shoot the ghost a reassuring grin, taking his hands off of Wulf’s neck again.

Rather than try to puzzle out the Esperanto, he reached for the chains on Wulf’s wrists, pausing before he actually touched them. The wide green eyes followed his movement, and stilled for a moment.

Then Wulf nodded.

With this permission granted, Danny quickly stuck his fingers underneath the metal cuffs. These weren’t electronic, but pure ecto-steel. All he would need for these was a bit of pure ghost-powered strength.

The cuff tore open with the groan and creak of metal. Danny quickly moved over to do the same to the other cuff, freeing Wulf entirely.

When the second chain fell away, clanging against the back of the cell, Danny stood up. Backed away from Wulf again.

Wulf hesitantly raised up as well, shoulders drawn high and head held low. His ears were still flattened, and his tail twitched uncertainly.

The ghost licked his lips, then asked, haltingly, in Esperanto, “Why did you help me?”

“It’s a long story,” Danny answered with a shrug. Even if he wanted to explain, he couldn’t. He wasn’t that fluent in Esperanto. “But you are free now.”

“Free?” Wulf repeated, ears slowly rising up. His eyes seemed extra bright, now, and didn’t move away from Danny. His tail twitched more vigorously, like a restrained wag. “I… am free?”

“Well…” Danny shrugged vaguely, unsure of how to make it any more clear. “Uh, yeah.”

Realizing that he’d said the last in English, he instead settled for making vague shooing motions at Wulf.

This, at least, had some effect on the ghost. Wulf’s muscles coiled, and with a sudden twitch, he unsheathed his claws.

Except the ghost bounded forward, suddenly, lunging towards Danny. He had just a single moment of doubt, had he somehow misjudged this situation?, before Wulf’s furry arm wrapped around him, dragging him along. He could hear a tearing noise, and then suddenly the cell was gone.

Oh. Of course. Wulf had grabbed him and taken them outside Walker’s prison. That made perfect sense.

Wulf had perked up now that they were outside the prison—and the Ghost Zone as a whole—because he stood tall again, his ears perked up and his tail wagging.

“Tell the story?” Wulf asked, cocking his head at Danny. “Why did you free me?”

Danny hesitated, taking a moment to look around them. They seemed to be in the woods somewhere in the human world, but he didn’t know where, exactly. He turned back to Wulf with an apologetic face. “I don’t speak very good Esperanto,” he explained. “Sorry.”

He wished he could explain, though. Wulf already knew about him being half-ghost, and Danny was sure he could trust Wulf. And—

And Wulf could make portals between worlds. Maybe he could even make one home.

Danny’s core churned with an unnameable emotion. Pain, regret, guilt. Could he somehow…

With a flash, he shifted back to human form. He patted down his trousers, quickly, ignoring Wulf’s confused look.

There! Danny pulled his phone out of his pocket, holding down the power button. He had realized, very quickly after coming here, that his phone was almost completely useless. He could use it for entertainment, sure, but no one could call or text him, and he couldn’t charge it regularly enough for it to really be useful. So he had turned it off, intending to save the charge so he could call his friends when he got home.

He opened the internet browser, quickly navigating to Google Translate. His fingers darted over the keyboard, and when he was happy with his message, he clicked the translate button. It wouldn’t be perfect, sure, but hopefully it would get the message across.

“It is a weird complicated story,” his phone started reciting, and Wulf perked up even further. He crept in a little closer, focus entirely on the phone in Danny’s hand as it continued to speak. “I am actually from a different universe. I am half ghost, and I accidentally traveled through a portal to this world. In my own universe, we are friends. Walker tried to have you attack me, but my friends and I took off your collar, and you helped me protect my town. I know that you are not the same Wulf, but I wanted to help you anyway, to repay you for everything you have done for me.”

They waited in silence for a moment, then Wulf nodded, a grin appearing on his face. “I am glad,” he said, tail wagging energetically, “that in another universe, I have made a friend so good that it carried over to another world entirely.”

Danny didn’t quite understand that whole thing, but he thought he got the gist anyway. He grinned back. “Well, you’re my friend.”

“Still, I wish I could help.” Wulf flexed his paws, almost experimentally, but his grin faltered. “I wish I could open a portal home for you, but I can’t. Only between here and the Ghost Zone.”

His core stuttered, churned painfully. That figured. He hadn’t thought that Wulf could, not really, but still. It hurt.

“It’s not your fault,” he assured Wulf anyway, patting his massive furry forearm. “I’ll figure something out.”

“I still want to do something in return,” Wulf insisted, shoving his head against Danny’s shoulder. “Anything to help my friend.”

Well, now his core heaved for an entirely different reason. Danny moved his hand to Wulf’s forehead, thinking it over. With one hand, he tapped out a new message on his phone.

“There is one option,” it started, and Wulf’s ears twisted towards the phone again. “In this universe, someone else is half ghost in my place. My sister. She is just as young as I was, and has less support. I think she will be okay, but it would be nice to be sure.”

Wulf pulled his head away from Danny’s shoulder, nodding vigorously. “It would be my pleasure to watch over your sister in your stead.”

“Good.” Danny rubbed his hand through Wulf’s fur, rugged but surprisingly soft, considering the circumstances. “Thank you, Wulf.”

It would be good to know that Jazz was safe when he left.

If he ever got to leave.

---

Harried footsteps echoed through the street as Danny turned down an alley. The heavy footfalls behind him continued; both Sam and Tucker wore boots instead of sneakers.

Light flashed in front of them, pale blue light bouncing off of the alley’s walls. Danny stopped, Sam and Tucker right behind him.

He cleared his throat, and the ghost mere feet away startled visibly. Its—his—bright green eyes shot upwards, towards Danny. The expression was so human, far more human than his parents’ research suggested. And it was undeniably guilty.

The ghost knew exactly who Danny was.

Slowly, the ghost clipped the Fenton Thermos in his hands back onto his white belt. From this close, Danny could tell that the entire outfit closely resembled the jumpsuit his parents had made for him, with the colors inverted. He wondered, darkly, how often the ghost had spied on them to mimic it so closely.

“Um,” the ghost said, then halted, like he hadn’t quite thought out what he actually wanted to say. He fidgeted with the cuff of one of his white gloves. His eyes, wide and unnaturally bright green, darted between the three humans opposing him.

“We need to talk,” Danny told him, trying to make it sound like a threat. They hadn’t brought anything to trap the ghost, and even if he appeared cornered, Danny knew he wasn’t. Intangibility was a bitch.

The ghost shifted, like he was strongly contemplating leaving. He grimaced. “Well, um. What about? It’s not like we’ve… met, ha ha.”

Really, he could not look any more awkward. It was almost impressive. If only the situation had been, well. Not this.

Danny glared at the ghost, and Phantom made a face. He didn’t leave.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Danny snapped. His nails dug into his palms as he clenched his fists. “I don’t know who you are, and quite frankly, I don’t give a fuck. You can haunt Amity Park all you want, and I wouldn’t give a single damn! But you’re messing with my sister, and I can’t let that fucking slide.”

Phantom shifted guiltily. He opened his mouth, but Danny cut him off before he could speak.

“I don’t want to hear it! Whatever dumb excuse you’re gonna give, I don’t want it. I know Specter is my sister, that she’s Jazz. I saw her go from human to ghost, when you two were fighting that shadow-y ghost. She was knocked out, you know that? And when she got up, she just went back out again, and I had to let her! Because I couldn’t tell her I know! Because you somehow convinced her that— that you’re her brother, or whatever!”

Phantom’s mouth tightened into a thin line. His eyes, still luminous and green, narrowed. He waited for several seconds after Danny stopped talking, before asking, caustic, “Are you finished?”

“No!” Danny snapped back. “You’re a fucked-up mess of a ghost, and you don’t even seem to realize how fucked up any of this is! You fucking modeled yourself after me, like an image of me as a fucking ghost! And somehow you convinced Jazz that you really are me, that you’re her actual brother, yet she barely talks to me. She probably spends more time with you than with me, because she doesn’t realize there’s a difference! And it’s your goddamn fault!”

The ghost lunged forward, and Danny’s heart stuttered, missed a beat. For a moment, he’d forgotten than he’d been yelling at a being strong enough to eviscerate him with barely any effort.

But Phantom didn’t cross the entire distance between them. He landed on the ground with such force that dust blew away, but without a single noise.

Light flashed through the alley again, bright white like lightning. It danced around Phantom, so blinding that Danny was forced to close his eyes. When it faded, when he could see again…

It was like looking in a mirror.

Phantom looked… human. His flesh was visibly warmer, the tone just slightly pinker, and his eyes were as sky blue as Danny’s own. His hair, previously white as snow, was now jet black. And his characteristic jumpsuit, the feature he seemed to have stolen right from the adult Fentons, had been replaced by clothes that could’ve been Danny’s own. A little more ragged than he would normally prefer them, sure, but still…

“Wow,” Sam breathed behind Danny, barely audible.

And the ghost—human?—smirked, wide and cocky. He threw out his hands demonstratively. “And that’s where you’re wrong! Because I am her brother, pal.”

Danny stepped forward before he really knew it, his hands wrapped up in Phantom’s shirt. It was like he was moving on auto-pilot, taking a backseat in the whole process.

His brain supplied, remarkably unhelpfully, that Phantom���s shirt felt oddly real. Not cold or slick like ectoplasmic clothing.

“You ain’t shit,” Danny growled in Phantom’s face, in that mirror image of his own. “You think you’re a big fucking deal, some kinda big savior, protecting our weak pathetic fleshy people from the ghost invasion, but you’re nothing. It’s all a fucking cover so no one can see the damage you’re really doing.”

Phantom’s eyes narrowed, the irises briefly flooding with bright green before they faded back to blue. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, coldly. His hands wrapped around Danny’s wrists. They were chilly, too cold. There was no force behind them.

“Don’t I? You’re out here, pretending to be Jazz’ brother, and you don’t expect me to be pissed about that? Shouldn’t you know better?” He let go of Phantom’s shirt. The last thing he needed was for the ghost to break his wrists when it got tired of being held.

“I’m not pretending,” Phantom hissed, eyes narrowed. “And I don’t give a damn about what you think of me. I’ve lived through the whole town hating me, through my own parents hating me. You’re nothing compared to all that.”

Sam scoffed, somewhere behind Danny, and he jerked. He’d almost forgotten that his friends were here, too.

“If you care so little about our opinions, why are you still here?”

Phantom’s mouth tightened again, his eyes darting over to Sam. His eyebrows were drawn together. He almost looked pained. “That’s… complicated.”

“More complicated than pretending to be Danny Fenton, son of avid ghost hunters?” Tucker asked, scathingly. “More complicated than pretending to be, what, half ghost?”

“None of that is pretend,” Phantom snarled. His eyes flickered green again as he clenched his fists. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, because you’re not telling us, dude.” Tucker huffed, crossing his arms. His eyes were hard.

“I…” Phantom halted, then shook his head. “I can’t. I shouldn’t.” He refused to meet Tucker’s eyes. Or Sam’s.

He looked uncomfortably human.

“You gotta tell us something,” Danny snapped at the ghost. Because that’s what Phantom was. Just a ghost. “You’re messing with my sister. And even if you’re not actively pretending to be me, well. I find it hard to believe that you’re missing the implications here.”

Phantom snorted. “I’m not an idiot, yeah. Why do you think no one but Jazz has seen me like this yet?”

Some cold burrowed in Danny’s chest. No one but Jazz. So that meant that Jazz had seen it. Had seen Phantom pull off a shift so similar to her own, which had made him look just like Danny.

“No one but Jazz, and now us,” Sam pointed out. “Why break the pattern for us?”

Phantom shrugged. His eyes had moved over to Sam, but he dragged them back to Danny almost immediately. “I fucked up.”

“So now what?” she asked, crossing her arms as well. “Are you finally going to tell us why this is all so complicated? Or are you going to continue pretending Tucker and I don’t exist?”

The ghost flushed, suddenly, his shoulders coming up. Somehow, against all logic, it was red.

Ghosts were supposed to flush green, weren’t they?

“It’s—”

“Complicated?” Tucker finished for him, dryly. “Try something new, man.”

“I’m…” Phantom paused again, then sighed. His shoulders sunk down like the weight of the world was on him. He looked so forlorn that Danny almost felt guilty.

Phantom reached into one of his pockets, producing a mobile phone. It looked remarkably modern, if a little scuffed up. Was that stolen?

It was quiet for a few moments as Phantom messed around with the phone. Finally, however, he seemed satisfied. He held it out towards the three of them.

Sam and Tucker leaned in closer, and Danny took the phone from Phantom. On the screen was a photo of… the three of them. But not one they had taken, he was sure. They were in his parents lab, he thought, and they were all smiling.

“Keep scrolling,” Phantom said. Danny did.

The next photo was of just Sam and Tucker. They were still in the lab, and both holding ecto-weaponry. In front of them was some sort of shooting range, with shots clustered on two of the targets. They looked like they were arguing, but it was good-natured.

They definitely hadn’t taken this photo. How had Phantom gotten it? Were there more shapeshifting ghosts like him?

Danny’s stomach squirmed. Sam reached over his hands to click over to the next photo. Sam stood impassively, arms crossed, watching Tucker. Tucker, who seemed to be holding an energetic conversation with an enormous bipedal wolf. A ghost wolf.

“Keep going,” Phantom instructed, quietly.

It was the three of them again, except… except Phantom was there, instead of Danny. His green eyes were scrunched up, his smile wide. Sam and Tucker, on either side of him, were grinning equally widely. A smear of green ectoplasm sat on Sam’s cheek, but she didn’t seem to care.

“You’ll know,” Phantom told them, and his voice was almost impossible to make out over the rushing sound in Danny’s ears. The phone shook with such force that he could barely hit the button to move over to the next picture.

It was a picture of the living room of their house. Jazz sat on the couch, a book held loosely in her hand. She wasn’t looking at it, though. No, she was looking at Danny, who seemed to have fallen asleep next to her. He leaned against her, his head on her shoulder. Danny looked about sixteen, the right age, but Jazz…

Jazz looked like she was eighteen.

Phantom took the phone back from Danny’s stiff fingers. “Like I said. Complicated.”

“What the hell, dude.” Tucker blinked at the two of them, at Danny and at Phantom. “What the fuck was that?”

The ghost shrugged loosely. “I’m sure you can figure that out yourself.” He pressed the power button on his phone, then stuffed it back in his pocket.

“So you’re, what. From another universe?” Sam asked. Her voice was a mixture of disbelief and awe, Danny thought, but it was hard to say for sure.

“Basically.” Phantom shrugged. He seemed awkward, now, but no closer to fleeing than he was at the start. “I kind of… accidentally came here. Portals in the Ghost Zone can lead to any point in time, but apparently to different worlds as well. I… didn’t realize. Didn’t realize I wasn’t home until I met… Jazz.”

“So you lied to her.” Danny frowned at him. It sounded… well, like bullshit, but he supposed it was possible. He couldn’t think of a more likely explanation, at least. “You made her believe that you were me.”

“No,” Phantom denied immediately, shaking his head. “No, never. I told her the truth from the start. She knows I’m not you. I’m just training her, just her mentor.”

“Then why does she barely spend time with me anymore? Why does she spend more time with you than with me?”

“You think she enjoys that?” Phantom made a face, lip curled in… disgust? “Fuck, dude. She’s been trying to spend time with you for ages. She hates that she’s spending more time with me than with you. She doesn’t even call me Danny, only Phantom. It’s not me, it’s you.”

Danny’s heart felt like it stopped, like it had turned into a clump of ice lodged in his chest.

“So if Jazz isn’t trying to use you as a replacement for her brother, why is she spending so much time with you?” Sam asked while Danny was still trying to process this revelation.

Phantom rolled his eyes, then raised a hand. Blue light flashed, and then suddenly he had… something. Was twirling something smooth and shiny between his fingers. Ice? Ice was something Phantom could do, right? “If you suddenly became half-ghost, and ran into a half-ghost version of someone you knew, a half-ghost with two-and-a-half years of experience, wouldn’t you spend time with them?”

He clenched his fist, and suddenly the ice was gone. Phantom’s hand wasn’t even wet. “I offered to teach her while I was around, and I help fight ghosts so she’s not as overwhelmed as I was. And the timelines seem pretty similar so far, so I know roughly what’s coming up, and I can help her figure out the tougher ghosts.”

“You’re a source of information,” Tucker said, understanding in his voice. Realization dawned on Danny, too. Phantom wasn’t a replacement; he was the half-ghost equivalent of a library. Jazz didn’t get comfort from him because he was family, but because he knew.

“Yeah, basically.” Phantom shrugged, but he didn’t seem as tense anymore. “And backup. I had… well, you two. If I ever got in over my head, I was backed up by my Sam and Tucker, and later on, by my older sister Jazz as well. But your Jazz, this Jazz, she doesn’t have that.”

“But what about your own world?” Sam narrowed her eyes at Phantom, considering. “If you were the only half-ghost there, shouldn’t you go back? Don’t they miss you?”

Phantom clicked his tongue. “I can’t. Portals in the Ghost Zone are unreliable, so I have no way of making sure I get there. It’s better if I stick around here, where I have some system in place, and where I can help. Plus, if I stay in one place I’ll be easier to find.”

“I’m not saying that Sam and Tucker aren’t great,” Danny said, past the emotions still lodged in his throat, “But are you really expecting those two to find you in a different universe?”

Sam scowled at him, and the itch in his neck made him suspect that Tucker was doing the same from behind him. What? He was just being realistic!

“Them, or Jazz.” Phantom shrugged at his incredulous look. “There’s this invention that can track me to bizarre extents. Jazz once used it to send me a message while I was ten years in the future. And if that doesn’t work, I have a ghost ally who owns an enchanted map, which can find portals to anywhere and anywhen you want, as long as it’s in the Ghost Zone.”

A heavy silence fell. Apparently Danny wasn’t the only one who saw the problem with that.

“So then why aren’t they here yet?” Tucker finally asked, conceding defeat. “You’ve been here for weeks, man.”

Phantom’s shoulders sunk down even further, his face falling. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I know.”

“So… now what?” Sam frowned at Phantom. “You’re just gonna stay here indefinitely?”

“Might as well.” Phantom sighed, heavy and exhausted. “Like I said, there’s no point in going looking for a portal back. Wulf can’t make a portal like that, and Frostbite only let me use the map because I fought the Ghost King. I haven’t done that in this universe, so there’s no way he’ll trust me with that priceless artifact.”

“Sounds rough.” Tucker threw a look at Danny, then Sam, then Phantom again. “Can we help? You, or Jazz?”

Phantom shrugged once more. “I mean, I don’t know. My Jazz figured out my secret at the same time as you guys figured out Jazz, but she held off with telling me because she figured I could manage with Sam and Tucker. It wasn’t until that time traveling thing during the CAT test that she dropped enough of a hint for me.”

“Alright, well…” Danny took a deep fortifying breath. “How about this. You keep up your training with Jazz, but stay in touch with us. I want to know what’s going on, and I want to keep an eye on you. If she looks like she needs us… needs me, we’ll tell her we know. Until then…”

“You want to get closer again.” Phantom nodded, and Danny was startled at how understanding he seemed. “Hey, don’t give me that look. I grew apart from my older sibling too, when I became half-ghost. Then we suddenly got closer again, after she figured me out.”

“Oh.” Danny licked his lips. He wasn’t sure if it was meant to be comforting, but… it made him feel better anyway. Knowing that even Jazz, perfectly brilliant human being, had made this mistake.

There was still room for things to get better.

“Well, let us know if you need anything,” Sam insisted. “As you probably know, I’m rich. I could easily hide you in our mansion if you need to sleep somewhere that isn’t a rooftop, or whatever you’ve been doing so far.”

That startled a laugh out of Phantom. “Jazz has been letting me use her bed while she’s at school,” he admitted, grinning weakly. “But thanks, I might take you up on that. I’ve gotten seriously nocturnal though, fair warning.”

[manetsgarden]

How I, An Incredibly Anxious Traveller, Solo Travelled Through Bulgaria

Nobody really asks, but I can see their eyes secretly wonder “why” when I tell someone I’m travelling to Bulgaria for a little holiday. The short answer is … I don’t really know. It wasn’t because I have some ever-present burning desire to visit Bulgaria. My going to Bulgaria was just a holiday booked on a whim, because Ryanair had a sale. It ended up working out well, but I didn’t have many expectations, let alone knowledge about Bulgaria before I went. I booked it quite simply because I had never been before, and because I had never thought about going. Usually people opt for the opposite.

The short of it is: I booked this holiday because I was homesick. I was still at home when homesickness struck. I was looking out at seven months without a hug from my mom, seven months without laying eyes on my dad, or my dog, or my sisters or brother. Seven months of solitude in Scotland, before my family planned to visit in July — planned but had not (and still have not!) booked yet. And I was sad, and I already missed everyone, and I wanted to go to New York over March Break, so I could meet up with my mom and sister. (It’s cheaper to fly to New York than Thunder Bay, not cheap, but cheaper).

Then, my sister told me not to. Not because she didn’t want me there but because, in her words: “If you live in Europe you should be going somewhere in Europe that you’ve never been to before, and take advantage of how close you are to new places, and how cheap it is to travel, rather than spending a lot of money to going across the Atlantic to somewhere you’ve been to tons of times.” So I went to Skyscanner and I saw a cheap flight to Sofia and I thought, ‘huh, I’ve never thought about going to Bulgaria before,’ and then I booked it.

The flight cost me 52GBP. I then started looking at Airbnbs and came across the most beautiful little apartment, with glowing reviews, for $32CAD/night and booked it. I was set. A little holiday in Sofia, Bulgaria. I pictured old Soviet style buildings mixed in with Orthodox churches. I envisioned a quaint, old town style city that was quiet, calm, and comfortable.

I started to look into things to do and realised I could do day trips to Macedonia and Serbia! I realised how close Sofia is to other Balkan countries and immediately started looking into getting my International Drivers Permit so I could rent a car and road trip. I looked at doing the day trips, but they were too pricey for one person (I’m talking like three hundred pounds!). I went through the process. I took passport pictures, I sent them to my dad, he took them to CAA, he got my IDP, he sent it to me, I booked a car. I planned on spending a day in Sofia, and then doing day trips to Skopje, Niš, and Thessaloniki. And then I got to the rental pick up and they said I couldn’t cross borders. Cool.

Processed with VSCO with m5 preset

As planned, I spent my first day in Sofia. It was weird. I remembered as I was leaving that, while I haven’t been really badly anxious in awhile, I have a long history of travel anxiety. Exactly five years ago I was just south of Bulgaria, in Greece. It was a school trip, and I almost didn’t go because I was so anxious. I spent seven months before that trip going to counselling specifically so that I could go on it. I threw up the morning we left, I spent the day crying to my family in Toronto, and then I got on the plane headed overseas, and in the end I was fine. The first time I actually properly travelled alone was in October 2018, when I went hiking in Ireland. Except one of my closest friends lives in Dublin, so it hardly counts because I knew I could go to her if I needed her.

And then I found myself alone in Bulgaria, apparently in my homesick, adventurous spirit state, I forgot to factor in my anxiety disorder. Weirdly, it was relatively OK. I walked around the city centre, I bought postcards, I sat in the sun, in a park, I went and got coffee, I sat in the park some more. I bailed on all of my walking tours because my feet hurt, (but lowkey because I was afraid to talk to people) and I went back to my Airbnb early. I ate granola and yogurt for dinner because I was too stressed to go out and try to tackle the language barrier to get myself a proper dinner. Try again tomorrow.

The second day I picked up my car. I went for groceries at Lidl and then I tackled the metro, taking it out to the airport, and then I realised I could easily have just managed with the metro alone. But the car was already booked, so off I went! I picked up the keys, sat in the drivers seat, gave myself a pep talk, reminded myself of the ‘how to drive in a roundabout’ videos I had watched on Youtube the night before, started the ignition and drove off. And it. Was. Fine. Since I couldn’t cross borders, I drove to the Rila Monastery. Tucked into the mountains, it’s one of the oldest (maybe the oldest) Orthodox monastery in the world. I’m not religious, I was raised Catholic, and I don’t majorly care about these things but I thought it might be cool so I went. And it was cool.

I drove on the highway (very fast, might I add!) and I drove on tiny side streets and I drove up the mountain and it took me two whole hours because I took so many wrong turns. I was constantly stressed about my phone (my navigation) dying. But I made it. There was snow on the ground that people were ice-picking at so that it would melt. I went into the church, I saw monks, I paid to visit the museum and saw some icons (housing some relics!), and I got to be in the mountains and breath in the forest air. I bought some postcards, then I did one whole sign of the cross and then I left. I think I spent less than an hour there, but I was tired and hungry so I went back to my Airbnb, it took me only an hour and a half to get back to Sofia that time around. When I got to the Airbnb, parking was a total nightmare. My driveway backed on to a tiny side street, I had to back in, through the gates of the drive, while not hitting the car parked on the single lane street. It took a solid 10 minutes, and after I was thoroughly humiliated by anyone who might be watching, I decided not to take the car out again until I was leaving.

On my third day I explored Sofia some more. I gave myself a morning pep talk, consisting of a lot of ‘you’re only in Sofia for today, make the most of it, just barrel on full steam ahead, don’t let the language barrier get to you. It’s fine.’ So I googled ‘best coffee in Sofia’ and headed off to the first hit. I walked through new parts of the city centre, saw new churches, new parks, new shops, and I walked far and wide. I shopped a bit, I ate a bit, and then I went for a nap. But I would not be defeated by the restaurant situation, so I forced myself to go out and get dinner. For context, I am realising as I write this, restaurants are a no-go for my anxiety. Nowadays, after a lot of hard work, I don’t really think much about eating out, but when I first went to counselling it was the first thing we worked on in exposure therapy, and suddenly it makes sense to me why I was so reluctant to try to figure out how to eat out in Sofia. Regardless, it happened, I had a yummy salad and hummus and coffee and it was grand.

Sunday was my fourth and final day. I woke up exhausted. Tired of having to figure everything out myself, tired of having so many thoughts and no one to express them to, and just tired because the hosts of the Airbnb had been listening to salsa music late into the night. I decided to try driving to Plovdiv for a bit to explore. It took about an hour and a half to get there, and then about another 45 minutes to try to find parking. I found a spot that I’m not sure I was allowed to park in, and when I got out I felt defeated. I didn’t want to try to find fun things to do, I was already looking forward to going gas station shopping on the way back to Sofia so I thought ‘that’s it, you’re enjoying driving, just drive.’

So I drove through Plovdiv, and then I headed back to Sofia Airport, I enjoyed the gas station stop, and then I returned my car. Then I spent the rest of my last day at Sofia Airport, reading one of those airport-mystery books that I had picked up in Edinburgh Airport on my way out. It was a quiet, cozy Sunday, very relaxing, and it just so happened that I spent it at Sofia Airport.

Moral of the story: There is no ‘right way’ to travel, it’s YOUR holiday, just do whatever you want! If you’re tired at three pm and you want to have a lay down, do that. It’s okay. You’re not missing anything other than hurting your feet and making yourself kind of miserable and grouchy for the next day. If you’re somewhere and you decide you’re done, if you want to sit in a park, or a cafe, or all you want to do is food tour after food tour, do it. Don’t bother with trying to do what other people are doing when they’re travelling, unless it looks like something you want to do. If you try it and realise it’s not what you want to do: that’s okay. Loads of people will read through this and think “well that’s kind of a waste of time” but I feel like I made the most of my trip! I saw tons of new places, had new experiences, but I don’t feel drained now that I’m home. I had the right balance of adventure and exploration, and rest and relaxation.

The only picture of my face in Bulgaria

Solo travelling selfies, am I right?

So what was Bulgaria like? 

In terms of Sofia + Bulgaria

Sofia is nice, Bulgaria is nice. Sofia is so much bigger than expected, and Bulgaria even more so. Sofia did have Soviet architecture, and Orthodox churches, but it also had very Cuban-esque run down architecture, and a handful of western shops and then a lot of random other shops. It had a lot of greenspace, and a lot of people, but not a TON of tourists (at least not English-speakers). There are mountains everywhere, and it was warmer than expected. Not everyone speaks English, in all the touristy areas they’ll try, or they’ll do what they can to make it work. I found that people, generally, weren’t super friendly like I’m used to, people don’t smile at you in the street if you don’t smile first, and check-out workers are generally in a bad mood (but who can blame them).

In terms of driving

Don’t drive in Bulgaria if you are not a confident driver. I have anxiety problems, yes, but I’m a good driver. I am a bit of a risky driver, but I’m a good driver, and those are the two things (it turns out) that you need in order to not die or crash while driving in Bulgaria. Highways are lawless, you need to know how to use them, and you need to simultaneously be both an aggressive and defensive driver. It was actually kind of perfect for my driving style. There are tons of beautiful views everywhere, and tons of wild drivers doing weird things too, which constantly made me want to have someone in the passenger seat.

Have you solo travelled? Are you an anxious traveller? Have you put the two together yet? Talk with me about it in the comments!

Want to Read More?

The Carrie Bradshaw Series |  Hiking the Cliffs of Moher Vlog

Find me:  Instagram | Twitter | Tumblr | YouTube | Facebook

Contact: arcticsabrinabusiness@gmail.com

Solo Travelling For The Anxious Traveller How I, An Incredibly Anxious Traveller, Solo Travelled Through Bulgaria Nobody really asks, but I can see their eyes secretly wonder "why" when I tell someone I'm travelling to Bulgaria for a little holiday. 2,141 more words

[ohmyjinkies]

Beauty and the Beast - Richonne Modern Day AU

The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched - they must be felt with the heart. ~Helen Keller

“Ex-Yankees starting pitcher, Rick Grimes was never a vain man. Still, a near-fatal accident left him with enough scars to make him want to hide away from the world. Now the only beauty left in his blemished llife are his two grown kids, his weekly Sunday dinners with his daughter Judith and his beloved flower garden. Scarred, body and mind, he could not see beauty outside of those three treasured things. For 23-year-old Judith Grimes, life was finally falling into place. Freshly graduated from journalism school and armed with a passion for fashion, she’s landed a coveted internship at the powerhouse fashion magazine, Rive. As assistant to the New York City’s most powerful and iconic editor-in-chief, Michonne Dumas, Judith is living her dreams and learning at the feet of a legend. A global fashion tastemaker, former model turned magazine editor, Michonne Dumas had heard the word "beautiful” thrown around so liberally that it had started to lose its meaning. Ironically though, she knew as the originator of the coveted “Dumas Look”, she had created the unattainable fashion ideal of perfection that drove her and the whole industry. Secretly, however, she had begun to despair that she was becoming numb to all things physically beautiful. That is, until she notices the lovely flowers her new junior assistant has on her desk every week. Fresh blooms from Judith’s father’s garden, the bouquets continually seem to brighten Michonne’s day. Before long, those delicate blooms from the amateur horticulturist become a welcome daily reprieve from her relentless pursuit of physical perfection. And when Michonne finally meets Judith’s mysterious father Rick at the company’s charity ballgame, as the young woman hoped, sparks do indeed fly. Though, to Judith’s chagrin, not the romantic kind. Yet, it is from that very first encounter that they both begin to learn —things of true beauty can also be things which are deemed imperfect.“

Tale as old as time…

Rick was already missing his garden. The sky was blue and cloudless. The sun was bright, but there was no humidity in the atmosphere. It was the perfect day for puttering around with his flowers. But he had promised his daughter, and there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her.

He was thankful that the baseball cap fit low enough on his head to cast shadows around his face. The throwing gloves he wore hid the patchwork, Frankenstein-esque scars on his hands. He could no longer run even a mile, but physical therapy made it possible for his limp to be hardly noticeable. Although, it was becoming increasingly more difficult to keep up with the fast strides of his daughter.

He held on to her forearm. “Judy, you know your dad’s an old man. Slow down some.”

People were milling around all over. He felt his chest tightening and his breaths coming out faster. He’d adapted to his solitude over the years, only welcoming the company of his children. Crowds of people made him nervous now.

Judy tossed her head back to look at her father. The bouncing curls of her chic bob haircut matched his greying curls perfectly. Always attuned to him, she recognized the apprehension in his eyes. She squeezed his hand, but didn’t slow down.

“Daddy, I wish you would stop calling yourself an old man. You’re not even fifty yet.”

Rick shrugged. “Forty-five is pretty near fifty.”

“You have to wait at least twenty more years to collect Social Security, so you’re not old.”

“My knees beg to differ. Why are we walking so fast? There’s still an hour until the game starts.”

“I know, but I want to make sure I’m not late in case I’m needed to help with any last minute details.”

“It’s just a charity baseball game. Should go smoothly. You worry all the time like your mother used to.”

She shot him a sad smile. “That’s what Grandma always says too. Guess it’s in my DNA. I just want to make a good impression. Show Michonne she can trust me with the details. She’s so great. I don’t want to let her down.”

“Michonne is your boss, right? Calling bosses by their first names in the office is a thang now? Back in my day—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Judith cut him off. “Back in your day you rode cows to school. Grew your own wheat or whatever. I know Daddy. Maybe you really are an old man.”

Rick chuckled. “Actually, your uncle Hershel grew vegetables, not wheat on his farm.”

“What I said still applies, old man.” She pointed to a woman whose back was to them. Her locs were long and reached down past the middle of her back  “There she is. Let me introduce you. And please be nice and personable, Daddy.”

Rick smirked. “Aren’t I always?”

Judith laughed and rolled her eyes. “Nope.”

His smirk faded as they walked closer. Having new people in his orbit unsettled him. He tried to pull his cap further down, but it wouldn’t budge.

Michonne turned around as she heard footsteps approaching her. Rick had seen her pictures in the fashion magazines Judith used to read as a teen. He always passively admired her beauty, but he didn’t expect the radiant women before him. She was dressed down in a custom baseball jersey with her magazine’s name written in gold letters on the front. Her black shorts showed off her shapely legs. Her smile was warm and sincere as she immediately pulled Judith into a hug. She smiled at him over his daughter’s shoulder. He looked down at his shoes as a wave of insecurity washed over him

Judith, not picking up on her father’s reluctance for once, pulled him in closer. “Michonne, this is my Dad, Rick Grimes.”

Michonne’s smiled widened making her even more beautiful than Rick first thought.

“Ah,” she said. “So this is the doting father who makes sure his daughter always has beautiful, fresh flowers on her desk. Very nice to finally meet you, Rick.” She held out her hand to shake.

He clasped her hand.  He could feel the smoothness even through his gloves. “Nice to meet you too, ma’am.”

Michonne chuckled. “I missed that southern charm. Don’t get much of that here in New York.”

“Michonne is originally from Georgia too, Daddy. Atlanta, not a small town like you.”

“Yes, born and raised,” Michonne said. “I still get homesick for sweet tea, and my aunt’s sweet potato pie.” She pulled the young woman aside. “Judith, could you go help Sasha and Jackie with setting up the magazine display near the entrance?”

“Of course Michonne.” She kissed Rick on the cheek. “I’ll be right back, Daddy.”

He watched her rush off wondering when his little girl became a grown and responsible adult. He turned back to Michonne, who was still smiling at him. His nervous tick was to run his hands through his hair. He felt the urge to at that moment, but he thought better of removing his cap.

“So,” She took a step closer to him. “I didn’t put two and two together when Judith told me her father’s name was Rick Grimes. You’re the same Grimes that played for the Braves and the Yankees, right?”

Rick looked down as if he was almost embarrassed at her knowing who he was. “Yeah. That was me. Didn’t think anyone in the fashion industry would recognize an old baseball player.”

Michonne gestured her hand around the baseball field where they were standing. “Well, we are at a charity baseball game. Beside lots of fashion models date baseball players.” She whispered as if conspiring with him. “It’s a bit of a thing.”

Rick laughed. “That is true. Many of my teammates dated models. And playmates.”

Michonne chuckled. “I bet.” She tossed one of her long locs behind her shoulder. “Besides that, my own father was a huge Braves fan. I used to watch the games with him. David Justice was his favorite player, but you came a close second. He hated when you left and signed with the Yankees.”

“I almost regretted it. I missed home a lot when I moved up here with the kids. Though I did miss David most of all. He was my favorite too.”

Her smile radiated even more. “So you and my father will have lots to talk about if you ever meet.”

He nodded and laughed. “Yeah, our very own David Justice fan club.”

Her voice lowered a couple of octaves as she tilted her head to the side. “I remember reading about your accident, and saying a few prayers for your recovery.”

Rick nodded. “I appreciate that. God was looking out for me that day. My kids didn’t need to endure the cruelty of losing both of their parents.”

“Judith talks about her mom sometimes. She and her brother were both pretty young when you lost her, I remember her saying.”

“Yeah. Judith was barely out of diapers, and my son, Carl, was in the first grade.”

“Had to be tough to continue your baseball career, and raise two kids.”

“It was. Very grateful for my mom though. Couldn’t have done it without her.”

“I know all about the miracle of grandmothers. My mom died when I was young also. Spent so much precious time with my Granny. Judith and I have bonded over some shared experiences. She’s a great kid.”

He smiled. “I always thought so too, even if I’m kinda biased.”

“The best dads always are.” She clapped her hands together. “So, the game will be starting soon. I know you’re an all-star, future hall of famer, but I was known to hit a few home runs in pick-up softball when I was a kid. So don’t think you’re going to strike me out.”

Almost feeling like his old, cocky self when it came to his baseball skills, he crossed his armsover his chest and smirked at her. “Is that right?”

She winked at him. “All I’m saying is watch yourself.”

A woman with a short afro came up to Michonne and whispered in her ear. She nodded and told the woman she would be right there.

“Editor-in-chief duties call, but I’ll see you on the mound, Rick Grimes.” He smiled a genuine smile for what felt like the first time in years at anyone other than his children. “Can’t wait.”  (” The First Meet“ - Flash Fic written by @blacklitchick )

I want to say a HUGE Thank you!  to my two collaborators @blacklitchick and @iminyjo <3. The both of you have been amazing during this project’s lengthy journey ;) -xo OMJ.

[slimacwrites]

In the Key of G- Ch. 2- Shut Up and Dance

Emma Swan’s been working hard to move on from a past of abandonment and self-hate as she rises to take over as principle pianist of the Boston Ballet. She couldn’t have done it without Killian Jones, the man who got her back into music and stood by her through hours of practice and crippling self-doubt, despite his continued struggle to adjust after escaping a life of abuse. When ghosts from the past and fears for the future threaten everything, will Emma and Killian be strong enough to face the changes? Or will everything they worked so hard for fall apart? Set 4 years after In the Key of G.

FFnet link here. In the Key of G link here.

Warning: Contains mentions of abuse.

Emma flopped back on the sofa in the Jones Brother’s house. Killian was working the afternoon shift at the pier so would arrive around eight to meet her for the club. Emma had no idea why she’d pressed the club so much because it wasn’t her scene at all, and she was starting to regret it. There were too many people she didn’t know. Too many bodies brushing against hers. While she was okay with physical contact now, it still got overwhelming when it was coming from strangers. Killian would like the night out though and she was doing it for him. Killian had that swagger that fit in a club and attracted every woman around him when he let himself have that freedom. Plus, Arthur liked it and Killian needed a night out with his good friend.

Emma had already gotten dressed for the club, stopping by her apartment after the studio to pull on a tight black leather dress, a gift from Ruby, and a pair of black pumps. She had a makeup bag in Killian’s bedroom so she did her makeup once she arrived. Once she’d put on more mascara and liner than she pretty much ever usually did, she moved down to the couch to wait for Killian.

Lee puttered around the kitchen when she got down there, putting some sort of casserole in the oven. The now-teen still loved cooking and used the recipes Granny had taught him all those years ago. Emma loved the homey recipes he used. It kept the homesickness away and reminded her that she wouldn’t ever leave Granny behind.

“Hey Em,” he called when she flopped onto the couch.

“Hey, how was your day?”

Emma loved Lee. To her he was still that precious boy who’d shown up at the Diner and somehow wormed his way into her guarded heart almost immediately. The resemblance to the little boy was still strong, Lee small for his age and still infused with that eager to please attitude that many saw as excitability or immaturity, but Emma knew to be the result of being desperate to avoid punishment. That still broke her heart. But Lee wouldn’t stand for her to dwell on that for very long. Not when he was trying to be normal. Not when they all were.

Lee was trying to integrate and was doing a far better job than his older brother. Lee had friends, and had days where he was blissfully happy. There were also days when everything was being pulled apart and Lee was too terrified of his father returning that he couldn’t leave the house. But they were fewer than the days where he went to the park after school to play soccer, laughed in the kitchen as Liam made a fool as he helped him make a cake. There was a lot of his brothers in Lee, but thankfully only the good parts and none of the brood-y parts. The stubborn loyalty, the determination, the soft smile that warmed anyone around but was like a rare treasure to find.

“Meh. Can’t wait for these classes to be over.”

“Two months,” Emma answered with a snort.

“June can’t come soon enough. Science sucks.”

Emma propped herself up on her elbows. “Cooking is science,” she pointed out with a raised eyebrow. Liam returned the gesture with a roll of his eyes, a motion so like her that Emma was hit with the realization of just how much time they’d spent together as the boys created this new life for themselves, picking up and including bits of her along the way.

“But I can’t eat my science homework,” Liam answered as he poured a box of pasta into a pot of boiling water.

“Just one of the perks of being a dog, I suppose.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Liam laughed, plopping himself down onto the couch- and Emma- and forcing her to pull up her legs or have them fall asleep under the lanky teenager. “You look nice though,” he added, blushing a bit.

“And you’re too sweet.” Lee shook his head, turning at the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. The eldest Jones brother appeared, pausing at the door to the shared living room and kitchen space, surveying who was present.

“What bet did you lose to have to go clubbing with Arthur?” he asked, taking a seat in the arm chair next to the couch, the springs creaking as he did so. Almost all the furniture was old, found at rummage sales or second hand stores, but it was comfortable. So long as one didn’t focus on the sometimes weird stains colouring the upholstery before it got redone by the boys with a staple gun and lots of swearing.

“Government told me if I did, they’d take away Arthur’s work visa,” Emma replied, earning snorts from both brothers and a shove to her calf from Lee. She returned it with a little jab to the side with the end of her four inch heel.

Arthur drove her up the wall. The man flirted with anything that moved, including her, despite knowing she was very much taken and had been for the past four years. There was also this obsessive quality to everything he did that never failed to unnerve her. When she wasn’t busy snarking back at him. But Killian liked him. Something to do with being British or something (which, in Emma’s opinion, was faulty logic because the man had been in America for longer than he’d been in England, said chips instead of crisps and rarely argued the difference between soccer and football). Now Arthur was British, on a work visa to help set up an engineering project for the Harbour Patrol and just hadn’t left after the project ended. Emma couldn’t figure out if the city kept finding new projects for Arthur, or if Arthur just declared himself King of the Harbour and everyone was too weirded out to disagree. It was how Killian had met him after getting a job as a labourer in Liam’s team. It was a perk of being the brother of the Harbour Master but Killian didn’t like to be reminded of that. Arthur didn’t remind him of that (again, probably because on some level Arthur thought he was the harbourmaster).

But if Arthur made Killian happy, Emma would put up with him.

And it’s not like she had potential in-laws in her life she hated that she had to put up with. Someone needed to fill the void.

Emma was officially in an adult relationship.

The front door swung open, boisterous laughter booming through and making Lee jump and pull his legs up onto the sofa. Emma and Liam both pretended not to notice. Normal and all. Arthur was first up the hall, a much quieter Killian following. Killian knew better than to scare Lee. Arthur just knew how to be Arthur.

“Evening, Joneses. And Swan. Break any piano strings today?”

“Evening, Pendragon,” Emma drawled back, pushing herself upright. “No, but I suppose you’ll tell me you broke some hearts?”

“Always, love. But sadly never yours.” Arthur knew he was attractive, all dark hair and dark stubble, a few years older than Emma or Killian, and riding that tall, dark and mysterious stranger garbage. Arthur also knew Emma only had eyes for her own dark haired man, no matter how shamelessly he flirted with her.

Killian rolled his eyes, moving to Emma and pressing a kiss to her cheek. “I’m going to go get changed. Try not to do him in before we even make it to the club.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” Emma answered.

“Don’t I know it,” Killian answered, more serious than Emma had expected. Emma chewed on her lip, watching Killian leave the living room. Killian could turn on a dime, one moment happy in the moment, the next reminded of his life before. Emma couldn’t always predict it either, nor could she always understand why his mind went back to the past at certain moments. This one she understood though. Killian credited Emma with bringing the light back into his life. To Killian, it was Emma who gave him a purpose that was more than serving as a punching bag to save Liam, who held him together at the very worst moments, who found his brother. Even if that wasn’t strictly true, Killian still believed it.

And Emma credited Killian as being all that for her, standing by her side, helping her rise from the depths of self-harm and self-hatred, returning her to music. Killian always argued that it wasn’t his doing, but rather Emma deciding to be strong. They agreed to disagree on that subject.

“Moody chap, isn’t he?” Arthur mused, though not unkindly, staring up the empty hallway as Killian climbed the stairs. Arthur had somewhere along the line figured out the gist of what the Jones family had been through. Emma was almost certain Killian hadn’t said anything to him, but Killian was covered in scars, and had no parents in the picture. It really wasn’t that hard to deduce.

“Killian just needs a good night out,” Liam answered, exchanging a glance with Emma. Emma nodded, confirmation that she understood. Tonight was to be about Killian. About giving him twelve hours of bliss outside of his role in the Jones family, before he had to return to it the next morning. Or thought he had to.

Eventually Emma would convince Killian that they were all okay now. That it was okay to make his own life. Eventually.

“Is Belle coming over tonight?” Lee asked, shifting so his legs were no longer against his chest, finally coming out of the panic they were all so studiously ignoring.

Belle was Liam’s girlfriend. Emma had actually been the one to introduce them a year prior. Belle was a quiet, studious woman but with an adventurous glint in her eyes, dainty and beautiful. She had been a ballerina in the corps for the Nutcracker, put in the practice group Emma played for. Belle had been new, the transfer from the Sydney Ballet after she had got in some relationship issues with an ex-husband. No one really knew more than that, except for maybe Liam at this point, but Emma didn’t feel like it was her place to ask. Liam had come to pick Emma up after a practice one day near Christmas as the buses weren’t running, and had noticed Belle finishing her stretches alone, all the others gone to a Christmas party that the new girl hadn’t been invited to. Following that had been a few weeks of scheming with the other Jones, and one spectacularly awkward kiss at Midnight at a party for the Boston Ballet. It had taken a while to convince each of them to be open to a relationship, Liam to see that his brothers actually wanted him to be happy and include someone else in their tight circle, and for Belle to realize that Liam wasn’t her ex.

“Yeah,” Liam answered with a small smile, ears reddening. Liam had been without a partner for so long that it was adorable. The man was awkward but loyal to a fault, and it was sweet to see him get flustered over how much he loved Belle. “Is there enough pasta for her too? She said she was bringing you a new cookbook she found at the library.”

Lee grinned. That was the main reason Lee loved when Belle came over. When Belle wasn’t at the ballet, she was at the library, and was always producing new cookbooks for Lee during her searches of the stacks. Well, that and she made Liam happy, but Lee was rather guided by his stomach at this age.

Killian’s combat boots clacked down the stairs as he appeared again, dressed in tight black jeans, a black button up, leather jacket slung over his handless arm, prosthesis gone. Killian wasn’t totally comfortable out in public without his hand, but he was getting better and the club would be dark. Killian hadn’t shaved in a few days, stubble coating his chin, and his dark hair had been mussed with a bit of styling paste. The years since he was a poor teenager, concerned only with his brother, had done wonders for his looks, but to Emma he was still as beautiful now as he had been then.

Emma stood, reaching out for his hand. Killian took hers and pulled her closer. “I’m going to have to be beating the club goers away,” Emma whispered into his ear, red painted lips brushing his earlobe. Killian made a low growl in the back of his throat.

“Maybe I should wear my hook for those that come after you?” he answered, fingering the short hem of her black leather dress.

“Get a room,” Lee hollered, pretending to gag.

“We plan to,” Emma answered with a grin, not taking her eyes off her boyfriend. “Hence why we’re staying at my place tonight.” Killian raised an intrigued eyebrow at that but before Killian could reply, Emma turned to Arthur. “And you’re not invited,” she quipped, cutting off whatever he was about to say. The brothers snorted at her response before a car horn honked outside.

“That would be the cab I called for. Come on, you two.” With that Killian took her hand and pulled her out into the spring night, Arthur right behind. The three of them piled into the backseat of the cab, Arthur giving the driver the address for some club downtown. Emma leaned against Killian’s shoulder, watching the city fly by as night settled and it lit up, while the boys chatted about the chances of Liverpool soccer.

Boston was very different from Storybrooke, as expected, but Emma was almost surprised by how easily she had settled into it. There was something about the history and the roots that the city had. It felt permanent. When she’d first arrived, Emma hadn’t been terribly homesick, but she’d felt terribly guilty at leaving Granny. But there had been something soothing about walking around downtown and staring up at all the old churches and meeting halls, knowing they’d been there for hundreds of years. They had a place there, even though they’d been new once. And maybe she could find her place too if she tried.

Emma felt like she’d found her place now, four years later. She loved the hustle and bustle of the city, the old winding streets, the funny accents, and where she fit in all of it. Her little shoebox apartment was full of pictures, soft carpets and a piano that was far too big for the space, an old one she’d found at a church sale and bribed the Jones boys to carry up her three floor walk up. They still hadn’t forgiven her for that. She loved the old house the boys occupied and how that was just as much of a home as Emma’s apartment, always busy and full of family. She loved the days she visited Marco’s brick rowhouse, just a few streets from the studio, for a family dinner, sometimes alone, sometimes with all three Jones boys and Granny in tow. She loved the warmth and classical atmosphere of the ballet studio, and the rush of performing on stage again, knowing it was her that allowed the dancers to dance as they did. Emma had become part of the tapestry of the company, breathing life into it through her music, and it had become a third home because of it, with more friends than she’d ever had built in from the dancers.

Four years and Emma had found a way to move beyond her upbringing, never quite fitting in in Storybrooke, and had found a place she unequivocally belonged.

It was a funny feeling.

The cab slowed and stopped outside a dark building with neon signs out front signifying it’s place as Camelot. Emma scoffed but got out when Killian offered his hand, allowing him to pull her from the seat and onto the sidewalk. Arthur marched right up to the bouncer like he owned the place.

Knowing Arthur, maybe he did.

The bouncer listened to whatever he told him, before stepping aside. Arthur motioned for Killian and Emma to follow them. She glanced at Killian beside her, hand still in hers. Killian just gave a little shrug. Tonight was about dancing, not trying to figure out what side businesses Arthur did or did not participate in.

Killian lead her through the club door, into a darkened room where the bass reverberated loud enough to play with the beat of Emma’s heart. There wasn’t much of a crowd yet as it was only nine but Emma didn’t mind. It made getting to the bar much easier at the very least. They all sidled up to the long bar, leaning against it, as a few already drunk couples bumped around them. A rum and coke was ordered for Emma and Killian, while Arthur requested a yagger bomb. While waiting for their drinks, Killian brought Emma’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. She grinned back.

“You look ravishing, love.” Killian handed her the newly arrived drink, clinking it with his own in a cheer as his eyebrow danced.

“You should look in the mirror then,” Emma laughed in return, letting her free hand trail up the open neck of his button up, fingers brushing the chest hair that had come in the last few years. Which she was a big fan of.

It was fascinating for Emma to be close enough to someone that she knew when they changed, to watch their body and mind mature and know they were seeing the same thing in you that you were in them. Emma never thought she’d have that. But she did. And that made her blissfully happy. So happy that she downed her drink, grabbed said changing man by the collar and towed him out onto the dance floor.

When they’d reached the flashing light lit dance floor, Killian grabbed her hips and pulled her close with a little growl. A heady pop beat swirled around them, so far from what Emma usually filed her day with, capturing them both in it’s net. They began to move together, Emma’s arms around Killian’s neck, his hand and stump hovering just over her ass, leg in between her own. Killian’s eyes were bright with the warmth of a single glass of rum, neither being big drinkers in recognition of the Joneses start so one would get him going, and the atmosphere.

After a few songs of nearly indecent grinding- it being dark and them being twenty-two and all- Arthur appeared carrying a tray of shots, a woman with oddly dyed black and white hair beside him. Or rather hanging off him, not that Arthur seemed to mind.

“What is it?” Emma asked as she lifted the small glass off the tray, Killian following.

“Tequila!” the woman shouted, downing the shot as if it were water. Emma gave her a bland look, waiting for Arthur to confirm the contents of the glass. After a nod, Emma steeled herself and knocked it back, gasping at the burn. Killian snorted at her reaction, hand going back to her waist once he’d placed the shot glass back on the tray Arthur carried. Arthur set the tray on a table just off the floor before he was back, holding the mysterious woman as if he were going to try and absorb her, dancing.

But the music was too fast for grinding and the tequila was warm in Emma’s belly, making her feel pleasantly weightless. She just wanted to dance. Not that what followed could be considered strictly dancing, but rather something similar to the jumping up and down one does when one has to pee, or when one has lost their parent in a supermarket and is trying to see over the aisles to locate them like a lost meercat. Emma never said she was graceful though, she just made the music for the graceful ones, and Killian seemed content to follow her lead, indulging her in grand ballroom like spins and waving arms, Arthur occasionally bringing over a drink for them, until they both were tired to keep up their shenanigans and contented to go back to the more sensual dancing that was taking over the club as the hour ran late.

Arthur disappeared sometime around eleven, though not with the woman who had been there originally, leaving Emma and Killian to their own devices, with a mutter of kids. Not that Arthur was more than four years older than them.

“You ready to leave, love?” Killian asked, lips sloppy against her ear, partially from drink and partially from exhaustion. Emma nodded. They had both worked all day, and while this seemed to be what Killian needed, she was beyond ready to flop onto her squishy mattress. Killian lead her to the coat check to get his jacket before pushing his way through the crowd at the door waiting to get in, Emma grasping the back of his shirt to follow along in his wake.

The air outside the club hit Emma like a slap in the face, nearly freezing after the humidity that had been the inside of Camelot. The tipsy feeling she’d had for the last few hours drained away as she pulled in a lungful of fresh air, shivering in her short-sleeved dress. Killian chuckled before laying his coat across her shoulders, enveloping her in the strong scent of aftershave that clung to the worn leather.

“Always have to be the gentleman,” she muttered, trying to seem as she didn’t need it, but buried further in the too-big coat despite herself.

“Always, love. You should know that by now,” he answered as he flagged down a waiting cab, giving the driver the address to Emma’s place. Emma smiled at that. Sometimes when they’d go out, Killian’s guilt at being away would weigh too heavily on him and he’d back out of staying at her place at the last moment. But going to her place meant Killian was going to make a night of it, and her plan had been a success. Killian was allowing himself to be young.

In the backseat of the cab, Killian wrapped his arm around Emma, stumped arm rubbing up and down her own. That was another thing that she’d been able to watch change over the last four years, Killian growing comfortable with her so that he almost forgot there was no hand on his left side. Emma bent her arm so she could reach the stump and held it, fingers wrapped around the end, just as if she were holding his hand. Killian sighed and pressed a kiss to the shell of her ear.

“You two been together long?” the taxi driver asked, watching them with vague amusement.

“Four years last month,” Killian answered with a small smile. “Best four years of my life.”

The driver laughed at that. “Don’t I know that. Been married to my own wife for fifty. But you must have been young?”

“I’m not sure we were ever young,” Emma answered in an undertone, catching the driver’s eye in the rear view mirror, and giving a small smile of understanding in return. Killian gave her shoulder a squeeze and Emma shook her head. No, she’d promised herself that this night would be about being young and carefree, not dwelling on abandonment, parents who were never parents and lives of abuse, both self inflicted and not.

“Well, don’t let it go,” the driver answered after a long moment of silence before pulling up in front of Emma’s little apartment building.

“Don’t plan to,” Emma and Killian answered in unison. Emma gave a snort of near disgust at the adorableness, earning a playful answering shove from Killian as she opened the door to get out. The driver just grinned at the show of young love in his backseat, accepting payment from Killian before giving them a wave and driving off.

The two of them staggered up to her apartment, neither drunk enough for the stairs to constitute a problem, though Emma did end up kicking her shoes off after the first set. She’d gotten more use to wearing heels after a few years, but after dancing for several hours, she was done of them and really wishing her old chucks had gone with her little black dress.

Neither bothered to turn the lights to her apartment on after Killian used his key to let them in, instead staggering to her bedroom right away, exhaustion hitting them. Emma rarely got to see Killian use his key but damn if that wasn’t a nice sight. It was right next to the old key for the Jones house and he used it with the same amount of ease. Anything Killian did with ease with his hand, whether it was handling something new, or completing a task made her grin because it showed that Killian had gotten used to it, made it ritual. But it was extra special to see him do it to the home they shared (most of the time).

“Did you have a good time?” Emma asked, yanking her dress over her head and letting it crumple to the floor.

Killian sighed at her messiness, grabbing it and throwing it in the laundry, before answering. “I did. Was I really so bad you needed to put up with a night with Arthur for me?”

Emma shrugged, even though he could barely see her in the dark. “We all just want you to be happy.”

“I’m not unhappy.”

Emma crossed the floor to where Killian stood, quiet and shadowed, slowly unbuttoning his shirt as she spoke, “But you could be happier. Maybe not tomorrow, I know you,” she kissed his stubbled chin, “but if you let your life be more than just Liam squared, you could be happier. You’re a big brother, not a father. Tonight was just trying to give you that.” The shirt fell from Killian’s broad shoulders and he caught in his hand while Emma moved to his belt, fingers lightly brushing the countless scars covering his chest as she moved down his body. It was rare he let her do this, take care of him this way, do something as simple as unbutton a shirt, so she did it slowly. “We’re going to need to start a life together eventually, live together, have a shared bank account. Adult stuff. And I know that won’t be soon, you’re waiting, spending more time with Liam to make up for what you lost, but I just want to know you’re working towards that. And I guess I just want to know that you’re letting yourself work towards that, learn to be happy with the life you’re making. With me. But also on your own.” Emma pushed his jeans from his hips, laughing when they didn’t fall to the floor because damn skinny jeans.

Killian laughed too before kissing her forehead and stepping out of the pants. “I am, love. Someday we’re going to have a sedan and a KitchenAid or something equally adult-y and boring.”

“Lee doesn’t think a KitchenAid is boring.”

Killian rolled his eyes at her sass, pressing a finger to her lips. “Emma, love, I didn’t think love was in the cards for me. I didn’t think there was anything more than surviving to the next morning. That I’d not graduate high school, let alone university. That anything beyond looking after Lee was for me. Until you came into my life. You showed me more was possible. So yes, maybe it’s taking me too long, maybe I’m a brooding pirate, but someday we’ll have that adult future. And I’ll try harder to be a brother, not a father, and a good boyfriend.”

“You are a good boyfriend.”

“A happy one then. One that isn’t constantly guilty for dating instead of babysitting.”

Emma nodded, taking his hand and pulling him towards the bed. “That’s all I ask.”

“But I know how to be happier,” he muttered, tackling her to the bed. Emma’s laugh cut through the dark like moonlight.

[riverdale-fanfiction-blog]

Submitted by: cinemariel

Pairing: Archie/Betty

Description: The Americans AU. The year is 1981. Betty and Archie are Russian spies sent to America. Their marriage is fake, but Betty’s feelings are real. If you don’t watch The Americans this should just read as a spies and fake marriage AU!

Chapter Summery: Archie cooks Betty dinner.

Rating: Teen

Genre: Romance, Hurt, Comfort, Fake Married!AU

All Chapters

         Betty’s first kiss was when she was nine years old. It was the neighbour boy. He swiped the eggs she was bringing home. Not in the way the older children would do, they would shame her and make her feel small. But in a playful way.

           “Give me a kiss and I’ll give them back,” he’d teased with a twinkle in his eye.

           Betty unhesitatingly pressed her lips to his. They were cold and chapped but the kiss warmed her nonetheless. It was a first.

           And Betty lived for firsts.

           The first time she drove.

           The first punch she threw.

           The first hit she took.

           Her first drink.

           First dance.

           All of these happened before training. All of these happened before Archie.

           They ran a restaurant together. It was an easy cover. Sources and drops could come and go as they pleased. It was easy to overhear people talking, strengthen their accents and reinforce the cultural touchstones they had learned.

           But for Archie, it was also something else. A way to learn to cook.

           And one night, he cooked for Betty. She came in from the snow, after staying late to close up. The weather had made her a bit homesick, which never really happened anymore. They had been in the states 6 months and had run at least 8 missions. She didn’t let herself think of Russia as home often. It was too hard that way. She could only think of it as work.

           When she came back to their house, she took her snow boots off, like always and started rubbing her hands together, trying to encourage life to return to her fingertips. But she stopped short when she smelled something.

           “Betty?” Archie darted out of the kitchen and when he saw her slack jawed expression, he grinned. “Perfect timing. The food’s ready.”

           He rushed over to her and grabbed her by the hand, pulling her into the kitchen.

           “I know I’m not supposed to,” he told her. “Having anything remotely… Russian in our home is bad but that’s why we’re going to eat it all tonight.”

           Betty’s mouth watered as she looked at the steaming Borscht, Blini, and Shashlyik. Archie had prepared a Russian feast.

           “Do you like it?” he asked, looking at her expectantly. It was genuine. Not put on. Betty felt that in her gut and she let her stone exterior crack—just a bit—to let him in.

           “I love it,” she told him. “Let’s eat.”

           They stuffed their mouths. Archie was—unsurprisingly—a good cook. And the food made all these memories of home flood back into her memory. And Betty was surprised to find that it wasn’t unpleasant. It reminded her how much she loved it and why she was here. If anything, it made her feel stronger, more resolute. It filled in pieces she didn’t even know were missing.

           “Did I do alright?” he asked.

           “Better than alright,” she told him through a mouthful of food.

           He laughed. Betty’s heart skipped a beat when she saw how genuinely happy he seemed with her.

           “One more thing!” he rushed towards the cabinet and came back with a bottle of vodka.

           Betty groaned. He was going to be the death of her.

           Archie poured them both a bit to drink and slid her glass across the table to her. She downed it immediately, throat burning in that wonderful way.

           “Don’t make me cut you off,” he grinned at her, pouring her another.

           “Thank you,” she told him, trying to keep some of the emotion out of her voice. “For all this, really.”

           He nodded, clearly understanding the gravity of her words. Probably understanding it more than she would have liked.

           “May I ask you something?” Archie requested, eyebrows knitting together.

           “You’ve plied me with liquor, so I guess you can,” Betty joked, trying to keep the mood light. Assuming this would be nothing of significance.

           “Are you happy?” he asked.

           Betty was not expecting this question. She actually hadn’t asked it of herself in a long time. On the outside of course she was. She was married to and living with a man she loved and trusted above all else. She ran a business she actually enjoyed. And when she wasn’t doing that she was working for her country. For peace in what felt like an endless covert war. But privately… this was the most alone she’d ever felt.

           “With me, I mean?” he followed up.

           How he had managed to make this answer even more difficult to give him? Her wheels turned as she tried to find a way to give him what he wanted.

           “Or maybe it’s something else,” he filled the silence. “Something just seems off.”

           He’d know if she was lying. She’d had a drink, she’d let him in, she was emotional from the food. Damn, he was good. She looked him dead in the eye and told him—a version—of the truth.

           “I like it,” she admitted.

           She let this hang here for a minute as she tried to find the words to explain it.

           “In training, they prepared us for so many things. For missions, for our covers, they gave us advice on how to fit in. But they never prepared us for the in between. I can’t spend every second focused on why we came here. It’s too much to hold in my head. It’s somehow all consuming and not enough at the same time. So I have to focus on other things. And sometimes those things can be… seductive.”

           She bit her lip, nervously. And kicked herself internally for doing so. It was a reflex from romance training. A way to look demure, but alluring.

           Archie took this in, nodding. Not shocked or scandalized. Just processing.

           “What do you find yourself being seduced by?”

           Luckily Betty was able to keep herself from blushing as she searched for a response.

           “Lots of things,” she told him. “The movies, the security, the fact that there is even an in-between to fill. I’m getting used to the free time. I feel entitled to it. But how can I enjoy things here when my job is to undermine them? It makes me feel like a failure… a traitor. ”

           “Are you still devoted to the cause?” he asked.

           “Absolutely,” she answered.

           “Then I don’t see the problem. In the academy, we were taught to make it real, over and over again. But if some part of this can actually be real without you trying… I think that’s something you can use.”

           Betty smiled at him, grateful.

           “Thank you,” she said, trying not to let her eyes fill up with tears of gratitude. She hadn’t been genuine in so long, it stung in a good way.

           “Is that it?” he asked.

           Betty hesitated. Asking after that moment of catharsis? When she was weak? Another great move.

            “I knew it.”

           “Fine,” she conceded. “Being married. Everything else we trained to do… being in love, having sex, fighting… I know it all inside and out and a lot of it I knew before I even started at the academy but—everyone we seduce, everyone we work… we know it’s fake and they don’t. I can put on a show for them. But I can’t put it on for you.  How do we do this when we both know it isn’t real?”

           “Not real?” Archie asked, dismayed. “You think we’re not real?”

           Betty’s cheeks heated up, she actually felt a whole body flush. What was he saying?

           “Are you saying we are?” she asked, trying to keep her voice level.

           “Of course we are,” Archie replied. “Look, I know we just met but I trust you, I value you, I care about you. That’s a marriage, right? I know we’re not in love—“

           Betty did absolutely everything in her power to hide the way those words broke her heart open.

           “But,” he continued. “We’re married. And let’s build on what’s real.”

           Betty’s head was spinning.

           Everything that had happened between them, real and otherwise swirled in her memory.

           Four months ago when he had shot someone who clearly had her in their sights. Six weeks ago when she broke the neck of a man who was about to stab him. The moment they bought their house together. Two months ago, when they were on a mission and were about to be caught in a corridor they absolutely did not have the clearance for.

           She remembered him pushing her against the wall and covering her mouth with his. She could practically feel his hand on her collarbone holding her steady, assuring her: this is the move. I’ve got you. She could feel his tongue stroking hers and the moan she let out to make it believable (or so she told herself). She remembered his leg, inserting itself between her thighs—thanks to that high slit on her dress and just how… electric it had all felt.

           “Betty, I want to make this work,” he interrupted her memory. “How can we do that?”

It would work if you loved me the same way I love you, Betty thought. But that’s not what she said.

“We need to start working toward having a child,” she told him. “I know it’s what the centre wants and eventually they are going to start pressuring us. But… I don’t want it to feel like a mission. I know we don’t love each other but could we maybe work on some middle ground?”

Archie smiled in relief.

“Absolutely.”

At that moment, Betty Cooper was in her own house. She was agreeing to try for a baby with her own husband. After eating a meal he cooked for her. And while she knew what was between them was not love, it was something.

So Archie got up, walked around the table and knelt beside her. Almost eye to eye, he took his hands in hers.

“What’s the first step?” he asked.

“A kiss?” she suggested, feeling the heat rising in her cheeks. It was just a kiss. They’d kissed before. When they got married, in front of the realtor when they bought their house, in the hallway as different people… but never as themselves.

“Then I’ll kiss you,” he said, his voice turning a bit husky. He leaned in slowly, giving her ample to time stop him if she didn’t want it. But since she absolutely did, Betty let her eyes flutter shut as their lips met. It was sweet. He tasted like home in more ways then one. He squeezed her hands and she new she was safe. She felt like she was being filled the brim with warm molten gold. If they kissed much longer she felt like she’d spill over, so she pulled back.

She composed herself, making her face pleasantly blank. He couldn’t know what this meant to her. He liked her, respected her, cared for her… but he didn’t love her. And she couldn’t look at him like he did.

“Was that an okay start?” he asked.

Betty nodded, wondering just how exactly she was going to hide her love from him for the rest of their lives.

[dandelionessblog-blog]

On the tip of the tongue of the year

*|| First sent out 31 Jan 2017 ||*

Dearest ministry team I spent the month of January in juxtaposition: homesick for my mom and my sister and the town of my childhood and excited-expectant and feeling the love of my mothers and sisters and brothers here in the town of my spiritual upbringing. I've been tumbling from task to task in my three jobs (that's still three less than last year, so technically still within my promise to cut down. Yay for not lying to oneself) trying to find my feet in a riverbed that has no footing, fighting Telkom, battling Grahamstown heat, dancing in hailstorms, not boiling my kettle for tea because of the price of electricity and, in the small moments of downtime, I've been blessed by my family here.

And in all that, I promise I haven't forgotten all of you. How can I, when almost every day shows me another confirmation that this is where I'm supposed to be, and this is what I'm supposed to be doing? They may all be coincidences, mind you. But if that much coincidence exists then I'm stuck in some weird mix of The Hunger Games and The Truman Show. So I'm going to call the "coincidences" what they are instead: God showering me with blessings and favour I never did even half a thing to deserve. I told you in the December newsletter that I was afraid, and that I'd put down my fears in a document called "Fears to Victories" in anticipation of God performing miraculous breakthroughs. I told you that I'd show you that list, and I'd show you the ways God came through for me, and that's precisely what I'm going to do at the bottom of this newsletter. Not to gloat, not to give you Five Steps To Becoming #Blessed, not even to show you how all things work out in the end. Because things didn't work themselves out - God worked them out for me. I need to write them down simply because He deserves the recognition. I need to write them down so my silly human brain will remember His faithfulness when the next storm cloud hits. And, just maybe, I need to write them down so some measure of peace flows over some area of your life. Please continue to send me prayer requests; no matter how "small" you'd like to qualify them. The new students are coming in two weeks, and Bible School starts in four weeks. Pray with me, please, and watch how God trumpets through in those areas just like He's come through on the items on this list. All of my love and blessings (and Valentines Day wishes) Dani

(Title credit: January 1939 by Dylan Thomas)

It's 7:43am on Tuesday November 22 2016. I'm writing this because I know two things in different levels of certainty. The first of these things is known very well by my head, heart, emotions and even some reactions of my physical body: right now I'm terrified of life. The second of these things is known only very quietly by my spirit: God will make everything okay. I'm writing this because something tiny and easily quieted in me knows that if I write down all the things that terrify me, very soon I'll have a list of things that will serve as evidence of the power, compassion and love of God. The verses in Matthew and Jeremiah are timeless and powerful, but sometimes I need evidence of them working in my life. So I'm putting my fears down in faith that in a month or two these exact things will change from fears into God's small victories in my life.

All of my household items - everything from my microwave and kettle to my plates and pots - are home in Hermanus. I need them here in Grahamstown. I have a bakkie load of things and absolutely no way at all to get them up here. Not a single way, except the moving company that wants to charge me over R6000. A few days after I arrived back in Grahamstown, I got a Facebook message from a relative of one of our Elder's wives. He said he had an empty bakkie and trailer headed up from Stellenbosch, and wouldn't I like to use their services to get my things here? I said my things were in Hermanus with no way of getting to Stellenbosch. He said no problem, he'd make the 40km detour into Hermanus on his way past. I explained that due to finances I only had a certain amount of savings left, and that they probably wouldn't be enough. He said it wasn't enough, so he'd just have to do it for free. I have everything up here, bar one bag of books and my microwave, unbroken and well taken care of, and I didn't have to pay a cent. The microwave isn't here because my mom agreed to buy my old one off of me so I could have a microwave in Grahamstown, at least. We found one, a great brand, on sale for R200 cheaper than any microwave I've seen in any catalogue or shop. It was the last one left.

Money, Jesus. Money. I'm using all my savings to make ends meet in December. I have R10 left. Lord. Lord. I didn't have to pay for internet because, ironically, Telkom's service was so bad they didn't get to connecting me in December. I got a sudden weekend-long job at a conference that was almost no work and an amazing amount of pay. Despite having two systems in place to ensure I budget properly, I somehow found extra money in my account. All my meetings with friends had them paying for me despite my biggest insistences. My rent got reduced because I only moved in on the 5th, and the amount I had to pay for deposit and December rent was to the cent the amount I had saved from the deposit paid back to me from my last flat two years ago. We have extra food money this month, despite kitting out the flat with things it needed. Expenses I expected to have to pay didn't come up this month. I was blessed so much by Christmas money; so much so that I not only made ends meet, but was able to give gifts to everybody I loved and longed to bless.

What Louise is asking me to do is hard. What if I mess up? What if I don't do it right and she gets disappointed or fires me or something? What if I can't do it well? I can't stand the idea of failure like that. So far, I haven't messed up. I've managed to work everything out bit by bit, and haven't had more than I can chew thrown at me on any given day. The one time I thought I was completely in over my head because she asked me to find a handyman to fix her bathroom, and right after she asked that I saw a flyer for a handyman on her car window. 

I need to learn to drive well enough to transport children safely by January. It's the end of November, and I haven't driven since 2012 when I barely scraped through my driver's test. I have no idea when I'll get time to practise or what car I'll be able to use or even if I'll be good enough to transport children even if I do magically find time and a car with which to practise. I'm still the reason stereotypes about woman drivers exist. But I got more practise than I thought, and I even drove Louise and her dog from the vet on Friday and only stalled once. I'm still praying for a miracle in this area.

God, where am I going to find people to be on my MP team? I don't even know where to look now, let alone when I need to start making a team that will fully support me in 2018 when I'm no longer working for Louise. How am I supposed to find people willing to give me money because they see something of You in what I'm trying to do in Grahamstown? Hello to all you reading this. Let me assure you that I was halfway convinced every one of you was going to tell me you didn't want to be on my team supporting me in the different capacities you do. And, yet, here we are on this journey together. Some of you contacted me before I even went to you. Some of you blurted out "Oh, God and I already spoke about it and He told me I should partner with you" before I could even blunder through the first sentence of my "speech". My heart is full of love and gratitude for all of you. And I cannot even begin to describe how happy I am that this ministry I am on is your ministry and your truimph and your reward as well. Thank you for following God in this way.

[yearinthejournal-blog]

January 1st

2009

Happy New Year! What a wild ride it has been so far, and what a fantastic ride I still have ahead of me. I am filled to the brim and running over with gratitude for my life - I rejoice at this new beginning, for I am free! Christ has redeemed me from sin, and most recently, from codependence! I am beginning my first year FREE of codependence! How splendid is this day and how good is my God! I was done reading my Tanakh this morning and I had to say another prayer before I got up because I was just filled with so many good feelings and love for God.

So, the plane ride home was fine until the end and it was terrifying when we hit Salt Lake weather. But I survived! Dee was waiting for me. We went to her house then met Allen for lunch at an Indian restaurant which was so good. Then I went home with Andrew and Dan. We stayed the night with Candace, and her family is so nice! The roads weren’t bad and now I’m home. It has been so great being home.

On Sunday I saw everyone again and gave them their presents. I gave the Finches the wall hanging about Allah and Sister Forest her olive wood nativity scene and Kristen her zatah. We went singing that night with Melody & co.

Since then, I’ve been hanging out with Hazel (we made a new video), reading a lot, not eating very much, connecting to others on the internet, driving, practicing my Hebrew, and maintaining a good balance of things I want to accomplish. I am reading Jesus the Christ, which I got from the Finches for Christmas. Forgiving Yourself, from Sister Forest, Tasting the Sky, Mere Christianity, and that’s about it. Forgiving Yourself is making me feel so close to God and is so beautifully written. Tasting the Sky is written in a unique, visual way that is very interesting. One of my New Years Resolutions is to read more.

I stayed with Erin for two days which was nice and a learning experience. She is so calm all the time, so chill. We talked a lot about Emily’s situation. I told her the whole story, without giving real names, and it was just so clear to them that Emily is being deceived. It wasn’t that clear to me because I thought it can’t be that black and white.

But it is. Emily is deceived and so was I. Those feelings I felt around Matt were exactly what I thought at the beginning - manipulation. Matt is just a very charismatic, persuasive person. I can’t believe I didn’t see it, but there have been signs all along of his true character. I wonder if Emily realized she was deceived and that’s why she has a boyfriend. Maybe she’s moved on. This situation has pointed me once again to God’s greatness and His perfect ability to take everything and turn it into good.

I remember that paper I wrote in my D&C class about Sister Forest and Dr. Fish. That primed me, I think, because D&C 50 applies so well to this situation as well. I remember being inspired to take that class. If I had stayed with the Wallaces for Christmas break, I wouldn’t have talked to Erin about all this and realized how deceived I’ve been. But I’m thankful all this has happened because it helps me to trust more in God’s plan. He truly does know what’s best, because His thoughts toward me are thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give me an expected end. Jeremiah 29:11. AHHHH! GOD IS SO WONDERFUL! How could I ever go without Him?!?!? 

Erin gave me tons of Christmas presents. A lot of chocolate and bath products! But my favorite was this chalk board. I make lists on it of things I need to do. Pretty soon I will be able to cross off “write in journal.” 

Hazel and I went to a New Years dance last night then to her friend’s house for a little “party”. It was way fun. She has been having troubles with Aaron and I’ve been trying to be there for her. 

What I am thrilled about is how good I feel about myself and the way I’ve behaved this break. I’ve not given into temptation, even though it has come. I’ve been consistent in my scripture study and not spending too much time doing one thing. My room has stayed clean and God is with me and this just feels SO GOOD! The best times in my life are when I am prospering and I still rely on God completely. 

2015

My trip to LA was underwhelming. I’m in a sad mood right now, so it might effect how I describe my trip.

When we got there and went outside the airport it was warm. The flight was awful at first. I was crying and crushing Kylie’s hand. The percocet didn’t help, but getting buzzed did. I cried when I saw LA from the plane.

On Wednesday we went to San Pedro to see the friendship bell and Palos Verdes to see a beautiful view of the ocean. It was actually a lot cooler than I thought it would be, in the early 50′s, so regrettably I didn’t bring warm clothes and was chilly the whole time.

After that we had Mexican food at El Burrito Jr. Bonnie was with us. We also got some last minute shopping done at Target, Whole Foods, and a frame store. LA is beautiful. It’s lusher and greener than I thought. I didn’t see anyone smoking the whole time I was there. People were friendlier. Palm trees everywhere. I miss it a lot. I was watching a part of Gilmore Girls where Jess goes to LA and it made me homesick.

On Christmas day, We opened presents. Kylie’s family got me a lot of stuff, but most of it I won’t use. Kylie loved her books and her parents loved their aeropress. Kylie and I went to Manhattan Beach and watched a beautiful sunset from the pier. We drank at a bar, and I got drunk on wine at her house and we went to mass. We had prime rib for dinner. I dropped my phone in the toilet and had to get it fixed, but they replaced it and didn’t charge me!

On Friday we went on a hollywood tour and saw lots of fancy houses and endured the tour guides misogynist jokes. I met Kylie’s ex on Xmas night and we really hit it off! We went to Joshua Tree on Saturday. It was pretty cool.

I felt frustrated the whole time cause I was thrown out of my routine and was on edge and couldn’t relax.

2016

I got really drunk on Wednesday and embarrassed myself and felt lonely and at the end of my rope. I woke up Thursday morning feeling awful. I don’t understand why drinking is such a lonely intense affair for me when others seem to be able to do it and feel fine. But I think it’s that same sensitivity that allows me to be so sensitive and receptive to goodness and the presence and love of Christ. And for that I’m grateful. I prayed and cried out to God that he would save me and acknowledge my dependence and helplessness before him. Barb was supportive and puts up with my griping and faults. Because of my superstition that how I spend New Years Eve is how my year will go, I decided to stay sober and be kind to myself. I read my bible before bed and went to sleep at 10 cause I got up this morning at 7 to go sledding with Christian and Phillip! We went to Clover Pass where Kylie and I drove through around Christmas but I didn’t get to enjoy the scenery cause I was driving, so I got a second chance to enjoy God’s beautiful creation there. It was majestic. Walking up the hills was arduous but satisfying and sledding was so fun! Christian has childlike wonder and enthusiasm that’s really refreshing and Phillip was nice. Christian bought us lunch. It was such a nice day - I felt so happy just being around them and feeling apart of something - because of Kaladi and living in Anchorage. I’m so grateful I accepted this offering of fellowship because it’s rare that it’s offered and rare that I accept. And I’m so glad I was sober.

I realized yesterday that this challenge of struggling with alcohol is apart of God’s plan and purpose for my life and thus I should not only be grateful for it and seek to learn from it, but also know and trust God that he will keep me safe. And in that way, I can let go and surrender to him.

And that is one of my hopes for the new year - to learn how I can actually surrender to God and empty myself, so Christ can fill me with himself and work through me.

I’m struggling with anger at Kylie over Mexico. Doing all that xmas stuff wasn’t good enough cause she hated doing it and Barb helped me realize that it’s not that I want to go somewhere with Kylie - it’s that I wish she wanted to go somewhere with me - so much that she actually planned it and prioritized it like with Rachel. And she always prioritizes Rachel over me. She called me on NYE to say she loved and missed me, but spent just as much time trying to hush Rachel’s scoffs and eye rolls. And that really upset and disgust me. I wish Kylie would stick up for me. 

2017

I started making amends! To Chelsea, Andrew, Kelsey, and Kylie so far. It’s going great - everyone has  been so kind about it. It doesn’t feel, like, amazing, like it seemed like it would, but that’s ok!

Christmas sucked - Kylie was sick and we couldn’t go on a drive so I was alone in her living room eating cliff bars and beef jerkey, watching Beavis and Butthead all day. I was mean to her and so grumpy and critical all day.

NYE was okay. We watched “No Country for Old Men” and I played GTA and went to bed at 11. We’re seeing a movie today though! “Fences.” We saw “Arrival” on xmas eve.

I got sick last week and was in a horrible mood, but Ashley said not to trust my brain so I tried not to.

I’m feeling way more empathy for people, out of nowhere. It just happened. I don’t want to make people feel bad because I feel compassion for them. This is a gift from God.