#and it was like THREE MILES (5K) until I could find somewhere to turn around at

[koravelliumavast]

I left my dorm room at about 5:45pm. It’s now midnight. I JUST got home. That was the worst driving decision I’ve had in a while. At one point I got lost on a drive that I’ve made about 20ish times now. I cried a little bit too because it was stressful and at that point I was on hour four of about 6 in the car and losing ALL my sanity. Yay!

​and if that wasn’t enough I also woke up at 6:15 this morning, took two finals, packed up like probably more stuff than I need oh well AND wrote about 3kish words. today was a fuckin day.

[gingeralepdf]

Walk On By - Part 2

A/N: yay!!!!!! another installment in the shroomrry cinematic universe is here!! i want to say a huge thank you to el ( @harrytheehottie​ ) and brailey ( @daydreamsofh​ ) for being excellent beta readers and supporters. <3 <3

and thank you to everyone who has shown my writing love. i truly appreciate it so much. i hope you like this part just as much as the first one. :-)

if you haven’t read part 1, catch up here!!

🍄✨🌈✨🍄✨🌈✨🍄✨🌈✨🍄

****CONTENT WARNING**** alcohol consumption, mentions of drug use

You’re simply buying magic mushrooms from Harry. However, if you keep running into each other, is it going to stay that simple?

word count: just under 5k

**September 15th, 1977, Los Angeles, California**

The brakes on your car squeal as you pull into the last empty spot along the curb and shift into park. The music from your radio comes to an abrupt stop when you turn the key back to shut the engine off. Your head hits the headrest behind you before you empty your lungs into the silence.

Cars drive past on the street to your left. It’s just past five thirty, so all of the after work traffic is in full swing.

You’ve been avoiding this errand for two weeks now. There’s a record that you’ve been wanting to get your hands on ever since one of your coworkers played it at a work function. After looking through shelf after shelf in all of your favorite shops in L.A., and even making some calls to shops in surrounding areas, they’ve all come up short.

This seems to be your very last resort. Right across the street, sandwiched between a donut shop and a hair salon, is Jupiter House Records. From what you remember, this shop has a really good selection and variety, but the handful of unpleasant interactions you’ve had with the owner have been enough to make you look somewhere else. You’ve been stubbornly avoiding this place for years. Now you have a whole other reason for not wanting to spend hours in this store digging through to find your favorites or discover new ones.

Harry works here.

You haven’t seen him since he showed up on your doorstep to return your address book. The conversation you had with Jenny when she came home from work that evening plays through your mind again.

Both of you plop down on opposite sides of the couch in your living room. You sigh and take a big sip from your glass of wine before explaining the whole interaction to her, starting from the moment you opened the door to the moment you saw him drive away in his car.

Jenny grins. The only sound in the room comes from the ticking of the clock on the wall as you wait for her response. “I think he likes you.”

You squint. “That’s what you’re taking away from all of that?”

Her eyes widen and she springs forward, almost sloshing the wine out of her glass when she sets it on the coffee table. “Oh, so you’re telling me he saw the ‘If lost please return to..’ in your address book and decided to make a trip to our house to return it to you in person, when he could have just sent it in the mail?”

You can feel a crease forming between your eyebrows and you take in a sharp breath, fully prepared to counter her point, but she barrels through.

“And he wanted to ‘make sure you were okay’. Out of all the dealers that we’ve met, how many have just shown up at our houses to check up on us? Zero.”

You press your lips together. You can’t argue the fact that this alone sets Harry apart. However, this doesn’t mean he likes you. Maybe it just means that he’s the kind of person that goes the extra mile for the people he does business with. He could have easily left you and Jen sitting on the sidewalk after the concert, but he decided to help, to do what any other good-natured person would do.

“And let’s not forget how he threw the paper on the doorstep so you wouldn’t have to walk all the way down the driveway.” Jenny clutches her chest and swoons.

Scoffing at the way she’s adding dramatics, you challenge, “How do you know he didn’t show up here to see you?”

“He didn’t ask about me, did he?”

“No,” you begrudgingly mumble into your glass.

She grabs her glass from the coffee table and gives you a knowing look. She’s made her point, and the more it lingers like the aftertaste of wine, the more conflicted you become.

You’ve spent more idle moments than you’d like to admit since then thinking about the night you were sitting outside of the Forum. Thinking about what possessed you to lean in and study his face so closely. Was it solely the effects of the drugs? If that’s the case, then why do you want to go back to that moment so badly? And why didn’t Harry pull away? Did he really blush when you were staring at him? Was his heart really racing when you gave him a hug, or was that just your wild imagination?

The honking of a car brings you out of your thoughts. You take a deep breath and trill your lips. There’s a slight break in traffic. If you don’t get out of your car and cross the street now, you fear you’ll stay here stuck in your thoughts all evening.

With a huff, you rip your keys from the ignition and push your door open. You cross the street, walking with a purpose, and make it to the sidewalk.

The full strength of your nerves doesn’t hit you until you’re just in front of the store and the glass door swings out with a simultaneous chime of a bell. Your heart drops from your chest to your stomach and you freeze on the sidewalk to avoid colliding with the man exiting the shop.

When he stops to hold the door open for you, it takes you a moment to gather yourself. You mutter a ‘thank you’ as your hand firmly grips the cool metal of the door handle. Almost like you’re using it as a crutch to get you through the threshold.

Your shoes meet the shaggy mustard yellow carpet, matted down by years of customer traffic.

A woman that looks about your age greets you from behind a counter to your right. You return her half smile and she goes back to flipping through the magazine on the counter in front of her. The nametag on her floral shirt reads ‘Nora’. Behind her is a door with a red ‘EMPLOYEES ONLY’ sign taped to it.

Underneath the counter that she’s leaning on is a glass case holding records and cassette tapes, all marked ‘deluxe’ or ‘limited edition’. Spread out next to them are a few t-shirts, buttons, and stickers with the store logo printed on them.

You weren’t expecting it to be so quiet. Right now it seems like you and Nora are the only people in the store. The coast is clear. You can relax a bit. The adrenaline rush you were feeling on the other side of the door has now been replaced by the whirring of the air vents and David Bowie’s “Queen Bitch” playing over the speakers.

You turn to your left to take in the rest of the store, meandering into the first row of record shelves.

The large window taking up the entire front wall lets in plenty of evening sun that warms your skin through your shirt. More shelves, each one three tiers deep, line the rest of the walls and create aisles in the middle of the room.

Signs hanging from the ceiling above each section indicate the genre. The one you’re standing next to is labeled ‘new releases’ with a smaller font that reads ‘alpha by artist’. Other sections are labeled country, rock, disco, classical. Your eyes land on the back corner of the store where the funk, soul, and jazz sections are.

You make your way over while pulling your sleeves up to your elbows.

Unsure of which specific section the record you’re looking for will be in, you decide to start on one end of the corner and search all the way through to the other in hopes of finding it.

You fall into a familiar routine of searching through the first tier, then the second, leaning over to search through the top tier, and then taking a step over to start the whole process again.

Once you’re about halfway through the soul section, the bell on the door chimes again. You can’t be bothered to look, not wanting to lose your place.

“Hey, sorry I’m late.”

Goddamnit. Your hands freeze their movements and your heart begins to race all over again. You know exactly who just walked through that door.

“Harry,” Nora admonishes, “I finally have a date after two months and you’re gonna make me late.”

Harry’s mumbled response is drowned out by the loud creak of the door behind the counter, but judging by Nora’s gasp and the unmistakable thwack of a magazine, maybe it’s better left between the two of them.

You begin to slowly file through records again, this time not paying much attention to what you’re doing. More-so to give your hands something to do and appear busy while trying to hear the rest of their conversation.

Nora sighs, “It’s been really slow today. Hopefully it’s a slow night for you.” All you hear is some shuffling before she adds, “Oh, boss wanted me to remind you not to play the music too loud.”

“Did he? Dunno what he’s talking about,” Harry says, feigning innocence.

Nora laughs, “Whatever.”

The next thing you hear is the jingling of keys and footsteps across the carpet.

Harry raises his voice from the back room, “Are you gonna punch out?”

“Will you do it for me? I’ve gotta go.”

“Sure.”

The bell on the door rings and Nora yells from the doorway, “I left three boxes in the back for you to restock!”

“Oh thanks,” Harry yells back with sarcastic enthusiasm.

“Bye,” she sings as she walks out.

The door slams behind her. The bell’s high pitched ringing seems to hang in the air.

Silence falls on the room when the song playing over the speakers stops suddenly, making the room quiet enough to hear the traffic outside. You hear a needle drop and after a few seconds, the opening guitar notes of “Can You Get to That” by Funkadelic begin to play. The corners of your mouth turn down to fight a smile when the volume is promptly turned up much louder than what it was when you walked in.

You take a sharp breath in, realizing that you’re going to have to turn around at some point. Surely you can’t just stay in this corner and keep your back turned to him until the place closes. You don’t know what you’re going to say to him. Will he even recognize you after not seeing you for weeks?

There’s not much time to decide what to do when the sound of footsteps approaching on the carpet is getting closer to you.

Your heart leaps into your throat when you hear his voice.

“Finding everything alright?”

You turn your head to the left.

Harry is standing a few shelves apart from you with a box propped between the shelf and his hip. The sunlight from the window shines through the ends of his hair and the sleeves of his white t-shirt when he grabs a record from the box and reaches out to carefully wedge it back into the right place. You scan down to where his shirt is tucked into a pair of dark brown corduroy pants, and further down to see a pair of dirty white sneakers peeking out from the ends of the flares. When he turns his head to the box again, you notice that his mustache is significantly thinner from the last time you saw each other.

Heat rushes up your neck and onto your face when he glances up at you.

His hand pauses in the air and his eyebrows raise slightly before the corners of his mouth do the same, revealing just a hint of his dimples. His head tilts back and he blinks in surprise. “Oh… hi.”

You let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding when he addresses you by name. Mirroring his smile and turning your shoulders to face him, you reply, “Hi. I… didn’t know you worked here.”

A flat out lie, but thankfully he doesn’t seem too suspect about it.

He frowns and looks down at his shirt, pulling it out in front of him to reveal his nametag. “Hm. M’ afraid I do,” he says flatly.

A breathy chuckle leaves you, amused at the way he’s effortlessly making sarcastic remarks like this with you and his coworker. Quite different from the stiffly awkward interactions you’ve had with him. It’s like you’re seeing him in his natural environment. Him being at ease is having the same effect on you.

“Do you need help finding anything?” he asks, continuing his previous actions, this time with a soft smile.

“Actually, yes,” you clear your throat, “I’m looking for this specific record. I’ve looked all over for it by now. I’m pretty sure it should be in one of these sections if you have it, but...” you trail off as you cast a glance over your shoulder to the shelves you have yet to go through.

“I can take a look in our inventory. Save you some time?”

Of course. Why didn’t you just ask about that when you first walked in? “Sure. That would be great.”

Harry hoists the box into the crook of his arm with a faint grunt and you follow him over to the counter. After setting the box at the end of the countertop, he walks to the other end and reaches underneath the register, pulling out a large beat up binder with ‘inventory’ written on the spine.

It lands on the counter with a plop, probably due to the huge stack of paper inside, separated by multicolored tabs.

“What’s the artist’s name?” he asks after opening the binder to the first page.

“The Equatics.”

He pulls on the ‘A’ tab and folds it over.

“Oh, sorry, it’s Equatics with an ‘E’.”

He tuts and shakes his head before tracing his finger down and pulling on the ‘E’ tab. “Equatics with an ‘E’,” he mumbles.

You fold your lips between your teeth.

Now you’re thankful for the loud music filling the room as you’re standing wordlessly in front of the counter watching him flip through the pages of the inventory binder. Hair hangs in front of his face as his head is tilted down to scan over the pages, all filled with scribbles, arrows, and notes in the margins written in blue, black, and red ink. It all means nothing to you, especially looking at it upside down. You can only imagine how tedious it must be to keep up with.

With his left hand pressed flat against the counter, the expanse of his arm is right in front of you. Hopefully he can’t feel your eyes surveying his tattoos, at least the ones you can see from this angle. A small cross on his hand, an anchor on his wrist, the tail of a mermaid, a delicate rose near his elbow, a heart just beneath the hem of his t-shirt.

He inhales sharply and clears his throat into his fist, “Looks like we do have it. It’s actually in our as-is section.” As he’s speaking, he spins the binder in your direction and slides his finger almost to the bottom of the page to point out where it lists the artist, album title, and the section it’s in.

Despite the relief that comes with finally finding something you’ve been searching for, your face falls a bit. You know that ‘as-is’ is often just a nice way of saying that something is heavily used. “Does that mean it’s… damaged?”

Harry hums and tilts his head to the side, not meeting your eyes until he responds.

“Not always. Honestly we’re pretty much required to put stuff in that section even if it’s just the sleeve that’s messed up. Sometimes the record itself is still in great condition. You can still find some good stuff in there.”

“Okay. Where’s the as-is section?” You don’t remember seeing a sign for it when you walked in, unless you just overlooked it.

“Right. It's, uh, down this hallway here. Kind of hidden.”

Harry rounds the end of the counter and you follow him over to a doorway covered with a ruby red beaded curtain. Harry pulls it to the side and steps through first, pausing to hold the curtain back for you. You mutter a ‘thanks’ and step into a long hallway that extends to your right.

He releases the curtain, letting the beads crash together, before starting down the hallway.

Both walls are lined with floor to ceiling shelves full of cassette tapes, with each row of shelving just tall enough to fit their size. There’s so much packed in this long stretch of narrow space, like a condensed, fluorescent-lit cornucopia.

“I had no idea all of this was back here,” you comment, slightly dumbfounded that you probably would have overlooked this hallway entirely if it hadn’t been pointed out to you.

“Yeah, lots of people think it’s off limits because of the curtain. I need to put some signs up or something.”

As you’re walking behind Harry, you realize you were too distracted before to see print on the back of his shirt, let alone make out what it said. Bold purple font reads ‘MY MIND IS UP ON THE MOUNTAINS’ with a smaller font at the bottom that reads ‘(and i didn’t even have to climb)’. The words are surrounded by a sun, a few flowers, a picture of a mountain, and two mushrooms on the bottom.

A smirk creeps onto the corner of your mouth at how incredibly on the nose it seems for him. It makes you wonder if anyone here knows about his other job, or if he’s hiding in plain sight.

Once you’re both about a third of the way down the hallway, there’s a gap in the shelves on the right filled by a nondescript doorway.

“Here we are.” Harry stops and reaches on the other side of the doorway to flip the light switch before stepping back and gesturing for you to walk in first.

You step into a small room. It only contains two long folding tables pushed against opposite walls. Rather than fancy, neat shelves, the records here are stored in milk crates and cardboard boxes lined up on the tops of the tables. It almost looks like you’ve come across a garage sale.

You furrow your eyebrows and purse your lips to the side as you walk up to the first box at the end of the table closest to the door. When you reach in, Harry speaks up.

“I could help you look for a bit, if you want.”

Harry’s now leaning against the doorframe, running a hand against his jaw. Do you see a slight tinge of pink creeping onto his cheeks as well?

“I don’t really have anything better to do. Plus this section... isn’t really organized,” he continues.

You bring your attention back to the box in front of you, a sharp breath escaping your nose when you turn the Johnny Cash record back to reveal a Mozart one behind it. “I can see that.”

“But if you want to look around by yourself I understand, I can leave you to it,” he says, already slightly backing up into the hallway.

“No, I wouldn’t mind the company. You could take that table and I’ll take this one?” Your own words surprise you as you’re speaking them. Moments ago you had been dreading crossing paths with him again, but now that you’re having a moment that feels comfortable, you find yourself wanting him to stick around longer.

A curiosity is growing in your mind, wondering if Harry is feeling the same way, if that’s why he offered to help, if that’s why he slowly joins you in the room and mirrors your position at the table behind you so you’re not standing back to back.

You both search through the crates without a word, only the faint sound of the music from the front room coming down the hallway. Meanwhile, your thoughts are going back and forth between Jenny insisting that this man likes you and talking yourself out of that idea, insisting that he’s simply being nice, doing his job.

“How have you been?”

The question catches you off guard, taking a moment to realize that he’s actually said it out loud. “Um. I’ve been good. Nothing exciting going on, just working a lot. You?”

“I’m alright, thanks. I’ve been working a lot too. Where do you work? Don’t think I’ve asked you.”

“Do you ever listen to KIIS-FM?”

“Yes?” He responds, possibly thinking that you’re trying to shift the subject.

You smile to yourself, “You’re welcome. I’m a sound engineer there.”

“Oh shit,” he says enthusiastically. “That’s really cool. Do you like it?”

Briefly turning to look at him, your smile grows wider when you read the interest and excitement on his face. An expression you’re seeing for the first time in him, and it's because of something about you. Your heart flutters and you turn back to your table.

“Most days, I do. It can be a real dick fest sometimes though. Not in a good way.”

Despite mumbling the last sentence, Harry seems to still pick it up.

He barks out a laugh. You turn, eyes wide, to see his shoulders shaking and him covering his mouth with his hand.

When he turns back to you, clearly making a lot of effort to compose himself, he places his hand over his heart. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Oh yeah, the way you laughed really convinced me,” you lightheartedly roll your eyes.

“No it’s just… the way you said it was really funny,” he says, chuckling through his words. He continues, “So you studied engineering at UCLA then?”

Your eyebrows crease as his words hang in the air. You guess it’s not wild to assume that people who live in L.A. have attended UCLA. However, since you’ve never mentioned any kind of schooling to Harry, you can only gather that he’s making that assumption from the UCLA t-shirt you were wearing when he showed up at your house.

“I thought I remembered Jenny mentioning that you both went there.” His tone is cautious now, hesitant even. Like he’s picked up on his own blunder.

You decide to brush over it and simply nod, “Yeah, that’s how we met, actually.”

You return to looking through the crate in front of you. You gasp when you see the familiar red cover of the album you’re looking for.

You feel Harry turn around behind you. “Find it?”

You pull it from the crate. The bold red cover with a blue-grey circle in the middle, running your finger over the lines and arrows creating rings around it with a few stars placed here and there. You turn to smile at Harry, holding up the record in place of an answer, too excited to form words. The paper dust liner crinkles as you slide the plastic disc from the sleeve. Holding it by the edges, you tilt it to the left, to the right, and hold it up closer to the light to inspect it. Your shoulders visibly fall when you spot a long scratch running from the middle to the edge.

“Oh no,” you whisper, bringing the record closer to your face. You lightly run your finger over the scratch. It doesn’t feel rough, you actually can’t feel it at all. A fraction of hope is restored knowing that the scratch isn’t too deep into the grooves. However, there’s no way to know if it’s unplayable unless you actually try to play it.

Harry seems to read your mind. “You could test it out on the player up front if you want.”

“Really?” You spin around, seeming to shock him judging by the way his upper body slightly jerks back. “I mean-- I would appreciate that. If it’s not too much--”

He shakes his head, “It’s not a problem.” He walks toward the door where he waits for you to gather everything up.

The front of the store quiet once you both emerge from the other side of the curtain.

“I liked your choice of work music, by the way,” you say once you’ve both made it back to the counter, hugging your record to your chest.

“Oh yeah, Maggot Brain. S’ a fun album.”

You lean forward to rest your forearms against the smooth wood of the counter, waiting while he takes the record off the player to make room for yours. “Do you listen to a lot of funk music?”

“I do. I’ve never really understood why some people aren’t into it. What’s not to love, right?”

“Exactly! My coworker showed me this album and I think it’s one of my favorites now. It was recorded by this group of high school students in seventy two. They won some studio time in a contest or something and they really made the most of it.”

“Hm. M’ excited to listen to it now.” He stretches his hand out, “I’ll take that.”

You hand over the album. “Could you start it on track two? I think that’s my favorite one.”

“Sure.” He places the record on the player and carefully moves the needle in place.

A warm feeling washes over you when you hear the familiar soft guitar and drum beat at the beginning of the song. You both stand in place as the bass line comes in and all of the instruments’ parts crescendo.

Once the beat drops and the main guitar comes in, Harry turns to you with raised eyebrows and an impressed smile.

“Amazing, right?” you ask through a chuckle.

“It’s really good.”

“I know! And I don’t notice the scratch at all. It sounds perfect.”

“S’ exciting. I’m glad you found it.”

He walks over to where you are and starts to inspect the sleeve, turning it over to read the back. He adopts a similar position as you, forearms resting on the counter as he taps his fingers on his bicep to the beat of the song.

“That guitar part is amazing.”

He’s leaning close enough now that you can see a hint of stubble along his jawline and his upper lip. His cologne, a swirl of vanilla and something else you can’t quite put your finger on. He looks up when you don’t respond and you avert your eyes immediately.

“I think so too,” you mumble.

“I find it crazy how something really amazing can be right in front of you for so long and you never notice it or you just keep missing it.” A pause. “This has been in the back room for… I don’t even know how long, and I probably never would have listened to it if you hadn’t been looking for it.” Another brief pause as he scratches at his chin, seeming to be in deep thought. He shakes his head, “I don’t know. Maybe that’s weird, but I think about that kind of thing a lot.”

“I don’t think it’s weird. That can happen with… so many things, too.”

“Like people.”

His eyes quickly dance over your face. You swear they linger on your lips for a second  before returning to meet your eyes.

“Like people,” you repeat. “And I think it is good to think about that stuff from time to time but… it can get overwhelming. Sometimes it could even distract you from the things you’re enjoying now.”

Your eyes do the same motions, glancing all over his face, lingering on his lips, and then back to his eyes. This feels extremely reminiscent of the night you were sitting outside of the Forum, when you were practically nose to nose after you had taken a whiff of his hair. You had been telling yourself that the gravitational pull you felt that night was solely induced by the shrooms. However, you seem to be feeling it again now as your eyes trace over the plane of his cheek, the tip of his nose, the arch of his lip.

A slight crease between his eyebrows slightly contradicts the almost tender look in his eyes. He opens his mouth like he’s about to speak.

Unfortunately he’s interrupted by the shrill ringing of the phone on the wall behind him.

You flinch at the sudden noise and Harry huffs in annoyance before clearing his throat into his fist.

He walks over to the player to turn the music down before answering the phone with a simple, clipped “Jupiter House.”

He covers the receiver with his hand and mouths ‘sorry’ to you before holding up a finger and going into the back room, closing the door until it's just cracked behind him.

You release a heavy sigh and rub your temples.

After a short conversation, Harry comes back and hangs up the phone.

“Sorry about that,” he mumbles, untangling the cord from his fingers. “Are you happy with this, then?” He asks, pointing to the record player.

“Uh- yes. Yes. I am.”

You go through the transaction in silence, watching the way Harry slides your record into a brown paper bag and the way he makes your change. At this moment, you’re wishing Harry came with a cartoon thought bubble over his head so you could know what he’s thinking right now. What exactly did he mean when he said ‘like people’? What was he about to say before he was interrupted?

He carefully folds and creases the paper, but instead of handing it over, he pauses, hands poised on the top of the bag.

“Sorry, I forgot something.” He opens the bag again and crouches down behind the counter.

“What--”

Before you can get your question out, his hand reaches into the glass case between you, hovering over the merchandise that you noticed when you first walked in. He picks out a button and a sticker. You hear them drop into the bag before he pops up from behind the counter.

“You didn’t have to--”

“I know.”

His smile and his voice are reassuring, absolving your confusion in a matter of seconds. 

“Thanks for your help. It was nice running into you,” you smile, taking the bag and holding the record to your chest once again.

“Take care. I’ll see you around.” He smiles.

You back away from the counter and push open the door. The bell rings in your ears one last time.

*********************************************

thank you so much for reading!!

if you enjoyed part 2, please remember that reblogs and/or nice messages mean the world to fic writers. <3

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-> STAY TUNED FOR PART 3 <-

[blackbutterfliescal]

Love Like War

A Muke One Shot

Pairing: Michael Clifford x Luke Hemmings, Calum Hood & Luke Hemmings

Word count: 5K (on the dot!)

Rating: Mature for implied sexual situations

Content: college AU, enemies to lovers, friends with benefits, a little bit of angst but I promise it’s a happy ending, swearing, implied sexual situations, nothing explicit just very vague, I mean they’re friends with benefits so I gotta at least reference it 

A/N: This is part of the club’s fic exchange for the holiday season. Thank you to @allsassnoclass​ for hosting this!!! I’m a little late, but nothing else is new. This is for the WONDERFUL @glitterblazercalum who gave me everything to work with. I hope you enjoy it, love, because I’ve had a blast writing it. And huge thank you to @spicycal for always being the biggest cheerleader 💞

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Feedback is always appreciated! 😊

———

There was one constant truth in Luke’s life: everyone leaves - moves on, finds someone new, forgets him. Luke had just hoped that what he had with Calum was different. They’d known each other for so long that he found himself letting go of the fear that Calum would leave too. But here he was, alone, in their shared room for the sixth night in a row.

Luke was well aware of how it felt to be left behind. He told himself that he should know how to handle it by now. But this time was different. For as long as he could remember, Calum had always been the one to help put him back together - through family deaths, through his older brothers leaving for school, through lost loves and failed friendships. So how was he meant to process being left behind when Calum was the one leaving?

As he lays in bed, arms wrapped around his middle and knees pulled toward his chest, he feels tears sting at his eyes. Before Luke can completely give into the anxiety constricting itself around his chest, the lock on the dorm door clicks and Calum shuffles in. It’s late and Luke should have been asleep hours ago but he’d worked himself into a panicked frenzy, meaning sleep would be hard to come by if it happened at all. As Calum toes his shoes off at the door, Luke swipes at his eyes and attempts to clear the panic in his throat that’s making it hard to breathe. Calum starts at the unexpected sound.

“Sorry, mate. Didn’t mean to wake you. Lost track of time with Michael.” With Michael. Again. Calum seems to spend all his spare time with Michael now and Luke can’t trust himself to offer more than a hum in response.

When they moved several hundred miles away from home for school, they’d decided to live together. Everyone said to branch out and make new friends, that living together can be difficult, but they both hoped a familiar face would help with the inevitable homesick feeling. Calum had been Luke’s biggest comfort over the last decade, his only friend, though Calum had always had other friendships as well. No matter how many other friendships he had though, Luke had always been his number one. And he’d never felt the worry of Calum finding someone he liked better. Until now.

They’ve only been at school for a few weeks but they’ve already settled into an easy routine, buzzing around each other before their classes in the mornings, homework at the library in the afternoons, and always (always) dinner together in the dining hall. But since Calum had met Michael in one of his classes, they seemed to just click, leaving Luke on his own and positive that he knows what comes next.

As Calum quickly puts away his belongings and slips into something more comfortable to sleep in, he hears Luke sniffle as he turns to face away from him in his bed across the room. He knows Luke like the back of his hand and is immediately filled with worry. He stops for a second, staring at Luke as if he’ll be able to see what’s nagging at him. But it’s the wee hours of a Saturday morning and he’ll have time to ask him about it when he’s not fighting to keep his eyes open.

When Calum’s eyes flutter open the next morning, it takes him a minute to register that Luke isn’t in the bed across the room. He checks his phone for the time and any missed messages from Luke, waiting for a little while and hoping to hear him milling around the bathroom, but there’s no texts and the room is silent. He tries his best to ignore the worry in the back of his mind as he gets himself ready for the day, but he can’t ignore that Luke has disappeared before they could go to the dining hall for Saturday morning pancakes.

On his way out the door, Calum shoots Luke a text to let him know that he can find him in their normal breakfast spot. As the lock on their door clicks in place, he hears a phone ding at the other end of the hallway where the study lounge is. Calum slowly turns on his heels and makes his way to the far end of their hall. As he gets closer, he can hear Good Charlotte playing softly and Luke’s familiar voice humming along.

“Hey. There you are. I didn’t know where you’d gone off to.” Calum’s voice is soft, still a little raspy with sleep. Concern quickly takes over his face as he meets Luke’s eyes and sees how tired and red-rimmed they are. Luke grumbles as he reaches over to turn off his music, avoiding Calum’s gaze.

“Woah, woah. Hey, what’s going on? What happened?” Calum asks. Luke hates the pity that’s evident in Calum’s voice.

“It’s nothing, really. Go ahead. I’m sure you’ve got somewhere else to be.” Calum balks at the sour tone Luke’s giving him as he makes his way to sit next to the blonde boy.

“Nope. If you think I’m leaving you here with that attitude, you must not know me. C’mon, what’s up?” Calum pushes, trying to meet Luke’s eyes as he joins him on the couch.

Luke rolls his eyes at Calum, thinking he should have chosen someone a little less persistent for a best friend. Calum keeps his eyes fixed on Luke as he waits for a response.

“Just go! Go hang out with Michael. He’s who you wanna hang out with anyway.”

“Luke.” It comes out more chiding than Calum intends it so he tries again, softer this time. “Luke, hey, come on.” Luke finally turns to Calum and he can see everything Luke’s been struggling with pooled in his baby blues. The worry and panic and self-doubt are threatening to spill out across Luke’s cheeks. Guilt hits Calum like a freight train and he reaches out to place a hand on Luke’s knee.

“Oh my god, Luke.” There’s even more pity in Calum’s voice now and Luke just wants to walk away, to not hear it anymore but Calum continues, oblivious to Luke’s frustration. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise. You’re my best friend and that’s not going to change after a few weeks of meeting someone new.”

“Well it doesn’t seem that way. This is the most I’ve seen or talked to you in the last week! You’re always with Michael.” The biting tone in Luke’s voice is hollow and Calum knows it’s only because he’s scared of being left behind.

“I’m sorry.” Calum means it. He knows Luke and he knows exactly why he’s panicked. He’s not sure what else he can say so he just lets his apology hang in the air until Luke nods his head, accepting it. Calum stays still for another beat, just to make sure that Luke’s not going to break apart into a million tiny pieces. When it seems safe, he stands from the couch and offers Luke his hand. “Why don’t we go get our pancakes, hmm? And then I’ll text Michael to see if he wants to hang out this afternoon, all three of us.”

Luke doesn’t want to hang out with his replacement, but it seems like Michael’s not going anywhere and he really doesn’t want to lose Calum. So he agrees. But he’s not going to like Michael. He’s not.

———

Luke still didn’t like Michael, but after two and a half years as an unlikely trio, they’d discovered they had more in common than either of them were willing to admit. Michael wasn’t particularly fond of Luke either, sensing that the other boy didn’t really want him around at all. They learned to tolerate each other around Calum but all bets were off when they found themselves alone together.

The problem was that neither of them could remember why they hated each other anymore. Sure, Luke had been insecure at first, but he’d gotten past that eventually as he figured out Calum was true to his promise. Calum hadn’t left him, hadn’t replaced him with Michael. Calum and Luke still lived together, and though they’d become more independent over their time in college, they still stuck pretty close. Luke appreciated that some things remained sacred between the two of them, like Saturday morning pancakes at the dining hall.

Luke swiped up the last sticky bite of blueberries from his plate as Calum began to speak around a large mouthful of chocolate chip pancakes.

“So do you have any plans today?” It comes out muffled but Luke’s fluent in Calum by now.

“I should work on my final project for my English lit class, but I’ll probably spend most of the day procrastinating it. What’s up?”

“Michael’s having some kind of party tonight and asked if we could come over to help him set up.”

“Doesn’t he know it’s finals week?”

“That’s exactly why he’s having a party. Everyone’s looking for an excuse to forget about homework for a little while,” Calum laughs softly.

Luke would actually rather spend his day pouring over his finals than with Michael but he finds himself agreeing to tag along anyway.

When they arrive at Michael’s, they find him in the kitchen, or at least what seems to be the kitchen. It could also be a nuclear disaster zone by the state of it. Luke finds himself unsure how one person manages to make that much of a mess but he decides not to push it when he takes in Michael’s flustered appearance.

“Thank god you’re here. I’m going to lose my mind. I don’t know where I got the idea to host a party or why I decided to torture myself making all this food.” Michael uses the back of his hand to push his fringe out of his eyes, managing to smear the sauce from the crockpot meatballs all over his forehead. Luke can’t help the amusement on his face at Michael’s state.

Calum encourages him to go take a shower and pull himself together as he and Luke begin to move about the kitchen, cleaning up dishes and plating the food that’s already been assembled. When Michael returns, his hair is damp and a towel is barely hanging around his hips. He’s got a shirt in each hand as he playfully holds them each up to his torso in turn, looking for a second opinion. Luke offers his two cents, hoping with everything in him that Michael doesn’t notice the blush painted across his cheeks at the unexpected lack of clothing. Luke quickly returns to the task at hand, willing Michael back to his room to get dressed.

Michael returns, fully clothed, and Luke breathes a sigh of relief. He’s unsure of what’s come over him, but he’s absolutely sure it was a fluke. Probably just the stress of finals looming over him that’s got him off his rocker. He’d spent years silently hating Michael, resenting him for stealing time with his best friend. Is one shirtless moment really all it took to scramble Luke’s head?

“Hey, uh, Cal. Can you help me grab the supplies and decorations from the other room? They’re in the top of my closet and I don’t wanna pull them down on my head.” Michael laughs at himself. It’s a silly thing to ask, but they all know Michael would find a way to hurt himself trying to get the box of cups and plates down.

“I’m not any taller than you, Mike. And I’ve kind of got my hands full,” Calum says, gesturing to the sink full of dishes that he’s working on.

Without thinking, Luke pipes up, offering to help. He’s just as clumsy as Michael, but he is just the slightest bit taller and he hopes that will be his saving grace. He follows Michael down the hall and into his bedroom. It’s tidier than Luke would have expected given Michael’s typical chaotic nature.

He doesn’t have much chance to look around though, as Michael points out a box in the top of his closet that needs to come down. It’s a stretch to reach the handles on it, even for Luke, and it seems to get stuck on something beside it. Michael slides into the doorframe beside Luke, trying to free the box from whatever it’s caught on. There’s not exactly enough room for both sets of wide shoulders to be digging around.

“I’ve got it,” Luke strains as he tries to wiggle the box out without dropping it on Michael’s head. Though he could definitely be tempted.

“Just be careful. Don’t pull -”

“I can get it, just move.” Luke wiggles the box again and it breaks loose, sending both of them crashing to the floor as plasticware scatters around them.

“Why are you so stubborn? Why do you have to be like this?” Michael groans frustratedly from the floor.

“Me?!” Luke asks incredulously . “I told you I had it! Why didn’t you just let me do it?”

As they sit upright, they find themselves closer than they’ve ever been, noses nearly touching. Luke’s breath hitches in the back of his throat at the proximity to Michael. Had his eyes always had those little flecks of yellow sitting in amongst the green?

Without warning, Michael crashes his lips onto Luke’s. It’s intense, searing even. Luke thinks he could be swallowed up by the sun and his body would be less on fire than it is right now, kissing Michael. 

Suddenly Luke’s racing mind catches up and he pulls away from Michael in a hurry. “Oh. I don’t- I mean, I’m not - Uhhh. Sorry.” Luke barely stutters out as he clamors to his feet, not sparing a glance at Michael’s bewildered expression. He makes a hasty exit from the room, leaving Michael to sort out the supplies they’d gone after in the first place. Calum gives Luke a questioning look when he reenters the kitchen but Luke just shrugs it off; the only explanation he offers is that Michael still managed to be a klutz and drop everything.

Several awkward hours later, Michael’s place has been cleaned spotless, there’s more food than strictly necessary, and Michael’s friends are starting to trickle in the front door. Everyone seems relieved to get finals off their mind, even if it’s just going to be for a few hours.

Luke and Michael have been avoiding each other as much as possible, which is now made easier as more people continue to show up. Luke recognizes a few people from around campus and makes a few rounds to make small talk. After Luke’s said hello to everyone he knows, he excuses himself down the hall to find the bathroom. As he rounds the corner in a hurry, his shoulder slams square into Michael’s. They both wince and then stand awkwardly for a moment, unsure of what exactly they are now.

When Luke showed up today, it was clear that they only tolerated each other for Calum’s benefit. But now? Michael had kissed Luke and he couldn’t take that back, as much as he wanted to. Luke’s frantic exit let Michael know that they were clearly not on the same page, but he wasn’t sure exactly where it left them.

Before the bizarre staring contest could stretch on any further, Luke bends down to place his lips on Michael’s shoulder with a mumbled apology. He meets Michael’s gaze briefly as he stands straight again, appreciative that the little yellow flecks in his green eyes were still present. He hurries off toward the bathroom, worried that the longer he stared at Michael, the more he’d find reasons to keep staring. Luke had only meant to show Michael that they were okay. That he hadn’t scared Luke by kissing him.

Well, that’s not entirely true. It did scare him, but not because he didn’t want it.

———

It’s been three months. Three months since the kiss that burned Luke from the inside out. Three months since Michael pulled Luke into his bedroom after everyone else had left that stupid party during finals week.

“Nothing like years of unbridled hatred to make for the best sex you’ve ever had,” Michael breathes against Luke’s neck as they both tug at the others shirt. The last of his friends just left and by some stroke of luck, Luke had agreed to stay. For an hour. For the night. He wasn’t sure, but all that mattered is that Luke stayed.

“What makes you think you’re gonna be the best sex I’ve ever had?” Michael doesn’t abandon his work leaving marks on Luke’s fair skin, keeping him as close as possible, but he can hear the smirk in his voice.

“Well, there’s only one way to find out.” Michael’s smile matches Luke’s as he pulls back to meet his deep blue eyes. The line between passion in lust and passion in hatred begins to blur as their lips meet in a violent crash, leaving a wake of clothes behind them on their way to Michael’s bed.

They agreed then that it was just a casual thing. There was no need to tell anyone else. It was about stress relief during finals. It was about really, really good sex. But it was never more than that. Michael and Luke both knew that they’d kill each other in a proper relationship. Luke also knew that Michael was the best sex he’d ever had, but he’d never admit that to Michael. Michael knew it too. Whatever they had burned too intense to last, but it was too much to ignore.

They’d hoped that the month of holiday break after the semester ended would cool things off.

When they returned to campus in January though, they’d fallen right back into it without a second thought, burning just as bright. This time though, they’d had to set some rules to make sure it didn’t become anything more. They were still sure that a relationship would ruin whatever it was that they had and neither of them wanted to risk it. It would only mean mutually assured destruction.

“Okay, so rule number one. If we’re going to keep this as a good thing, it’s strictly physical. No feelings. No mushy gushy nonsense. We’re not going on dates and we’re definitely not boyfriends.”

“Friends with benefits?” Luke offers from where he lays with his head on Michael’s chest, reveling in his post-coital bliss.

“Hm, but you have to be friends first. Pain in the arse with benefits?” This earns Michael a laugh from Luke.

“It doesn’t really have the same ring to it, does it?”

“Do you have a better idea?” Michael quips with his pierced eyebrow raised. Luke raises his hand from Michael’s stomach in a show of surrender.

“Okay, what else?” Luke prompts.

“Still no telling Cal. Or anyone for that matter.” Luke has no problem agreeing to that one. He doesn’t want to have to explain himself.

“What about kissing? No kissing on the lips. Pretty Woman rules.” Michael rolls his eyes at Luke but he has to admit that Julia Roberts had a point.

“Okay, no kissing on the lips. It only leads to mushy gushy feelings and that’s against rule number one.”

“Right.” Luke agrees quietly. “So that’s it then. Three rules. We can keep those, no problem.”

“Wait. Rule number four, no sleeping over. Cuddling is fine but I don’t want to give Calum a reason to be suspicious when you’re gone all night,” Michael says, lightly poking at the side of Luke’s rib cage.

“Got it. Four rules.” Luke lifts his head to place a soft kiss to Michael’s chest where his cheek had been resting before detaching himself from Michael and clamoring off the bed to slide back into his clothes.

Michael remembers the rules clear as day. He reminds himself of them often, careful not to push them in any way that would ruin what he had with Luke. It was good. It worked. So why did Michael want more?

It’s been over a month that they’ve been back at school, easily falling into a rhythm that stuck to the rules they set during the first week on campus. Michael’s even starting to look forward to his dates with Luke. Well, not dates. He won’t call them dates, at least not to Luke. But any other term feels harsh and he thinks that Luke deserves everything soft and lovely in the world. Michael wants to be the one to give Luke all of that and more.

He’s not sure when his feelings changed for Luke. He wasn’t even sure he’d ever really hated Luke in the first place. But Luke had been so adamant about not liking Michael that it was easier to just throw that right back at him. And now here he is, waking from a post-sex nap on a cold afternoon in early March, running his fingers through the prettiest blond curls he’s ever seen, limbs inextricably tangled with the other man in his bed. Luke can never manage to stay awake long after they pull their bodies apart. He can’t help that he’s drawn right back into Michael, sleepy face finding a home just above Michael’s racing heart. He’s learned by now that listening to Michael’s heartbeat steady itself out again will lull him to sleep, but he can’t be bothered to do anything about it. Not as long as Michael lets him. They weren’t breaking any of their own rules. And if they were, who was going to fault them?

As the grey light filtering in through the window grows dimmer, Michael begins to muse to himself, voice barely above a whisper.

“What am I going to do with you?” 

His hands continue to loop through the ringlets splayed artfully across his skin while soft snores escape Luke’s lips.

“This doesn’t last forever, right? At least not this way. Do you want more too? Want to kiss me again? To know if it still burns red hot? Want to hold hands while we walk down the street?” 

His tone is wistful, longing for more than what he knows is realistic. Michael brings his other hand up to trace patterns on the back of Luke’s where it rests around Michael’s middle.

“Do you want to meet my family? Bring me home to meet yours? Do you want to give Calum the biggest smile while calling me your boyfriend?”

Michael takes a second to pull himself out of the daydream fantasy that’s easy to get lost in like this. While Luke’s still here. Still his. Before he feels the need to leave because of that stupid rule Michael had created.

“How does this end? Are we supposed to just move on, never talk about it? How am I supposed to pretend I’m not falling in love with you every single day?”

He lets out the smallest breath of a laugh.

“Rule number one, Michael. Idiot.”

“Don’t say that.” Luke’s voice is firm but still soft from sleep and it gives Michael a start. The slight rumble of Michael’s voice in his chest had stirred Luke from his nap. “Don’t say that if you don’t mean it.” Luke leaves a long pause, but Michael can’t get his brain to move fast enough to respond. Luke lifts his head, cheek flushed pink to match the warm spot on Michael’s skin. He pulls his hand up under his chin so it’s not digging into Michael as he faces him. Luke’s eyes are still a little hazy, but Michael can see the sincerity in them. Maybe something else he can’t quite place. “You don’t have to say you love me. No one means it anyway. Everyone just says it but then they leave. What good is love if it’s always leaving?”

Michael feels his heart shatter. Suddenly it’s all clear and crashing around him. The hint of pain behind Luke’s eyes. The reason he was so wary of Calum becoming friends with Michael. The way he’s so guarded with him. Luke can see the shift on Michael’s face. He’s seen this look too many times and he’s never equipped to handle the pity. He immediately begins his retreat from Michael’s bed, from the look on Michael’s face.

Before Luke can completely free himself of Michael’s sheets, his hand wraps around Luke’s wrist and pulls him back toward the bed. Michael’s other hand lands carefully on Luke’s cheek as he pulls their lips together, letting loose of every ounce of the feelings that he’s been withholding. Screw Pretty Woman rules. Julia Roberts didn’t stick to them either.

When he pulls away breathless, Luke is even more unsure of where to go from here. He’s familiar with pity. He’s familiar with leaving. But Calum is the only one who’s always stayed. What was he meant to do now? He screws his eyes shut even tighter, hoping he can make it all make sense somehow.

“Luke,” Michael pleads, breath fanning across Luke’s face. “Luke, look at me. Have I ever lied to you?” Luke slowly blinks his eyes open to find Michael dizzyingly close and his breath catches in his throat. Michael begins to speak again. His voice is calm and he’s mindful of the words he chooses. 

“Hey. I’m not going anywhere. I mean it. Have you ever known me to lie to you? Even when we…..didn’t get along.”

Luke takes a few shallow breaths, still reeling, and searches Michael’s eyes. He’s not really sure what love looks like, but he knows lying and leaving and doesn’t find either in Michael.

“Listen, okay? If fighting tells a person’s true nature, then no one knows me better than you. We’ve been at this for years. Do I look like I’m pulling your chain right now? You know me. And this is all of me. This is how I feel about you. I love you, Luke.”

Luke takes a long pause. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.” Michael knows that “okay” is what Luke can offer right now. He doesn’t even care if Luke didn’t say he loved him back. At least not in so many words. Michael is miles ahead of where he ever thought he’d be and “okay” is enough. He pulls Luke in for a softer, sweeter kiss than anything they’d ever shared before. He can still feel the tension and the worry etched into Luke’s face as he pulls back and places another soft kiss over the lines across his forehead.

They settle back into the mattress, content to just be Luke and Michael for now. Neither of them were sure what they were now. There were no rules for this part, but they would figure it out the only way they could - together. 

———

As the weeks stretch on, Luke finds himself at Michael’s more often than not. He and Michael continue to take it slow as they navigate uncharted waters. It’s becoming more and more difficult to keep it from Calum, though. Luke wants to stay the night with Michael. He wants to stay every night with Michael. He thinks about how strange life is.

One afternoon, the three of them are playing video games at Michael’s and Luke is suspiciously good. He was never this good before they came to school and they only ever play at Michael’s house. When the round ends with Luke besting Calum for the third time, Calum notices the lingering glance he gives to Michael.

“Okay, wait a goddamn minute,” Calum speaks up, pausing the screen and letting the controller fall gently to his side. “Since when are you so good at FIFA, Luke? You almost never beat me!”

“Hey!” Luke protests. “I can beat you! I just did - three times!”

“Whatever, but you were never this good before. What’s going on here? And since when do you two sit that close?”

Luke scoots away from Michael, as if that’s going to help his case now.

“What does it matter? I still beat you both,” Michael pipes up from the other side of Luke with a smug look on his face as Luke smacks his arm.

“I don’t care about the game, man! Tell me what’s going on here?” Calum persists.

Luke and Michael exchange another knowing glance.

“That! Right there! What was that?”

Luke’s eyes don’t leave Michael’s, despite Calum’s frustrated tone. Michael gives Luke a soft smile, one that he only reserves for him, and a knowing nod. Luke swallows hard as he turns back to face Calum.

“Uh, well. We’re, uh…” Luke fumbles. Michael reaches out to lace his fingers through Luke’s and Luke takes a steadying breath. “We’re, kinda, sort of dating, I guess.”

Michael can’t help the laugh that springs from him at Luke’s awkward mumbling and Calum’s thoroughly confused expression as he shifts his gaze between the two of them.

“Kinda, sort of dating, you guess?” Calum questions. Luke just nods affirmatively, offering a smile as he hits Michael’s leg with their combined hands.

“How long has this been going on? When were you planning to tell me?” Calum spirals. “What the fuck? How did this even start? How have you not killed each other yet?”

Luke and Michael just laugh at Calum’s disbelief. Luke presses a kiss to Michael’s cheek as they go pink under his lips, as if that’ll help Calum make sense of everything.

“Oi! One question at a time, mate,” Michael finally puts an end to Calum’s rapid fire inquisition.

“Are you messing with me? Because if you’re joking, I’ll kill you both.”

The three of them collapse into a fit of laughter and then Calum proceeds to spend the rest of the afternoon trying, and failing, to beat them at FIFA. He settles for just beating Luke.

Things aren’t perfect, but looking between Calum and Michael, Luke decides that moments like this are what love is made up of.

———

taglist: @easierlftv @haikucal @mashlums @youngblood199456 @calumbroutledge @alltimesos @another-lonely-heart @castaway-cashton @bloodyoathcal @vapor5sos @myloverboyash @justhereforcalum @karajaynetoday @spicycal @devilatmydoor​

[whiskeycherrypie]

what's your favorite wincest fic of all time?

hi, so this has been sitting in my inbox for a long while since i never like to name just *one* fic as my favourite since i read and love so many, so instead i’m doing a little rec list of my faves. no theme to them apart from how much i enjoyed them!

A Key to Every Door by dreamlittleyo (E, 13k)When Dean lets Sam get behind the wheel, he ends up taking them somewhere Dean never suspected they would go.

Fumbling in the Dark: Love Advice For the Romantically Impaired by leonidaslion (E, 725)True Love really is blind...

Contagious by themegalosaurus (E, 7k)'Nobody ever died of a boner, Dean’s pretty sure, whatever his teenaged self might have said to the girls back in high school when he was trying to get under their skirts. Or. Did anybody ever die of a boner? That would be just like Sam, to die of terminal sexual frustration and not to let Dean do anything about it until it was already too late.'

Vagabondage by rivkat (E, 6k)A transient life means that sometimes improvisation is called for.

Vagabondage (the Trust Fall remix) by Trojie (E, 7k)When you take into account the things they do as a team for a day job, the fact that they have each other’s backs for the logistics of random hook-ups is pretty much the most normal part of their relationship.So if Dean wants to get tied up as part of that? Sure.

Versatile, Tender and Delicious by themegalosaurus (E, 2,6k)Sam finds the zucchini in the salad drawer: just one, left over from a couple of days before, when he hadn’t thought twice about what he was handling. Now, though, even the heft of it in his hand turns him on. He holds it reflectively in his palm, runs his thumb over the ridge where two angled planes of its surface connect. Jesus. He must really be desperate.

Intertextuality by doctor__idiot (E, 5k)It starts out as a joke. Sam has no other excuse than boredom. And maybe a little pettiness.

Strange How the Night Moves by dollylux (E, 2k)Sam and Dean talk about Sam's night with Piper.

the archivist by deadlybride (E, 11k)Sam's been taking pictures for a long, long time. He has only one subject.

The Obituary Mambo by nigeltde (E, 10k)It’s called a near-death sex miasma, Sam, and it’s a beautiful thing.

Suave & Complicated by OldToadWoman (E, 57k)Sam and Dean discover a useful, little, magical artifact. No one is forcing them to do anything. No one is going to die if they don't. They don't even feel a strange compulsion. But… it would be really helpful if they powered up the magical stone… and… all they have to do is kiss.

Like Staring Into the Sun by nyxocity (E, 23k)It’s not about the girls. The girls are just the excuse. It’s about them. Them and this unavoidable thing that’s growing between them.

Nothing Between by WhoopsOK (E,11k)Dean could take all of them, he could, but not with that thing on Sam.

Second Map of the World by candle_beck (E, 13k)They're on a lucky streak, and then Sam does something ill-considered, and the plot thickens.

The King and The Lionheart by waywardelle (E, 53k)After the disastrous but effective removal of the Mark, Sam and Dean Winchester suddenly face a life without allies or a reason to keep hunting, so they leave their old life behind them in flames. They re-emerge from the ashes as Sam and Dean Wesson, residents of Misty Luna, Maine-- a town with a personality all its own. As they settle into civilian life, they gain careers, a home, good friendships and the kind of fulfillment they never thought possible. But with nothing left to fight, the underbelly of their particular kind of love is thrown into sharp relief, especially considering the whole town thinks they’re married, anyway. After dancing around their feelings for the past twenty years, Sam and Dean find a peace they never knew existed, and through it all, they find each other again. And maybe, just maybe, forever. 

The Things We Swore We'd Never Do by whispered_story (E, 11k)Dean wakes up, jerks off in the shower while thinking about Sam, and then goes to fix breakfast for the two of them. A few days later, things start to get weird. 

Catching Hell by ADeedWithoutaName (M, 113k)Sam Winchester is, perhaps, the greatest asset to the hunting community. His research, advice, and insight has reached countless hunters and solved innumerable mysteries. His life is solitary, but useful. That changes, however, with the delivery of a captured Knight of Hell who calls himself Dean. 

50 by hellhoundsprey (E, 184k)Mr. Smith and Mr. Wesson fall in love. 

The Fall by non_tiembo_mala (E, 2k)Sam is struggling with everything they've been through lately, and he worries what it'll do to Dean, who has been having a rough go of it, too. He tries to hide it but Dean always finds him out. 

Ions in the Ether by nigeltde (E, 11k)When was the last time you trusted happy. 

Kill The Lights by silver9mm (E, 143k)Less than a minute had passed since Sam had killed the guard and then five more people. This man’s speech had lasted maybe twenty seconds, but Sam had been separated from Dean for three hundred and sixteen days and nine hours, which made the total time of his life without Dean nearly five complete years, and the thought of listening to this fucker talk for one more second instead of getting his brother and getting the fuck out was unendurable.

You Took My Body and Played to Win by Eugara (M, 5k)ag to The Foundry (12x03). Sam’s used to it by now. Really. It’s not the first time this has happened to him, or the tenth. Hell, it’s not even the hundredth, as shitty as it is to admit. And honestly, this one wasn’t as bad as the others. Not even close. Not by a mile. Sam’s used to it by now. He is. He…should be used to it by now.

Be Mine by De_Nugis (T, 1,5k)Dean didn't even realize he was doing it. Really. The whole heart thing was totally not a thing.

This Is All Very Meta by road_rhythm (E, 10k)Dean didn't get there first. That's okay; hell, that's the way he wanted it. He never even cared—until he stumbled over some stupid freaking fanfic about him taking Sam's virginity. Now he can't get it out of his head. 

[allaboutmywriting]

Walking the Gallery

can’t afford to go to Harry’s tour lol nothing new so writing this instead--gonna be some chapters, not sure how many yet || 5k words 

Lexy Marks is a recent novelist, who has risen to a reasonable amount of fame for a first-time fiction writer. She ends up at an album release party Harry Styles has thrown, where he tells her how much he loves her writing. Back in the day, Lexy was a 1D stan; unfortunately, she has some trauma related to that particular era of her life. 

CHAPTER ONE:

The check engine light came on as soon as could at least see the stoplights hanging from the intersection behind the row of cars in front of her—whoever had warned her about LA traffic certainly hadn't been joking—and Lexy screamed in frustration when she saw it. With her foot on the brake, she slammed her hands against the steering wheel, in the same manner that she was privy to throwing her phone on the ground whenever it froze. It was a method that never solved the problem, but always made her feel as if it did.

Her father had assured her, incorrectly it would appear, that her 2007 Toyota Corolla would be fine for the six-thousand-mile trip she was taking around the country—from Columbia to Los Angeles, Los Angeles back to Charleston. She'd already completed half of the journey there, but she couldn't exactly complete the other half back with a faulty engine.

The car behind her beeped its horn and Lexy jumped, pressing her foot too fast on the gas, jolting forward uncomfortably. She hadn't expected the traffic to be quite so bad, and she wasn't prepared for the traffic gridlock. She sighed and looked at the clock. 5:57.

She was meant to be there by 6:00. She didn't really know what the where was, somewhere in between Beverly Hills and a direction of Hollywood. She supposed she could've been smarter by not driving in rush hour traffic. Perhaps she could've asked the event holders if she could have arrived in the morning. Surely, they'd have understood that people hailing from the East Coast were not as smooth, talented, or put together as those on the Golden Coast.

The car in front of her moved up a foot. She turned the radio down and scrolled until she found her dad's contact. It was after eight on the East Coast, so he would be home from work. Probably in the kitchen making himself a sandwich with the unhealthy kind of bread and too much mayonnaise—he liked to play around with cholesterol.

"Lexy-loo!" he greeted. She smiled, already feeling at ease from hearing his booming voice. He was a middle school science teacher, the goofy kind, so he said everything with strange inflections and accents. This time, he sounded Irish. "Where the hell are ya?"

"Stuck in traffic." She glanced at the GPS he'd installed for her eighteenth birthday a few years before. It was the nicest part of her car, and it looked awfully out of place compared to the rest of it. She was somewhere in East Hollywood, which contrary to the name, was a little more rundown than she expected it to be. "This has to be even worse than New York."

He laughed, having spent his summers growing up in Brooklyn, back when the twin towers were still a part of the skyline. "You hanging with the rich and famous yet?"

Lexy glared down at her lap, pushing the gas gently as the next car moved forward. She didn't have the time to explain the intricacies of the area to her dad, to let him know that there were entirely more poor people in the area than celebrities, and that she would probably never even come in contact with someone of such a demographic. In fact, after the event or reading or whatever she had tonight, Lexy had half a mind to go handing out food to all of the people she saw on the sides of the street.

"Not yet, Dad." Her calf was starting to ache from staying on the brake for so long, and she tried to stretch it in place the best she could. "Anyway, check engine light just came on and I don't know what to do."

"Huh," he grunted. "Well, is it steady or is it blinking?"

"Steady."

"Did it just come on?"

"About a minute ago." She shuffled her seatbelt around to keep it from digging into her neck.

"Is your car acting up? jerky?"

"No. it seems normal. I can't really tell, though. Traffics at a standstill."

"Well, it's probably not an emergency then. Go find yourself an Auto Zone and they'll do a diagnostic for free. Call me back once they tell you and we'll figure something out."

She frowned at probably not an emergency, her mind speculating as it was prone to, visions of her car exploding in the middle of the LA freeway.

"I don't think I can do it today," Lexy frowned. "I have an event in three minutes."

"Glad to see that the extra three hours has increased your timeliness," he joked and Lexy rolled her eyes. "Just do it first thing tomorrow," he said nonchalantly, yawning. "I'm so proud of you, Lex. Living out your dream. I wish I could be there with you."

She wanted to roll down her window, to lay her arm across it the same way she might have back home, but she took the threats of pollution seriously.

She said a goodbye to her father quickly. Her eyes were already stinging. Lexy was so far from home and so alone. It had just been her and her dad for so long, even while she was busy in college, but he couldn't leave the school for the weeks the tour had taken her, would take her, for fear that the district would fire him. Ain't no rest for a public-school teacher, that's for sure.

Lexy had managed to do thirty-seven different readings without him. Had managed to impress thirty-seven different crowds of people without offending them—had even managed to make a few of them cry. Her twitter and Instagram followers had increased gradually, so that now she had a small following of few thousand, that rivalled the accounts of her high school valedictorian who'd gone on to become an influencer selling tanning lotion.

While Lexy really was living out her dream, having a New York Times bestseller at twenty-two, becoming an author wasn't as glamorous as she always thought it would. Her settlement for the book, which was supposed to be $55,000, after taxes only came out to a little more than half of that, and now she understood why authors talked about how difficult it was to make a living just writing. There were no health benefits in authorhood, and there were no extravagances where bookstores paid her to come talk. Here she was, six months out of college, driving herself around in her own car just for her inaugural book tour.

Who cared if Barack Obama had put her book on his recommended reads of the year, when her car was going to break down and she was going to be late for her first event in Los Angeles?

As the clock shown 6:04, Lexy finally was able to pass through the intersections. Now, if she could just figure out how to change lanes, she'd be doing okay.

&&

Her car started smoking as she turned onto the street. It was framed by huge houses with gates in front—black ones, silver ones, some with outright walls so that you couldn't see what was happening on the other side. About halfway down the street, and with the smoke darkening, her GPS said she arrived.

Just what was this event? Her fingers were itching for her phone, to call her publicist and make sure she was at the right place, but a security guard appeared just by her driver's side window.

He was a big and buff bald-headed man who gave her car a dirty look as he instructed her to roll down a window. He raised an eyebrow at her. "Statement of purpose?"

Statement of what?

It was really starting to feel like she imagined the White House felt like after all—back in the Obama days, not the current ones.

"Hi. My name is Lexy Marks. I've been told to be here."

"ID?"

She grumbled to herself as she reached forward and went through her purse, her fingers shaking as she took at her wallet, and then her driver's license. Her fingers were shaking, but she didn't know why she should be the nervous one.

He cross-checked her license with whatever was on the tablet he was holding, then nodded at her. "Pull around back. You should see the other cars. Park between the two on the back row."

Lexy took back her license, rolled up her window, and waited at the gates until the swung open. Her car continued to smoke so bad that she could see it even through the darkening tones of dusk. The house, which she gawked up at, was black and modern, with gaping windows. There were three stories from what she could tell—Lexy had never seen such a nice place, much less been invited to one.

She tried to park in between the cars the guard had instructed her to—a white Audi and one of several black rovers. These cars were all worth more than her manuscript was, and especially more than she was.

And Lexy had always been awful at parking. Never mind how awful she felt about being late, and how dreadful her stomach felt with her engine smoking.

She couldn't tell just how dark it really was outside due to the multiple lanterns and light fixtures that illuminated the entire outdoor parking space. She was most certainly late, but she wasn't even sure what this event was. She didn't know if they would even notice, if this was an event with other authors, if she was meant to be giving just a reading. Her publicist—Simon & Schuster had given her one along with her royalties' contract—had set up the whole tour for her. All she had to do was arrive on time. And here she was, a half hour late, and if her GPS was right, somewhere between West Hollywood and Beverley Hills.

But weren't the rich and famous known for not being on time?

As she climbed the steps to the front porch, she was certain she was at a mansion. Just whose mansion, she wasn't sure, but she was more conscious, if she ever had been before tonight, of the twenty-dollar black Old Navy dress she was wearing. She'd thought she was being frugal, chic, stylish. She'd even paired them with her favorite pair of chunky blue heels. But now she was certain it couldn't be further from than truth.

There was no one in the yard with her. Across the lane was the security guard, and Lexy contemplated waving him down and asking for directions. Suck it up, she told herself. You're living the dream.

A white cat was perched on the front step and it watched her, lazily, as she knocked twice on the front door. When there was no answer, she rang the doorbell.

There was music coming from inside, banging beats that made it seem like she was entering into a dorm. They were exactly the kind of loud that she heard in college on nights out, at house parties, or in the frats. She couldn't make it out exactly—either that or she didn't know the songs.

When she knocked a second time, the door was sprung open.

"Ay, welcome to the party of the century," A well-dressed man greeted her. He sounded Australian, but Lexy couldn't be certain—she was the worst at deciphering accents. But he was dressed in suspenders and a white t-shirt that read SOUTHERNE in black, bold letters. Behind him, Lexy could see a bunch of people standing around, talking. None of them were dancing, as she had incorrectly assumed from the music, but instead, standing around listening to the tracks.

And now Lexy was certain she had never heard it before.

"Hello? You there?" The man asked again. This time he grinned at her and revealed a set of teeth so perfect they were probably veneers. If Lexy had to choose a new occupation, it would be dentistry. But she was awful at science, math, and everything in between that would lead her to becoming one.

"Sorry." She tried to smile back, but her annoyance ran strong through her veins.

A few of the people around them, beautiful people, women with the sort of hair that didn't have flyaways and men that looked like they came from the cover of GQ turned to look at her curiously, but the company must've been important, because they looked away again.

"I'm Lexy Marks. I was told to come here by my publicist."

She cringed as she thought about how it must sound to this man—acting like her publicist was in charge of her. Much like a parent leading their child to the first day of kindergarten. It was just like her publicist to do this. She knew how unexperienced Lexy was and had been known to take advantage of it before—her first reading in the mid-west had been at a senior home for people who had never read her book.

But his smile only widened, and he opened the door up even further.

"Come in, come in," he said, waving an arm in front of him. He held a wine glass in his left hand. Dark and red, the kind she hated. "I'm Greg."

Well, she could guess that Greg was not the person she was meant to meet here. He didn’t have any idea who she was. But she stepped inside the door anyway, the music amplified, and Lexy had to stop herself from abruptly gaping at the beautiful scene before her. Beautiful hardwood floors that had been stained white, walls so beautifully decorated they looked straight out of a gallery, the people all around her who were so beautiful and dressed so well they might as well be models themselves.

It felt like something straight out of The Great Gatsby.

Greg nudged her arm. "Let's get you a drink, yeah? Have you eaten? We've got loads of stuff in the kitchen."

Lexy shook her head as he followed him through the crowd, saying hi to people as he went. She was almost positive he was Australian.

Lexy hoped she would recognize someone in the crowd, but these were not the sort of people she knew. She even tried to place the voice singing because she had most certainly heard it before but couldn't do it for the life of her. It sounded pop-y and generic, the sort she would've made out to in a club back in college.

"You're lucky I was walking right by the door," Greg continued, stepping beside her once the crowd was sparse enough to allow for it. There must be over a hundred people in the building. All of the windows were covered by long, flowing silver curtains; there was even a balcony that people hung off of. All they needed was a sprawling indoor people.

"What do you do, Lexy? Singer? Actress? Dancer? Triple threat?"

"Um, author, actually."

"Oh yeah?" he turned to grin at her. "Poetry?"

Lexy felt like she was disappointing him. "Fiction."

They entered the kitchen, after feeling like they had walked a quarter of a mile from the front door. The house hadn't actually looked this large from the outside and Lexy wondered if it was the fact that they'd had to navigate all of the people standing in the way.

And this time Lexy did look around with her mouth open. "Oh wow."

The countertops were black marble, and stretched the entire length of the room, which was probably half the size of her house back in South Carolina. The floor was still stained white wood, and the kitchen had double islands in the center, one of which was adorned with drinks—the other with sweets.

It was a kitchen so perfect she would've never been able to dream it up. Lexy couldn't cook—at all really, but if she could, this was exactly the sort of kitchen she'd want.

"Harry," Greg called, almost lazily, to a man in yellow pants and white t-shirt, who was looking out of the kitchen window. "I've brought you a guest."

He turned around to face her, and Lexy furrowed her eyebrows at the man standing there, then her eyebrows shot straight up to her forehead when she finally recognized him.

And all of a sudden, she was right back to being in ninth grade, fighting over which of her friends laid claim to the man standing before her. Hell, Lexy used to keep her toothbrush in a cup with the man's face on it.

His hair, a deep brown, not unlike her own, was wavy and perfectly placed—the definition of artist's hair. His skin was the sort of clear she only ever got when she was wearing a full face of make-up, and immediately, from the time his eyes first landed on her, he seemed to exude charisma.

"Hi," she said shyly.

"What's your name?" He smiled politely at her, without showing his teeth, and Lexy's heart dropped at the thought that she wasn't really meant to be here. Her ten minutes of existing on the estate had made her feel some sort of emotion towards the place.

But how could she be after all? Standing in Harry Styles' extravagant kitchen, in what was most likely his exorbitant mansion, at an event that was clearly some sort of Hollywood party.

She was meant to be reading.

"Uh, I'm Lexy," she stammered. "Lexy Marks."

His eyes bugged out when she said it, but he quickly recovered enough to grin at her, dimples on full show, just like the media trained mega star he was. And though he certainly looked more grown-up than Lexy remembered him as, his smile was the same as it was on her toothbrush cup from all those years ago.

He took a few steps forward and held out his hand to her, fingers covered in rings and pink and blue painted nails. She took it. "I'm Harry. I've been waiting to meet you—you're the guest of honor."

Behind her, Greg rolled his eyes. "You're the guest of honor, mate. This is your release party."

Harry grinned at Greg, then looked back down at Lexy. "I invited a lot of people."

Lexy's heart was beating so rapidly that she was certain if she tried to speak, she would be out of breath. So, she simply nodded.

"I love Beginning with February," Harry continued, naming her title. Lexy couldn't stop staring at his damn smile. It was so perfect. Her dad could never afford braces for her, and she had a thing for people's teeth. "It's my favorite book right now. After I finished it, I immediately read it again. I must've read it eight times by now. I tell everyone it's the perfect antidote to loss and loneliness—I don't think there's anyone I've ever met who explains love and friendship and death the way you do. I've bought a whole box of copies to hand out as Christmas presents. Of course, it would be better if you signed them."

Lexy stood frozen from his exclamation—still processing the fact that she was standing in front of Harry Styles and that he had read her book. More than once.

"I had my publicist reach out to yours, and I was really hoping that I could make it out to your reading tomorrow, but unfortunately I have an interview."

He smiled at her again and Lexy knew it was her time to say something. She tried to seem cool, seem the way that any of the people in the house might would respond, but her brain only backtracked far enough for his last few sentences. "Uh…I'll read you anything you want."

Lexy wanted to punch herself at how stupid she sounded, yet again, but Greg snorted, and Harry smiled, ducking his head.

"What I mean," she rushed to explain. It was his damn smile that got her. "Is that I'll give you a private reading of whatever you want. Like—"

This was just getting worse and worse as Greg began lightly laughing. She rolled her eyes up to the ceiling, then back to meet Harry's. He was a lot taller than she'd imagined he would be, but though his lips twitched, he was giving her his entire attention.

"Thank you for your kind words," she swallowed. "Of course, I'll sign anything you want."

Harry's smile deepened, his dimples appearing. Greg pointed to the door with his thumb, and Harry nodded at him.

He turned back to Lexy, just as the song from the other room changed. This one she'd heard before—something by Lorde, that she couldn't remember the name of.

They gazed at each other, then Harry suddenly clapped his hands together. "So, can I get you anything to drink? Wine? Water? Vodka?"

She was alone with one of the most famous singers of the time. And he was offering her a drink, in his kitchen, somewhere in Los Angeles. She wasn't just living her dream; she was living the whole dream. Everyone's. All of them. A place on Barack Obama's recommended reading list could have never prepared her for this one.

"Um, water. Please?"

He nodded, and turned around to the island, taking one a wine glass, similar to the one Greg was drinking out of, from the side and filling it with water from a pitcher.

He handed it to her, then leaned against the island and picked up his own drink, something green. He was dressed so well…Lexy had always admired fashion but could never get the hang of making anything look good other than wearing neutrals and blank shirts.

"I hope you don't mind being here," he drawled slowly, his eyes on hers, darting back and forth as if trying to determine what her true feelings were. Lexy hadn't heard him talk since the height of her One Direction days, when she would watch every interview that came out multiple times, but she wondered if he had talked quite so slowly back then. "This is my album release party, for my friends, and I was quite hoping you'd do the intermission."

All…of those people…at least a hundred…were his friends? Lexy could count all her friends on both hands. She probably only talked to three of them a day.

"Intermission?"

His eyes still on hers, he nodded. "Yeah. Do you know that bit in your book, the part where Jamaica dies? You have two pages of just wonderful prose there, and I was really hoping that you would read it. Maybe halfway through the songs?" He paused in thought, his eyes rolling up. "Actually, maybe after track seven would do."

She took a big sip of the water. It was room temperature and Lexy thought, in a moment of spare humor, probably the most expensive water she'd ever drank.

But her hand was already shaking, and she doubted that she could convince herself to read in front of everyone in that other room. Well, at least. There would be no way she could control the tremors in her voice. She was used to reading in front of people who knew her, in front of people who liked her reading, who cared about her characters as much as she did.

Not in front of talented, model millionaires.

"I'm sorry. I thought this was a reading."

"It is a reading," he insisted. He ducked his head and crossed his arms and smiled at her again. Lexy had to look down to keep from disappointing him. Those damn dimples.

She felt awful turning him down. But there was so much about the day that wasn't turning out right. Her car, her first day in Los Angeles. And here she was, about to tear up in front of this singer who had to share his work with everyone.

"I'm really sorry, Harry. It's just been a long day. I really thought this was just going to be a regular reading at a bookstore. My publicist, she never really told me, like, what this event was, or I probably would've been really prepared. But I think everyone wants to listen to you. Not me." She opened her purse and pulled out the printed-out pages she'd rendered just for her readings—she didn't know a single author who didn't at least tweak their writing somewhat before reading. "I don't even have those paragraphs with me. I only have chapter one."

Harry took the creased paper from her, frowning down at it. They had her scribbles all over it. Her first chapter had a lot of dialogue, and it was never the best for reading out loud.

But from the expression on Harry's face, you'd think that she'd just taken all of the magic out of it.

She was just about to say as much when the music changed, and her ears perked up. She frowned at the beat. "Is that—"

"Yeah," Harry said, still dejectedly frowning down at the papers. "Never get far from your roots, right?"

"That's what they say," she sighed.

Harry glanced up at quizzically but didn't ask for clarification. He handed the papers back to her. "Look, if you don't want to read, you don't have to. I'd be honored if you would, but I understand if you won't."

She nodded at him, folded the papers back in her bag, and took another sip of her water.

"Harry, love," a man called, walking into the kitchen. This man had brown hair and a long face, and a dark-haired woman at his side. Both of them were dressed—much better than she was.

Harry's face lit up and he set his glass on the counter. "Mitch! Maia! Well, you both look lovely!"

He walked over to them and Lexy took a step back, observing the way he interacted with them. The couple seemed completely at ease around him and it was obvious they'd known each other a while. Before Harry could turn to introduce her to them, Lexy had already set her water on the counter and left the room. She skirted in between the crowds of people, wondering why she'd always thought black was the classiest of colors, yet literally everyone in the room was dressed colorfully. That familiar urge to run away was strong, and she just told herself to get out of the room, and that no one would remember her.

The last chords of What Makes You Beautiful ended, and she vaguely registered the sound of something else start—an older tune, one that she was certain she'd heard before.

There was a group of people standing by the door, but she was able to open it and get out by not paying attention to the looks that they gave her.

More people were out on the porch. Did Harry really have that many friends? They were all laughing, clearly happy to be invited, and here she was running away.

She took the steps two at a time and nearly knocked herself over, sprinting to her car. She yanked open the door and got inside, slamming it back closed. She pressed the lock button, then tried to regain control of her breathing.

There were moments in life that suddenly took her over. It had been like that her entire life. When the air from her lungs would disappear and suddenly feel like there was a valve closed. And while she did have asthma when she was younger, she knew that this wasn't that. She took deep, deep breaths and tried to regain herself.

But the pain was too strong. It came quickly, the way her wrist broke in fourth grade when she fell off her bike and took over her body like it was an epidemic, consuming every organ.

She had to get out of there.

She rummaged through her bag for her keys, landing on her phone, her mirror, her makeup. For the most part, everything Lexy owned was somewhere in her car. It wasn't easy to know what you would need on a three-month trip across the country. At last she found them and jammed them into the car.

Two breaths.

She could feel the steering wheel beneath her hands.

Two breaths.

She could hear the people from the porch laughing, unseen behind the row of rovers in front of her car.

Two breaths.

She could smell the leather of her car, the sun-burnt smell it had acquired from being years old.

Two breaths.

She could see the scent ornament hanging down from her mirror, a green pine tree.

Deep down, Lexy knew why she felt like this. It had come back so suddenly now that she could breathe again—the way it felt to first hear it in the auditorium, how much it hurt, afterwards, almost in hindsight, to hear Mr. Mack, the principal, stumbling over those two words. He couldn't seem to figure out the best phrase, so he said them all. Is dead. Has passed away. Has died. Lexy stared ahead at the little ornament hanging off the mirror and tried not to think of the blue curtains in the auditorium. Or the ugly carpet that covered the floor. That little ornament was meant to smell of pumpkin, but the scent had gone away somewhere in Illinois, and if she stared at it long enough, the auditorium went away and she was alone in her Toyota.

She took another deep breath, convinced she would never again think of Harry Styles, or One Direction, or the night again once she had the opportunity to yell at Samantha—her publicist. She reached forward and turned the key.

But of course, in the spirit of the night, it wouldn't start.

Lexy laid her head upon the steering wheel.

She'd at least have to stop crying before she called her dad, lest he buy a flight and come all the way to LA to lose his job. And what use was being in a healthy state of mind if she destroyed her family’s, too? 

A/N: lmk what you think/thoughts/feelings etc etc 

[thestuckylibrary]

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Anon 1 said:

Hey! I'm trying to find a fic but I have the bare minimum to go off I'm so sorry. But all i remember is Nat sitting on Bucky's desk and Steve? getting upset about it? They might've been switched to be honest, I have the worst memory, but if you can help me I'd appreciate it!

Anon sent in the Kept Boy by moonythejedi394, Neutralchaos (complete | 235,152 | E) - rape, heed the tags!

girlgrumps said:

hi! i'm looking for a post-tws fic that i honestly can't remember a ton about. i remember that miles morales was in it as spider-man, it has most of the avengers in it, steve and bucky live in the avengers tower in it, and towards the end bucky rescues miles from a mission gone wrong. i think it was fairly popular on ao3, but i used the miles morales tag and have searched through my history and can't find it. please help!

galwednesday sent in It's Not Linear by chaya (series | 136,782 | E)

Anon 2 said:

Hi! Wondering if someone could find this fic I really liked- it's pretty cannon and starts with Bucky and Peggy talking to Steve as he puts the plane down into the Artic. Later (1960s maybe) Peggy confronts Bucky about him not aging (because of the serum), so he comes clean to her and the Howling Commandos. In the 2000s/2010s he opens up to the world & they learn he was soulmates/lovers (I can't remember which one) with Steve, and eventually they find Steve and Bucky gets him back.

Anon sent in And So The Wheel Turns by cleo4u2 (complete | 18,888 | E) - bucky/peggy, bucky/omc

loudunknowntraveler said:

I'm sorry, I've spent the last three days looking for a fic. Steve is in Manhattan and Bucky chose to go back to cryo in Wakanda and Steve was upset about it, and Steve gets updates about his condition. Steve still fights sometimes I think, but he starts receiving plushy goats from an online service. He thinks its a joke until eventually he finds out that Bucky was having them sent?

  Anon 3 said: eating issues cw

hi! ive been looking for a bit for a fic i read years back. it was where bucky would go to a restaurant/diner late and eat food, but each type of food was separated so it wouldnt touch each other and then i believe it was steve like moved buckys food and bucky flipped out. sorry its kind of a bad description its been like 3 years or smth since i read it and i just thought of it ><

whitewolfbucky and deliveryisdelayed sent in G.I. Joes and 2AM Diners by OhCaptainMyCaptain (complete | 100,481 | E)

pooslie said:

y head that i can't find the fic for. can you(or your followers)help me out? pretty sure from steve POV telling Sam(?) about when he & Bucky meet--Bucky is a bully Steve tells ppl they are friends and Bucky will kick their ass if they mess with him,Bucky is like who the hell is Steve? then maybe Becca gets protected by Steve?now they ARE BFFs? it's very vague i know

Anon 4 said: 

I've looked a lot but can't find this fic. It's a pretty famous one from years ago and long with only few chapters, maybe 9. It has a short summary that went something like: "bucky woke up in the cold" or "he knew this, he woke up in the snow". Sorry it's so vague. I can't remember the details at all.

Anons and galwednesday sent in  The Ungraceful Art of Falling by buckyfuckybarnes (complete | 150,396 | E ) - period typical attitudes, bucky/omc

Anon sent in there must have been a moment where we could have said no by magdaliny (complete | 154,616 | M) - heed the tags!

kriszeth said:

hi! i'm trying to find a story and i admit i don't remember much about it, only that bucky is cursed to become a wolf every night. steve could be a disgraced knight or a traveler and he's going somewhere (to vanquish pierce i think?). it has a certain Ladyhawke au influence in its plot and it's finished, not the Ladyhawke stucky au wip i keep finding through google. hope you ocan help me and thanks in advance

Anon 5 said:

Hi! Could you help me find this ao3 fic, I've been looking for it everywhere but can't find it. It was probably around 5k words and the era was sometime post CA: The Winter Soldier. The plot was that Bucky's trying to jerk off for the 1st time after he has been iced, but can't come. He ends up asking Steve for help and is told that he should finger himself. However, Bucky is too impatient to figure out how and ask Steve to do it for him. Steve agrees to it and Bucky busts a big nut. Thank you!

Anon sent in You Could Go Blind From That by shanology (WIP | 21,395 | E)

teamcap56 said: attempted sexual assault cw

Hi! I read this fic a while ago and I just can't find it. Basically it was about Steve turning skinny again in the 21st century and he stays in a hospital. But then he runs out of there and almost gets sexually assaulted by some guy in an alley and then Winter soldier Bucky saved and kidnaps him and takes Steve to some warehouse where they stay for a while. Steve kinda gets out of it one day and ends up in some abandoned building where he gets hurt and then Bucky saves him again.

[shemakesmeforget]

15 fics under 1K kudos - WIPs

Here’s the list for wips, I might have to do a part 2 for this too lol WHO READS THIS MUCH JSADGSJG these are all fics I think are not abandonded (if I’m wrong, correct me) but I just listed stuff that've been updated in the last 6 months, just in case. Anyway, enjoy :)

A Practical Guide to Winning the Olympics (Dos and Don’ts) by Anna (arctic_grey) (@finleighsaid)

Canonverse, Rated E, 75K, 3 / 4

When pair skater Yuuri Katsuki’s career comes to a scandalous end, he does not expect the retired pair skating legend Viktor Nikiforov to suggest that they compete together. But taking on a new skating partner is full of trial and error, and the skating world doesn’t know how to react when the Katsuki-Nikiforov duo, against all odds, starts doing well. The last thing either of them should do, as they strive for their last chance at greatness, is to fall in love. Yuuri knows he is damaged goods, and Viktor knows his body is starting to fail him. They have competitions to survive and medals to win. No, falling in love is out of the question; they’re just very good friends. And even if Viktor felt something, he’d never act on it, and even if Yuuri happened to be hopelessly in love, he’d be mortified if Viktor ever found out.

“Well,” Viktor said, “let’s summarise: I’m pushing thirty, have a bad ankle, and haven’t skated competitively in three years. You’re barely out of a doping scandal, coachless, and on the JSF’s blacklist. Hell, Yuuri – we might as well go for it, then. What on earth do we have to lose?

When Viktor put it like that, it seemed to make an awful lot of sense.

• The fact that this is one of the few pair skating AUs out there it’s insane imo BUT this one is so good? just imagine the amount of UST, they’re all over each other, i’m in love!

Mon Trésor by KasumiChou (@kasumi-chou)

Canonverse, Rated T, 14K, 4 / 5

Curse his fragile little heart for always falling for people out of his league.

Like, what chance did he ever have with Victor Nikiforov? But Victor still became, not only his childhood idol but also, his first crush.

His first crush was a man four years his senior. A man who lived in another continent. A man that hadn’t known he existed until a week ago.

Then he had moved to Geneva, and his heart had been hypnotized by Chris’s charm

Before he knew it, not only had Chris hypnotized him, but also seduced him.

His fragile little heart had done it again, falling in love with another man out of his league.

At least his second crush had been a little more realistic.

He knew Chris, they had been rink mates - and later roommates.

Maybe that is what made it so much more dangerous.

• Get ready to be hit with angsty love traingle/polyamory feels my dudes, this is about to get juicy af. 

Sometimes you need an alterego by SassySalchow (@diedraechin)

Canonverse, Rated T, 3K, 1/?

In the daytime, I'm Katsuki Yuuri, just a dime-a-dozen figure skater with a normal life. But there's something about me that no one knows yet, 'cause I have a secret... cue theme music

The Miraculous Ladybug! AU that no one asked for but I'm gonna write anyway

• This is so fluffy and fun! I know nothing about ML and enjoyed it a lot anyway.

sweet like love (soft like pain) by postingpebbles (@postingpebbles)

Canonverse, Rated M, 9K, 3/?

Loving Yuuri was a choice that Viktor never regretted making. His smile, his laughter, the way his lips felt against his own—nothing could make him happier than having Yuuri in his arms.

But when the entire world has no idea that rivals Yuuri Katsuki and Viktor Nikiforov are in a relationship, Viktor can't do anything at all when Yuuri gets in an accident and is rushed to the hospital the day after he proposes in a hotel room in Nagano

• Angsty secret relationships are apparently my thing, this one is so bittersweet because they’re so cute and soft but at the same time the drama!!!

the face of heaven (the taste of sin) by RedHeather  (@red--heather)

Canonverse, Rated E, 9K, 2/?

Yuri Plisetsky @y_plisetsky Pity you didn’t medal at Four Continents, 

@phichit_chu . That way you’d have something other than my hands around your fucking neck.Phichit Chulanont 

@phichit_chu @y_plisetsky, can you even reach my neck? 

-

There is a bitter rivalry between Yakov Feltsman and Celestino Cialdini that has stretched on for decades.

As tensions escalate and the ISU begin to punish any aggressors, it was inevitable that Viktor Nikiforov and Katsuki Yuuri, rivals-by-consequence and enemies-by-association, would fall in love.  

• Rivals AU but like whole skating fams against each other!!!!! Sassy Yuuri, pining Viktor, angry Yuri and lots of social media shenanigans.

Focus on Me by alipiee (@alipiee)

College AU, Rated T, 5K, 1 / 2

For Victuri Gift Exchange 2017 

Prompt: "College AU -Yuuri’s roommate Phichit has to suddenly move back to Thailand for the rest of the semester due to a family emergency, and Yuuri has to find a new roommate quickly in order to pay the rent on their apartment. Viktor is the only one who applies, and he’s not at all what Yuuri expects."

• ALL THE PINING with a side of misunderstanding, good stuff! so sweet

Time and Hearts Will Wear Us Thin by lunar_peach

College AU, Rated T, 151K, 19 / 20

Maybe it was the impact of the fall, and the numbing action of the ice, but he felt weightless. He felt conquered by cupid and the sting of his arrow right in the middle of his chest as he looked up at Yuuri, who held a blank expression on his face.

Maybe it was the impact of the fall, and the numbing action of the ice, but he felt weightless. He felt conquered by cupid and the sting of his arrow right in the middle of his chest as he looked up at Yuuri, who held a blank expression on his face.

Somewhere in the distance, though it seemed like a different dimension to Victor, a timer went off. The music stopped.

You could hear it in the silence then.

Victor’s heart was going one hundred miles an hour.

Or the one where Yuuri Katsuki, scented candle aficionado, and self-proclaimed hot mess, never intended to capture the attention of one eligible bachelor, Victor Nikiforov, but sometimes the universe has its ways of making things happen. Amidst inner battles with their demons and themselves, they find a world in one another neither quite expected.

• The tags look kinda crazy but don't fear (?) this fic goes through lots of years LOTS, a story about friendship, love, heartache, “we can't be together vs we should be together”, and the ongoing growth of the characters BEWARE it gets super angsty at times.

do you love me just a little, honey? by DefiantDreams (@gia-comeatme)

Spy/Mafia AU, Rated E, 4K, 1 / 3

Viktor Nikiforov, next Pakhan, has a type.

Yuuri Katsuki, Division 6’s newest honeypot agent, is sent to exploit that.

• Honeypot Yuuri aka my dream, awesome funny sexy mystery!

Victor the Great by Multiple_Universes (@witharthurkirkland)

Historical AU, Rated T, 43K, 17 / 21

At the age of nine Victor became the Tsar of all the Russias with Lilia as regent. One day he will be the sole ruler of Russia, the man who makes all the decisions and gets to do what he wants, with one exception: he has to marry a woman from a Russian aristocratic family. Except that he falls in love with a boy who is a foreign commoner. Will he risk the throne to be able to marry the one he loves? 

Based loosely on Peter the Great's life (with some tweaks made to history).

• Follow the life of Tsar Viktor falling in love with Yuuri and eventually having his very own St. Victorburg or Yuuriburg ;)

It's All Contextual by AlexWSpark (@alexwspark)

Office AU, Rated M, 24K, 6 / 8

Why in the seven levels of fuck was Victor Nikiforov buying him coffee?

Yuuri decides to find out.

• Dorky Viktor + Confident Yuuri + misunderstanding = surprisingly not an angsty story!! very cute and fluffy

The Roommate Trap by impolitecanadian (@impolitecanadian)

Roommate AU, Rated M, 11K, 5/?

Victor doesn't believe in marriage. So when Chris, his best friend and roommate of 6 years, tells him he's going to have to move out so he can get married, Victor is reasonably upset. Good thing Victor's upstairs neighbour is looking for a roommate and maybe a little (okay, a lot) more. 

this is basically the odd couple but with a lot more sex and non-subtextual gayness 

• Viktor is a fool, Yuuri is the sass master/anxiety disaster, Chris just wants all the drama. They totally don’t work well together but it’s hilarious.

Roses of May by cuttlemefish (@cuttlemefishwrites)

Royalty/Magic AU, Rated E, 18K, 5/?

At age five, all children are assessed for talent and beauty in the City of Hasetsu and the other eight cities of the Empire. Every year, five are branded with the mark of a rose before being carded off to the Emperor’s palace where they are trained to become Roses, or sacrifices to be sent every May to the Ice Spirit that lives in the castle at the top of the mountain. Roses never return, except for Katsuki Yuuri, who shocks the Empire when he appears again two years after his departure with a silver crown on his head and a blond baby in his arms, demanding the Emperor step down or face the wrath of his husband, the Ice King. But, not everything is what it seems.

• Such an interesting world with lots of very well thought details! also... growing up together, childhood friends to lovers...... you can’t come at me like that.

History Maker by 96percentdone (@96percentdone)

Time Travel/Soulmates AU, Rated T, 15K, 5/?

It's the year 2134. Katsuki Yuuri, recently turned 18, just got his soulmark. There's really only one thing left to do: submit it to the online database and figure out who his match is, meet up with them and hopefully live happily ever after. Seems simple enough, right? Well, it would be, if his soulmate wasn't Viktor Nikiforov, a figure skating legend from the early 2000s.

AKA the story where Yuuri invents time travel to be with his soulmate, and shenanigans happen.

• me at me: don’t read this you’re a big baby and you’ll suffer; also me:¯\_(ツ)_¯ I like this AU a lot, imagine being so iconic you invent time travel just to meet your soulmate.

Toxic Valentine by voxofthevoid (@voxofthevoid)

Demons AU, Rated E, 53K, 8/?

The worst he can do is kill you with his dick.

Viktor, pleasantly tipsy and unpleasantly lonely, assumes that the pretty man he sees in a club is a sex demon. Instead, he finds reserved, nervous Katsuki Yuuri who’s as reluctantly enchanted by Viktor as Viktor is by him.

The rest of the night is unforgettable, and in the morning, Yuuri’s still there.

Love bleeds into lust, infatuation becomes adoration, and it's not long before the loneliness Viktor wears like a shroud disintegrates under the weight of warm brown eyes and tender hands. But Viktor has his secrets, and Yuuri might not be all he seems. 

In which Viktor discovers life and love in a man who’s as mysterious as he is beautiful, and it could be the best or worst thing that’s ever happened to him.

• The love story between the thirstiest demon hunter aka Viktor and a demon???????  Yuuri. A great balance between fluff, sexy times and mystery!

Water by Peasantaries (@peasantaries)

Dancers AU, Rated E, 26K, 11 / 15    

Yuuri is nineteen, a student at the Royal Ballet School in London, and already having doubts when Viktor Nikiforov joins as a guest teacher.

Famous, beloved Russian Prince in Bourne's Swan Lake, Nikiforov is Yuuri's idol from afar, but these two forces soon collide after Viktor oversees Yuuri practising and decides that Yuuri could surpass him, if only he can learn to move like water.

[WILL BE COMPLETED]

• lots of dancing!!! off the charts UST!!! Two dorks that should DATE ALREADY!! amazing

Shall We Dance? by darlingholocene (@byebyeholocene)

DWTS AU, Rated T, 11K, 6/?

Season 21 of Dancing With the Stars is about to air its first episode (March 30, on ABC), and the celebrity cast has finally been announced today.

Among them is Russian ice skating legend Victor Nikiforov, two-time Olympic Gold Medalist and five-time World Champion. Nikiforov, who just won Gold at the Sochi Olympics in front of his home public, has been paired with DWTS veteran Yuuri Katsuki, who is yet to win the Mirrorball Trophy despite this being his eighth season as a pro.

-

Victor and Yuuri's journey on DWTS narrated entirely through social media. 

• Totally a pick me up fic! light, fun and adorable!

[graemeruns]

Multiple update time: Reigate half, Sittingbourne 10 and Abingdon marathon

Oh dear, it’s been 3 months since I last wrote anything on here about my running, so now’s the time to get up to speed with what has been going on. 

After the Caterham half (detailed here) I looked at the goal races I had lined up and drew up a training plan. I actually only had two races booked in my calendar: the Reigate half marathon in mid September, and the Abingdon marathon five weeks later. So I decided to loosely follow the marathon training plan I used for my first ever marathon in Brighton in 2014, with Abingdon as the eventual finale and Reigate as one of the marathon tune-up runs. I always find training difficult in the warm summer months and during the school holidays, but this plan was doable because it shouldn’t mean excessive mileage (the greatest week being 55 miles, but most weeks between 40-50 miles). It also only meant five running days per week, so two days to fully rest and recover and not create any further injuries. I was hoping that training when it was warm would mean that the cool autumn races would be much easier too! 

I had entered the Reigate Half in 2017 at the ‘early bird’ price and it had always been my main aim this year once recovered from my injury; it had been useful to have a long term goal to focus on when I started back running in April. After my Caterham half disappointment my training needed to focus on building up the Sunday long runs (all after a fast paced Saturday parkrun) and also ensuring I tried to get one tempo or interval session in during the week. I was also determined to listen to my body, so if I felt too tired for one of the sessions, I would change it to something else, but make sure that I still got the miles under my belt. By the time the Reigate half came round on 16th September, I had managed 5 runs between 16 - 20 miles, and felt a lot more prepared than when I ran Caterham 2 months previously.

This was my first time running the Reigate half. The organisation was superb, and the communication, event village, baggage tent and parking was faultless. The course itself was all on closed roads, and I’d been warned it was quite hilly. In fact there were only really two hills - in the first mile and the last mile - but everything else was all slightly undulating; I never felt like I was on the flat at any point. My race plan was to go out at 4min/km (6:25/mile), and see how long I could keep that up. In the end I managed that pace for the first 8 miles, then started to slow, crossing the finish in 1:26:34. My whole run, however, had been slightly hampered by the hill in the first mile: going up it had been slow, so I had rocketed down it and that had made both my hamstrings sore, like a minor strain, which remained for the rest of the race. It probably didn’t slow me down much, but it certainly wasn’t nice to run with. Nevertheless, I was content with my time, and finished 1st in the V50 age category, which was an added bonus despite there being no age category prizes. You can view my race on Strava here.

After Reigate there were now five weeks until the Abingdon marathon. In the next two weeks my long runs consisted of a 16 miler with 12 miles at around marathon pace (4:13/km or 6:46/mile), and a 20 miler. The following week I decided to do a final tune-up race and entered the Sittingbourne Striders 10 mile road race. I had run this race in 2015 in a time of 64:30; you can read about that encounter here, which explains the course in detail. This year I was hoping to run a bit quicker and something in the 63 minute range. The weather was cool and conditions very good apart from a fairly stiff breeze in places, and this came to the fore midway through the race at the highest point of the circuit. I ran well, and, more importantly, enjoyed the race; I enjoy few races these days as I’m usually thinking of pace, splits and times rather than the event itself. The fact that I didn’t hit my goal time, but finished in 64:22 (which was a small PB) didn’t really bother me. Oh, and I was third too, and received a £10 Sweatshop voucher and a trophy for my troubles. 

You can view my efforts on Strava here.

Now there were two weeks left before Abingdon, so I tried to do a mini taper, but failed really because I had put myself down for the Surrey League Cross Country the following Saturday, and ended up with a 41 mile week. So in the end it was more like a 1 week taper, with a half-hearted attempt at carb loading two days before the race. I examined the training I’d done over the past 17 weeks, and the mileage worked out at an average of 43 miles/week. Compared to 2015, when I finished the London marathon in a time of 3 hrs 06 minutes on an average 52 miles/week, and 2016 when I finished in 2 hrs and 58 minutes on an average of 57 miles/week, the training was certainly on the light side. Saying that, I’d got some good long runs in, and was sure that the warm weather training would be beneficial now the temperature had dropped. I was also weighing in at the lightest I had been for some time, which could only help. Realistically, I didn’t think I could get under 3 hours again, but thought I could be close, so my plan was to run the first 13.1 mile in 90 minutes and see how it went from there.

5:10am on Sunday and I’m up before my alarm goes off. I’d sorted out everything the night before, but it still took me the best part of an hour to eat and get ready, so soon after 6am I was in the car and away. I hadn’t been looking forward to the drive much, and it took me about 1 hour 45 minutes, taking it easy as it was dark and also foggy in places, with the outside temperature about 8 degrees - perfect running conditions though! Parking was in a local school, for which there were plenty of spaces, and the event all took place at the local sports arena, so everything (toilets, baggage, snacks and coffee, and space to warm up) were all close to hand. I spotted the local scouts were selling flapjacks for 50p, so bought some to add to my pre-race banana as I was already feeling peckish from my breakfast 2 hours previously. I stayed dressed until 15 minutes before the start, did one lap of the track just to get the legs moving, and settled in waiting for the starter.

Abingdon marathon is a marathon for serious marathon runners. You won’t find many charity fun-runners here. The only real reason to run it is because it is flat and fast, and the race was packed with lean racers who were certainly not new to this game, looking for that elusive PB that perhaps they had missed at the hottest London marathon earlier in the year. It was 18 months since I last raced the distance, and I was quite nervous whether I’d be able to complete it on the limited training I had done. When the hooter went, there was the usual excited racing off by some runners who forgot that it wasn’t a 5k, but I soon fell into my own pace and let these runners gradually come back to me. 

The route heads out to the east at first to Radley, onto a footpath through Radley lakes (covered in low mist) then back to the west, twisting through the narrow streets of Abingdon town, where we were greeted with some generous support. The route then headed south out of Abingdon, along the River Thames, until it turned sharply to the west again, just before 10k, for the first of two loops through the local villages, each loop approximately 14k. It then headed back towards Abingdon town again, through western part of the town before turning back to the finish at the athletics track.

My memory of races is usually vague, but there were some parts that stuck in my mind:

There was the heavily panting runner who was taking up the whole path through Radley lakes by running in the middle (it was easily two-abreast if you ran to the side). That slowed me down a bit, and I genuinely worried that he could safely run 10k let alone a marathon. 

There were the three runners who drafted behind me for many miles, using me as a slight windbreak against the breeze. I didn’t get annoyed because I was running my own race, but it would have been nice for them to have taken turns at the front. I dropped them both later in the race.

There was the point after about 5 miles when I said to myself “Why am I doing this? It all feels quite hard, and I could just stop and go home early”. That was a strange emotion so early on, and I think I was focusing too much on the remaining distance. I calmed down by telling myself it was just a long training run.

There was the lady runner who caught me somewhere around the 18 mile mark, and it urged me to concentrate on my pace, which must have been slowly dropping. I ran with her for a few miles before she gradually pulled away and finally finished a minute in front of me. 

I remember the joy at seeing the 20 mile marker, and knowing it was only 10k to go. If I could keep my pace up I would finish in a respectable time. Although I was starting to struggle to turn the legs over, it was only in the last 5k that my pace really started to slow. 

As you run through Abingdon town with only 3k to go, you have to negotiate a twisty underpass, and climbing up the short steep far side was torture!

Finishing on the athletics track with a fast 300m sprint where I overtook a few people, including the triathlon legend Annie Emmerson. It was a great conclusion to the race.

So how was my race overall (which you can view on Strava here)? Well, I passed half-way in just over 90 minutes, and proceeded to lose another 3 minutes over the second half. My 10k splits were 42:28, 43:05, 43:43 and 44:34, so no big collapse, just a gradual slowing, although I did get my pace back on track for the final 2.2k which I completed in 9:33. My finish time was 3:03:23, which is my second fastest marathon time, albeit 5 minutes slower than my PB. I placed 152 out of the 744 finished, of which the first 124 ran sub 3 hours. Now that is a quality field of marathon runners!

Would I recommend it? Absolutely - the results speak for themselves! The race has a capacity for 1200 and does sell out, so enter early. It usually opens in mid February and is full within 6 weeks. I got a medal and a t-shirt for my £43, as well as some very sore legs for a few days, followed by a nasty head cold as my immune system wasn’t up for keeping anything at bay!

Next race is the Brighton 10k in 3 weeks. I’ve not run a 10k this year yet due to my long time absence with injury, so it will be interesting to see if I can remember how to pace myself over that shorter distance. I’d like to aim for 38 minutes but I need to shift this cold first and get some speedwork in to see if I have any hope of that. Whatever the outcome, it’s great to be back running well again.

[mojoflower]

Magical/Mage/Spark Stiles fic recs (90%Sterek, 5%Steter)

A Moving Sea Between the Shores by foxtricks (knightofbows) M.  26k.  Complete.  They're so fucked. They fucked up so bad. And it's all Stiles' fault." // Love one another but make not a bond of love: let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls." - Khalil Gibran 

What delicious torture and pain and mistakes and regret and fear and suspense, unf. Stiles, it turns out, is quite a powerful mage, but he DOES make a small miscalculation... which very nearly leads to the deaths of the whole pack, to his imprisonment and torture. If only he and Derek had Bonded first, they might not have fallen to this point. But they hadn't....

Chapters alternate from what leads up to the Fuck Up and what follows. Derek is a good Alpha, Stiles is a good Emissary, but each thinks the other deserves better than what they could offer. Fully satisfying ending with sufficient comfort.

Dream of Life Again by BarlowGirl E.  18k.  Complete.  “You better be ready,” Lydia says as she cleans dirt out from under her nails with an antiseptic wipe. Stiles can smell the lemon scent even from where he stands a few feet away. She’s probably going to end up covered in blood in a few moments, but she likes to be in control in any way she can, so he doesn’t tease her about this. “It’s time to start.” // “I’m ready,” Stiles says and he’s pretty sure it’s not even a lie. Hopefully. // Scott, Stiles, and Lydia each sit at one point of the triskelion that Lydia’s drawn on the tarp. The center is a tight knot of some language Stiles had never even heard of before this, written in ink in tiny writing. It’s beautiful and also makes him slightly nauseated. Lydia makes both cuts, so the blood drops from Stiles’ arm and Scott’s, too, into the center of the triskelion. There’s wolfsbane on Scott’s knife, not enough to make him sick, but enough to keep him from healing too quickly. // It’s a surprisingly simple thing, after that, for what they’re doing. Blood, a few words, and a little magic. // Just those things, and, for the first time in three years, Laura Hale gasps in a breath. // Or: Resurrected Laura!!!

What an interesting story. It felt strangely... clinical?... distant, maybe. Stiles is very removed from everyone, and there's alot of teasing in the beginning as to why (we never DO learn the full story there). Any road, Stiles has a connection to some veerry powerful magic, but doesn't really want to think about it too much, much less admit it. Meanwhile, he continues with his distant-yet-close relationship with the pack, and his strange dance with Derek, and just. It was very interesting.

Such Things Don't Bear Repeating by Allizane E.  25k.  Complete.   A wizard, a wolf, and a boy. Or: spells and magic can never truly substitute for strength. (Harry Potter AU, in triplicate.)

This was beautiful, flowed like poetry, kind of. Three parts, three points of view, and we slowly watch Stiles grow, watch his powers develop. I never did figure out what he was supposed to be: he's a bit sociopathic, but has every reason to be (he's missing his tongue when Deaton first finds him.) I probably wouldn't have read it if I'd noticed the dark!Stiles tag, but the story didn't really come across that way. More wild!Stiles, and the future's wide open. ******* So Derek takes the twisted threads of blood and bone and fire (because they’d all tasted like ash to the wolf, like someone was already burning them up), he takes them and ties the loose ends to Stiles, because what else is there to do?

The Long Way Round by exclamation E.  180k.  Complete.  A magical accident sends Stiles back in time. Now he's stuck in New York, living with Derek and Laura, and the only way to get back to his own time is to learn to use magic. Meanwhile, he must figure out how much he can tell them about their future. Can he warn them about the dangers they face? Can he change his own past?And can he trust the creature known as Bookworm, who seems to know him better than he knows himself?

oh. my. fucking. god.

this is astonishing.

The one where Stiles is MAGIC, whoa, that is such a focus, and he's powerful, and you get the learning montage and everything. (He's also the ouroboros, which explains how he got sent back in time to hang out with Derek and Laura when they're living in New York.) The one with the dragon, Bookworm, and the magic shop, and the accidental coven, and the vengence ghost, and where Derek is a dancer at a club (lol) and ALL THE GOOD THINGS.

i am addicted to death (so remind me what it’s like to live) by cywscross T.  18k.  1/2 but it reads like it’s complete.   Stiles is sixteen years old. He has already died seventy-eight times.

Holy shit. (This says 1/2, but it's tight and complete, no worries.)

Magic Marker by Batwynn G.  3k.  Complete.  Look, just because he’s magical, doesn’t mean Stiles has to be an adult, right? // Where Scott keeps quoting Spider Man when he comes in the room, his dad keeps getting that pinched look around his eyes when he accidentally turns the microwave into a portal to another timeline, Lydia has stopped wasting her breath by heaving great, disappointed sighs at him, and Derek… Derek tells him to get it out of his system somewhere not here. Which is actually pretty nice, for someone with such judgmental eyebrows.

I would SO love to get a bigger peek into this world, heh.

In Which Stiles is Secretly Magic by apocryphal T.  27k.  Complete.   All Stiles wants from life is to learn to control his magic, keep his grades up, and not die horribly while saving Beacon Hills from supernatural threats. It's all going pretty well until Derek Hale, werewolf extraordinaire, has to go and ask him on a date. That asshole.

lol... stiles is a hoot.

Attach me to your world by artisan447  E.  27k.  Complete. Turns out Stiles is magic. He's as surprised about that as anyone.

Sweet, sexy and intense: everything you want a surprise bonding fledgling magic fic to be.

Growing Up, Growing Strong by cywscross T.  10k.  Complete.   Stiles is adopted by the Hales.

Lovely series of snapshots. Stiles at 10 saves the Hales, but loses his dad, and Talia takes him in, but it's Peter he attaches to. There's selective mutism, slow integration, kidnapping, self-rescue, discovery of magic (spark), and he's 16 in the end, but I think the rating could have easily remained a G. (We'll have to use our imaginations for the rest.)

Red Witch by rootbeer  T.  34k.  Complete.  The red hair of a banshee. The red eyes of an alpha. The red hoodie of a mage. The red of fire burning.Derek Hale has been a prisoner to the hunters since they burned his family alive. But now someone has come to save him: skinny, defenseless Stiles--147 lbs of skin and fragile bones. Turns out, sarcasm isn't his only weapon.

Ah, this hit the spot. Derek's a mess, poor baby, he's spent years locked in a cell in isolation being taunted by Kate when Stiles shows up as a captive in the next cell. It's about everything you'd want. (I love the protective fire around Derek, it's perfect.) Stiles is a BAMF, Derek is a beta. And those stories about the Red Witch and his/her companions? Not just fairy tales.

Children's Tales by artemis69 G.  5k.  Complete.  Be careful, little girl. // Don’t go causing troubles in Beacon Hills, because the Hales live there, little girl. // Keep away from Beacon Hills, little girl, or the Hales will destroy you. // --Or: In a world where the Hales are alive and the protectors of the town of Beacon Hills, the humans politely fake ignorance of their not-really-human status, and they all live happily ever after. // Then Kate comes in. // Well. // Tries to.

How much did I love this story, omg, it's kind of hilarious: Kate (POV) goes Hale-hunting and is thwarted at EVERY TURN because the whole damn town knows who she is, and who Derek is, and the character descriptions are so funny: "The annoying other kid is still there and both of them are mowing the lawn of a little white house. Hale is very focused, working methodically in parallel strips. His friend is running in circles around a rose bush like a rabbit on cocaine."

Inhuman History by Amazonia_8 E.  32k.  7/?  Stiles doesn't remember much about what happened the night he was to be introduced to the mysterious Hale family. He knows his mother is dead, but nobody can tell him why. He thinks it might have something to do with the things that happen to him, or that he can make happen, even though he's never been able to control it. Now it's just him and his father, an invalid he must spend all his time caring for, scraping by in a run down house in a run down town, miles away from the life he once knew. // Until strange things begin to happen, starting with the great black wolf that shows up at his door and the stranger man that claims he knows his father. Claims that Stiles is in danger and that it is his duty to protect him.

Hooooly guacamole. This one is a RIDE, I'm pretty sure I only breathed once in the whole first half. Only 7 chapters written, and it looks like it'll stay that way, and the story isn't NEAR complete, but you do get to end on a very satisfying sex scene, and this author is so good that even a glimpse into this world she's building is worth the time you put in to read it. The first chapters are such a tease, with references to things like John being paralyzed and mute, and Stiles having flashing memories of 'before', and it doesn't get explained for a while (it does eventually, tho, don't worry), and wow, it's just fantastic.

The Road Less Traveled by gryvon E.  25k.  Complete.   Stiles doesn't want to die in a basement. No one is going to die in the Argent's basement, not if he can help it.

ALL the Stiles!whump and hurt/comfort (although the comfort for the first round of hurt is rest-of-pack rather than Derek, but it's totally emotionally satisfying. This is the one where Stiles starts practicing magic by twiddling a pencil and then gets to firebomb some ghoul-things in the cemetery.

Night Owls Early Birds by Lissadiane T.  24k.  Complete.  Confession: Stiles is afraid of having magic. // The Spark had been cool. It had been small, manageable. He could do some funky stuff with Mountain Ash, all with the power of belief. // And now here he is, his Spark blown wide open, apparently coming down with a fatal case of magical overload, and all that stands between him and bleeding out is a grumpy owl that looks suspiciously like a feathered version of Derek Hale. // (In which Stiles learns he's a witch, but instead of a wand and a trip to Diagon Alley, he gets blood magic, a grumpy and reluctant owl as his companion, and an accidental blood bond with Derek Hale.)

Oh. This was... really intense, I wasn't expecting that, somehow, the summary made it seem kind of funny. Stiles' magic is no fucking joke, and it LITERALLY tears him apart sometimes, like, peeling his hands inside out and crushing them kind of thing... and all the extraordinary pain that goes with it. When they say blood magic, that means there's gallons of it everywhere. Which is AMAZING, and the intensity is wonderful, don't get me wrong, it's unique among the 'Stiles discovers he is magic' stories, because it really does seem more like a curse than a gift. Steve the owl is a hoot (lol), and Derek's quiet loyalty and fierce protectiveness is lovely. It's a fantastic read, and so is its sequel.

In Which Stiles Finds He Much Prefers When Interesting Things Happen to Somebody Else by Zoom Zoom (PaperLillyWebs) T.  21k.  Complete.  “Finish what you start,” the skull rasps at him, making him jump. When he looks up, the skull is just as still as before.Loosely based on Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wayne Jones.

What a fun story! Stiles the apprentice is every bit of adorable, his Master Hale is a shadowy, mean kind of figure, and something's going on where none of the ends match up. The story borrows the Howl's Moving Castle world, but that's all, none of the story or characters. I love it.

How to please your house spirit by Lesatha  M.  14k.  Complete.  Derek startled awake in the middle of the night. For a split second he didn’t know why, then as he felt a strange weight on his chest, he raised his head and looked down. And stayed speechless. // There was a tiny creature, barely the size of Derek’s whole hand, sitting on him. It had a human shape, from what Derek could see.It looked furious.

ohmygod this is infinitely adorable, Stiles is a (murderous, multitasking, shapeshifting) little shit (so is Peter) and Derek is utterly wrapped around his (occasionally) tiny finger.

Of Werewolves and Tentacles by Guede E.  173k.  Complete.   Stiles Stilinski and Scott McCall, childhood best friends who were separated, now reunite to get to know each other again. Since Scott's a werewolf and Stiles is a new graduate of Miskatonic University (which is proving strangely attractive to Peter-Hale-shaped werewolves), they've got quite a bit to catch up on.

So glorious. A lot of fun to read, lots of action and complexity and I know basically nothing about Lovecraft, and that didn't matter at all. Stiles is great in this, very pushy, very much an asshole, and still got that old insecurity inside... which, coincidentally, is very much what Peter is like. They're a lovely match. (The fifth story introduces Derek into their dynamic, but only in the end, and, sadly, we never get the sexin' for that -- aside from some strange dreams in Part 6 -- cause it would be delicious.)

And what are the odds that I'd read two sentient house fics in the same month? (The other being the equally fabulous When sparks fly by LunaCanisLupus_22. Sentient house is in Part 5 and isn't very friendly.)

The Foul Rag and Bone Shop of the Heart by WritersAreLiars M.  35k.  6/?  “Stiles. Did I just watch you sell that man a hex-bag full of crushed caffeine pills and rocks from our own parking lot?” // “I threw in some sage too.” // -Stiles may have lost his job and his place as Alan's Mastery student, but at least his former teacher had the decency to set up an introduction to Peter Hale, werewolf and necromancer. // It looked like Stiles wasn't as done forming impossible infatuations on his teachers as he thought. // (At least this time he's legal.)

Entirely delightful and unique... author creates a fantastic world and Stiles' blithe abandon of traditions works very well with Peter's scheming. Worth reading even if it's never finished.

You Only Live Once...or Twice by WonderWolf E.  33k.  Complete.  “Anything,” Derek’s eyes are determined, boring into Stiles’.Stiles huffs a laugh, “Careful there, big guy. Don’t want to be promising anything to every necromancer you meet. Some might ask for your soul or someth—” // “I’ll give you my soul to bring her back,” Derek says, his voice steady and strong with resolve, “if that’s what you want.” // Stiles’ mouth gapes open for a moment before his brain kicks into gear and he stutters out, “N-no, I don’t ask for that. I only ask for money.” // (Or the one in which Stiles is a necromancer who needs help stopping a rogue alpha and Derek is the solution, but at what cost?)

Interesting premise.

Red String verse by gryvon E.  13k.  Completed works, incomplete series.  Peter had given up hope of ever finding his soulmate until the red string on his finger leads him to a four-year-old. He's going to Hell. Or jail. Or both.

Everything about this series is perfection. How Peter is so utterly astonished and appalled at the age difference. How Stiles turns out to be tremendously and precociously magic. The sexual tension when Stiles gets tired of waiting (and Peter goes to the station to turn himself in, lol.

Those Are The Days That Bind Us by s_a_m  M.  63k.  Completed works, incomplete series.  His father wasn’t stupid. He was an officer of the law, trained to look for patterns. He confronted Stiles about werewolves and they shouted and Stiles tried to explain but his father was so, so, so mad, more mad than Stiles had ever seen him, ever in all his life and then his father looked at him and said,“It’s like you’re not my son anymore.” // And Stiles broke.

Really good.  Poor bb Stiles, life generally sucks hard.  When he leaves, he has a lot of adventures and new friends that I DON'T instinctively dislike (what can I say, I'm very loyal to my OTP:  I generally hate it when they split up and one of them seems to move on).  There's VERY little Derek in this, even though about 50% of the story is in Beacon Hills both before and after the 7 years of running away.  Maybe part 3 will have a little more Sterek.  But, yeah, Stiles is badass, so that's awesome.  The author writes well and the story moves quickly.

Professional Werewolf Witch by reptilianraven G.  5k.  Complete.  "Are you going to buy anything else?" Professional Eyebrows says and Stiles would like to buy him. A cup of coffee. On a date. // He just ends up pointing at the crate of whatever the fuck is behind Professional Eyebrows' head and says, "Uh, a box of that stuff." // P.E. turns, glances at the crate, and raises an eyebrow at Stiles. "You want a box of charmed rattlesnake tail?" God, magic is so fucking weird. // "Yeah." Stiles nods because he's making an ass out of himself. The hipster vampire browsing in the corner is not so subtly laughing at him. The sooner he leaves the better. // -The one where Derek Hale is a Professional Werewolf Witch who owns a magic shop and Stiles fails at being smooth on a regular basis.

so fucking funny

I Know Where Babies Come From, Derek by DiscontentedWinter M.  52k.  Complete.  Stiles finds a baby on the porch.It looks exactly like him. // Well, this is awkward.

Funny and unique and gripping (and there's one part that's simply fucking heartbreaking, god every.time. I bawl like a baby). I love this so much. It's totally one of my return-again-and-again-comfort-fics (even though there's very little that's slow-paced and domestic about it).

When sparks fly by LunaCanisLupus_22 E.  87k.  Completed stories, unfinished series, but that doesn’t matter.  “Derek,” Stiles thunders. “Were you ever going to tell me your house is trying to hook us up?” // Derek's head snaps up, eyes wide and scenting the evident crackle of magic in the air. // Or the one where spark!Stiles moves into an enchanted apartment block owned by a grumpy alpha and is completely oblivious to the building's efforts to matchmake them.

OH, golly, I love this, it's so funny and fabulous and unique and THE HOUSE, GOD, I LOVE THE HOUSE, it really is all up in everybody's business. Don't worry about the chapters x/? Each chapter is its own complete storyline, so feel free to jump in any time, you'll never feel like you've been left hanging. I absolutely LOVE the irreverent (and yet, very well-conceived and detailed) urban fantasy vibe. And I love every character just the way I like to.

(Just read another fic with a sentient house (fifth story) and urban fantasy tones: Of Werewolves and Tentacles by Guede, which was a delight.

Untamed by rosepetals42 T.  28k.  Complete.  Of course, the transfer kid gets mentioned because transfers are rare, but the news isn’t that exciting. In fact, according to Laura, no one even seems to know his first name. The only thing anyone has really figured out about him is that he’s American. And that’s not exactly hard because he obviously has an accent. // The only thing Derek really knows is that, despite other reports, he seems quiet enough, prefers to work alone, and has the most amazing shade of amber eyes that Derek has ever seen. // Not that he’s looking. Obviously. // OR: A Harry Potter AU where Stiles is a Slytherin transfer student and Derek is the grumpy Gryffindor who falls in love with him. // There are also potions, elves, and falcons involved. Oh, and illegal use of magic. Obviously.

Best. This is the best Hogwarts/Teen Wolf AU I've ever read, hands down. All the feels.

A Wild Heart's Desire by mikkimouse  T.  13k.  Complete.  If there's one thing Stiles Stilinski knows, it's that Deputy Derek Hale absolutely Does Not Like him. The only reason Derek even tolerates him is because their kids are worryingly codependent. // So Stiles is understandably confused when a very feral Derek shows up in his backyard after a call gone wrong and proceeds to move in with him.

Aw, feral!Derek is so sweet. And so is Stiles. And both of them are hella oblivious.

A Life for a Life, Makes the Whole Wo rld Bound by augopher M.  91k.  Complete.   Stiles was lonely; there was no other way of putting it. The Nogitsune had left the pack a wary of him, not that they thought it had been his fault. No, they worried it would happen again. Once bitten, twice shy. // The morning after his 18th birthday, his torso was covered in mysterious green tattoos. He hadn’t been that drunk. He'd definitely remember that. Great. Something else to make him feel like a freak. Insomnia led him to his mother’s diary and a tale of how she helped an odd man once who gave her the warning, “Be careful of your wishes three." Everything clicked into place. // So...he was a djinni. He subtly changed things about himself. More muscle? Done. Better hair? Done and done. End his crippling insecurity? Done, done, done. He hid his new gift until he found himself bound to Derek. // With Deaton’s help, they translated meanings in his tattoos, but they were incomplete. A passage of his 'Rules and Regulations' was missing. Everything was fine dandy until Stiles’ new powers and penchant for mischief and karmic retribution threatened to destroy him, fracture his mind, and turn him into something which couldn’t be contained. // Could the pack save him in time, and at what price?

Court of the Bitter King by The Feels Whale (miscellea)  T.  7k.  Incomplete series, but that’s okay.  There’s a reason Stiles refuses point-blank to take off his shirt in public. That reason would be the massive number of …somewhat illegal tattoos he’s had done over the years.  //  It’s not that his dad doesn’t know about the tattoos, it’s more that his dad doesn’t like to think about them. It’s a mom thing or more precisely, it’s a ‘mom’s side of the family’ thing and Stiles’ maternal relatives make his dad very, very nervous.

Interesting. Dreamy and a little surreal. Third part is unfinished, but then, so are dreams, often.

The Time Travelling Werewolf's Confused Spirit Guide by The Feels Whale (miscellea) G.  5k.  Complete.  

Normally you don’t imagine yourself as living in the dystopian future that hapless time travelers accidentally stumble into. // Or: that one where Stiles learns the hard way that reality is not static, time is not a river, and sometimes the way things are is not the way they were supposed to be.

Sweet and weird. And it all worked out in the end, but I'd miss asshole Derek.

Her Blood on His Bones by secondstar  E.  123k.  Complete.  Stiles may be cursed but that doesn’t mean he’s going to lay down and die. He’s going to fight. He won’t stop, he can’t stop. If he does, they win.  [Daemons, Dark Materials universe.]

Aching for you by LittleRedEmissary T.  45k.  Complete.  When Stiles tries to cast a protection spell on Derek and accidentally casts a spell much stronger than either of them expected, the duo has to relearn everything that they've learned about protecting the pack, because the old methods won't do anymore. With the infamous Winchesters coming to town Derek hopes that the hunters will just drive through town, but the pack has never been good that laying low.

Love this. God, Dean's an asshole. But he gets better.

Writ in Hecate's ink on willing skin by Lenore M.  6k.  Complete.   "As you're always so fond of pointing out, you're the alpha. When bad shit happens to you, it affects all of us. If someone wants to use your alpha mojo or your wolf force or," Stiles waves his hand, "whatever you want to call it for diabolical purposes? We need to be ready."

Beacon Hills Mysteries  by miss_aphelion  T.  80k.  Complete.  Stiles appears alone at the doors of the emergency room the morning after the full moon, covered in blood with a deep slash torn across his left side. He's suffering from hypovolemic shock and barely conscious and he won't tell anyone what happened—not his hospital appointed psychiatrist, not his father. Not even his pack. // The list of suspects is disconcertedly short. There were only seven others in the woods with Stiles that night: Derek, Scott, Boyd, Erica, Isaac, Jackson and Allison. And none of them remember the night in quite the same way.

My note for the second story:  Whoa, so intense and stressful and simply amazing. Really, this whole series is the bomb. (Even with no sex!) And super!magic!Stiles like whoa.

Patterns of Intention by drunktuesdays E.  17k.  Complete.  Derek looked like the stuff of his deepest fantasies. His shirt was rumpled where Stiles had his hands in it, and he was breathing hard as well, chest heaving. His eyes—his eyes were glazed over and he looked stunned, like he’d been—like Stiles had—“No,” Stiles said, blood draining from his face. The word was croaky and felt like it had to be wrenched out of his chest. “God, no.”

The one where Stiles' magic is expressed verbally, and he starts to think he magically is making Derek want him back.

No spell quite like your smile by charimiel T.  29k.  Complete.  "I’m Stiles by the way. I’d shake your hand, but the stuff on my hands isn’t actually ink and I don’t want to subject anyone else to that.” .... Derek’s really just exuding an aura of ‘what the fuck is wrong with this guy’. Stiles gets that a lot actually.OrThe one where Stiles owns a magic shop and Derek probably regrets coming back to Beacon Hills right about now.

Cute.

From Here On by Isa_Iadel M.  97k.  Completed stories, incomplete series.  Stiles Stilinski hasn't been Sheriff for very long and dealing with the aftermath of the attack against the Hales ends up being far more complicated than he ever could have imagined.

Crazy good story, incredible and original world building (really, SO original), and Stiles is magic! to the max and totally wonderful protector of the town and all the characters, OCs and those well-loved, are just amazing. (Derek is underdeveloped, which is a pity, but everyone else is so riveting that it's alright.) Can't wait for the next installment.

B.S.T.P.H.T. by dornfelder E.  27k.  Complete.  Before Derek has the presence of mind to object, Stiles pushes the paper in his hands and makes for his jeep. “Just read it, okay?” is the last thing he says before slamming the door shut. // He starts the engine, and drives away in record time with gravel scrunching under his tires while Derek stands there dumfounded. He accelerates unusually fast, and the jeep’s back lights disappear into the night.What. The. Fuck.

dream-walker by hoars E.  5k.  Complete.   This is not the behavior Stiles was expecting from a werewolf he’s been dream invading. To be honest, Stiles expected more blood, bruises and begging. He was not expecting creepy Derek to go to sleep next to him.

Vision without action is just a dream. by Mynuet   T.  17k.  Complete.  Vision without action is merely a dream. Action without vision just passes the time. Vision with action can change the world. (Joel Barker) // Stiles has never known how to leave things well enough alone. If the root of their unhappiness is Derek losing the love of his life, then that's the problem Stiles is going to fix, no matter what it takes. He probably should have realized that things never go according to plan."

Perfect!

How I Met My Werebunny by Moku T.  20k.  Complete.  “This is going to end in tears,” Scott told Derek while he watched the man easily lifting Stiles’ desk up with one hand and driving nails into the ceiling with the thumb of the other. “Probably mine.” // Or:When a Stiles and a Failwolf love each other very much, they’ll engage in a prank war. Basically, it's a mating ritual for dorks in love.

So precious!

Shakespeare Was a Wolf by mommymuffin Unrated.  (I’d rate it an M.)  40k.  (Incomplete series, but that’s fine.)  Derek gets turned into a wolf by a witch. Naturally, he expects Stiles to fix it.

“To say that Stiles flailed before he hit the ground in the most spectacular display of falling down the world has ever seen would be a gross understatement.”

Spark by rispacooper  M.  10k.  Complete.  Derek had never actually seen Stiles in his full dragon form. If he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t sure he wanted to. The first time Derek had properly met Stiles, spoken with him, he’d had a hard time not reacting to the heat of him, far too reminiscent of the lick of flames at Derek’s skin. Dragons exuded heat, Derek had known that, intellectually. They might look like cold-blooded reptiles but they were creatures of fire.

Derek did not have good memories of fire. Stiles couldn’t have been expected to remember that, but it hadn’t helped that he’d focused on Derek with those impossibly wide eyes of lustrous brown and then let out of a puff of marijuana-scented breath and announced he’d take Derek instead of a sandwich.

Lord knows it would be the first time by uraneia  E.  12k.  Complete.  Stiles is home from Berkeley for the summer, but only because he promised the pack. He'd rather not see Derek, because whatever the thing was that they were doing, they're not doing it anymore, and it sucks. // Unfortunately, he doesn't have a choice. The betas tried a magical remedy for Derek's melancholy, and now Stiles has a three-year-old who looks like Derek. Stiles doesn't know how to deal with that, and he definitely doesn't know how to tell the betas he and Derek were secret fuck buddies for a year and a half.

Another kidfic: ending has a nice twist.

Of Bananas, Babies and Buzzkills by calrissian18  T.  25k.  Complete.  “Are you, um—What are you doing back?” He looks as uncomfortable as Stiles feels and that’s some small consolation.“You know, the usual. Witches, I’m the highlander now, magic bananas.”

Oh, god, the one where Stiles magics up Protozooey, and he's SOO CUTE.

I was a little disappointed in the ending (little rushed), but ALL the rest of it is so delicious it's ok.

(Once in a) Blue Moon by clarkoholic, skywardsmiles  E.  60k.  Complete.   Stiles and Derek are getting along, but they’re not a family, and they’re sure as hell not mates. Christ, they’re basically just two stupid guys who happened to get pregnant because of a full moon and sheer dumb luck.

Oh, the angst, the pining, the guilt, the blame, the anger. Total pain-fest while we watch Stiles nearly die from the burden of the pregnancy. Lovely sweet ending, of course.

A Heart is a Heavy Burden by lielabell  T.  41k.  Complete.  In Which Stiles: is accosted by unhappy witches, becomes friends with fire demons, is rescued by darkly handsome wizards, discovers hidden inner depths, is introduced to princes, and finds true love. Though not necessarily in that order. // (Or the Howl’s Moving Castle AU fusion fic you never knew you wanted but are delighted to have.)

Hale's Moving Castle. (I need say no more.) -- not magic!Stiles, but wizard!Derek is just as good.

Haven't Forgotten My Way Home by tryslora E.  101k.  Complete.   Stiles walked away from Beacon Hills and never planned on coming home. Now he needs help, and there's nowhere else he can go other than back to his childhood home and the pack he left behind.

Great story: intricate, suspenseful and unique. It stands well on it's own, no need to read others in the series if you don't want to.

Stiles, why is Derek Hale passed out on our front porch? bymarguerite_26, mothlights  E.  4k.  Complete.  Stiles doesn't hear the knock on his front door, but he figures there must have been one, because now his dad's calling out to him, "Stiles, do you know why Derek Hale just passed out on our front porch?" // Stiles freezes, carton of milk half way to his mouth. He looks around the empty room, wondering if it has any answers. Derek Hale just passed out on his front porch -- sounds like one of the signs of the coming apocalypse.

Breathe Me by mommymuffin Unrated (I’d give it T or M)  127k.  Complete.

Stiles tries desperately, but the air just won’t come to him. He can’t do it himself. He needs someone. Someone to help him.

And Scott left him.

Fabulous series. Starts as a kind of one-shot, just Stiles-Derek-panic attack, but then the author, lo, encounters plot, and what a plot it is. I love this one, it's fast, doesn't stint on violence, the whole second half is one stressful situation after another, and there is Cor, the amazing wolf made out of the blood spilled between Stiles and Derek, which is a concept I haven't encountered before.

I would rate it an T or an M... there's sex, but it's not described in any detail.

Last Call by grimm  E.  6k.  Complete.   He doesn’t come to The Beacon to pick up people. It’s precisely the reason why he doesn’t go anywhere else. People in this neighborhood know him, know he’s not interested in being hit on, which allows him to have a drink in peace. Derek knows he’s good-looking, but the type of people it attracts disgust him. At least other werewolves can smell the unfriendliness on him and stay away, but that doesn’t stop everyone. He went to a gay bar with his coworker Isaac once and it was horrifying.

Dragon's Breath by trilliath  E.  56k.  Complete.   Between the hunters and the monsters that have interfered with life in Beacon Hills, the pack has had to learn a lot in the last few years, including Stiles teaching himself to practice magic in private. It's not exactly a secret from the pack, but it's not something he's shown much. When it comes time to put his skills to the test, Derek is the only one who finally gets to see Stiles's wild magic put to use saving Erica's life from a new threat in town. //  The aftermath changes something between them, and those tenuous lines tangling them together may mean the difference between life and death for them both.

Lovely, vivid and intense.

In Sanguinem Scriptum Est by secondstar  E.  31k.  Complete.   In order to stop a new onslaught of nightmares from plaguing him, Stiles decides to become an emissary. No longer defenseless, he begins to realize that not everything is as it seems.

Strut on a Line, its Discord and Rhyme by xiaq T, 73k.

“Carry me,” Stiles says.  //  “No.”  //  “But I’m injured.”  //  “You have a rash,” Derek says. “On your arm. Your feet work just fine.”  //  “Please?”  //  “No. You weigh almost as much as I do. And you ate a pound of chicken at lunch.”  //  "Well, yeah, but I pooped like an hour ago, so.”  //  “You’re disgusting.”  //  “Don’t play, you love me.”  //  I do, Derek thinks, relatively horrified. I really do.

Oh, wow, this was so fun:  such a fast read, it just never lagged for a moment.  Not that it's action-packed, because it isn't, but just because the story is so interesting and kept moving right along.  Lots of OCs in this (Paidrag, Teagan, Walsh) and they're fully realized and wonderful.  Stiles is a human adopted into a wolf pack that's been slaughtered a year earlier, and Derek and his dad are in Beacon Hills to help him recover from an extended kidnapping from demons.  Both of them are young (fifteen and later sixteen), so their interactions start out innocent.  Stiles is his usual self:  brash and loud and weirdly confident in himself.  Derek is shy and quiet.  They make a good pair.  Scott is the big brother who is suddenly a guardian.  I pretty much loved every part of this:  especially how Stiles magic just got stronger and stronger.

The Walls Are Breathing In by secondstar  E.  42k.  Complete.  Nothing could go wrong. It was just supposed to be a safe trip to the Nemeton. But this is Beacon Hills and things are rarely that simple. Welcome to the life of Stiles Stilinski.  // Or, that time that Stiles accidentally became a sorcerer against his will.

good story, and I loved the art (great colors)

Out Of Milk... by 74days  M.  88k.  Complete.   Derek Hale moved in with the Stilinskis after acting a hero, much to Stiles distress. However, things take a turn for the strange when his arrival coincides with some strange happenings in Stiles life - that will change the course of the pack forever.

Sooooo magic!Stiles. EXCELLENT story. The angst is strong in this one...

Salutations or Something by ravingrevolution  E.  155k.  Complete.  He needed an actual hobby outside of work where he would interact with actual people who did not live with him or talk to him through the internet or his phone. // Like yoga? His stupid mind supplied in an annoyingly accurate imitation of Scott’s voice. // Stiles sighed. // Like yoga. // “Fuck.”

"He was pretty sure that before he started doing yoga his life had not been an action movie sub-plot, but apparently things had changed. He really would have preferred to have starred in a romantic comedy, but he didn’t often get what he wanted." (Spark Stiles)

What I Did On My Summer Vacation by grimm  E.  119k.  Complete.  There's something weird about Beacon Hills that Stiles can't quite put his finger on. The way everyone in town knows his name the day he arrives. The way they insist the melancholic howling that echoes through the forest every night is just a dog. The way his dad denies getting a dog, even though Stiles comes home to find one sprawled across his bed, some big black thing whose eyes gleam red in the right light. The way that massive oak tree out in the woods vibrates under his touch, pulsing with sickly life. // There's something weird going on in this town, and Stiles is determined to get to the bottom of it.

hope is the thing with feathers by ShanaStoryteller T.  29k.  Complete.  Stiles is ten when he saves the Hales from their burning home and Derek from a wolfsbane bullet, and this establishes a pattern that seem to continue indefinitely."Then he's facing a burning home, and he wraps the hood of his sweatshirt around his mouth before he pushes the door open and steps inside. There's Mr. Hale asleep - he hopes asleep - on the couch, next to - Stiles thinks that's his brother but there are so many Hales, who can keep track. He rushes over and starts shaking him, can see the rise and fall of the man's chest so he knows he's alive, but he's not waking up. //  He shoves away his hood so he can shout, "Mr. Hale! You have to get up, there's a fire! Mr. Hale, get up!" Nothing, he's not even twitching, both of them taking in deep even breaths like they're having the most peaceful of rests, and Stiles is going to cry. "Wake up, wake up, wake up!" //  There's a moment, where all Stiles can hear is the blood rushing in his ears and not the roar of the flames or the creak of wood, then with a violent, silent pop it's all back and both of the men are gasping awake, eyes open and jumping to their feet. "

This is awesome: It starts when Stiles is ten, and he finds himself drawn int the woods in time to pull the Hales from their burning house, and much magic is used on that day, and lo, Stiles is an extremely powerful mage. For all that he's very brave and snarky, he's also very laid-back, and so he rolls with the punches and allows himself to be adopted (more or less) into the Hale clan, even tho they're very, very weird. So for the next five years, he tags along, fights the good fight, discovering new powers along the way, grows a bond with Derek (who hates words, and hates feelings and hates combining the two even worse), keeps his oldest and bestest friend Scott (who is similarly chill about the whole thing), and just blossoms before your eyes. It's fabulous. (So is the whole series.)

Beltane by DevilDoll  E.  8k.  Complete.   "Watching Stiles heal someone has always been a little uncomfortable for Derek, like he's seeing something intimate and private that shouldn't have an audience. That's nothing compared to how it feels." This is an AU in which Stiles has magical healing powers.

Taking Leave by coyotl   M.  91k.  Complete.   Stiles leaves. It's not like he wanted to, ever, but he had to. Sure, there were choices, always. It's just that, sometimes, all the choices were bad ones.

fucking fantastic. stiles resembles a gaiman-esque saint or a god or something, on a dubiously moral killing spree for half the story. the writing is magical and gripping, and the story moves fast: gritty and bloody and unapologetic. unique and lovely.

Didn’t See That Coming by knittersrevolt E, 84k.

Stiles leaves Beacon Hills in the dust after he catches his husband cheating on him.  //  He finds his way to New York where he starts working for the Hale House Nursery, accidentally adopts a werewolf baby (through no fault of his own thank-you-very-much), and somehow starts training to be an Exorcist Emissary. So, in general, life was going good.  //  Then he hears that demons have found their way into his hometown. Can he face his inner demons and go back to save the day?

I love this story so much, it’s such a fast and engaging ride.  Plus, accidental baby acquisition, who doesn’t love that?  The one where Scott's a cheating jerk so Stiles basically runs away to upstate New York and gets a job at Hale's Nursery Preschool with Laura, and after a few months finds a woman giving birth in an alley, takes her to the hospital, and comes home with her baby when she dies.  Her werewolf baby (not that Stiles has any idea about that).  So now Stiles is the proud single parent of baby Sam.  He eventually moves in with Derek (because a hotel is no place for a newborn and Derek has an extra room).  Things develop over the next few months, and then the Alpha Pack shows up and Peter starts acting suspiciously.  Meanwhile, Stiles is getting magic lessons from Mee-Mee, who is a Demon Puller in addition to being the local supernatural pediatrician and druid.

They discover that a demon escaped the Alpha Pack and went to Beacon Hills -- along with Peter and the twins he kidnapped -- so Derek and Stiles have to pack up and follow it, right on the heels of his dad and Scott, who hired a private detective to find him.  Beacon Hills is interesting, Stiles starts up a body shop selling (magical) creams and ointments and navigates the social waters of a town who seemed not to care that he was cheated on.

Stand Fast in Your Enchantments by DevilDoll, Rahciach   E.  77k.  Complete.   "Stiles knew damn well what a pissed-off wolf sounded like, and every hair on the back of his neck was telling him that somewhere in this room was a very pissed-off werewolf." //  An AU in which Derek is feral, Stiles is magical, and they eat a lot of fast food.

Love this one so much!

[thedaywebuiltthefort-blog]

No 106. Run a Marathon

I’m pretty confident that if anyone had told us a few years ago that we’d be either willing or able to run a marathon we would have laughed heartily in their faces.This was before the blog or the concept of the fort life existed. It was before we had any real concept of what we could and could not actually achieve.

Since we started crossing things off the list a little under a year ago, we’ve crossed off eleven challenges in a definitive way, along with a few others in a kind of sort-of-but-not-really way. Not a bad record considering we’re doing this with highly conflicting schedules, families and lives of our own to lead and a very limiting budget of absolutely nothing.

This was, however, by far the most physically and mentally challenging task we’d taken on so far.

This was the Asics Manchester Marathon 2019 and this is how it all went down.

Neither of us is an athletic superstar. Although Kylie has had a moderate interest in health and fitness, my introduction to the world of sports came relatively recently. It all started with a couch to 5k training programme that I was coerced into by a colleague, who later came to be my running guru.

Up until the 7th April 2019, the furthest I had run in an actual race was a half marathon completed three years ago. Kylie had even less of a track (pun intended) record, having clocked up a 10k and a few muddy/obstacle races. So it was always going to be a challenge.

We woke up to a mild Manchester morning, slightly earlier than my alarm was set for, and took a few minutes to bask in the luxury of our three stars Aldi-adjacent hotel room. Having arrived two hours later than anticipated the night previously (thanks to the Grand National) we hadn’t had much of a chance to relax.

I found I was pretty calm at that point. All of my nerves about the event centred on actually getting to the right place on time and not missing the start. It wouldn’t be out of character for me to have gotten the date wrong and turned up the day before/after the event by mistake.

I encounter my first obstacle of the day before we’ve even left the room. Pre-race breakfast, you shall forever be my nemesis. I’ve read all the advice, seen all the nutritional plans and despite my efforts, there is still not a single recommended breakfast that I can stomach without wanting to vomit. Whilst Kylie has the natural predisposition to have a high tolerance for healthy foods, I hate nuts, pulses and any of the other slow energy release foods that they recommend. The smell of peanut butter and banana makes my stomach churn. I immediately want bacon. And crisps.

Not wanting to collapse halfway through the race, I do bravely attempt to munch my way through a pot of instant porridge. It is horrendous. I manage about a third followed up by a healthy chunk of malt loaf which I figure is better than nothing. I also put a raw fruit and nut bar in with the rest of our gear to take with us, hoping that it can be my Hail Mary. I am very aware however that the chances are I probably haven’t filled the tank up quite enough.

We arrive at the starting area and there are a decent number of people already there. It is comforting to see people of all ages, shapes, and sizes arriving. Our chosen charity, Cancer Research UK, seems to have one of the best turnouts. I counted at least twenty people sporting the same vest as we were wearing before the race even started. Proof, not that it was needed, at the number of people affected by the horrendous battle that sufferers face. Like us, we suspect a lot of them are people forced to watch from the sidelines as their loved ones face a much bigger challenge than a mere 26.2 miles.

After a long wait to queue for the already overflowing toilets, we make our way towards the start line, take the obligatory selfie and look for the pacers. If you haven’t run a marathon before, the pacers are runners who carry a flag to show the estimated finish time for the race if you are able to match their speed for the duration.

Because of our troubles during training, I am taking an optimistic guess that we’re going to be finishing somewhere around the five and a half hours mark. Pushing through the crowds, we go past the sub-four hour pacer, then the sub-four and a half hours, and then...we run out of pacers.

I know that they’re meant to be around somewhere but we’re already at the back of the queue and we’re only around the 4:45 mark. I figure if we linger at the back, as close to the five-hour mark as possible we should be OK. It isn’t until about twenty-five minutes later when we approach the start line that I turn round and realise that since taking our position about a thousand other people have appeared behind us. Apparently, we were over eager.

Having arrived at just after 8am, we finally cross the start line at just before 09:30 and by 09:32 there’s a line of male racers against the side of the road peeing into bushes. I guess that’s one way to beat the toilet queues. 

Despite my reservations about being in a higher pace group than I had planned, we find we settle into a rhythm pretty quickly. The first three miles seem to fly past. There is a good atmosphere although at this point not much in the way of interaction between the runners. People just want to get into the zone before they start paying attention to anything else.

The route is well marked and easy to follow – I’ve run in races before where you can hardly tell where you’re meant to be going and it doesn’t help with your mental focus.

Kyli has one of her earbuds in so she can listen to music. I have mine with me but decide against bothering for the time being. There are a lot of people playing music and the crowds have a good vibe so for me, that was enough to get me up to the seven or eight-mile mark.

As we reach eight miles I am feeling surprisingly optimistic. Although I run a lot, I tend to combine long distance with power walking and it is unusual for me to get to eight miles without at least a brief pause to walk a little. I find myself thinking that perhaps five and a half hours is achievable. Let’s just say we were still in the honeymoon period of the race at this point.

Approaching the halfway point we’re still making good time. We’ve definitely slowed down and walked a little but the first ten miles at least felt like they’d definitely gone our way.

My first half marathon three years ago took me three and a half hours. We got to the mile 13 marker at two hours forty-seven, which I was pretty happy with. We took the obligatory selfie.

It is at this point that it starts to go downhill for me. I’m a little hungry which isn’t helping, but the main issue is that my legs are showing signs of the same issues I usually get at around mile twenty. They’re unusually heavy and my stride is getting shorter by the minute. We decide to slow down for a mile or two to see if I can stretch it out or walk it off.

My intention is to walk to mile marker seventeen as an absolute maximum. By the time we get to seventeen, my legs are not holding up well. I keep apologising profusely to Kylie because I feel like I’m holding her back. She tells me it is fine, but mentally and emotionally this hits me like a ton of bricks.

Not to mention I’m also pretty pissed off because I did a lot more training and out of the two of us, I’m the runner with more experience. Not that it was Kylie’s fault – the race goes the way the race goes. I wouldn’t say I felt like giving up, but I certainly wasn’t happy. They say that the hardest part of running a race is getting past your own thoughts, and this is certainly true. We were less than two-thirds of the way around and I was already feeling defeat creeping up. The further we get around the course, the more it becomes apparent that my legs are just not going to cooperate with me. They don’t hurt, but by now they’re impossibly heavy and I can’t steer them in the right direction. It doesn’t matter how much I try I can’t lift my feet off the floor enough to get a good stride. Each time we run, I end up shuffling more than anything. I can manage bursts of about 30 seconds or so but we actually find that I can power walk much faster than I can run.

This in itself poses a bit of a problem. My natural walking pace is unnaturally fast. Whilst Kylie is outpacing me significantly on the running, I find myself power walking ahead. In the end, we come to the conclusion that finishing slowly is better than not finishing at all – and we’re in this together, so together we’ll stay.

Finally, we get into the home straight, the last few miles. I was fully prepared for the fact that just over twenty-six miles is a much longer distance than you think. Until you’re actually doing it, you have no idea and I mean NO IDEA. The last few miles are a nightmare.

Fortunately, at this point we’ve become surrounded by people who are in a similar state and like us, are just focused on getting to the end. We spend most of the second half of the race either slightly ahead or slightly behind a man dressed as Mrs. Potato Head. Seeing the crowd reaction to him is heartening, especially given that we’re running for the same cause. I’m also grateful to the residents of Manchester for supplying a copious amount of Haribo and jelly babies. I’m really hungry at this point. I’ve had three carb gels which aren’t even touching the sides. I’m dreaming of baguettes and the other runners are starting to look like giant cheeseburgers with legs.

Finally, the finish line hones into view. We have less than a kilometre to go. I had expected that I would feel emotional crossing the finish line, however to my surprise, I got more choked up just seeing it on the big screen. I won’t lie, there’s a lump in my throat, tears in my eyes and copious blisters on my feet. I feel like I might need to dispose of my trainers in some sort of industrial waste receptacle.

We discuss the idea of running the rest of the way however Kylie points out that distance is deceptive. It turns out she is right. It is a lot further away than it looks and I doubt I could have made it had we made a run for it.

As we get closer I spot our families waiting for us. More accurately, I spot my six foot six brother in law and a small blonde dot that I can only assume is my littlest niece. As we get closer, I see everyone waiting for us and it does give me a little boost. I’m determined that they’ll see us run across the finish line rather than crawl.

I have literally nothing in the tank. The only thing that pushes us over that finish line is combined mental determination and belligerence. We did manage to run over, giving us a respectable first ever marathon time of just over six hours. In my mind, I’d imagined coming over the finish line like a conquering champion, running into the arms of my other half and punching the air in victory. I thought there might be tears. There weren’t any – I don’t think there was enough water left in my body to actually produce any.

In a brief window of probably less than five seconds, I feel an overwhelming sense of achievement. Kylie and I share an awkward, sweaty hug and make our way through the throngs to collect our medals, t-shirts and to rip the arms off of the poor girls handing out snack-sized malt loaf packs to the runners. I’m ecstatic to see my husband and son but any thoughts of hugs and congratulations soon go out of the window when I see the carrier bag of snacks my brother in law has provided. My main priority is filling my face with as much food as I can as quickly as possible.

We did say several times whilst on the course that we would never want to do another marathon ever again. I’m pretty sure that for Kylie that still holds true. For me, however, despite the pain and the problems, not even ten minutes after finishing I was pretty sure that I wanted to do it again. I’ve already started looking into marathons for 2020. Whether I’ll do the same one again or a different one remains to be seen.

Since we finished the race, we’ve had a little extra influx of donations to bring our total to over the £500 mark. Combined with the money that I raised for Sweatember and the total Kylie raised for her UWC boxing match, we’re close to raising £1000 for Cancer Research in eleven months and that’s nothing to be sniffed at.

People might ask why after I’ve checked number 106 off the list I would want to do it again?

The answer is simple.

After all the preparation, the planning, the things that went right and the things that went wrong, after all the heavy leg induced troubles and the hunger, I got to experience those brief five seconds of feeling like there’s nothing I can’t do as I cross the finish line.

Those five seconds are everything to me.

They’re five seconds when I’m not the girl who worries about being too fat or too wobbly. I’m not the girl who was always picked last for PE at school. I’m not the girl who always gave up before the end because things got tough. I’m the girl that just crossed the finish line.

I am exactly who I’ve chosen to be. I’ve done what I never thought I could. I like being that person.

[twentysomethinginorlando]

Fairy Tale Challenge Part Two: the Princess Half Marathon

New Post from https://twentysomethinginorlando.com/rundisney-princess-half-2018/

Fairy Tale Challenge Part Two: the Princess Half Marathon

The hardest part of running a RunDisney Challenge isn’t actually running the second race, it’s getting up for the second race. You would think being tired from the Enchanted 10K would make it easy to fall asleep early, but you’d be wrong. (At least in my case.) So sure enough that 2:20 a.m. alarm went off and I dragged myself out of bed for the Princess Half Marathon. I put on my awesome pink skirt that Donna made me, the white tank top I use for Marie, and grabbed the ears and tail. My cat looked at me like I had lost my mind as I headed out the door. 

I had to drive a different route to Epcot this time since I knew the access roads behind Magic Kingdom would be closed, but I still managed to get there right around four. I had one friend who was running the Half as well, and somehow, we managed to park only a few spots away from each other. I met up with Andria and her friend, and we all walked in together. 

The character lines weren’t quite as out of control this time, and we jumped in line for Merida. The person manning the line was saying it was about an hour, but we made it in less than half of that.  

Andria was still waiting on another friend, but I was anxious to get to the start corrals so I headed off by myself. I was in the second to last corral, and I wanted to be as close as I could to the front of it. The more space you put between yourself and the last runners to cross the start line, the more time you have to stop for characters. 

Today would be different. I would stop for characters and not worry about time. Well, try not to worry about time anyway. 

This was a much longer walk to get to the starting corrals, it took about fifteen minutes to get to where they were setup behind Epcot. 

I picked my way around runners and headed as close to the front of Corral G as I could manage without being completely rude. There were a couple of other girls sitting down and I plopped down right behind them, sitting on the jacket I’d brought. It was just chilly enough that I felt it was warranted, even though I knew I’d ditch it before the race started. RunDisney gathers up all the clothes left behind and donates them to charity, which I think is pretty cool. 

The sound system was either working much better, or the speakers were in better places, because this time I could hear everything. Although people still sang along with the National Anthem. Since when is that a thing? 

The Fairy Godmother once again arrived to send off the first batch of runners. She had us all recite “Determination, commitment, and perseverance.” Then she counted down, “Salago-doola, Menchicka boola, one, two, three!”

And off the A corral went at exactly 5:30 a.m. One of the announcers mentioned that there were twenty-seven corrals. No, there were eight corrals and they were somehow being split into twenty-seven waves of runners. I am really not a fan of RunDisney handling their corrals that way, but I understand it. They have to staff less corrals, and this year they would have run out of letters. What would corral twenty-seven be? AA? ZZ? 

I started at precisely 6:26 a.m., thank you runner tracking. I actually thought I would be in the second wave of G and was surprised to find myself in the first wave. I hadn’t put my Running Buddy on my waist yet, I was planning to do it all after I videoed the fireworks but I found myself crossing the start line with it still in my hand. I started strong for a few minutes and then slowed to a walk to try to secure it. 

This is where I started to regret the Marie costume. I had compression shorts, then the skirt, then the tail. I had to get my Running Buddy onto the compression shorts, under the skirt and tail. This was way more of a struggle than I anticipated, and I spent a good five minutes fighting with it. Finally, I got it secured, got my one earbud in, and started to run for real just as I reached the marching band out to cheer us on. 

I came to the first water stop and made a slight error in calculations. I always do Powerade, not water, if it’s available. I moved past the first tables with water looking for Powerade, only to find there wasn’t any. Since I refuse to turn around, I kept going without getting anything. Whoops. 

I was a little way past the first mile marker when I heard cheering. I looked to my left and saw the first male runner headed back, already done with most of the course. The first female runner was about a minute and a half behind him, and she was also met with cheers. They had almost an hour’s head start on us, were moving at a ridiculously fast pace, and had already finished the first ten miles. 

I came down the ramp towards the Magic Kingdom toll booths and found Captain Jack Sparrow and Barbossa in their usual place in the middle of the median. They were in front of what looked like a large rowboat rather than the full-sized pirate ship. Even though I had had vowed to stop for more characters, I had actually met them last year so I was okay skipping them. 

Just past the second mile marker I saw an adorable older couple dressed as Mary Poppins and Bert powerwalking faster than most of the runners were moving. I heard a girl next to me say very loudly, “Okay, how are they going faster than me?” and had to stop myself from saying something snarky.  

There was a heat advisory for the race, announced a few days ahead of time, and I was already dripping with sweat. The fluffy tail against my back was no help, and I found myself hating pretty much everything about my costume. I knew it was only going to get hotter, and I wasn’t sure keeping the costume was going to be the wisest decision. 

I came around the curve past the toll booths into the Magic Kingdom and found the Heroes waiting for me: Flynn Rider, Prince Eric, John Smith, and Phoebus. Normally with the characters you almost can’t see who it is for how long the line is, but this line actually went in the direction we were running, so you could see the characters and keep going to get in line instead of going back. 

I jumped in line. I hadn’t stopped for the heroes group since my first time running the Princess Half, and I wasn’t going to miss them this time. While I was waiting, I moved my bib from my shirt to the skirt. If I wound up ditching my costume, I wanted it to take as little time as possible. I thought about getting rid of it then, but I didn’t want to throw it just anywhere for some random Cast Member to have to pick up. 

Flynn, Eric, Phoebus, and John Smith were wonderful as always, and I kept going. Just around the corner, I’d never been so happy to see a water stop in my life-they even had Powerade this time! I grabbed two cups and kept going, hitting the 5K marker at 7:16 a.m. Not bad seeing as I stood in a long character line and had to stop to secure my Running Buddy. 

A little further down were a pair of Guest Relations Cast Members cheering everyone on. Few people realize this but the sweeper vans are driven by Guest Relations, and they don’t actually want to pick anyone up. I even knew one of them! I jogged through, swinging over to high-five Jeff and yell, “Hi Jeff!” which is something that has happened on pretty much every RunDisney race I’ve ever ran. He yelled “Hi Chelsea! I like your costume!” 

The next character I encountered was the Witch from Snow White, but we met her at the Wine and Dine Post Race Party so I didn’t have to feel guilty about passing her. I turned into the tram entrance to the Ticket and Transportation Center and passed several members of the Hogwarts Running Club cheering on the runners. I chugged up the stupid hill and ran past the monorails where the Japanese Drummers from Epcot were out in full force. The show usually only has four or five performers, and there were at least fifteen out! 

Just past the drummers was another water stop and the fourth mile marker. I headed up the road towards the Contemporary Resort and the dreaded water bridge, resolved that I’d ditch my costume as soon as I got backstage at Magic Kingdom. 

You might be wondering what a water bridge is. It is the connection from the man-made Seven Seas Lagoon to the natural Bay Lake that crosses over the road by Magic Kingdom. If it sounds hard to believe, don’t worry, my mother didn’t accept that it existed until she saw a boat go over it. 

The reason I dread the water bridge is it’s a very tight area with only one lane of traffic and a sidewalk to travel through. It’s uneven, often under construction, and it echoes really loudly under there. Plus, it’s an insanely steep hill down and then back up. I try to always run down hills, but this one is too congested. 

There were only a handful of spectators out in front of the Contemporary, but it’s not an area that’s easy to access unless you’re staying at that resort so it’s to be expected. I passed the fifth mile marker and I was surprised to find us turning to go through the bus loop instead of taking the walkway into the backstage area of Magic Kingdom. This was awesome since it brought us in through the main gates of the park and under the train station, except this messed up my plan to ditch my costume backstage. On the top of the train station they had a bunch of the Main Street characters cheering us on and commentating, including the Suffragettes and the performers from the trolley show.  

I ran up through Main Street U.S.A. past the cheering hoards, surprised I didn’t see more Photopass photographers out. I didn’t want to wait until I was out of Magic Kingdom to get rid of the costume, but I didn’t know what to do. As I turned into Tomorrowland, I decided I’d just have to leave it in a bathroom. The Cast Member in me couldn’t bring myself to just strip in the park and toss it somewhere. I passed Buzz Lightyear next to the Lunching Pad and headed for the bathrooms next to Cosmic Rays. There was a long line out the door and I slid past it, yelling, “I’m sorry, I just need a sink!” 

I went up to the sink and pulled off the ears, the tail, and my shirt. It’s been a few years, but I used to play Ultimate Frisbee in nothing but a sports bra all the time. There was a custodial Cast Member cleaning up and I looked at her, “I am so sorry. I’m leaving these. Can you take them to Lost and Found?” 

“Sure, no problem!” 

Thank goodness. I left, hoping I’d get them back but it wouldn’t be the end of the world if I didn’t. I think the whole ensemble cost about $15 and this was the second time I’d used it. (Side note: after being on hold half an hour with Lost and Found, my costume never made it there, but that’s okay!) 

I headed back into the park, running towards Fantasyland. I saw the White Rabbit and the Queen of Hearts out by the teacups. I really like the White Rabbit, but I’m not a huge Alice fan and I had a feeling there would be better characters ahead. 

I was right; just outside Gaston’s Tavern was the man himself! With Belle! I jumped in line immediately. It’s hard to find Belle in her blue dress these days, and meeting her with Gaston was too good to pass up. 

I was heading towards my favorite part of the Princess Half Marathon, running through Cinderella Castle. I was extremely surprised to find Photopass photographers on the other side, but without their cameras. No one was taking castle photos unless you wanted to go line up in front of the stage! I was happy to pass on that as I have plenty of standing castle photos, I like running ones! I can only assume it was bottle necking too badly with people stopping so they told the Photopass not to take photos. Coming down the Castle ramp people were trying to stop and the photographers there were yelling at them to keep going. 

I headed into Liberty Square where Tiana, Naveen, and Louis from Princess and the Frog were out. I love Naveen, but I decided I should keep going on this one. It was too close to the line for Belle and Gaston and I needed to make up some time. It was already after 8 a.m. and Magic Kingdom opened at 9 a.m. I figured they would be sweeping people out soon eough! 

Just past the entrance to Frontierland was Woody, and in front of Pecos Bill was Cowboy Goofy. At first, I only saw the hat and I got excited thinking it was Pirate Goofy. When I realized it was a cowboy I kept going. Sorry Goof. 

Right beside Splash Mountain was the sixth mile marker, and as I headed backstage I saw the train parked with an engineer for photos. Ahead of me I could see the Maleficent dragon float from “Festival of Fantasy” and the Princess float from the old “Celebrate a Dream Come True” parade. Prince Charming, Cinderella, Aurora, and Phillip were all in front of it, and the line was MASSIVE. I looked to see if it was the Prince Charming I happen to know in the real world, and it wasn’t, so I kept going happily. None of those are characters I particularly care about. 

There was another water stop behind Splash Mountain, and the 10K marker. I checked my watch as I waited for the text to come to tell me how I was doing, because I once again picked Pokémon Go over using a fitness app. It was 8:12 a.m. I was at a total run time of 01:46:31 and averaging a little over a seventeen-minute mile. I was pretty content with that for the time being. RunDisney requires a sixteen-minute mile, but as long as you’re not at the back of the pack, you have much more time. With another character stop and an emergency costume change, I really wasn’t doing that bad at all. 

Before any serious runners reading this judge me, I also don’t train. I sort of just pick up and run, which I know is not overly smart but it works for me. The last time I went running before the Enchanted 10K was in November. 

What goes up, must come down. Immediately after my favorite part of the course is my least favorite, the stretch behind Magic Kingdom. You exit onto the service road and are squished into one lane of traffic until you get to the Polynesian. It’s miserable, people are loud and complaining about how tight it is, and there’s usually some shoving. Thankfully the Princess Half is almost entirely all women, and I’ve never been hit by a female runner. I have been knocked around by a few male runners, and this was the area that I rolled my ankle during the 2016 Walt Disney World Marathon when I got hit by a guy almost twice my size. I’ve never been overly fond of this stretch since then. 

DJ Elliot, who is my favorite of Disney’s DJs, was just around the bend telling everyone not to worry, because the last runners were just now getting into the park at 8:20 a.m., and that the park had to be clear by 8:30 a.m. We had almost two miles between us so we had plenty of time!  

Outside the Grand Floridian I’m used to finding Mary Poppins, but this time they had Tinkerbell and a few of her fairy friends. Near the Wedding Pavilion they usually have a few guys in tuxedos with a glass slipper, but they were heading into the trailer as I passed them. I saw one girl go over to talk to the manager with them, and I guess they were done for the day. 

I reached the Polynesian Resort where finally the course widened back into a multi-lane road, thank the Mouse. Genie was out in the same place I met him in 2015 with the same Mickey Mouse golf cart, but without his tourist outfit. It was just traditional Genie. He was the only character I saw out on both the 10K and the Half Marathon. 

A little beyond Genie, just before the stop for the energy jelly bean… things, were a couple of attractive gentlemen hanging out with muscle cars. They had microphones and were commentating and cheering on the runners. I’m fairly certain one of them had been posing as a construction worker behind Epcot the day before. 

Lining the road along one side were a series of purple signs with jokes that I am fairly certain were written by a rogue Jungle Cruise Skipper. 

“What kind of blush does Mulan use?”  

About twenty yards down was the punchline, “Mulan Rouge!” 

Another twenty or so yards away, “Why did Jasmine go to the fruit market?” 

“To find a date!” 

It went on like this for quite a while, and I loved it. Such a simple thing to add and it was hilarious. 

Further on down the road I could hear more people on microphones and I perked right up as I recognized the camel from the Wine and Dine Half Marathon. I had passed the famed Adventurer’s Club because I didn’t know who they were until we saw them perform at the Post Race Party, and I stopped dead in my tracks. No one was going to meet them! The Adventurers Club was an amazing night club act that was very Jungle Cruise-esque back in the days of Pleasure Island, and now you can only find them at special events. I raced over, and then had to struggle to get my phone out for the picture. They were all exactly the same as when I met them in November! 

This was when I discovered that the camera on my phone had somehow been on since Belle and Gaston, and my phone was now on 16%. I switched my music off and put up my headphones up. I’d need something for photos at the end! 

I normally don’t mind the long stretch between Magic Kingdom and Epcot so much once you’re on the open race, but the sun was high in the sky and the temperature was climbing. I’ve never ran a race when it was so hot before, and I was so happy I’d ditched my costume. Everyone was hot and cranky, and dripping with sweat. The volunteers and Guest Relations we passed were doing their best to cheer us on, but pretty much everyone was walking. 

I passed Jeff again and could hear him yelling, “Best parade ever!” but I didn’t stop to say hi this time. I was a little embarrassed I’d ditched the costume he said he liked. 

I hit the 15K marker at 8:59 a.m. Now at a total run time of 02:33:41, but I’d brought my average time down to 15:12 miles instead of 17:00. At least it was an improvement! I now had a projected finish time of 10:01 a.m. and I was determined to make it by 10:00 a.m. 

Captain Jack and Barbossa were still out in the same place I had passed them before, but this time their line was much shorter. I still elected to keep moving. How many Pirate pictures does a girl need? 

The next Powerade and water stop I actually got both. The pink sweat band on my arm was so soaked I was actually wiping sweat back onto my face instead of off. In what I thought was a rather brilliant move, I dunked it in the water cup and rang it out so I’d at least be wiping my face with clean water instead of sweat. 

Not twenty yards past the water stop they were handing out wet sponges so we could cool ourselves off and wipe our faces. Well, it can’t be that bad an idea if Disney did it too! 

I stopped for a picture of the tenth mile marker. Since it was the tenth anniversary of the Princess Half, it had its own special mile marker instead of the normal reusable ones. 

When you’re running by yourself you catch random snatches of conversations around you. Sometimes you join in, sometimes you don’t. I heard two women next to me saying they could never run the Star Wars Half Marathon because they wouldn’t survive the heat in April. 

“Oh no, I ran Star Wars last year and it was not nearly this hot. There was a heat advisory then too and it still wasn’t this hot!” 

They laughed and I kept going. 

Ahead was one of the stupid on ramps the course takes you through. Designed for cars, not people, they’re usually at a slant you would never notice in a vehicle but my bad knee hates them. Even if I wanted to run up them, I couldn’t. It’s a long slow walk with my bad knee yelling at me, “WHY ARE WE DOING THIS!?” 

Then right at the top of the hill, where he always is, was the Green Army Man from Toy Story barking orders and telling people to keep moving. I could see one runner doing an impressive number of pushups and I just shook my head and kept going. 

I headed across the overpass and looked back at the runners below. They stretched as far as the eye could see! Clearly, I didn’t need to worry about time! I kept hustling though and jogged down the next hill. I didn’t have a lot juice left and was going to save most of it for when I got to Epcot, but I still had a goal to make. 

I passed a few signs about Children’s Miracle Network Hospitals, the official charity group for the Princess Half Marathon and there was another water stop just past the eleventh mile marker. 

One long switch back and I’d be at Epcot. I so just wanted to be done! There was a big teletron screen at the end playing clips from Disney Princess movies. 

My favorite costumes on their way up the hill towards Epcot.

As I came to the final hill that led directly into Epcot, there was a runner who had already finished and was holding up his medal. “You’re almost there!” I jogged down the hill and tried to keep up a run as I started to pass some spectators who were cheering. I got to the Epcot bus area and it was packed. I managed to keep a quick pace through there even though my body was not happy about it. I made my way backstage to find Mrs. Incredible at what I was fairly certain would be the last character stop. I don’t like meeting the Incredibles; I think they should be face characters because they’re a little creepy, so I kept going. 

The final water stop was backstage at Epcot and I headed out next to Spaceship Earth. I just had to run to the start of World Showcase and it would be over! Less than a mile to go! 

Epcot was playing the soundtracks of various Princess movies and “How Far I’ll Go” from Moana came on. I’ll be darned if I didn’t find myself in a sing-a-long with over half the runners in that area. I’ve never tried singing and running before, but it didn’t make it as hard to breathe as I expected. 

I held my skirt out as I passed the Photopass photographers, running pretty much the whole length of Epcot. I’ve never worn my bib anywhere but on my shirt and I was worried they wouldn’t be able to see my number with it on my skirt. 

I made the turn at World Showcase and headed back towards Spaceship Earth. There were plenty of people stopping for pictures there, but it’s the same as the Castle, I much prefer action shots. 

I made my way backstage at Epcot for the final stretch. There was a Gospel Choir on the right and just around the corner from them was the final mile marker! I started running as hard as I could but slowed down when I saw the line for selfies with Prince Mickey. I hopped in line and it only took a moment. I wish the character attendant had been taking photos, I understand they were trying to hurry but I really don’t like selfies with characters. 

I got my picture with Mickey and turned around to sprint the twenty something feet to the finish line. I had a bad feeling I was in between all the photographers, and I discovered I was right when my photos came up on the Photopass app. No finish line photos for me. 

I moved down to where they were once again handing out the medals. I tried not to growl as I took it and put it around my own neck. I was delighted to see that like the Enchanted 10K medal, this one also spun! I hurried to get another cooling towel and start wiping my face off as I checked my watch for the text with my final time. I finished at 9:59:33 a.m. with a time of 3:33:59 and a 16:20 average per mile. Not my fastest time, but definitely not my slowest! 

My poor phone was hanging on at 3% and I hurried to get my Fairy Tale Challenge medal so I could get to the characters. I hopped in line so they could check my bib against the photo from the RunDisney Expo and on I went to get my medal. Thankfully, they actually presented it and put it around my neck instead of just handing it to me. THE WAY ALL MEDALS SHOULD BE GIVEN TO RUNNERS. 

I headed straight out, moving as quickly as my sore legs would let me, to get to the line where Anna and Elsa were switching out. I haven’t seen them since they moved from Magic Kingdom, and I just don’t have the time for their two hour line at Epcot. I checked with the attendant that all characters would be out until 10:45 a.m. and I was thrilled, I had plenty of time. I even wound up with more time than I thought because most the people in front of me were waiting for Anna to leave and Elsa to come out, so they let me jump in front of them. 

I then headed over to Rapunzel’s line. Of all the Princesses available, she is my favorite to meet. While I was waiting, a text from Andria came in asking where we parked. I told her to come join me but they had elected to sit and stretch, which was honestly probably a much smarter decision. Rapunzel’s line moved super quickly and I was up in no time. “Congratulations! It was such a beautiful day to run through the Kingdom!” 

“Yes, beautiful, but hot! Half my costume is still at Magic Kingdom!” 

I don’t think she knew what to say to that. I moved on and jumped in line for Mulan. She was in her Princess dress that I actually don’t like, but I had the time and I’d already seen Merida. While I was waiting, I was eavesdropping on the Cast Members behind me. They were extending characters until 11 a.m. but would be swapping Snow White out for Mulan. Since the Half Marathon medal was Snow White themed, this worked great for me! Most of the line seemed happy about this, and we let the girls who really want to see Mulan head to the front. There were at least two dressed as her, and after my disappointment of not getting a photo with Marie the day before, I didn’t want them to go through that. 

Snow White congratulated me, but she didn’t remember me from the RunDisney Expo. That’s okay though! She had a lot of princesses to meet. 

I finished with Snow White and out of one of the equipment tents wandered my friend Glen! He worked with me on the World Famous Jungle Cruise and lately has been a sounding board for a lot of my video projects. We talked for a minute, and then I began the long trek to my car. I would have hugged him but I was way too sweaty for that. 

I stopped for one last picture with the Princess Half Banner after taking a photo for another group and began the long trudge to my car. 

The Princess Half Marathon is my favorite RunDisney race I’ve ever done. It has the best course, the best theme, and the best characters. I also like that it’s mostly female runners, because I’ve never been hit by a female runner the way I have male runners. I just feel safer on the course. I’ve now run it more than I’ve run any other Disney race. It was my first Half Marathon, and for a little while at least, now my last. 

Some of you might remember I had this whole 30 by 30 plan where I was going to run thirty races by the time I turned thirty, and then the Disneyland Half Marathon should have fallen on my thirtieth birthday. RunDisney has now ruined that plan when they canceled the West Coast races for the foreseeable future. This was my seventeenth race and seventh half marathon, and while I could still easily hit thirty by 2021, I’m not sure I still want to. Even living here and not having to pay for a hotel, the races are a huge financial commitment. They aren’t cheap to being with, and I usually end up having to take at least a four-day weekend if I’m running a Challenge. I’m not complaining, I love four-day weekends, but I’m trying to focus on getting my financial goals under control before I go back to physical ones. So, for the moment at least, I am putting a pause on RunDisney. (I say this now, but I have the registration date for Wine and Dine circled on my calendar so we’ll see how this goes.) I do have a new plan for 2021 that involves the Dopey Challenge and the Disneyland Paris Half Marathon, but it’s not quite the same as running on your birthday. 

I highly recommend the Princess Half to anyone who wants to try a RunDisney race. If you’re not up to the full 13.1 miles, start with a 10K or a 5K. The only thing stopping you from doing it is you. 

Don’t ever let anyone tell you being a Princess is a bad thing because this Princess now has four Disney Challenge Medals and seven Half Marathon Medals. 

Pictured below are the details on the 10K and Half Marathon medals I received. 

Cost: The Disney Fairy Tale Challenge registration was 362.44 including tax. I spent about $45 on skirts and the shirt I wore for Stella Lou. 

Value: 10/10. Just because I’m taking a break doesn’t mean I want to. 

Duration: It’s a solid three to four days with the Expo and two races. 

Add Ons: They have a VIP Runner’s Retreat package for $120 that gives you a private area before and after the race with characters. From following Character Hunter on Twitter, I know they had Disney Villains who were not on the course at all so that’s kind of cool. There’s also snacks included and a padded stretching area. 

[jaeyulliehyung]

Yixing Goes Unicorn Hunting

Xiao Zhu suggests a road trip, and Yixing just knows this is the worst idea in history. Or is it?

Featuring Yixing and Luhan being bros, Xiao Zhu being a sassy little shit, and these boys all being dumb babies.

Crossposted from AFF. 5k Showxing roadtrip ft. Luhan, essentially just a bunch of fluff. Written for the 2016 Showxing and Tell fic fest.

This was a bad idea.

Yixing had known this was a bad idea, and yet he had agreed to it, and he still couldn’t quite work out why.

Perhaps it had been Xiao Zhu’s winning smile as he’d bounded into Yixing’s room.

“Yixing! You, me, road trip, this weekend.”

“I can’t,” Yixing had said, “it’s my one weekend off, I have plans.”

“Cancel them.”

“No, Luhan’s coming for the weekend and I haven’t seen him in ages.”

“Well, bring him too.”

And that had made Yixing pause, because he had been hoping to introduce Luhan to Xiao Zhu at some point. He wasn’t entirely sure a weekend trapped together in a car was the best way to go about it, though.

“Fine,” he’d sighed, after a moment of deliberation. “I’ll ask him. But if he says no, I’m not going.”

And that was how they had ended up here: the three of them all piling into Yixing’s old van on a Friday afternoon, with a big bag of snacks and no particular destination.

“Here’s how this works,” Xiao Zhu said, turning sideways in his seat to look at Yixing in the driver’s seat. “We get on the highway, pick a car, and follow it until we get somewhere interesting.”

“Sounds good,” Luhan said from the back seat. “Let’s go.”

“I just… follow someone?” Yixing put on his turn signal and pulled out onto the road, mentally kissing his quiet weekend goodbye as he did so. “What if they realise I’m following them?”

“That’s half the game,” Xiao Zhu grinned. “Don’t get caught.”

“Okay, then.”

As they merged onto the highway Luhan leaned over into the front seat, a bottle of Red Bull in each hand.

“Here you go,” he said. “It’ll probably get warm if we leave it, so we might as well drink it now.”

“Thanks, bro,” Xiao Zhu said, “but I will literally die if I drink that, so I’m gonna pass. You have mine.”

Luhan shrugged. “Okay. Yixing?”

“Sure.” Yixing indicated for Xiao Zhu to take his drink and put it in the centre cup holder. “So, who shall we follow?”

Xiao Zhu hummed thoughtfully, then snickered.

“That guy.”

“Which one?” The words were barely out of Yixing’s mouth when he realised which vehicle Xiao Zhu was pointing to: a giant semi truck with half a dozen different shipping destinations advertised on the back.

“Oh god,” he said. “We’re gonna end up in Nanjing.”

“I told you,” Xiao Zhu said. “We keep following until we get somewhere interesting. Or until I have to pee. Whichever comes first.”

“This is gonna be the weirdest road trip ever,” Yixing muttered.

“Woo, road trip!” Luhan yelled from the back seat, then coughed as a mouthful of Red Bull went down the wrong way.

Xiao Zhu plugged his phone into the radio and cranked the volume up.

“Song requests?”

“Ooh, play some Drake,” Luhan said. “I love Drake.”

“Coming right up.”

Checking his rearview mirror thirty seconds later, Yixing caught a glimpse of Luhan dancing in his seat, sipping his drink dramatically as he lip synched. Yixing grinned to himself and looked back at the road. He’d missed Luhan – not that he would ever admit it in front of Xiao Zhu, who hardly needed the opportunity to tease him mercilessly. Having the two of them in the same room was weird, but nice. It was like two distinct parts of Yixing’s personality were finally allowed to co-exist.

It took maybe half an hour for them to get bored. The semi truck moved at least ten miles an hour slower than everyone else, and it was getting harder and harder to ignore their frequent opportunities to pass it.

“Okay,” Luhan said, resting his chin on the shoulder of Yixing’s seat, “maybe the truck was a bad call.”

“Yeah, Yixing,” Xiao Zhu said. “Bad call.”

“It wasn’t me!” Yixing protested, “It was you!”

“Excuses.”

Yixing sighed and looked back at the road. “Shall we choose someone else, then?”

“No!” Xiao Zhu smacked his fist into his palm. “I told you, we stick it out until we get somewhere interesting, or I have to pee!”

“What if I have to pee?” Luhan said. “Or Yixing?”

“Until I have to pee!” Xiao Zhu repeated.

“I shouldn’t have had that second Red Bull,” Luhan murmured.

Yixing leaned his head against one hand, his elbow resting on the window.

“I spy with my little eye…”

They followed the truck until long after the sun had gone down, by which time the highway had turned rural and other cars were few and far between. Xiao Zhu was staring blankly out the window at the dark, and Luhan had his head resting against the back of Yixing’s seat, making small noises of discomfort every time they went over a pothole.

“Guys,” he said, “I really need to pee, can we pull over somewhere?”

“No,” Xiao Zhu insisted, “we’re not giving up! We’re following this guy until we get somewhere interesting.”

“I don’t even know where we are,” Yixing said.

“I really, really need to pee.”

“Just hold it,” Yixing said. “We’ll get somewhere soon enough.”

Luhan leaned back against his seat and groaned.

“I definitely shouldn’t have had that second Red Bull.”

Finally the truck’s blinkers came on. Xiao Zhu let out an excited whoop, sitting up straighter in his seat.

“Yes! Where’s he going, is he turning off?”

“It’s a truck stop,” Yixing said. “No, a weigh station.”

“Good,” Luhan said. “Pull over, I gotta go.”

“I don’t think I’m allowed,” Yixing bit his lip. “It’s only for trucks.”

“Just pull in- nooooo-!” Luhan smacked his hands against the window and staring longingly as they passed the truck stop.

“Keep going,” Xiao Zhu insisted.

“Wait, guys-” Yixing turned his head, trying to catch a glimpse over his shoulder.

“Noo…”

“Keep driving, we’ll find something-”

“Guys-”

“I gotta pee…”

“Guys was that a unicorn?”

“What?” Xiao Zhu turned to look out the rear window.

“You guys I swear I just saw a unicorn!”

Luhan peered back at the truck stop receding in the distance.

“There’s a horse float there… was it a horse?”

“It had a horn, I’m sure of it.”

Yixing debated pulling over; a real live unicorn was too good to miss. As if reading his mind, Xiao Zhu nudged him with an elbow.

“Keep going.”

When Yixing hesitated, Xiao Zhu slid one foot over and tapped Yixing’s foot on the accelerator.

“Keep going!”

“Ahhh! Feet off the pedals!”

“Oh my god, I’m going to die,” Luhan muttered from the backseat.

Xiao Zhu removed his foot but continued to poke Yixing in the arm.

“Keep driving, let’s take the next exit and stop as soon as we reach civilisation.”

Yixing nodded and adjusted his grip on the wheel.

“Okay great,” said Luhan, “but first can we pull over so I can pee? Cause I need to go like right now.”

“Hold it in,” Xiao Zhu said. “We’ll be there soon and then you can go.”

There was a silence of about five seconds. Then Luhan unbuckled his seat belt.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, “I’m peeing out the window.”

“Do not,” Yixing insisted, eyeing Luhan worriedly in the rearview mirror. “Luhan!”

“Ugh, fine.” Luhan sat back down. “Okay, in that case…”

“What?” Yixing prodded, when Luhan didn’t elaborate. “Luhan, what are you doing?”

“It’s fine, keep going,” Luhan said.

“What are you doing?”

Xiao Zhu craned his neck to look over his shoulder.

“He’s peeing into a bottle,” he said.

“Try not to go over any potholes.”

“Oh my god,” Yixing groaned. “Please don’t pee on my floor.”

“Believe me, I’m trying.”

“Aiyowei,” Yixing groaned, tilting his head briefly against the window.

“Aiiiyooooweeeeeiii,” Xiao Zhu mocked. “Aiyowei, wo de tian ah!”

“Stoppp,” Yixing protested.

“Stoppp,” Xiao Zhu repeated.

“Aiyooo, Xiao Zhu-”

“Aiyooo, Yixing-”

“Okay, I’m done,” Luhan interjected.

“Make sure the lid’s on tightly,” Xiao Zhu said, giving Yixing a gentle poke in the arm as he turned to look over his shoulder. “If that spills you gotta do a floor-suck.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“Hey, man, it’s your pee.”

Yixing cut in as he spotted an exit sign. “Should I turn off here?”

Xiao Zhu turned back to look. “Yes, take this exit.”

Luhan leaned forward over the seat. “Do you know where we are?”

“Not a clue,” Xiao Zhu said. “But I’m sure we’ll find something interesting if we keep driving.”

“You’ve been saying that for the past five hours,” Yixing said.

“And it still could be true!”

Another sign appeared shortly after the first, this one proclaiming five miles until the next town.

“Excellent,” Xiao Zhu said. “We’ll stop there for the night.”

The town, when they arrived upon it, was barely a blip on the road: a small collection of houses clustered around a general store, an outdoor pool, and what looked like a community hall.

“Do you think there’s more?” Luhan said, craning his neck to look out the windscreen. “Should we keep driving?”

“I’m pretty sure this is it,” Xiao Zhu said.

“There’s not even a motel or anything,” Yixing murmured.

“Yeah, but we brought sleeping bags, right?” Xiao Zhu said. “Just park in the lot there and we’ll sleep in the car.”

Yixing pulled into the parking lot of the general store and cut the engine. The three of them sat in silence for a second, looking at each other.

“Well,” Xiao Zhu said finally, “let’s go to bed, I guess.”

Luhan looked around doubtfully. “How are we all going to sleep in here?”

“Just put all the bags on the floor, the back folds down…” Yixing got out and opened the back door to help Luhan. In a matter of minutes they’d managed to fold the back seat down to lie flat, and pushed the passenger seat down enough to create a relatively level bench.

“I call dibs on the front,” Xiao Zhu said. “You guys can share the back.”

“The back’s more comfortable anyway,” Luhan said, stretching out like a starfish. “It’s like a double bed.”

“Yeah, but you have to share it with Yixing,” Xiao Zhu pointed out.

“I’m used to it,” Luhan said. “We used to do this all the time.”

“It’s true,” Yixing added. “We shared everything for four years.”

“It’ll be like old times.”

“Suit yourselves,” Xiao Zhu said, flopping down and putting his hands behind his head. “Yo, Xing, pass me my sleeping bag.”

Yixing reached over to grab all three sleeping bags from the far back of the van, then tossed one to Xiao Zhu and another to Luhan.

“Awesome.” Xiao Zhu unrolled his sleeping bag on the seat. Instead of climbing into it immediately, though, he pulled off his shirt and wriggled out of his jeans. “Aw yes,” he sighed. “Xiao Xiao Zhu is free.”

“Xiao… really?” Luhan looked mildly perturbed.

“That’s what he calls it, yeah,” Yixing said.

Luhan raised an eyebrow.

“Should mine be Xiao Xiao Lu then?”

Xiao Zhu began to laugh, a hiccupping snort reminiscent of an actual pig.

“Xiao Xiao Zhu and Xiao Xiao Lu,” he chortled. “Yixing, what’s yours called?”

“I am not participating in this conversation,” Yixing huffed, turning away and pulling his sleeping bag up over his head.

As the other two laughed themselves stupid, Yixing couldn’t help but grin.

-

Yixing awoke with the early morning sunlight streaming through the window onto his face. He blinked to try and clear the sleep from his eyes, yawning as his body resisted waking. Luhan’s head was resting on his shoulder, his face snuggled into the side of Yixing’s chest, and each gentle snore gave a light puff of breath against Yixing’s shirt. Yixing smiled as he pressed his face briefly to Luhan’s hair. He knew Luhan would never admit to missing him – to missing all of them – but it showed in moments like this.

“Cute.”

Yixing looked up. Xiao Zhu was smirking at him from the front seat.

“Good morning,” Yixing said.

“I already took like three pictures of you,” Xiao Zhu grinned. “You were cuddling in your sleep. It was adorable.”

“Luhan and I have been brothers for a long time,” Yixing said simply.

“I’m glad to see you still are,” Xiao Zhu said, then turned away to grab his clothes.

Yixing wasn’t quite sure what to make of that comment. On the surface it was a lovely sentiment, but something about Xiao Zhu’s smirk gave Yixing the impression that this was one of those “Oblivious Xing” moments where everybody seemed to be saying one thing but meaning something completely different. He shrugged it off and blinked out the window instead.

“So it’s about seven o’clock,” Xiao Zhu said, after a moment. “We should go into the store and get some breakfast. And maybe ask if there’s anything to see here other than grass.”

Yixing nodded and shifted his arm under Luhan, tapping him gently on the back until he snuffled awake.

“Get up, bro,” Xiao Zhu said. “Time to face the new day.”

Luhan sat up and stretched.

“You’re right,” he mumbled. “That seat’s comfy.”

“That wasn’t the seat,” Xiao Zhu said, “that was Yixing’s tit.”

“Aiyowei,” Yixing muttered under his breath. Xiao Zhu just laughed and climbed out of the van.

The clerk in the general store was excited, if a bit bemused, to see tourists.

“Well, there’s nothing really to do here,” she said as she served them all huge bowls of rice and soup from the pot on the counter. “But if you keep driving west for about half an hour there’s a bigger town, and they’re having their summer fair this week. It’s probably nothing as fancy as what you’re used to, being from the city-” she giggled self-consciously, “-but they always have games and music, and some of the farmers bring their lambs and piglets for a petting zoo.”

The words “petting zoo” flashed in front of Yixing’s eyes.

“Xiao Zhu,” he whispered, reaching out to tug on his sleeve. “Can we go?”

Xiao Zhu glanced at him amusedly.

“Do you want to pet the little piglets?” he grinned.

“Maybe they have a unicorn,” Yixing muttered. He’d seen one at the truck stop, he was sure of it. Maybe it had been on its way to the fair with its unicorn babies for the petting zoo.

Luhan laughed and paid the store clerk, who smiled and bowed as they left. They climbed into the car and put the seats back up so they could sit and eat comfortably. Yixing sniffed appreciatively at the soup and took a tiny sip, careful to avoid burning his tongue. It was good, reminiscent of the kind of dish his grandmother used to make when he was a child.

“Okay,” said Luhan, once they were finished. “Shall we drive over to the fair and check it out? It sounds like the best thing to do for miles around.”

“Hell yeah,” Xiao Zhu agreed. “Xingxing, you want me to drive?”

Yixing nodded. “Sure. Be careful with her though, she’s old.”

“Don’t worry.” Xiao Zhu slid over into the driver’s seat and buckled his seat belt. “I’m very respectful of ladies. I’ll take good care of you, won’t I, Nainai?” He leaned forward and patted the dashboard.

Luhan snorted as Yixing rolled his eyes.

“Don’t you laugh at me,” Xiao Zhu muttered as he started the van.

As they turned back onto the main road and sped out of the tiny village, Luhan looked over at Yixing.

“Hey, I was wondering,” he said. “Do you happen to have Minseok’s number, by any chance?”

“Yeah, of course,” Yixing said. “Why?”

“Cause,” Luhan looked down at his hands, thumbs twisting together between his knees. “I, uh- I think he must have gotten a new phone a while ago, right? And I don’t have his new number… and I haven’t talked to him in a while, that’s all…”

Without a word Yixing fished his phone out of his pocket, scrolled to Minseok’s name in his contact list, and passed the phone to Luhan. Luhan took it with a murmur of thanks and began copying the information into his own phone.

“Are you going to text him?” Yixing asked as Luhan passed the phone back.

“I don’t know,” Luhan admitted. “I haven’t really thought about how… Maybe I should call him? No. Yeah, I’ll text him. Or. I don’t know. What do you think?”

Yixing shrugged. He could barely manage his own relationships, let alone advise others on theirs – the people he loved most kept leaving him, so how could he possibly give good counsel on how to repair old friendships?

“You gotta play it cool,” Xiao Zhu called from the front seat. “Send him a casual picture of you doing something awesome. Then it’s up to him to decide if it’s awkward that you somehow have his number.”

Luhan nodded, looking just slightly less worried. “Okay. Okay, I can do that.”

“Listen to Mister Pig,” Xiao Zhu said. “Mister Pig knows what he’s doing.”

Luhan laughed, shooting Yixing a grin across the backseat. Yixing grinned back as he turned to look out the window at the countryside flying by.

-

The fair wasn’t quite as small as Yixing expected, though by no means as big as anything he’d seen in Beijing or Shanghai. Hand-painted signs directed them one way towards games and rides, another way to the petting zoo. Yixing grabbed Xiao Zhu’s hand and marched him off determinedly in the direction of the barn.

“You really think you’re going to find a unicorn here?” Xiao Zhu said.

“I will examine every horse,” Yixing insisted. “One of them must be hiding a horn. I’m sure of it.”

Xiao Zhu shrugged and took Yixing’s hand more comfortably in his own as they reached the barn.

“Well, I’ll help you look.”

Yixing glanced around at the various pens and stalls.

“Horses are over there,” Luhan called, pointing to the far wall. Yixing jogged over to catch up with him, Xiao Zhu trailing along happily in his wake.

The horses were a mix of large and miniature, from the good-natured Clydesdale currently letting three small children climb his neck to the tiny Shetland ponies trotting in circles around their pen. Luhan began exclaiming over their tiny little legs and fluffy bodies, but Yixing had only one goal: find the horse that was secretly a unicorn in disguise.

“Come here,” he said to one particularly reticent colt. “I want to see what you’re hiding under all that mane.”

The colt just shook its head and trotted away to the opposite corner of the pen.

“I’m watching you,” Yixing whispered.

At the end of half an hour’s thorough examination he had to admit that none of the horses were concealing secret horns – except for perhaps that one colt, about whom he had his suspicions.

“Come on,” Luhan said as he appeared at Yixing’s elbow. “Xiao Zhu’s found some of his family, it’s hilarious.”

Yixing followed Luhan across to the other side of the barn, where Xiao Zhu was chatting away to the piglets.

“This is my uncle, Da Zhu,” he explained, as Yixing arrived. “This is my grandmother, Zhu Nainai, and this one is my little cousin, Mini Zhu.”

Yixing laughed and bowed to the pigs.

“Hello, Xiao Zhu’s family. It’s an honour to finally meet you.”

Xiao Zhu proceeded to carry on a happily one-sided conversation with the pigs, while Yixing turned to look around at the other animals in the barn. Goats, calves, chickens…

“Bunnies,” he whispered.

“Huh?” Luhan glanced up from where Xiao Zhu’s aunt was nibbling at his fingers.

“Bunnies,” Yixing repeated. “Bunnies!”

He took off across the barn. The pen, when he reached it, was overflowing with rabbits. Tiny bunnies and giant lops alike hopped around the enclosure, snuffling eagerly at any food or friendly hand that appeared.

“Aiyo, look at them!” Yixing cried. “They’re so happy!”

He reached a hand in to stroke one of the smallest bunnies, tracing a careful finger between her ears and down her back.

“Hello,” he cooed. “How has your day been? Are you having a good time at the fair? Have the people been kind to you?”

Behind him, he heard Luhan laugh and mutter something to Xiao Zhu. Yixing didn’t care. The bunny was twitching her whiskers against his thumb, and he had never been happier in his life.

Yixing lost track of time somewhere between the third and fifth bunny he snuggled. Eventually, though, he felt a tap on his shoulder and looked up to see Xiao Zhu smirking down at him.

“Come on, Beatrix Potter. We’re keen to go play some games. You coming?”

“Okay.” Yixing stood up and gave the smallest bunny one last regretful pat goodbye. “Be good, small friend! I hope you have a happy life with all your brothers and sisters.”

Xiao Zhu linked his arm through Yixing’s elbow. “She’ll probably end up in a pet store and be bought by some ten-year-old girl. She’ll have to suffer through a thousand boring tea parties, but at least she’ll be properly snuggled every day, and cleaned up after by the girl’s long-suffering mother, who already has too much to do. It’s a pretty happy ending, for a rabbit.”

Yixing nodded. “Rabbits have a good life.”

“Do you wish you were a rabbit?” Xiao Zhu grinned.

“No.” Yixing shook his head firmly. “I like being a person. Rabbits can’t dance or sing. I can. I’m glad I’m a human.”

“Yeah?” Xiao Zhu laughed, squeezing Yixing’s arm briefly before letting go. “I’m glad you’re a human too.”

Outside the barn, they found Luhan at one of the carnival booths, handing over a few coins in exchange for half a dozen balls to throw for prizes.

“I’m excellent at these games,” he said, as Yixing and Xiao Zhu stepped up beside him.

His first shot bounced out of the hoop. The second teetered on the edge and rolled out. The third went straight in.

“I’ve got it now,” Luhan declared.

The fourth and fifth shots were clean baskets, but the sixth, in its enthusiasm, smacked straight off the backboard and went down.

“Ehh,” Luhan shrugged, claiming a small Iron Man figurine as his prize, “could have been worse.”

“Would you like to try?” the stall holder asked Yixing. “Three baskets wins a prize!”

Yixing eyed the shelves full of prizes. They were mostly knockoff plastic models, like Luhan’s Iron Man, but there were a few stuffies among them: emojis, teddy bears, and – Yixing’s eyes went wide – bunnies.

“Yes,” he said, pulling out his wallet. “Yes I would.”

The stall holder took his coins and lined up six balls in front of him. Yixing picked up the first and looked at the hoop. It was smaller than he would have expected for the size of ball he had. That was probably the point, he thought, to stop too many people winning. He lined up his shot and threw the first ball.

“Kkaebsong,” Luhan muttered as the ball skittered off one side of the hoop.

“Bring it back a bit,” Xiao Zhu suggested.

Yixing tried again – that one fell short of the hoop entirely.

“Here, let me help,” Luhan offered.

“I haven’t played basketball in ages,” Yixing admitted, as Luhan stepped up next to him.

“Yeah, me neither. So you don’t want to go forward so much as up-” Luhan grabbed Yixing’s hand to demonstrate the movement. “Try it like that.”

With Luhan’s hands hovering above his own, Yixing took the next shot. The ball rolled around the rim of the hoop, and after a tense second dropped through the net.

“Yes!” Luhan cheered. “High five!”

“Nice work,” Xiao Zhu said, standing off to one side with his arms crossed. “It’s like I’m watching a romcom.”

“Okay next one, next one.” Yixing grabbed the fourth ball and lined it up. “What was it, Lu? How far up do I go?”

“Just like this.” Luhan guided Yixing’s hands through the movement again, and the ball dropped straight through the hoop. “Nice one!”

“One more for a prize,” Yixing murmured under his breath.

The next shot went straight in as well. Luhan cheered and slapped him on the back.

Yixing picked up the last ball. He’d gotten three baskets, which earned him a prize. There were cute anime figurines on the bottom shelf, and he was sure Junmyeon or Sehun would enjoy one of those, but what he really had his eye on were the bunnies on the second and third shelves, and that meant an extra ball. This was his last chance.

“You can do it,” Luhan said, switching unexpectedly to Korean for a second. “Fighting!”

“Yeah, whatever he said,” Xiao Zhu muttered.

Yixing lined up the last shot, took a deep breath, and threw it. The ball bounced for one terrifying second on the far edge of the hoop, then rolled forward and dropped through.

“Yes!” Luhan punched the air. “You did it!”

“We did it!” Yixing beamed. He pointed out the stuffie he wanted and thanked the stall holder as he handed it to him. Yixing turned around, hugging the little bunny to his chest, and grinned at Luhan.

“Thanks, Lu!”

“Hey, you did that all yourself,” Luhan said, reaching out to clap Yixing on the shoulder. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and threw an arm around Yixing. “I want a picture of this.”

They snapped a couple of selfies, the bunny sitting on Yixing’s shoulder between their grinning faces. As Luhan put his phone away, Yixing glanced around.

“Hey, where’d Xiao Zhu go?”

“I dunno,” Luhan said, glancing over his shoulder. “He was here just a minute ago.”

“I want to show him my bunny,” Yixing frowned.

Luhan considered for a second.

“You wanna go have a look for him?”

Yixing nodded, and they turned to walk down the row of stalls.

“Maybe he went to get food,” Luhan suggested.

“Yeah, maybe. It is lunchtime.”

They wandered over to the food stands, but there was no sign of Xiao Zhu. Perplexed, they decided to eat while they waited for a new idea.

“Okay,” Luhan said. “Okay, oh my god, I just sent that picture of us to Minseok. What have I done? I didn’t even say anything, I just sent the picture, should I say something?”

“It’ll be fine,” Yixing said. “Just wait and see what he says.”

Luhan nodded and put his phone down on the table. He eyed it obsessively as he ate, as if by boring a hole in it with his eyes he could make it ring faster.

It was as they were finishing their lunch that Yixing saw it. Bobbing above the heads of the crowd milling between the games and the rides was a single, glowing horn.

“UNICORN!”

By the time Luhan could glance up from his plate, Yixing was already on his feet and sprinting between the tables and benches. He darted through the crowd, the unicorn’s shining horn his guiding star. As it disappeared around the corner he vaulted over a trash can and dodged a herd of small children. When he skidded around the corner after the unicorn he saw it still drifting away from him, only its horn visible over the heads of the crowd.

“Unicorn, wait!”

The unicorn stopped, and Yixing quickened his steps. As the last few people moved out of his way, he saw-

Xiao Zhu. Xiao Zhu, standing there holding above his head a giant unicorn stuffie with a long, glittering horn. Yixing hurtled to a stop in front of him, looking between Xiao Zhu’s determined face and the huge unicorn.

“You were looking for a unicorn,” Xiao Zhu explained, lowering the unicorn and holding it out to Yixing. “I found it for you.”

Yixing just blinked at the unicorn for a second. Xiao Zhu had found a unicorn… for him?

“I mean,” Xiao Zhu shrugged. “If you want it.”

Instead of answering Yixing threw himself at Xiao Zhu, who caught him clumsily, the giant unicorn still dangling from one hand. Still seeming bemused, Xiao Zhu pecked a kiss to Yixing’s cheek. And Yixing wasn’t quite sure why, but he turned his head and kissed Xiao Zhu right back.

Xiao Zhu’s small yelp of surprise was muffled against Yixing’s lips. Yixing, suddenly realising that this was far outside the usual realm of friendship, began to pull back, but then Xiao Zhu’s empty hand came up to cup the back of his head, and he pressed forward again, opening his mouth to Xiao Zhu in a way that felt more natural than he ever would have expected.

After a moment Xiao Zhu stepped back, his cheeks flushed. Yixing could feel the blush rising in his own face, and he looked down at the ground.

“So, uh,” Xiao Zhu cleared his throat. “You want the unicorn, then?”

Yixing, equal parts thrilled, embarrassed and confused and thoroughly unable to speak, nodded vigorously. He took the unicorn and hugged it to his chest, scooping its legs up in one arm so they wouldn’t trail on the ground.

As he was searching for something to do or say other than throw himself back on Xiao Zhu, Luhan burst through the crowd.

“There you are!” he panted, doubling over with his hands on his knees. “God damn, you’ve gotten fast!”

“Look what Xiao Zhu got me,” Yixing said, still fighting the blush in his cheeks.

“Yeah, I noticed that,” Luhan said, looking up at Xiao Zhu. “Where’d you go, dude? We looked for you for like twenty minutes.”

Xiao Zhu shrugged. “I was unicorn hunting.”

Luhan rolled his eyes and straightened up.

“Whatever, dude. Oh man, I should not have run like that on top of lunch. Jeez. I need some water.”

Yixing looked back at Xiao Zhu. “Are you hungry? We were just having lunch.”

Xiao Zhu nodded. “Yeah, sure. Lead the way, Luhan.”

As Luhan turned away, Xiao Zhu reached down and took Yixing’s hand. Yixing looked at him, and Xiao Zhu leaned over to give him another quick kiss. As they began to walk, Yixing ducked his head and bit his lip, grinning madly.

“Oh my god, you guys!” Luhan shouted. “Minseok texted me!”

“Congratulations!” Xiao Zhu called. “Now send him a dick pic!”

As Luhan walked away laughing, Xiao Zhu turned to speak into Yixing’s ear.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he whispered.

“Aiyowei,” Yixing murmured.

“Aiyowei,” Xiao Zhu repeated. “Aiyowei. Wo ai-yowei ni. Oh, look. Your ears are going pink.”

If you liked this fic, you should check out capyshota (aka @okayqueer) on AFF. She writes a bunch of Showxing and it’s all funny as hell, not to mention really well written.

Happy New Year! - JJY

[floraexplorer]

Why My New-Found Love of Running Helps My Anxiety

I never, ever thought I’d call myself a runner.

Even when I began to suffer increasingly with anxiety, I still couldn’t see the benefit of exercise on my mental health.

I love long-distance walking, but I guess my relationship with real exercise has always been iffy. I hated PE at school; never found a team sport I particularly enjoyed; I’m perpetually terrified of cycling on London’s roads; and although I eventually discovered yoga, the benefits of my practice never quite resonated in the way I hoped it would.

When I lived in Hackney, my flatmate would get home from work then head for the yoga studio a three minute walk away – and more often than not, I’d allow myself to be dragged there too. But if she wasn’t going, it was absurdly easy for me to find an excuse.

“You’ve just washed your hair – it’ll get sweaty!” I’d think. Or, “you’ve just got into a good groove with your work – if you leave now you’ll lose momentum!”

But in the back of my mind, there was always a little voice nudging that I really should be doing some kind of physical activity to keep my fitness levels higher than, say, walking up and down the stairs.

Enter: running.

I downloaded the Couch to 5k app – but I didn’t trust it

There was a park literally outside the door to our flat in Hackney, so it made sense that I should attempt to run around it. After a little bit of research, I found Couch to 5k, which is a free app set up by the NHS. It promises to take you from the sofa to a 5km-worthy runner in just nine weeks, if you do three half hour sessions a week – what’s not to love about that idea?!

For a few weeks I tried to follow the Couch to 5k program religiously. I shuffle-jogged when the disembodied voice of Jo Whiley told me to, and gratefully stopped when she said I could (NB: the first few weeks of the app is based on interval training: you’re tasked with eight repeats of 60 second runs with 90 second walking breaks, which gradually increase to 3 minute runs with 90 second walking breaks and so on). 

But something wasn’t clicking. I could just about manage the runs, but I wasn’t enjoying them. Worse, I started to look for ways to avoid the sessions – and because of my travel schedule, something always stopped my progress around week 5 (which is also when the run lengths increase significantly each session. Coincidence..??)

When I moved back to my family home to care for my terminally ill dad, I started the app again. This time, allowing myself the time to run was like clinging to a life raft: leaving the house for half an hour each morning was one of the few stable moments in that surreal carer journey which I could count on. The immediate physical reactions of my body took precedence over the reality my mind was always focused on.

So you’d be excused for thinking that I would’ve kept on running, right?

Yet when Dad died, all thought of exercise went out of the window.

While I grieved, I couldn’t find the confidence to run

There are so many things people don’t tell you about grief (which I’ve written about at length here). There’s the complete mental and physical exhaustion, for a start, as well as the sudden emotion which comes on suddenly from nowhere – but grief can also have a huge effect on your sense of self-confidence.

I’d already been developing anxieties about my physical safety before my dad’s death, and in the aftermath they got even worse. The need to cry struck me at so many points throughout the day that my house was the only place I felt calm: when I was there, nobody could see me fall apart. If I was outside when the emotion swelled, though – on a bus, in the street, at a pub, in a shop – I’d have a panic attack.

As a result, during much of 2018 I’d spend days at a time sobbing in bed. This eventually prompted friends to ask, “Have you tried going for a run? It’s helped before!”

What I found extremely difficult to explain was this: I already felt so battered and bruised by grief that the mere thought of being overwhelmed or unable to complete a run was too much of a defeat before I’d even started. Yes, running had occasionally made me feel better before, and I knew they meant well – but I resented the implication that I’d somehow made ‘going for a run’ into a fix-all solution. 

“It’s not as simple as that!!” I wanted to scream. How could it be, when hearing the suggestion of running made my mind spiral?

First, the sheer process of preparing to run was exhausting: the idea of crawling out of bed, searching for running clothes, finding my trainers, hiding my key somewhere on my body, stepping outside and entering a world I simply didn’t trust.

Next, what utterly terrified me was having to brave the unknown of that realm outside my front door. What if I tripped over in the first minute of jogging? What if I skinned my knee? What if someone saw me and laughed? What if I got a stitch and had to stop and felt like a failure because I couldn’t finish the session? What if I got red in the face and really sweaty and my knee hurt and I suddenly panicked that I was already getting arthritis at age thirty?

No. Much easier to stay inside my house where nothing could hurt me. Where I could cry in peace. Where I had at least some semblance of control.

Surprise! I officially have Generalised Anxiety Disorder!

For anyone who suffers with anxiety, the above thought process probably sounds familiar. But surprisingly enough, although I knew I was anxious a lot of the time it didn’t register that these thoughts weren’t really me.

These anxious thoughts are just thoughts. Thinking them won’t make them happen. They aren’t the truth. 

Thankfully, I started seeing a CBT therapist earlier this year and our sessions have been incredibly helpful. She’s explained to me that after a traumatic experience like losing a parent, my ‘fight or flight’ response is dialled all the way up, so I’m constantly perceiving everyday situations as harmful and destructive. After listing out every possible anxiety I encounter on a regular basis, we’ve been able to group my anxieties into more distinct categories – and in turn, that’s allowing me to distance myself from them and lessen their impact on me somewhat.

Working positively on my mental health re-awoke my body to the idea of improving its physical health. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that when I began my CBT sessions I also started the Couch to 5k app again.

And because I’m more in tune with these wilful changes in mentality at the moment, something in the app really struck me. In one of the Week 2 runs, the narrator (a choice of five voices; I always choose Jo Whiley) says,

“It’s all about changing your mindset. Instead of, ‘I hate running, I hate running,’ just try repeating, ‘I love running, I love running.’ Doing this changed everything for me.”

And as I dutifully repeated that phrase over and over, something inside me just switched. I began to enjoy myself. Not just the post-run endorphins, and not just at moments throughout the run. No – I was actually looking forward to getting outside!!

I found myself getting into a Real Running Routine

For the last two months I’ve gone for a run every few days. Whereas before I’d been looking for excuses to not go outside, now I watch the clock as my favoured running time approaches. I’ve bought proper trainers (the proviso being that every time I consider avoiding a run, I’ll remember how much I spent and be guilt-tripped into it!). I’ve discovered that my pacing works best if I listen to a Punk playlist on Spotify. I even track my route on Strava.

And all this culminated on a hot day in south London, when I found myself running for twenty minutes straight – just under 3km without stopping. The best part? It didn’t even feel particularly difficult!

I’d reached the end of Week 5 in the app, and I was buzzing. But there was a problem. I was about to spend two weeks in Trento, Italy, at the Traverse blogging conference – where there’d no doubt be late nights, hungover mornings, a busy schedule and presumably no time at all to run.

I immediately threw my hands up in resignation – until a friend said, completely reasonably, “Why can’t you just run in Italy?”

It was like a lightbulb had gone off in my head.

Why on earth COULDN’T I run in Italy?!

Nervously, I typed in, ‘Where to run in Trento, Italy’ into Google. I could feel the anxious thought processes revving up in my head, matching time as the page loaded.

“It’ll be way too hot to run there – the forecast says 30’C! You usually run in the early evenings and that won’t happen, there’ll be parties to go to. Besides, I bet there’s nowhere good to run, no parks or anything – and even if there are, the only good places might be miles away from your Airbnb. And what if it’s not safe? What if someone jumps you?”

The search page loaded. Bam. Right in the middle of Trento, Google maps showed me a cycle path beside a river. It looked stunning.

Better than that. It looked PERFECT.

My first ever international run

The night before I flew to Italy, still nervous about whether or not I’d manage any runs during the fortnight, I did a hasty session on the pavements surrounding my house (Week 6, session 1, which meant runs of 5 mins, 8 mins, and 5 mins with gaps in between). It was a little daunting but I managed it – and I knew that meant two runs of 10 minutes apiece in Italy.

Once I arrived in Trento, it was immediately apparent that factoring in a run would be hard. But on my third night I barely drank any alcohol, and woke the next morning at 8am with a clear head and that newly-familiar sensation fizzing in my blood. I WANTED TO RUN.

Headphones into my ears, keys tucked inside my bra, sunglasses on my face (who knew if they’d fall off but it was way too sunny outside not to wear them), I skipped down the three flights of stairs and into the streets of Trento.

It was already 25’C at the river, and I wasn’t sure if running for two sets of 10 minutes (Week 6, session 2) in this heat was going to work – but I’d apparently made up my mind, because when Jo Whiley’s voice told me to run, I JUST BLOODY RAN.

And it was incredible.

From the moment my feet hit the tarmac I felt empowered. I felt delirious. I couldn’t believe I was running in northern Italy, surrounded by the most stunning views – and by the time the second set of ten minutes started, I was wildly snapping selfies and videos of myself and the river, the mountains, and the trees.

I wouldn’t have wiped that grin off my face if you’d paid me.

Has running cured my anxiety?

I keep reminding myself that there probably isn’t a magic fix for my anxiety. Instead, I have to learn techniques to keep it in check. Thankfully, running is doing wonders for pulling me back into the real world and being slightly less afraid of all the things which might (yet probably won’t) happen. Other lovely offsets include:

Feeling less self conscious. If people see me sweaty and red in the face, so goddamn what?!

Feeling motivated. Running motivates me to get out of the house, and I haven’t spent three days sobbing in bed for months.

Being able to see such a clear progression in my endurance levels. Realising that I’m actually upping my ability to run further is EXTRAORDINARY!

Actually wanting to go for a run. I never thought it would happen, but after sitting at a desk all day my legs are urging me to head for the park.

Case in point: the afternoon I flew back from Italy (after nine days without running) I pulled on my trainers, began jogging slowly, and within the first few minutes I felt the sluggishness begin to fall away. It wasn’t the easiest of runs, but I could sense how it was affecting my body and my mind.

It’s surreal to say this – but I actually think I love running.

Which is why I just signed up for my first ever 5km run on July 21st – a Cancer Research UK ‘Race for Life’.  Hopefully in a month’s time I’ll be ready for it. Watch this space!

What’s your stance on exercise and mental health? Have you found running helps with your anxiety?

The post Why My New-Found Love of Running Helps My Anxiety appeared first on Flora The Explorer.

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[mohamadpros]

5 Running Tips for Beginners 

Running is one of those exercises that simultaneously sounds ridiculously easy, and challenging all at the same time, especially when you are first starting off. In order to unlocked the key to a successful run. I will share with you five running tips for beginners aka what I wish I knew when I was first starting out running.

First let's talk about gear. The truth is gear subjective and it might take a bit of experimenting to figure out what works for you including gear that I am about to talk about. That being said, the two pieces of gear that I wish I had from the very beginning are:

A.     a good pair of running shoes.

B.     B. a flip belt.

Shoes, like feet, come in all different shapes and sizes. Some are built for a high arch, some are built for trails, some are built to mimic the bare foot. You name it, there's a variation or running shoe for it. Therefore, shoes that work for me might not work for you and vice versa. So, there are a couple of things to keep in mind when you are picking out a pair of shoes if you are going to be running in it.

Can you wiggle your toes? You should be able to. Is your foot sung? It should be, but not too tight. Do you over pronate or under pronate when you run? If you are not sure about how your feet actually move when you run, I highly suggest going to a specialty running store near you to get fitted for a shoe. It might cost a little bit more, but there they can stick you on a treadmill and actually record how you run and then they can stick you in a shoe that personalized for you and your feet.

Now let's talk about the flip belt. Before I had it, I would struggle to find a place for all the things that I carry when I run. Maybe I don't carry a lot, but things like my keys, my ID, and phone are things that I like to keep with me even when I run.

Arm bands were often too small for my things. Workout clothes very often don’t come with pockets. After doing a bit of research, I came across the flip belt that you wear when you exercise that has snug pouches all the way through it. The pouches are big enough for my phone, snug enough to keep my ID and other cards in place, and it even has a clasp to hang my key on as I run. It doesn't slide up my body as I run, even with my current 10 inch difference between my waist and hips, and I have never lost an item to date.

The second thing I wish I knew when I first started running is actually about food.

It took me a very long time to figure out what and when to eat before I went on a run. Should I eat a big meal? A snack? Or anything at all? When should I eat? etc. the truth is like gear, it's kind of subjective.

For me personally, I find that there are two things that work really well for me. The first is a short-fasted run first thing In the morning. If I'm running without eating anything, I generally can't go for a very long time, and it pretty much has to be right when I wake up, otherwise I get extremely light headed and nauseous. But after a fasted run in the morning I actually found that I have quite a bit of energy, and it makes me feel extremely productive and ready to take on the day.

The second thing I found that works really well for me, is having a light carb-rich snack somewhere between 30 and 60 minutes before a run. Usually for me this means a banana or an apple or something of that variety. I found that a light snack gives me a good amount of energy to power through cardio, but it doesn’t make me feel sick or a heavy like a large meal would.

The third thing I wish I knew when I first started running were what apps to use. As a beginner, all of the apps are available for you to use can be really overwhelming, and it's difficult to figure out which exactly you will end up using. For me, there are three apps that I use frequently that I wish I had from the very beginning. Keep in mind, I'm running android and these apps might be different on IOS and/ or be better or worse on one platform versus another.

The first is called Runtastic. It is one of the millions of tracking apps that tells you your pace, gives you a map of where you have gone, gives you audio cues to let you know how many miles or kilometers you have done, how many calories you have burned, and so on and so forth. I really enjoy the simple, easy-to-understand interface, and I have never had any bugs or issues pop up with this particular app when I have had those things happen frequently on other tracking apps.

The second is Couch to 5k. if you want to start running when you have absolutely no running background, this app is for you. It essentially takes you through intervals of jogging and walking to slowly build up your endurance over the course of a couple weeks. It is very easy to use and very simple to understand.

The third is Zumbies, run! It is a unique app that is basically an interactive podcast that you listen to as you run. The premise behind it is that there is a zombie apocalypse that is occurring and you're one of the runners for a small township that is trying to stay protected from the horde, and you have to collect virtual items for the township as you run. Basically, you are running from zombies. It's a fun app that turns running into a real-life game that you are trying to win instead of a chore that you have to do.

The last two things I wish I knew when I was first starting out running kind of go hand in hand and they are pace and motivation.

When you are starting out running for the first time, it's really to jump the gun and start running at an above average pace, especially when you might not be familiar with what your own personal average pace is. But after a couple blocks, if you are running too fast, you will feel that burn in your lungs, heart racing in an uncomfortable way and it will feel impossible to catch your breath. Then, you will slow down, stop, try to breathe and feel so frustrated with yourself and defeated because you thought you were stronger than that.

If I could go back and tell myself one thing, it would be to slow down. Take notice of how fast you are moving when you are walking a brisk walk, how easy it is to hold a conversation. Very slowly increase your pace to the lightest of jogs and get comfortable with your body moving at that pace. Breathe instead of trying to go at a lightning fast pace, try focusing on how far you can go instead. The hardest part about running isn't even your legs giving out, or the sweat pouring down your face, or your earbud popping out in the middle of it all, it's your body telling you to stop, and that is too hard.

A trick around this is to tell yourself "I will just take a break at the end of the song" and then when the song ends, tell yourself "I can make it to that light pole up ahead" and then when I get there "let's just get around the corner of this block first, and then we will take a break." Your body always tells you I can't do it, and every time you try your hardest to tell it that it's wrong, sometimes it doesn't work and that is okay too.

At the end of the day when you finish a run, no matter how far you went or how it goes, you feel proud of yourself because at least you proved that you could get up and move. Running is the embodiment of you telling your body who's in charge, and that you won't stop until you say so.  

[blog-optimisticcoffeestuden-blog]

I dont have health insurance, what should i do?

"I dont have health insurance, what should i do?

I live in California, I am a fulltime student in a comunitty college, and a part time worker, my parents dont live with me ,  I dont have health insurance,  i  think i need a physical  ,i think my eyes are going bad,what should i do? (i cannot afford monthly payments of insurance companies)

BEST ANSWER:  Try this site where you can compare quotes: : http://saleinsurancequotes.xyz/index.html?src=tumblr 

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Which insurance is cheap for 20 years old new drivers in WA Everett.?

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I dont have health insurance, what should i do?

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I have a car that I seldom use now, can I keep the plates on the car with no insurance policy. And if I need to use this car, reactivate my auto policy for those specific days. Is ...show more""

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""I would like to buy bmw 328i 2000 and i live in Michigan, how much insurance would cost me?""

I would like to buy bmw 328i 2000 and i live in Michigan, how much insurance would cost me?""

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Hello all! I have fallen into the high risk category for auto insurance in Ontario and I need help in finding a company or companies that would be willing to sell auto insurance to me. I cannot seem to find any links on Google. Would anyone have the names of any companies that deal in auto insurance for high risk drivers? In terms of quotes, what are some quotes that anyone has personally experienced? As for background information, I have no accidents (knock on wood...) and no DUIs. Just one too many traffic tickets :-(. Any help would be appreciated, thank you!""

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I'm a teen, and I'm thinking about getting a car. However, I've heard that insurance for teenagers can be expensive. Since insurance is usually tied to the car instead of the driver, am I able to get away with using my parents' insurance if the car is completely under my parents' names? Am I allowed to save a large amount of money this way? I only plan on meeting the minimum insurance required by law (in California).""

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Ok so me and my wife have been insured by American Family Insurance and pay about $400 a year. My 17 year old son recently got his license and we want to add him to our policy. He barely drives (we only have one car), but we want to add his name just in case. When I asked Amer. Fam. Ins., they gave a quote for almost $1000 a year, which is more than double the amount I'm currently paying!! And that's with the Good Student Discount as well!! I was wondering if any of you guys know a reliable company that could provide a cheaper rate.""

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I am 6wks pregnant. Insurance companies wont accept me now. What do I do?

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I dont have health insurance, what should i do?

I live in California, I am a fulltime student in a comunitty college, and a part time worker, my parents dont live with me ,  I dont have health insurance,  i  think i need a physical  ,i think my eyes are going bad,what should i do? (i cannot afford monthly payments of insurance companies)

https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/please-help-2-cysts-insurance-billy-hart"

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10 Simple Ways to Actually Enjoy Running

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10 Simple Ways to Actually Enjoy Running

Though he’s now a pro trail runner—a two-time national champion, in fact—David Roche didn’t naturally love the sport. “I will always remember my first run when I went out the door, got 200 yards, and had to stop because I was so winded,” he says. “I was sore for three days afterward.”

The more he ran, the easier—and more fun—it felt. Eventually, he quit his job as an attorney to run, coach a team called Some Work, All Play, and write a forthcoming book (with his co-coach and wife Megan) called The Happy Runner Project.

“You don’t have to run—but if you’re going to run, it should be joyful,” Roche says. And even if you don’t plan to leave corporate life for the trails, you can still reap running’s emotional and physical rewards, he believes. “Definitely, anyone can enjoy it, and anyone can improve by massive amounts.” Here’s how to do both.

Slow down

Most new runners start off at a sprint and quickly flame out, much the way Roche did. Now, he knows better. “If it hurts, you’re going too hard,” he says. Your body needs time to both develop aerobic fitness and adapt to the impact and repetitive motions running involves.

When you first start out, alternate easy running and walking—say, a minute of each. Each week, adjust your intervals (running more, walking less) until you’re steadily jogging. Even then, don’t judge yourself on pace; instead, run by effort, and keep things relaxed. “Listen to your body,” he says.

Then, pick up the pace

That said, steady slogging can quickly grow monotonous. Once you’ve logged a few continuous runs, try adding in bursts of speed—20 to 30 seconds of faster running followed by at least a minute of slower running. Or, find a hill and run up it quickly, then slowly jog back down. Start with two to four bursts or hills, then build up week by week. Besides making time pass more quickly, these short, hard efforts boost your heart rate and help reduce your injury risk.

RELATED: How to Start Running Without Getting Hurt, According to Pros

Turn on some tunes

Music can literally move you. In a small study in the Journal of Strength & Conditioning Research, runners clocked a speedier 5K with less effort when listening to either calm or upbeat melodies. Pro runner and coach Kaitlin Gregg Goodman (find her online at Running Joyfully) chooses different songs for different purposes: “relaxed if you’re trying to chill out on an easy day, a pump-up playlist for hard workouts,” she says.

Podcasts work too, and often come in workout-friendly 30- to 45-minute episodes (one of Roche’s favorites is NPR’s How I Built This). Note: If you’re running outside, consider using just one earbud to stay aware of your surroundings.

Grab a buddy

Running friends make the miles fly by, Roche says. And there’s no better way to multitask than catching up while you get your miles in. Can’t find a pal who’s game to stride with you? Search online or head to your local running store to seek out group runs; they often leave from stores, bars, and gyms. You might meet a brand-new friend who’s just your pace.

Focus your mind

Though training partners and music may serve as welcome distractions, actually tuning in to what you’re doing can also help you enjoy it more, notes Mackenzie L. Havey, a Minneapolis runner and coach and author of Mindful Running. “Research shows that mindful athletes tend to exhibit greater optimism, higher self-confidence, and less anxiety,” she says.

To start, spend the first few steps of your run doing a full scan of your body, mind, and the world around you, she recommends. Notice the feeling of your feet hitting the ground, the sound of birds chirping, the top three thoughts in your head. If you notice your mind wander—and you will—gently bring it back to the present moment. “You'll find that fully immersing yourself in the run by focusing on your environment, body, and mind boosts enjoyment, even on the days you're feeling less than inspired to work out,” she says.

RELATED: 5 Running Mistakes Beginners Always Make

Reframe your self-talk

Paying bills, feeding your kids, booking doctor’s visits—there’s plenty in life you have to do. Running, on the other hand, is a conscious choice you’re making to improve your health, fitness, and well-being. “I really like to say that it’s an opportunity, not an obligation,” Gregg Goodman says. Revel in the chance to test your limits, zap stress, and escape the day-to-day pressure of a busy life.

Bottle the beauty

When the going gets tough, focus on the splendor all around you. “It could be the way the leaves have fallen on the path or passing a child learning to ride a bike, or—my favorite—dog spotting,” says Chris Mosier, a four-time member of Team USA in duathlon and triathlon and a coach in Chicago. He always advises his athletes to keep an eye out for inspiring sights along their routes.

Extend those positive vibes by writing down the things you’re grateful for on the run (say, how fresh your legs felt or how fortunate you are to live near a running path) on slips of paper. Fold them up and put them in a used water bottle, Havey recommends. Pull them out when you’re lacking motivation—and over time, you’ll likely find yourself more tuned in to a sense of gratitude from the moment you lace up your running shoes.

RELATED: 11 Rules of Running Buddy Etiquette

Rethink your route

Gregg Goodman often notices runners retracing the exact same routes day in and day out. “I’ll put in their log: Your assignment for today is an exploration run,” she says. Bypassing your well-trod boulevard and seeking out a new sidewalk, path, or park adds an element of excitement to your routine. Another option is a destination run, a point-to-point course that ends up somewhere fun like a coffee shop or bookstore. Just take your phone and use a ride-sharing app to catch a lift home.

Time travel

On days when you can’t quite convince yourself that you like running, remind yourself of how good you’ll feel when you’re finished. “After the morning run, I’m going to be happier, I’ll be more productive, and my husband says I’m a better spouse,” Gregg Goodman says. “It’s like having coffee—we’re all much better people after coffee.”

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Make it meaningful

Give your running purpose by setting a specific target, like completing a 5K or improving upon last year’s time. Reflecting on how much that goal means to you can help you appreciate every step in the process, Gregg Goodman says.

You can also dedicate your miles to a loved one who can no longer run, raise money for a charity, or pace a friend in an event that’s meaningful to him or her. “Sometimes running can feel like a pretty selfish endeavor,” Gregg Goodman says. “Making it bigger than yourself can bring that joy back.”

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