#behold my stuff!!! i worked hard to sort them this weekend

[stvrgxsm]

behold, days are coming

i have never really seen God as working through dreams or whatever. i've always been a bit of a skeptic about that, and, to be honest, i still sort of am. but then everything happened and now i'm not so sure.

nothing really happened, i hope you realize. the rundown is pretty simple. i'm into a guy who works at camp with me, and he's very hard to read. we were co-counselors during week 4, and i was still dating K at that point. so i thought he was cute, but i didn't have a plan or any sort of intent with that. then after week 6 we were both on family camp, and we chatted a little there. we talked about our faiths, etc. and he told me he was a little upset about something i said during staff training about paul (as in, the apostle). he said it sounded like i was demeriting the faith or something. i assured him that that could not be farther from the truth. he was satisfied with that, i think. he said he wasn't really beefing with me, more like he wanted to finish that conversation. it was interesting.

so we talked more after that weekend, and it got to the point where he started seeking me out or chatting with me about the bible pretty often. recently it's ramped up, i will admit. he just... engaged me in conversation more often? he remembers little things about me, like my preferred pen thickness, and he sat next to me at staff worship. he commented on my harmony and we giggled about the music. when the speaker asked if anyone would like to read, he murmured, "star does." and when the speaker asked it again a few moments later, i murmured, "M does." and he smiled a little. then he sat across from me during staff lunch and we talked about our campers and the silly little questions they asked about faith, but he kept asking what i would answer them. so i shared a few of my answers, and he said, "oh, that's a good answer. that's a really good answer."

then we sat next to each other before/during a staff meeting. he showed me a tiktok on his phone that reminded him of me, and he was asking me all about how i personally read the bible, and what i get out of the old testament, and if there's a specific order i read it in, etc. i told him my routine and the little bits of 'trivia' i know about hebrew literature, and he wanted to know how i read specific books (1+2 samuel, etc). he asked me to send him some of that info, so i did. i'm trying not to read too much into it, but it's tough. yesterday during our live auction prep, he stood next to me and he kept turning around to talk with me about it. he'll chat with me about stuff pretty regularly, and today during lunch he walked part me and i asked him a scheduling question and he just said, "i don't know." i rolled my eyes, and when i turned around he was just standing there smiling stupidly. so of course i smiled too and asked him if he knew anything and he just shrugged and kept smiling.

i like the way his nose crinkles when he smiles or laughs, and i like his silly little mannerisms. he's a funny guy, and i enjoy his company.

but back to my original point, i began praying for clarity a few weeks ago, clarity about this guy in particular. and when i started praying, it started ramping up. i asked God to make this so obvious for me, to put it on his heart if he's put it on mine, etc. and then all this happened.

it's the last week of camp, and i need to lock in to lock it down. days are coming, i guess.

[h34rtizuku]

༺♡༻ if ur under 18, dni ✧ luv u tho

∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗

୨୧ izuku is a pro hero with a 6 year old kid and it’s not mf easy

୨୧ while he’s at work, inko will watch over the child but he feels bad for putting all that burden on her so he decides to hire a nanny

୨୧ while he’s at work, inko will watch over the child but he feels bad for putting all that burden on her so he decides to hire a nanny

୨୧ while he’s at work, inko will watch over the child but he feels bad for putting all that burden on her so he decides to hire a nanny

୨୧ you're not too big on kids but you're good with them and that he experiences first hand ~

୨୧ he’s at the store one weekend with kiddo and he’s in the chip aisle looking for which type he wants to get

୨୧ mumbling to himself about which type he’s craving now but what if that craving changes later and he wants a different flavor instead

୨୧ he lets go of the little one’s hand for a split second to get the bag off the shelf and once the grocery is in his arms he turns to his side to grab the little one’s hand once more, only to find him not there

୨୧ he looks up and down the aisle - no kid

୨୧ he goes to the neighboring aisles - not there

୨୧ he goes all around the store, nervously sweating, muttering insults to himself that he lost his only kid - how stupid and unfit of a parent he was

୨୧ until he comes upon an aisle and hears the sniffles of a small child the child took a bit after him when he was a kid, a bit of a crybaby

୨୧ but he sees you

୨୧ calmly reassuring the child, patting his back, telling him to calm down and not to worry that you’ll go look for his father together

୨୧ he doesn’t know why but the sight tugs at his heart, there is something so pure and natural about how you are treating his child

୨୧ but he’s breaking up the sweet moment with a call of his child’s name causing the little boy to turn around and rush into izuku’s large warm arms

୨୧ you’re standing there a little shocked because omg that’s pro hero deku in the mf flesh

୨୧ but you're also happy that the lost boy has been reunited with his father

୨୧ you're about to walk off with a smile when he stops you

୨୧ he thanks you profusely for your help and you’re shyly like ‘it’s no biggie’ with blushed cheeks

୨୧ he asks if he can properly thank you and you’re like dude it’s really no problem

୨୧ he really is thankful but there is also something deep inside him that doesn’t quite want to let you go

୨୧ so he’s like let me buy your groceries and take you out for coffee

୨୧ and you’re about to refuse but you’re a poor college student so getting this weeks groceries for free was one thing

୨୧ but also how are you gonna pass up having coffee with the number one hero and his cute little mini-me ???

୨୧ so yall are at a cute lil cafe where he learns that you're a college student and looking for a partime job over the summer

୨୧ he’s like, you know what, why don’t i hire you as my nanny

୨୧ you’re like i’m not sure, i’m not really a kid person

୨୧ he’s like, i saw you with him, you’ll be just fine - besides he’s a good kid, he just needs someone to watch over him and feed him

୨୧ also i pay really well

୨୧ so you’re like … say less

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

୨୧ so the first day on the job you arrive at like 8 am, he gave you the code to his door so you just let yourself in

୨୧ you see kiddo at the kitchen table just eating his cheerios or whatever but no sign of izuku

୨୧ so you just go over and take a seat next to the kid and make small talk with him

୨୧ then you hear some shuffling coming from behind you causing you to turn around and investigate

୨୧ lo and behold you see a shirtless izuku with nothing but gray sweatpants hanging low on his wide hips

୨୧ he’s got a towel across his broad shoulders that he’s using to dry the jade curls that haven’t been shaved off as a part of his undercut

୨୧ you follow the droplets of water as they slide down the crevices of his pectorals and abdomen, drifting down his v line and the small tuft of hair leading down from his belly button and melting into the waistline of his pants

୨୧ you’re trying not to salivate at the sight but you also can’t bring yourself to look away just yet wanting to memorize and study the location of every scar and freckle littering his muscular torso

୨୧ he stops drying his hair for a minute and finally sees you like ‘oh great you’re here - how was the trip over here? it wasn’t too hard to find right?’

୨୧ and you’re burning eyes finally tear away from caramel torso and you’re like ‘nope, i found it just fine’ ahaha

୨୧ he gives you a little low down on like, what kid likes to eat, what he doesn’t, what he likes to do, when he goes down for a nap … all that good babysitting stuff

୨୧ after he’s dressed in his hero outfit, he’s kissing his lil nugget goodbye, telling him to treat you nicely, and with several final thank you’s he’s out the door

୨୧ and that’s the start of your job nannying the kid of the number one hero

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

୨୧ he was right, the kid is a really easy kid

୨୧ he goes down easy for his nap, he’s potty trained, inko raised him like she did izuku so he’s basically the perfect kid, he’s really sweet and will sit down and watch movies with you or he plays really easy by himself playing with his deku, all might, and dynamite action figures

୨୧ and if how easy a job it was, or the smoking hot employer wasn’t enough, the first time you got your paycheck was

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

୨୧ one day, there was a sudden summer storm that hit right as you reached your stop on the bus

୨୧ you didn’t have an umbrella, forcing you to run to izuku’s house in the pouring rain

୨୧ you show up through the front door and he comes in to greet you only to see you drenched and shivering due to the ac in his home

୨୧ he’s like, “hey y/n how- oh my god, you’re soaked.”

୨୧ and you’re rubbing at your arm awkwardly and trying to create any sort of warmth as you tell him how you got in this mess

୨୧ he’s taking in your soaked form and suddenly his worrying eyes turn into curious ones as he watches a droplet slide from your chin, down your neck, and down your chest to fall between the top alley of your breasts due to the first few buttons of your top being opened

୨୧ the white top you decided today was the perfect day to wear, and without a bra no less

୨୧ but in your shivering and embarrassment you forgot all about that minor detail

୨୧ oh but izuku didn’t forget it

୨୧ he imagined that water droplet sliding down the valley of your breasts underneath your blouse and gliding over your stomach, almost getting lost in your belly button, only to disappear under your waistband

୨୧ he imagined what it would be like to lick the droplets off your hot skin

୨୧ he scanned back up and noticed the tight see-through material of your shirt hugging your tits, dipping into every crevice leaving nothing to the imagination

୨୧ he sees the dark hue of your nipples from behind the cloth, along with the 2 little peaks your buds have made due to the cold air circulating in his house bonus points if you have your nipples pierced, i’m jealous of you

୨୧ he pulls his gaze away when he sees a violent shiver rack your body

୨୧ he leaves for a moment and comes back with a warm towel, almost sad to see the sight of your tits gone but your comfort and warmth was more important to him

୨୧ he tells you to dry off a bit as he goes and gets the shower started for you

୨୧ you’re thanking him yet apologizing for the trouble as you’re gonna make him late for work

୨୧ and he’s denying any negative comments coming out your mouth saying that he technically is at work as helping people is his job and he wouldn’t be a good hero if he didn’t help someone right in front of him

୨୧ he tells you to take as long as you need getting washed up and getting the temperature back in your body

୨୧ he doesn’t have time to think about how you’re just a few feet and a closed bathroom door away from him, naked ~ as he picks out the smallest pieces of clothing he has in his closet

୨୧ he finds an old t-shirt and shorts from his high school days and lays them on his bed telling you through the door that when you’re done he has clothes waiting for you

୨୧ you don’t take too long getting washed up as you know he needs to get to work so only about 10 minutes later you’re walking into the living to izuku sitting on the couch watching the movie his kid wanted to put on

୨୧ he sees you come in from his peripherals as his heart damn near stops seeing you in his clothes

୨୧ the clothes were so small they couldn’t fit him any longer, not after getting a post-high school growth spurt and getting broader due to his hero work

୨୧ but the fact that his already small clothes were swallowing you just did something to him

୨୧ blame it on his size kink he don’t know he has quite yet

୨୧ he pulls himself together to tell you that he threw your soiled clothes in the wash before he says his good byes to his kiddo

୨୧ he’s heading out the door while you and his son are telling him to be safe out there when just as he’s about to leave you call out to him

୨୧ he’s turning around maybe a lil too fast, but he sees you with an umbrella in your hand telling him that you ‘wouldn’t want him to make the same mistake you did’ with a cute bashful smile on your face that almost made him call in sick to work

୨୧ but he knew he couldn’t do that

୨୧ screw being number one hero and all that

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

୨୧ a few weeks later he comes home from work, tired af as one would

୨୧ but he gets to the door and sees you and his kiddo waiting for him inside

୨୧ you have a cake in your hands and his little one pops one of those little confetti canons at his father with a loud “happy birthday”

୨୧ he’s a lil shocked, a lil surprised, but in a good way

୨୧ he looks at you

୨୧ “well kiddo told me it was your birthday and with a quick little google search i confirmed it to be true. and i felt bad that you had to work on your birthday so we decided to bake you a cake while you were gone and wait for you to get home.” you said softly

୨୧ he had totally forgotten it was his birthday but if it being his birthday meant that he could see you in a little apron waiting for him to come in the door …

୨୧ damn he wished it was his birthday everyday

୨୧ y’all move into the kitchen to start cutting the cake and as you’re plating slices you lean down to the little one and tell him to ‘go get the birthday card he made for daddy’

୨୧ and izuku who wasn’t quite paying attention is like “hmm?” and you just like look at him

୨୧ and he’s like, “oh i thought- you were calling for me-“

୨୧ and you’re like mf, i don’t call you daddy yet

୨୧ but yall just kinda like awkwardly get past it and move on when the child comes running in with his folded construction paper with a green stick figure on the front labeled ‘dad’

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

୨୧ it all leads up to the day about a month later when you arrive at their home to no sign of the kid

୨୧ and you’re like ~ wtf? he always comes to greet me at the door with a hug and he’s not doing that

୨୧ and you’re looking in the kitchen and the living room to see no sign of the child

୨୧ when you’re about to head into his room to see if he somehow decided to sleep in today, izuku comes out his room

୨୧ and you’re like, where’s the kid?

୨୧ and he’s like, oh, i meant to tell you that my mom came by just a few minutes ago and decided to take him out for the day

୨୧ so you’re like, okay, should i just go home then?

୨୧ and he’s like, you could but i just so happen to have the day off and i think it would be nice if we got to spend some time together, without the kid around

୨୧ and you’re like, what am i gonna do ?? say no ?!

୨୧ so y’all go out for coffee, take a walk around the park, and then go out for lunch before going back to his house to watch like a movie or whatever

୨୧ y’all get back home and he sits on the couch scrolling through streaming sites looking for a movie and you’re coming back from the bathroom

୨୧ when you’re walking to the couch, your foot catches one of the kid’s toys that was lying on the floor causing you to trip and stumble forward

୨୧ izuku moves to catch you causing you to fall into his chest and practically on top his lap

୨୧ you’re out of breath from the sudden adrenaline spike but the close proximity between the two of you isn’t making it any easier to catch said breath

୨୧ neither of y’all are moving, just staring into each others eyes as he quietly asks “are you alright?”

୨୧ his warm breath dancing across your face as you give him a light nod

୨୧ his eyes suddenly move to your lips and out of his mouth comes the words you thought you’d never hear

୨୧ “can i kiss you?”

୨୧ and with a split glance to his lips you’re nodding fervently

୨୧ not soon enough his lips are on yours : plump, warm, and soft ~ tasting of the coffee and the mint gum he chewed after lunch

୨୧ you two pull apart reluctantly but he sets his forehead against yours as he catches his breath

୨୧ “please tell me you feel the same way for me as i do for you?” he whispers

୨୧ you bite your lip, “and how do you feel about me?”

୨୧ “like i want to hold you. kiss you. and come home to you everyday. not just as a babysitter.”

୨୧ “is that all?” you ask

୨୧ “i have a few other things i feel about you but i think it’s too early to tell you.”

୨୧ you link your arms around his neck and play with the stubble of emerald that is his undercut, “i wanna know.” you whisper.

୨୧ he’s like, are you sure…. you won’t think it’s inappropriate ?

୨୧ and you reassure him cuz little does he know of the countless nights you laid with your hand between your thighs imagining it was him getting you off

୨୧ “well uh- i-i really wanna fuck you.” he quietly admits

୨୧ you readjust your position to straddle his lap, your legs on either side of his thighs

୨୧ “how?” you ask

୨୧ “how what?” he replies as he tentatively places his hands lightly on your waist

୨୧ “how,” you start, leaning down to ghost your lips atop his, “do you wanna fuck me?”

୨୧ his breath stutters, something about those words coming out of your mouth

୨୧ he’s quiet for longer than you would like, “c’mon tell me” you whine, moving your lips from his mouth, down his jaw, and along his neck

୨୧ his breath quickens, soon letting out a low groan when you stumble upon his sweet spot

୨୧ you pull away causing him to almost whine, “start talking ~ tell me how you wanna fuck me.”

୨୧ “well f-first i wanna kiss all over you. your cheeks. your neck. your hands. i w-wanna feel your warm soft skin under my lips.”

୨୧ he pauses a bit but you urge him to continue

୨୧ “i wanna play with your tits. i wanna suck on your nipples. i’ve wanted to ever since you came in soaked by the rain that day.”

୨୧ as he gets more confident, his voice gets deeper, raspier, laced with lust

୨୧ “i wanna kiss all the way down your body until i reach that sweet pussy of yours, i’ve been dying to get a taste.

୨୧ you let out a low moan into his collar bone, “and then what?”

୨୧ “then after i’ve made you come on my tongue a few times, i wanna stuff you full of my cock. not stopping until i breed you. gave you a baby of your own since you’re so perfect with kiddo already.”

୨୧ “i wanna make you a mommy.”

୨୧ you gasp, your breaths coming out in short hurried puffs as you come up from sucking on his neck

୨୧ “so why don’t you?”

୨୧ he’s frozen

୨୧ “why don’t you fuck your child in me, daddy?”

୨୧ and just like that whatever submissive izuku moment you had going on, is gone

୨୧ he’s on top of you in seconds, squishing you into the couch cushions beneath you as he does just what he said he would do, and then some

yoooooo, happy belated birthday to the actual love of my life. i cried like three times over him yesterday. i hope he’s doing good.

also i’m not gonna sit here & pretend i know anything about how the japanese choose to name their offspring so that’s why kiddo is nameless

[nxrthmizu]

love in bubble wraps.

fandom | haikyuu!!

pairing | kuroo tetsurou x reader

genre | fluff

w.c | 1.9k

author's note | based on a real life experience... :)

Love, you think, comes in many forms. Sometimes love is a warm, home-cooked meal that is now cooked at least once a week because you told your mother you liked it. Other times, love is laughing and crying alongside the friends you’ve known since pre-school because everyone passed their highschool finals with flying colours. Throughout our lives, we gradually come to meet the different forms of love, because it comes in all shapes, colours, and sizes.

First, we learn that love is a roof that you can always turn to when a storm blows in. Then, we learn that love is knowing that there are people who will drop everything to help you when your car breaks down in the middle of nowhere. Lastly, we learn to interlock our fingers with the one we wish to walk to the end of time with.

Then again, love varies from person to person— Just like how the goddess of love, Aphrodite, looks different to every soul that sets its sights on her; Beauty truly lies in the eye of the beholder. For some, love comes in the form of a warm body to cuddle next to on a rainy day. For others, love comes in the form of a jewelled ring. For you, love comes in the form of a 6’2 man who still doesn’t know how to tame his bedhead.

Tetsurou is often too busy for his own good, always running around here and there to secure contracts, ensuring that Japan can make a name for itself during the Olympics. He books train tickets to opposite ends of Japan at least once a month, leaving before the sun rises and returning after it sets. The sun never dictates his work day, because while his coworkers work from nine to five, Tetsurou works until he finishes his tasks.

Okay, so your husband is a bit of a workaholic. And maybe not just a bit.

“L/N-san,” Your colleague asks one day out of sheer curiosity. A group of women are gathered around the snack station, sipping on cheap, machine-produced instant coffee as they gossip about their marital lives instead of working. “Now that I think about it… I’ve never met your husband, have I?”

“Ah,” You sweat-drop nervously at this. Wonderful— Your parents are already pressuring you about how Kuroo rarely visits with you— And now your coworkers, too? “He’s quite busy. He works very hard to make sure that we’ll be well-off in the future.” You respond, knowing that your reply is just a thinly-veiled way of saying ‘He’s rarely home,’.

“Oh, that’s awful,” Wherever you go, there’s always a middle-aged lady who has nothing better to do than to prey on the weak spots of your life, “It must feel lonely. You must feel so sad when you see my husband pick me up from work.” A smirk dances up her lips as she waits for you to walk into her trap, smiling as widely as a spider watching its incoming meal.

“Not really,” A practiced smile counters hers as you take a sip of your coffee. “I know Tetsurou loves me— There’s an unbreakable trust between us. He might not be home often, but I know that he’s working hard so that we can have a better tomorrow… And that’s sort of comforting, in a sense. Knowing that Tetsurou wishes for a future where we’re financially stable, where we can just spend a whole day doing nothing in each other’s presence…”

A chorus of ‘awws’ makes you blush. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the middle-aged coworker huff in failure. You mentally fist-pump the air at your victory.

“Anyway, I heard that you got engaged last weekend, Shiho-san,” Changing the topic quickly, you smile when the attention of all the ladies instantly redirects to the said woman, who blushes fiercely as they all coo at her ring. “Congratulations!”

“Oh my! He bought you such a beautiful ring… Ah, Shiho-san, you’re so lucky!”

“My husband also bought me a new bag last week,” The middle-aged woman chips in proudly, cocking her head towards her cubicle, where the leather handbag sits atop a tower of documents. “It’s very expensive.”

“That’s nice of him! It’s been forever since my husband bought me something.” Sighs another lady. Most of the group hums in agreement, sharing sympathetic looks with those that share the same fate.

“At the beginning, when we were still dating, Hayato used to buy me so many things, now…” The coworker that brings homemade cookies every New Years’ party says, looking dejected. “It’s like once we’re married, they don’t have to worry about making us happy anymore…”

“Ah, what about you, L/N-san? Does your husband buy you things often?”

You groan internally when the attention shifts to you once more. Honestly, you’re just there to listen and enjoy your coffee— Must you keep getting dragged into the conversation? “Well, personally I don’t really need my husband to buy me things to keep me happy, but… He does bring back trinkets whenever he travels.” You think about it for a while, then brighten when you remember the latest thing Tetsurou brought back for you.

“What is it?” Your change in expression isn’t missed by your coworkers, who preen with curiosity, excited to know what made you brighten up.

“Ah, it’s nothing… I promise, you’ll be disappointed if I tell you.” You chuckle.

“Come on!” “Be a good sport, L/N-san!” “We’re curious now, you can’t not tell us!”

“Oh, fine.” You sigh, “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

[ Three days ago, Saturday ]

You were on the couch, binge-watching Grey’s Anatomy with the Netflix subscription Tetsurou got for you to occupy yourself with while he was out of town. Your cat, Kazume (nicknamed after your husband’s best friend) lazed on your lap, yawning once in a while and swatting at the stray threads from your sweater.

Somewhere in between your fifteenth and seventeenth episode, the front door chirped with the sound of someone inserting a key into the lock. You perked up at the noise, Kazume yelping in protest as he almost slipped off.

“Oh, sorry Kazu.” You said quickly, a smile widening your lips as the front door opened.

“I’m ho—” Before your husband could finish his sentence, you were already at his side. Kazume meowed loudly from the couch, complaining about you abandoning him for another man. Tetsurou’s eyes softened, the edges of his hazel irises worn down by exhaustion. You took his laptop bag from him, as well as the folders he has in hand, balancing them like how you would balance your three grocery bags when Tetsurou wasn’t around to help. “I missed you too, but are you sure you can carry all of my files with one hand?”

“Yes!” You replied confidently, showcasing your balance as you wobbled through the living room with all of your husband’s stuff. Tetsurou’s laugh echoed through the apartment as he followed you, his reflexes coming into play as he dived for a falling file. “Oops.” You giggled, helping him up after he practically hurled himself at the floor.

Tetsurou shook his head, sighing fondly while he hugged you from the back, taking comfort in the familiar smell of your hair shampoo. “I missed you.” He mumbled.

“Me too.” You hummed, reaching back to stroke your hands through his still-untamed bedhead.

“Oh, before I forget,” Tetsurou leapt up suddenly, chucking his backpack onto the ground. “I brought back something for you!”

“I already have like, twenty-five keychains from Hyogo,” You reminded him, “Please tell me it’s not a…” Your voice trailed off when Tetsurou proudly whipped his gift from his backpack, hazel eyes shining for your reaction.

“... So?” Tetsurou grinned widely, like a five-year-old child holding up his drawing for his mother to critique.

“Oh my god, I love you.” You declared in your 80 sq ft kitchen, grabbing the gift from him. “I’ll clean up your stuff, go take a bath and we can have dinner while watching the…'' You pursed your lips as you try to recall the information that kept evading you like an annoying fly. “... 15th? 16th episode of Grey’s.”

“You started that without me? I said I wanted to watch that.” Tetsurou pouted petulantly like a child.

“I finished all the other stuff I wanted to watch,” You told him unapologetically. “And Kazume wanted to watch it too. Now hurry and take a bath or I’m starting without you.”

Twenty minutes later, you were cuddled up to your husband, who did not bother to comb his hair (“It’ll just be messy later anyway,” His reasoning was). Every few seconds, he would scoop some cold mash potato out of the giant bowl (The two of you were too impatient to heat it with the microwave) and feed you. All throughout the episode, there was the constant pop-pop-pop of you working your way through the giant piece of bubble wrap Tetsurou had brought home for you.

“You know, I was thinking,” You hummed as Tetsurou pressed ‘Next Episode’. “If It were any other woman, they might have slapped you for bringing just bubble wrap home after a whole week away.”

“Well, then I’m lucky that you aren’t ‘any other woman’, am I?” Your husband smiled, pressing a gentle kiss onto your lips before picking up the mash potato bowl again. “Are we just going to have mashed potatoes for dinner?”

“I bought spicy instant noodles yesterday, we can have that later if you want.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

[ Present, Tuesday ]

“That’s actually so sweet of him!” Your colleague coos as you finish your story. “Wish I had a husband like that…'' Even the middle-aged lady begrudgingly nods in agreement. For a moment, you feel a surge of pride— It was your husband they were talking about— Your sweet, hardworking, dork of a 6’2 bedhead.

“You wouldn’t be able to survive.” Another lady snorts. “That guy is away for weeks at a time.”

You hum. “Well, at least he calls back every night, regardless of how tired he is.” In the corner of your mind, you remember that he makes sure to call his grandmother every weekend, and that he sends his parents (and grandparents) money every month, that he visits your parents the first Sunday after he’s back from his trips— Not to mention that he always brings a gift of wellness products (The most recent one was a box of abalone).

The group of women swoon once more.

“Well, I guess we should get back to work,” You dispose of your paper cup in the trash, brushing your hands off. “See you ladies later.”

The moment you’re back at your desk, you take out your phone to text your husband, who is, no doubt, going to be very, very confused.

[ y/n ] 2.37pm

— we have a problem

[ tetsu <3 ] 2.39pm

— what’s wrong???

[ y/n ] 2.38pm

— i may have accidentally caused 20 women in my office to fall in love with you

[ tetsu <3 ] 2.38pm

— what ???

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

you know it's love when your dad comes home with this giant piece of bubble wrap and your mom literally squeals and snatches it to immediately start popping it on the couch while browsing facebook on her ipad

[sweet-cynical-writer]

hii can i request a drabble with chuuya and akutagawa where they have a really big soft spot for their s/o and they’re so sweet to her that she genuinely doesnt know how mean/intimidating they are to other people? but then they’re see how they are with others and then *schocked pikachu face*

Hello anon~ I know I kept ya waiting for a few days now. I've been pretty brain dead. To be honest I don't think this is my best but nonetheless I wrote it in hopes you'd like it. (╥﹏╥) Chuuya's is under the cut.

Genre: Bittersweet.

Word Count: 413.

You were basically the light of his life. That spark of warmth that touched his cold soul and made him softer to love. And you absolutely adored Akutagawa. There wasn't a time you ever saw him in a negative manner. That didn't exist in your eyes. To you, Akutagawa was your caring, protective boyfriend. 

Although some people would try to convince you otherwise. They would go off about how ruthless and cold Akutagawa treated them when you left. A lot of times, they would beg you to stay. 

“Just stay for a moment and you can see just how horrible he treats us!” 

You shook your head in disbelief and started for the door. It was like they were being melodramatic about your sweet boyfriend. He couldn't be the nightmare everyone talks about. Not when he sneaks cheek kisses and holds your hand out in public. 

***

Day after day, the curiosity did begin to eat away at your brain. Maybe if you stayed this time to watch Akutagawa work, you could get rid of these silly thoughts in your head once and for all. So you stayed at his work and observed from a safe distance to see how he would react. 

At first, you just saw Akutagawa carrying on with work like you pictured. Just him walking about and attending meetings. You were about to turn and head home when you suddenly heard an outburst that made you jump.

“USELESS COWARDS! ARE YOU EVEN CAPABLE OF DOING ANYTHING RIGHT?”

He growled and men were sent back flying into a wall from rashomon smacking them harshly. It was a terrifying sight to behold. To think, your protective and quiet boyfriend was capable of being so violent. His ability was intimidating to say the least, but you couldn't just watch him throw people around! 

“Aku!”

You stepped out from the corner you were hiding behind. And he didn't even look surprised that you saw him this way. It was bound to happen so he had mentally prepared himself for this day. 

“Now that you've seen what I really am, I'm sure you want to break up —”

He was interrupted mid-sentence by you wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning in to kiss his cheek. Akutagawa stared at you wide eyed. Why did you love a monster like him?

“It doesn't matter if you're not as sweet and nice all the time. I still love you, Aku. Nothing is going to change that.”

Genre: Bittersweet.

Word Count: 469.

You didn't want him to leave for work. He always gave the warmest cuddles in the morning and you couldn't help but miss his sweet voice. But as a hard working executive in the mafia, you knew what you signed up for.

He gave you one last kiss that would always last longer than intended as he left for work. You rolled around in bed then decided to pull out your phone to open a message you received from a friend.

“I just ran into your boyfriend and he's fucking terrifying! He gave me the ugliest glare when I asked about having lunch with you this weekend!”

You laughed it off and messaged her back that there's no way he would be that ugly towards someone. He was such a sweetheart to you all the time. When you were around Chuuya, he never gave off an aggressive attitude.

“I wouldn't lie about this sort of stuff you know. This is like the fifth time this week! Have you ever thought maybe he's just acting nice for your sake?”

Come to think of it, you don't really know how Chuuya acts at work or when you're not with him. The idea of seeing a different side of your boyfriend was enticing but also scary.

“What if he gets upset with me for sneaking around his work?”

“I highly doubt he would get angry with his true love!”

***

You showed up at his work and that was terrifying alone. Given that you're Chuuya's significant other, almost everyone in the mafia is aware of your identity. Chuuya made sure of that in any case you had to be anywhere near his work, that they couldn't touch you or harm you.

“Such a vast building.. how am I going to find him —”

The sound of a familiar voice echoed throughout the hallway. It sounded like it was closing in too. Quickly, you opened a door to an office and closed it gently.

“IDIOT!! I SAID TO CAPTURE HIM ALIVE! SO WHY IS HE DEAD?!”

You winced hearing a loud slam against a wall. Your eyes peering out the glass panel of the door to see your boyfriend holding a subordinate of his by the throat. It was horrifying to see him so angry and violent. As much as you wanted to stop him, your legs wouldn't move. Your heart raced with fear.

“Next time you fail me I'll rip you to pieces.”

Chuuya tossed the man aside and walked towards the door you were hiding behind. You stumbled over to his desk and hid underneath, holding your breath.

“I know you're in here. Come out now and I'll make sure it's a light punishment.”

You crawled out shaking with wide eyes and Chuuya reflected that expression. Fuck. He just scared the living daylights out of his darling.

“I could of sworn you were another incompetent subordinate of mine. Sorry, love.”

He gently reached out to pull you into a gentle embrace. Your heart was still pounding against your chest but the gentleness of his hug eased the tension. Note to self, do not follow him to work again.

[angelsonthesideline]

Tales From the Ex-Crypt Vol. 9

Wow.. volume 9.. I'm going to wrap it up with this one because I really don't want to live in the past or think about any of these people any more. I'm happy, even if Mr HTG is still not officially mine, I only want to look forward and these crypts will be closed. There are definitely more stories than the ones I've written here.. but this is the one that people are like "NO.. that only happens in movies!"

So, I was minding my own business at work when one of my regular customers walked in with a friend. They had been at a dinner party, and started talking about winter tires, and my customer said that the friend had to come see me for tires, and proceeded to bring him in. His friend wasn't someone who really stood out to me, there was nothing remarkable to me about him. He was nice enough, mild mannered, tall, blue eyes, great smile (I'm a sucker for eyes and smiles) and we went over some tire options. I sent them on their way with the friend having his quotes in hand.

I didn't really think anything more of it, it was busy (snow) season and I was plenty busy. A week or so later, the friend comes back, he had decided on some tires and steel wheels and put his deposit down on the order. I wrote up the order, and handed him his copy, when he asked "so when do I get to see you again?" and my smart ass responded with something to the effect of when he got his tires on.

I hadn't really paid any attention to him prior to that moment, and he wasn't my "type" at all. I went home, and something kept nagging at me about him, so I sent him a text after getting his number off his order slip. This is not something I generally do, but since he'd already asked me out, I didn't feel like I was overstepping. This was also 10 years ago.

I didn't hear anything back until the Monday, when I got a profuse apology for the delay, and the excuse that he had had his phone stolen while having lunch on a patio over the weekend in a busy tourist town.

We started talking regularly, he came in and got his snow tires in the meantime, and we hung out for our first "date". He told me he was on a joint task force for terrorist threats between the FBI and CSIS and had to travel often as the supervisor of his unit. He said he would try to see me as often as possible but that it wasn't always a lot of time. I didn't mind, as I was busy and we facetimed and talked by text and phone. I never felt neglected.

We dated for a year, our relationship was amazing, we got along so well, and he made me strive to be my best self. I lost a ton of weight, was eating well, and made an appointment with my doctor to get my mental health in check.

We never had sex, we just had incredibly hot makeout sessions. I always thought it was odd that he didn't want to go any further, but he said he had had a bad experience and wanted to wait until we were married. As he was on the smaller side, I figured that had something to do with it, but I was so absolutely in love by that point it didn't really matter.

He had all sorts of pics of him in his flack in his suits, in the cars, with the guns, or just in offices. I'd get a text or call saying he was flying in and was driving to see me, but would only have about an hour or two to spend with me before he had to get back to his team and back on the road. It kept things exciting, and I loved surprise visits when he'd text me at work that he was outside.

I wanted to see him more, of course, especially as things got more intense between us. But it was always a matter of time for him. No matter how awful other things in my life were going, whenever asked how things with him were, I would immediately brighten and say they were amazing.

My anxiety was getting to a very dysfunctional level, and I was struggling hardcore to manage it. I went to the doctor, he arranged for me to begin therapy. He was supportive when I told him. This was around our 1 year together. But the next time I got to see him, I got doused with ice water, when I gifted him with an expensive watch and he told me he wanted to take our relationship back a step because of his schedule. His reason was that I was amazing and I deserved to be able to pursue someone who could give me everything he wasn't able to due to his job. I was blindsided and devastated. Because I loved him so much, and was dumb, I agreed to try. I'm an absolutely all-in or all-out type of personality, there is no grey middle ground for me. It is why I do struggle with FWB and casual arrangements, unless I have mentally steeled myself to be all-out and just enjoy the moment without feelings.

My first year of therapy and into my second was almost fully dedicated to dealing with this trauma. I have never had a break up so devastating. I am pretty sure most of the damage came from the shock, but also from the "trying" to move forward with him flitting in and out of my life instead of just cutting clean ties.

I cried a lot.. I was so stressed my cortisol levels caused my body to produce more than double the healthy level of reverse T3, completely messing up my thyroid and metabolism, I gained weight, lost energy and all the other fall out. It took me years to recover, and moving to NS and stumbling upon a doctor who treated the thyroid issues (which seem to be back in working order now after some thyroid hormone therapy).

I have never ever let someone have so much impact on my life, and the only reason I can ever explain it with was just the depth of love I had for this man. I don't even know why or what sucked me in, beyond his confidence and charm. He was one of the many devil Aquarius that I dated, always trying to prove the zodiac/astrology stuff was absolutely wrong (because I am generally SO drawn to Aquarius and have dated that sign more than any other). The zodiac definitely kicked my ass with Aquarius to show me that I fucked around and found out the hard way for sure.

We did the on and off/casual thing for 6 months before it was too toxic and messed me up too badly and I cut him off. It was about 6 months later he crawled back, and we tried it again for about another 6 months before I broke again and cut him off permanently.

I tried to not think of him, and started trying to move on with dating. My longterm ex and I had become gaming friends again by this point, in a mostly healthy and functional way. He had asked me to get an app called Voxter so he could send me voice messages (pre-imsg) and I had. You have to make an account to use Voxter though, and then the app itself didn't pick up my soft voice so I deleted it. But the account remained.

One day, I get an email that I have a new suggested contact/friend on Voxter. I open the email, and low and behold, it is Mr Aquarius Devil... and I'm like "hmm.. I don't have any of his new contact information in my phone" so I go to my computer and open my gmail.. start typing in his name and up pops this picture:

The fucker was MARRIED... and had a KID.

I will say, that was the BEST closure ever.. I was INSTANTLY over his ass instead of lamenting WHY it hadn't worked and what I had possibly done wrong. What I had done wrong, was fall for a fucking dirtbag.

Now, I work with the public.. and I had lots of regular customers that would ask me how I was and what was going on with me, and share what was going on with them. I was angry, and I showed a few of them this pic and was like "look at this fucker, he has a WIFE and KID" and I think it got back to him.

Two weeks after I stumbled upon this picture on his gmail, I got a full confessional email from him.

Turns out, he had been married for 12 years, and his son was 7 at the time I found out. Not only that, but he wasn't in law enforcement, HE WAS A PASTOR.. He had also gotten busted for sleeping with two women in his congregation, and fooling around with two others. He had lost his congregation and his church was sending him out west to some rehab. His wife was staying with him, and moving out there with him. He basically said it was all a lie (everything) and that his therapist said he had to write apology letters and explain himself to his victims (like myself). He said it was an ego trip to compensate for low self esteem. So basically, I was just an ego boosting toy for him.

A year later, I received a random text message from a southern Alberta phone number. I am guessing it was his wife, as all it said was "Have you been in contact with J***?" and I was like "J*** who?" and never heard anything ever again. But I am sure he was already back to his old tricks.

[luvknow]

priceless | bang chan [1/2]

genre: rich kid!chan x fem!reader feat. rich kid!felix & rick kid!woojin ; friends-to-lovers ; fluff ; angst ; alcohol consumption ; crazy rich asians inspired summary: lucky you, you fall for the rich and powerful bang chan that every woman has their eyes on and he likes you back! but you get a taste of the luxurious life they all live in and you realize that someone like you isn’t meant to be with someone like him. wc: 12.9k a/n: two parts cuz this woulda been like 20k and i’m tired lol enjoy!

PART 2/2

Love at first sight was a horrendous idea. The thought of falling for someone the second your eyes met was absolutely terrifying. Of course this wasn’t exactly how it worked, but it sounded like sorcery, didn’t it? At least to Chan it did. He asked his father one time what it meant to feel so enamored by someone simply from the first encounter and he replied with,

“That’s just Hollywood mumbo-jumbo! Love takes time and it will come naturally, not right at the start. Love is patient. Just look at me - I’m patient with your mother all the time!”

So instead of expecting a spark with every person he met, Chan didn’t bother and let his feelings develop naturally. With every girlfriend he’s ever had, he let his heart take the lead and his mind, body, and soul followed shortly after.

Then he met you. Everything he knew about falling love went out the window. With you, love was not patient, nor was it kind, nor was it anything close to how it should ‘develop naturally’. It was a bullet train that hit Chan without remorse, crumbling every word and memory about what he thought love was supposed to be. It was unforgiving, with you two spending your entire college careers together as he watched you smile whenever you got your food, witnessed the stars in your eyes on your weekend nights together, and took note of the way your brows furrowed cutely when you were focused. The worst was when he had to sit there and listen about the guy you went on a date with or took back to your place. Love was truly unfair, and yes, he wasn’t so innocent on his side either, but how else was he supposed to distract himself from you? Surely partly-meaningless but healthy relationships with other women was much healthier than drowning in alcohol or whatever his inheritance-mooching friends did these days, wasn’t it?

Koi no yokan. It meant something along the lines of the type of feeling when you meet someone and you know that one day, you’ll fall in love with them. It might not be today, it might not be tomorrow, but it was inevitable. Chan hoped that was the kind of feeling you had when you met him. He hoped - he even prayed! - that the day you two met, you looked at him and thought, ‘he’s the type of man I could see myself falling for endlessly one day. Absolutely, positively ardently.’

Even when everyone around him and his ancestors above knew that you two couldn’t possibly be together, he’d find a way. Bang Chan always found a way.

After one thousand four hundred sixty days, multiple meaningless flings, and a couple of diplomas later, Chan continued to wait for that day to come.

four years ago:

You met Chan through your classmate-turned-friend Felix. It all started with some stupid class that was some elective you didn’t care about with a Professor who still believed in assigning partners for projects because college students weren’t capable of doing work on their own. Lo and behold, you were paired up with Felix, who wore an impossible amount of hyped-up designer brands, some of which you haven’t even heard of before. Of course you thought you were stuck with some rich, snobby, stuck-up inheritance-hogging brat who only went to college and majored in business so he could upstage all the other rich kids in his Daddy’s social circle, making him look like he was better than the rest of them for earning his inheritance. Surprisingly, that wasn’t all true. He was definitely trying to be The Top Heir, but he wasn’t a total dick. He was actually pretty nice for someone with a zillion dollars. That was the start of a beautiful and dynamic friendship.

“I can’t believe that’s what you really thought of me!” Felix gasped, clutching his heart at your insult. You tried to shush him from the nosy customers in the coffee shop, but he didn’t care. “You can’t judge a book by its cover, _____.”

“How can I not when you’ve rubbed your worth in my face since day one?” You took his Gucci x SUPREME collab black wallet with the signature GG logo and a Kingsnake painted on it that held four of his very heavy credit cards and shoved it in his face like he did with you and his entire existence.

“Yo, chill! The friction isn’t good for the credit cards!”

“I’m sure you have your emergency billion dollars stashed up in your penthouse suite just in case.”

“Yeah, but I hate carrying cash, so stop it,” he whined, snatching his wallet back. His phone vibrated on the table. “Oh, he’s almost here.”

“Who?”

“One of my friends. He asked to borrow the Versace belt you love so much.”

“You have two dozen Versace belts,” you scoffed. “Which one?”

“The one with the Barocco print.”

“English, Felix, English.”

“The floral one.”

“Oh my God, he wants to borrow that six-hundred dollar color-clashing mess!? Shouldn’t you people with money have some sort of fashion sense?”

“You are so mean. Stereotyping ‘my people’ is not cool, _____. Not cool! And my fashion sense is A-1!” he scolded, poking you harshly with his embossed fountain pen. “Can you at least try to be nice to him when he comes? You’re always so distant when you meet my friends.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Remember when you met Changbin?”

“Changbin told me he wanted to fly me to Paris to wine and dine me and rent a room in the Palace of Versailles like a Diamond-Grade prostitute, of course I try to stay far away from him!”

“But isn’t that the nicest thing a guy has ever told you? Isn’t it tempting to want to say yes? If I were you, I would’ve taken the offer.”

“Not surprised.”

It was then an impossibly handsome guy walked through the door. That had to be him because all of Felix’s friends were hot, but it was hard to tell. He wasn’t wearing anything ostentatious that screamed he was born into money (unlike your buddy Felix) nor did he wear anything that even resembled expensive brands. He wore all black, and though some items were stamped SUPREME, you couldn’t tell or at least recognize any other brands he wore. His fluffy, curly hair, cut jawline, kind eyes, and a warm million-dollar smile let you know he wasn’t like Felix’s other friends at all.

“_____, this is Chan, a family friend of mine. Chan, this is _____, the sole reason I haven’t flunked school yet.”

Chan was raised to judge every person he met by their looks and what they wore - it was an old habit his parents and grandparents embroidered in his brain, like silver thread on fine silk, that he was trying to get rid of since he started college. You wore nothing that indicated you were either from old or new money, nothing that said anything about your family name or bloodline, and no jewelry that looked like you inherited your great-great grandmother’s jewels that were gifted to her by a Prince. You were ordinary - quite possibly one of the only ordinary people he’s met thus far at this school.

Yes, you were nothing special material-wise, but you were pain-painstakingly stunning. How was that possible? Maybe it was your cute nose, or your pink lips, or the adorable way your brow quirked that caught his attention. Your curious eyes met his wide ones, sending his heart up to his throat, stopping him from breathing. It took him a minute to realize you had your hand out, waiting for him to connect. Quickly and awkwardly, he took your hand in his and felt his heart drop back into his chest cavity. But now he was sweating.

The effect you had on him was dangerous.

“Nice to meet you,” you said politely for the sake of Felix’s plea. The boy only nodded silently, trying not to look too affected by your infectious, beautiful smile. Great, another weirdo, you thought. Why were all the rich kids in this school so fucking weird!? Maybe it was your fault for accepting a scholarship to one of the country’s most expensive schools.

“Here’s the belt you requested.” Felix pulled out the belt a unicorn vomited on and handed it to Chan, who had snapped out of his trance. Your disgusted look doesn’t go unnoticed by him and he’s afraid you’re judging his choice in accessories. He wondered what kind of style you liked if you didn’t like this belt because all the upperclassmen born into old money that had girls falling on their knees had this belt. He’d have to ask Felix some other time.

“Thanks, dude. Mom said if I didn’t have Versace to wear at the charity event this weekend that she’d write me out of her will.”

So dramatic, you thought. You didn’t want to listen to boys talk about what pieces of clothing they had that cost more than tuition, so you sat back down and went back to studying.

“You owe me. Don’t get any champagne stains on it. And I better not see any wrinkles or stretches in the leather.”

“Yes, Dad. I can’t believe you let me borrow this. What are you gonna wear then?”

“I don’t know, something vintage probably, but I’ll figure it out. Got a date?”

“That’s requirement number two in order to stay in Mom’s will. I’m bringing Sana. What about you?”

“I’d rather go stag than bring some clingy arm candy to a simple charity fashion show. Unless _____ wants to be my date ~?”

“I’d rather die than be your arm candy,” you snorted.

To your dismay, Felix ruffled your hair playfully. “She hates it when I talk about this stuff. Don’t tell anyone I’m not bringing a date or else I’ll get kicked out, they’ll figure it out once I get there.”

“Gotcha. I’ll see you then.” After their bro handshake, Chan mustered up the courage to say, “It was nice meeting you, _____.”

“Nice meeting you,” you said in a sickly-sweet tone.

He saw right through you - you didn’t like him. He’s not sure why, when you barely talked to him for those two minutes he was there. Was he being too weird when you shook hands? Maybe he was talking too much about the show, since Felix mentioned you hated those kinds of talks, but why? Surely, you had to be used to this kind of stuff, right? Really, it shouldn’t bother him so much to know you didn’t like him already, but that famous Bang Pride coursed through his veins because everyone loved Bang Chan! It didn’t help that even knowing he didn’t need your attention, he was still so intrigued by you. To have those feelings not be reciprocated for the first time, to have you not eyeing him like you wanted him so badly, to you being completely disinterested at the simple mention of a high-class charity event that everyone was attending… It was exciting.

He accepted the challenge. He was going to win you over, whether you liked it or not.

“So what’d you think about Chan? He’s not so bad, right?” Felix asked before snatching up the last madeleine.

“He’s a little weird.”

“Yeah, I don’t know why, though...”

“You mean he’s not a space case all the time?”

“Not at all. If anything, he’s the one with the most confidence and focus out of our group of friends. Usually, people become a space case because of HIS presence, never the other way around. Did you cast a spell on him, or something?”

“I must have if I got one of your cocky millionaire friends to fall silent. I can feel the power in my veins.”

“Hey man, you better not flaunt that big ass head of yours. If word gets out that Chan was like that around a lil ol’ ordinary Olivia like yourself, you could be in big trouble.”

“You never warned me like this when it was Changbin. What makes Chan different?”

“Chan’s wealth has a long history. Like, really long. Almost pre-1800s long. His great-great-great-grandmother was one of the most well-regarded doctors in the country in her time. She was very well-off with the money she made, lived happily on her own, did her duty as a citizen and helped heal the soldiers during some war, and captured the heart of one of the most honored war heroes. Chan’s fortune began with a doctor and a war hero who gave birth to some inventor guy who married a luxury hotel heiress, whose history of wealth even I can’t trace back, and gave birth to the hotel heir that expanded its locations to eighteen different countries who then married the founder of a children’s charity, much to everyone’s surprise, and they gave birth to Chan’s grandmother, the sole heiress to the number one luxury hotel chain in the world. His Mom, who is currently sits at the head of the charity organization, is next in line. Then Chan gets to lead the organization until he inherits the hotels.”

Your brain struggled to wrap around Chan’s pedigree. “So he’s rich just like the rest of you.”

“Yeah, but he’s filthy rich. He’s been the Asia'’s most eligible bachelor under twenty-five twice in a row. What I’m saying is Chan is probably the number one most sought after guy slash son-in-law right now, and if anyone knows he’s taken even the slightest interest in you, they’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you two don’t happen.”

Well, that was terrifying. “God, this sounds like Cinderella on steroids. You better make sure we don’t happen!”

“I refuse to mess with fate, so this is all on you, babe.”

The F in Felix stood for Fake Friend.

Chan couldn’t find anything about you.

Google told him nothing, your social media showed him zilch, hell even his family private investigator only got as far as your great-grandparents owned a restaurant together which your grandfather and then your father happily took over. Really, he should have known from the start when he saw your clothes and lack of jewels that you didn’t come from the same background as him or Felix. This only made you more interesting.

After his thorough research on your social media and accidentally hitting the ‘add friend’ button (to which he shut his laptop and refused to look at the app for at least twenty-four hours out of pure embarrassment), you added him back only a couple hours later and he couldn’t stop the goofy smile growing on his lips. He felt like a little kid with a crush on his classmate! Your pictures were very silly, but you were still so pretty, and your captions were goofy with a touch of your wit peaking through and God, Chan had never been so struck by someone before, let alone by someone whose family history didn’t have their own Wikipedia page.

He needed to get to know you - to pick your brain, figure out your taste, and see that smile again. He needed to.

Poor Felix had to deal with texts like this:

issa banger [11:03 am]: wyd

yung felix [11:05 am]: eating lunch, why?

issa banger [11:06 am]: is _____ with you?

yung felix [11:09 am]: ??????????? no, why??

issa banger [11:09 am]: Read at 11:09 am.

And this:

issa banger [9:23 pm]: is that _____ in your snapchat?

yung felix [9:26 pm]: yeah u creep, we’re studying.

issa banger [9:32 pm]: what a coincidence, me too! i’m coming over.

yung felix [9:55 pm]: oop, she just left.

issa banger [9:47 pm]: ………..…. well i’m already here, so open the door.

And most recently this:

issa banger [2:15 am]: she’z sooiioioo cute felix…………

yung felix [2:17 am]: oh my god can u shut the fuck up.

This was all within one week of meeting you! Felix had to end this. He had never seen such a sad, desperate, puppy-loving side of Chan before, it was disgusting! What happened to the ‘I-don’t-care-about-love-I’ll-just-fuck-around-for-now-because-I’ll-probably-be-arranged-to-be-married-and-have-a-mistress-on-the-side-before-I’m-thirty’ Chan he knew since they were in diapers!? And like, no offense to you, but Chan was like this because of you, of all people, who came from a working-class family. The Bangs were groomed to date and marry only the best, so you two would never work out for even a day if it even got that far. But whatever, if meeting you again was all it took for Chan to stop bothering him, then so be it. You might kill him later for setting this up, but he’ll take the fall - anything to get his filthy rich and lonely friend to stop breathing down his neck.

fungus [5:43 pm]: hey u at the coffee shop?

you [5:57 pm]: yeah why?

fungus [6:01 pm]: i told chan to drop off The Versace Barocco-Print Belt with u if that’s cool

you [6:02 pm]: uuuuuuuuuuuuugggggggggggghhhhhhhhhh fine

fungus [6:05 pm]: thanks bro.

fungus [6:06 pm]: play nice ~ he’s a cool guy.

On cue, the ever-so handsome, front cover of GQ magazine, most eligible bachelor under twenty-five who added you on social media at three in the morning last week walked through the door. Again, he didn’t wear anything that stood out or any brands you didn’t recognize, so he didn’t necessarily look like he had any type of money Felix had informed you the first time, but the way he walked made up for it. Back straight, broad shoulders that swayed, chest out and peaking through the white satin button-up that was buttoned too low, flexed jaw and pursed lips that said ‘move, bitch’, and his expensive dress shoes that clicked and echoed on the floor, drawing the attention of everyone in the cafe. He may not have dressed to stand out, but that didn’t matter because he drew everyone’s attention anyways.

He paid no mind to everyone else because all of his attention was on you. The second he laid eyes on you was when his annoyed expression melted into a mix of something sweet and thankful.

“_____,” he greeted simply in his honey voice. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Hi,” you said casually. “Likewise. Do you have the world’s ugliest belt with you?”

He chuckled lightheartedly, which sounded more like a cute giggle. “Is it really that ugly?”

“Too avant garde, if you ask me.”

Chan invited himself to a seat next to you. When you didn’t object or look noticeably disgusted by his presence, he took it as a sign that you welcomed his company. One foot through the door. “I’ll have you know it was a hit last weekend.”

“I’m sure anything you wear is a hit, even if it is something so atrocious.”

“It’s called couture.”

“I suppose my taste isn’t as high-class compared to your couture.”

“What is your taste?”

“I don’t think the lack of zeros in my bank account qualify me to answer this question.”

Another silky laugh escaped his curled lips. _____, stop looking there! “You don’t need to have a lot of money to know or have good taste.”

“There’s a whole world of clothing, food, and architecture that I didn’t know about before meeting Felix, so the expanse of my knowledge when it comes to a taste of anything isn’t as vast as those who do have a butt-load of money.”

“Even so, I happen to like your style.”

You did that cute little brow quirk he liked so much. “My t-shirt and jeans? You’re kidding, right?”

“What? I’m wearing a shirt and jeans, too.”

“Your shirt is made from the finest silk China could afford and mine is a mix of cotton and polyester.”

“Close enough. At least our jeans match.” Chan placed the belt free of champagne stains and leather wrinkles on the table. “Here’s your favorite belt of art that’s been passed around our friend group like a blunt.”

“Ooh, I can’t wait to hold something that’s touched nine millionaires’ crotches.”

“I bet,” he teased. “You look busy, so I’ll leave you alone.”

Normally, you’d be more than happy to bid a man farewell, but something came over you. “Actually, I’m not. Are you busy?”

“Me? No, why?”

“I’m kind of hungry. Would you like to join me for dinner?”

Chan had to stop his grin from growing. He couldn’t look too excited, or that would creep you out. And to think he doubted himself about winning you over. You even beat him to asking you out! “I’d love to. I know the perfect place.”

“I’m sure you know this by now from my impeccable style but please choose somewhere affordable.”

“This place is cheap, I promise.”

“Like two dollar signs on Yelp cheap?”

“One.”

“Now you’re talking my language, Mr. Chan.”

He’ll talk all your ‘languages’ - your food language, your money language, your love language - he’ll come to know all of them like the back of his hand.

Despite picking a place to eat for the both of you to enjoy without denting your bank account, Chan ended up paying for both of your meals with his black metal credit card.

“Hey, why’d you do that!?” you whined.

“I never let my friends pay when they’re with me.”

“Well, I’m not one of your money-hungry friends! I have pride and dignity! This means I owe you a meal next time.”

“Ok, it’s a date.”

Chan was making his way towards the door before you could fully process the exchange. A date? Oh God, was tonight’s dinner a date!? No way, right…? Out the door, you saw him chuckle at how confused your face must have looked and he ushered you with his hand to hurry and follow.

Smooth move, Mr. Chan… I’ll let that one slide.

two years ago:

Falling for Chan was effortless. After dinner the night he returned Felix’s belt, spending time together happened so frequently that you didn’t even notice how fast you were falling. You hate to sound cliche, but Chan wasn’t like all the other rich kids within their massive social circle. He didn’t flaunt his worth, he didn’t judge you for your lack thereof, nor was he some dumb ass kid going to school to just party and hook up every other night.

Chan was kind. He’d always put your needs above his, like wanting to pay him back for all the food he’d buy, but that got hard to keep up with real fast. He never wanted you to pay him back in the first place, but if buying him a cup of coffee would make you happy, then so be it. He’d always walk you back to your dingy apartment after dinner or drive you home in his blacked-out Ferarri after studying at the library so late because he worried about you walking alone in the dark. You fell faster on the days you were sick and he’d stop by with the best chicken soup in the city, packets of fragrant teas to chase the Nyquil, and the fancy tissues with vapor rub and soothing lotion. But he must do these kinds of things with all of his friends, because that’s the kind of person he was.

Chan was intelligent. He told you about his childhood spent in private schools with private tutors while playing sports and instruments and learning multiple languages and if he didn’t rank in the top 5% every year, he got his ass handed to him by his mother (fourth year of high school was rough). What amazed you even more was how he retained all of the languages and talent.

“I took five years of Spanish and I can speak at a child’s level,” you pouted. “How the hell do you know seven languages!?”

“Gotta learn the languages of where the hotels are located, y’know?”

“Of course…”

Chan was passionate. Not just about the charity work his family does, not just about the hotel business, but every little thing that interested him sparked a little fire inside. Chan put his mind, body, and soul into all his projects, his work, and everything he ever cared about. When he’s focused and has a goal in mind, he won’t stop until he gets it done and the execution is perfect. You thought it was kind of hot - the way his pupils dilated, the satisfied smirk after completing something, the dangerous little sparkle in his eyes… So hot.

It was the little things that solidified his place in your heart. All the times he tucked your hair behind your ears, when his hand was on the small of your back to guide you, and when his breath tickled your ear when he leaned in close to whisper were all little catalysts to your already-aching heart that beats for him.

What were you to do? You, a simple woman growing up nowhere near his and Felix’s type of lifestyle. You didn’t have diamond-encrusted pacifiers, or ten maids and nannies, or a yacht that you got on your eighteenth birthday. You lived a simple teenage and young adult life that you wouldn’t change for the world, yet you fell for someone who had everything served to him on silver platters and fine china. You thought that there was no way you two could ever work even if he reciprocated your feelings.

But he didn’t see you as the simple woman you saw in the mirror. He saw the extraordinary, goofy, diligent, beautiful you all the time. Your background or financial status didn’t matter to him. The way you smiled at him mattered; the way your hand lingered on his arm a little longer after you hit him for something funny he said mattered; the dreamy look in your eyes that you had whenever you looked at him mattered. Nothing else mattered.

“Why do you always look at me like that?” he asked you one evening while hanging out on his massive penthouse porch.

“Like what?”

“With your wide eyes and that soft little smile that breaks all the boys’ hearts,” he teased. “Did I do something? Am I that sexy?”

“Shut up,” you blushed. “I’m just thinking about how it’s weird being friends with you.”

“Why weird?”

“I don’t know. I’m not used to being around all of this.” Your arms widened to showcase Chan’s apartment that was at least ten times the size of yours.

“Ah, you mean my butt load of money. Even after two years of being The Dynamic Duo?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it. I just feel out of place, you know? I see the way some of your other friends look at me. It shouldn’t bother me so much, but I can’t help it. I feel like I don’t have the prerequisites to be your friend.”

“Who’s looking at you funny? Is it Bambam? I’ll kick his ass -”

“Stop, don’t kick your friends’ asses.”

“They just haven’t gotten to know the wonderful, thoughtful, dumb ass _____ yet.” Chan pulled you into a tight bro-like hug and ruffled your hair like a little kid to mask his rapidly-beating heart. “Don’t pay attention to them. You should know by now I don’t care about money.”

“But -”

“None of that about you matters to me, ok? Only you matter.”

You learned by now to not be affected by his poetic words, but tonight you fell back into your old habits. Only you mattered to him - that felt good. Feeling defeated by your dumb feelings, but comforted at the same time, you lazily wrapped your arms around Chan’s tiny waist as you lay your head on his shoulder.

“You’re so corny,” you muttered.

He ruffled your hair once more. “Only for you.”

It was then you thought to yourself that maybe this could work. Maybe falling for him wasn’t a mistake and being together wasn’t so far-fetched and being loved was something obtainable. For the first time, you thought having Chan by your side wasn’t as ridiculous as it seemed.

But of course, it wasn’t that simple. Nothing was simple when it came to Bang Chan. It was always out of the ordinary. Extraordinary. The night you realized you and him would never be was the same night you witnessed what life was like when you could drown in your own gold and jewels.

“Singapore?” you repeated to your two Aussie friends incredulously. “You’re going to Singapore just for the weekend?”

“We’re going to Singapore,” Chan corrected.

Felix called you and said to come over immediately because it was an emergency, which was Felix talk for ‘I have a trip in a couple of days and I need you to help me pick out my outfits.’ Really, you never actually helped with the picking process, he just wanted you there to tell him he looked good. So as usual, you sat in one of his oriental-style bright red cushioned chairs that were placed on both ends of the ten-by-ten foot mirror in his massive walk-in closet and Chan stood next to you, wondering how you ever put up with Felix’s outfit changes. Tonight wasn’t the usual packing agenda when they broke the news to you that yes, you were definitely joining them on a weekend trip to Singapore for Choi San’s birthday this weekend.

“I can’t afford that!” you screeched. “I can’t just book a flight and a hotel like this on the spot!”

“Oh, _____, you’re so cute ~” Felix teased, adjusting the collar on his shirt. “Like hell am I going to let us fly like the locals. We’re using my Dad’s private jet and staying in Chan’s private Black and White bungalow, of course. And none of us have to pay a dime.”

“But I don’t even know San like that.”

“You will this weekend. C’mon, it’ll be so much fun! It’s going to be the party of the century! He always throws the most extra parties.” 

“Even if I did want to go, I don’t have the clothes for it. I don’t own anything high-end like you guys. I’ll stick out like a sore thumb.”

“I already got that covered.” With his shirt half-buttoned, Felix ran to the other side of the closet to open a door you had never seen before. Inside of his bedroom, which held a 500 square foot closet, held a smaller 300 square foot closet. A closet within a closet - closet-ception, if you will. You didn’t have to go inside to see all the crystal-embroidered tulle gowns and the silkiest shirts that hung on black velvet hangers. “My older sister keeps her clothes here sometimes so Dad doesn’t see it. Just borrow some of her stuff.”

“I can’t just take her clothes!”

“Actually, she already picked out the ones she thinks would look best on you,” Felix showed you her incoming text messages as proof that one, you definitely had her permission to wear whatever you’d like and two, she thought you looked best in Valentino.

“Ooh, Valentino ~ I agree,” Chan piped in.

“I don’t know…” you hesitated. You could handle Felix and Chan and their riches when it was just the two of them, but to be surrounded by hundreds of people who had the same kinds of bank accounts? And you, floating among them in clothing that wasn’t even yours, faking your way into the social circle? It sounded like a suicide mission.

“You’ll have one of us by your side the whole time, we promise. We want you to meet our friends and show you that not all rich people are assholes like our parents.” Chan stuck out his lower lip and clasped his hands together like a kid begging for some ice cream. “Please come?”

Felix joined in with the begging and now you have two golden retriever puppies begging you to go on what should be a multi-million dollar vacation for the weekend with them, dressed to the nines twenty-four seven. You had to be crazy to not immediately scream yes, but the whole idea of this weekend was just terrifying. But you’d be with Chan, vacationing in a beautiful country, with him by your side. You couldn’t pass this opportunity up.

“Fine,” you sighed in defeat.

“Yes! Ooh, this weekend is going to be so much fun! Hey, we should all match for the party! _____, I know exactly what you should wear -”

Chan snickered at the excited boy pulling out piles and piles of clothes to dress his new life-size doll. You already deeply regretted your decision.

As Felix held up pastel-colored tulles and jewel-toned satins up to your body in front of the ridiculously-sized mirror, Chan couldn’t help but fantasize about the weekend. He already had it all planned out - you would take the front seat in his cherry-red convertible and breathe in the clean Singaporean air with the biggest smile on your face as you all pulled up to his Black and White bungalow, your eyes would widen at the decor, you’d claim the bedroom right next to his, you’d take tons of pictures and capture every moment together, eat the foods he grew up with when he spent his summers here, and then party ‘til the sun rose. You’d look so beautiful in whatever Felix chose, and you’d link arms with him like you two were together. Then you’d dance, drink, and laugh the night away in his arms for hours. Felix would probably stray away to find some poor soul to bother and that’s when it’d be just the two of you. When the party was too much to handle or the alcohol was too strong, he’d walk you home. If you were stumbling over little bumps, he’d pick you up and carry you the whole three blocks distance and you’d be so cute and giggly that he, too, couldn’t help but laugh because the warmth of your blushing cheek pressed against his made his heart ecstatic. Once you arrive home, he’d take you to the backyard and you two would stargaze or watch the sun rise, depending on how late you came home. You’d start out with some space in between. Then he’d get closer. Then he’d brush his hands against yours. Then he’d hold them, fingers laced loosely at first, hoping you’d squeeze back tightly. Finally, he’d confess that after two years of knowing you, he’s fallen for you harder every single day since he met you at the coffee shop. If you felt the same, then perfect, the night would end with a soft kiss. If you didn’t, he’ll run to the pier and sail his yacht all the way back home and claim he was blackout drunk, or something.

Yeah, that sounded like a solid plan. What could go wrong?

It was six in the morning when you were dragged out of bed and thrown into Chan’s Ferrari. Felix’s private jet only had you, him, and Chan as passengers. You thought for something as big as a damn plane that maybe the whole friend group would be tagging along, but apparently they insisted on flying on their own and leaving a larger carbon footprint, but hey you weren’t surprised in the least. That just meant less arguing over what to watch on the eighty-inch flat screen and more champagne for the three of you.

“Holy shit,” you muttered after taking the middle seat in front of the television.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Felix boasted, hopping on the seat to your left. “Have I not introduced you to JASMINE before?”

“I think I’d remember if I’ve been on your private jet before.”

“Ah, maybe I’m remembering the time you went on my yacht, ROSEMARY.”

Chan joined in to your left with a handful of flute glasses filled with bubbly, golden champagne and a single raspberry at the bottom for you and Felix. He raised his glass in celebration. “Cheers to the weekend.”

“It’s six thirty in the morning,” you groaned tiredly.

“It’s five o’clock somewhere.”

“You can’t keep using that excuse, Chan, your liver will fail you one day.”

“A wise man once said YOLO, my dearest _____, so let’s drink to that!”

“Ugh… cheers,” After taking a sip, your face twisted sourly. “Oh, that’s not good…”

“It’s terrible, but it gets the job done.”

“You’re both crazy, I love this stuff,” Felix said, chugging the whole glass. “Forget water, make sure only champagne and 1738 course through my veins for the next two days.”

For the duration of the six hour flight, the three of you watched one horror movie (to which Felix cowered under his fluffy monogrammed blanket) and one romantic comedy (to which Felix cried while holding his Rilakkuma bear). Then after the smoothest plane landing you’ve ever experienced, you finally landed in the beautiful country of Singapore. The skies were so blue, the skyline was gorgeous, hell even the airport was voted the most beautiful airport in the world. A red convertible pulled up to the three of you waiting at the arrivals section and the driver tossed Chan the car keys. As the driver put your luggage in the back of a separate car, Chan opened the passenger seat open for you like a gentleman.

“Your chariot awaits, my darling,” he smiled cheekily. “Her name is Cherie.”

“Do all rich people name their motor vehicles?”

“Of course, it’s only right.”

The crisp afternoon air felt good flowing between your fingers. Chan caught glimpses of your smile and knew then that inviting you to this weekend was the best decision he’s made concerning you. His plan was going swimmingly thus far - now to survive the next couple days.

The Black and White house was quite literally a Black and White house, but it was nothing close to being monotonous. It was a beautiful symmetrical white bungalow with black trimming and a tanned overhanging roof. All of the shutter-style windows were wide open, allowing the same beautiful breeze to pass through the house, wafting the smell of fresh scones and muffins as you walked through the door. The inside of the house got more extravagant with every step you took. The walls were all white (porcelain white, not daisy, of course), the tiles a glossy pearl, every corner filled with the greenest potted plants and too many antique potteries to count, high ceilings with a crystal chandelier dropping in the living room, and a deep mahogany wood door that led to the backyard that overlooked the entire city.

“You vacationed here in the summer!?” you gasped.

“Yup, every year.”

“It’s beautiful!”

“You should see Changbin’s bungalow,” Felix interjected. “He demanded the house to be repainted black instead of the classic white.”

“My childhood summers were spent on my grandparent’s farm. I can’t imagine what it’d be like to wake up every morning to freshly-made scones and fruit jam.”

Chan led you up the stairs to show you the bedrooms. You lost count of how many there were by the time you got to his. His room was enormous, with a king-sized bed right in the middle covered in the fluffiest white covers. He had his guitar and other music-related toys on one wall of the room with a soft yellow neon sign that said ‘CB97’ mounted high on the wall with posters beside it. His room was decorated very Chan-like, and you thought it was quite charming.

“I didn’t like being by my siblings, so I asked to get the one at the very end and the spares were used whenever Felix and the guys came over. Felix’s is across the hall and your’s is the one next door.”

“Ah yes, Chan’s room - where all the magic happened,” Felix teased, jumping on the bed. “I’ve heard way too many stories about the girls you’d take up here -”

“Ah ha ha ~! No need to relive that!” Chan blushed deeply.

“You’re suddenly shy about it now? You sure didn’t have any problem boasting about it every summer.”

“That was so long ago.”

“Please, two years was not that long ago. Didn’t you come her last year, too? God, who knows what happened then.”

Your heart sunk. So he’s taken girls up here before. A lot of girls, according to Felix, and by the way Chan blushed from embarrassment, he wasn’t denying it, either. It wasn’t right for you to feel jealous, you didn’t even know him during those times, unless he had a fling last summer that no one knew about. No, it definitely wasn’t right for you to feel jealous, but the burning in your chest was a little difficult to ignore at one in the afternoon.

“Gross,” you say as light-heartedly as you could. You left sourly without another word to unpack your belongings.

Fuck. Damn Felix and his big ass mouth! You probably thought he was a disgusting playboy now. This was one of several things Chan was afraid of when you were introduced to this side of his life - that his scandalous, rebellious past would come back to haunt him and hit you in the face and you’d be so turned off by it. Well, that’s exactly what happened, not one hour on the island. He couldn’t help that he was a horny teenager back then! Chan chucked one of the embroidered silk pillows at his cowering childhood friend before hastily following you.

You held up a jewel-toned satin piece that Felix chose from his sister’s closet. It was different than the one chosen a couple of nights ago (“_____, I change my mind, wear this one instead.” “Wha - Felix, we’re leaving in ten minutes!” “Just trust me!”), but Chan thought this one suited you much better. The look on your face said you thought otherwise.

“Not a fan of Valentino?” he teased.

“Quite the opposite. I think it’s beautiful, it’s just I don’t think it’ll look beautiful on me.”

“Nonsense. You look beautiful in anything.”

“There’s no need to lie.”

“Who’s lying? You look especially dashing in t-shirt and jeans.”

“My impeccable sense of style,” you giggled. “Is the party tonight really going to be this fancy? Isn’t it just a house party?”

“My dear _____, it’s not just any house party, it’s the house party,” Chan corrected. “San owns the biggest Black and White bungalow in the country. He decks it out to the max with unnecessary decorations, hires Singapore’s multi-Michelin star restaurants to cater, ships in expensive wines and spirits, and hires those exotic dancers that hang from the ceiling. San’s parties make international headlines, and this one’s extra special because it’s his birthday, so yes, fancy is just an understatement.”

“Yeah, I really don’t belong here…”

“Don’t worry about it for now. What we need to worry about is lunch, ‘cuz I’m starving.”

“Hey, I’m gonna be with Jisung and Changbin until the party. I’ll just see you guys there,” Felix waved off casually.

“Guess it’s just you and me.” Chan hoped he didn’t look too glad Felix was gone. “I want to take you to a restaurant I always ate at in the summer.”

“How many dollar signs on Yelp?”

“Not telling ‘cuz I’m paying.”

“Chan, you ass, you said you’d make things even from now on!”

“A man just wants to fly his friend to a whole new country and treat her to his favorite restaurant, is that too much to ask for!?”

You didn’t answer while following a happy-go-lucky, skippy Chan to his red convertible. You’ve never seen him so happy before. He must have missed being on the soil that held his summer-y childhood memories. Being in the hot sticky sun in the house he loved the most with the widest, dimple-iest smile on his cute lips let you know that Chan was at home. Spending every moment with him for the next two days watching his smile grow as he revisited memory lane would make it hard for your heart to stop fluttering.

It was no more than a ten minute drive from his house, but from where you parked, you couldn't spot any restaurants.

"It's a bit of a hole in the wall. I hope you don't mind walking a bit."

"Not at all! The best places to eat are always hidden well."

The surrounding area reminded you of the more crowded and space-efficient parts of home. The buildings were all kind of squished together with tiny alleys in between and there was a ton of foot traffic, but it was probably because it was the weekend. You almost lost track of Chan until he grabbed onto your hand and guided you through the sea of locals.

"It's a little overwhelming if you haven't been here before," he said apologetically. "It's worth the journey, I promise."

"You used to come here a lot over the summer?"

"Almost every day. The woman who runs the place was like another grandmother to me. She is the sweetest thing. Oh, there she is!"

Chan sharply turned the corner of the street and you were taken to a whole other dimension. It reminded you of the beginning scene in Spirited Away when Chihiro and her parents stumbled upon the empty street filled with different tents of food, only this time you couldn't even see past the second tent. Even in the daytime, a place like this seemed so magical that it was no wonder a kid wanted to come here everyday. The different spices and aromas marinated in the air and it was so heavenly, you couldn't wait to get a bite! Somewhere in the middle, the tent that Chan had been dying to go to all year round was right where he left it.

"Auntie!" Chan called from the back of the endless line.

"Eh?" A cute little woman with a floral bandanna and red apron squinted in your direction. The second she saw Chan's handsome face, her grumpy expression smoothed to that of a grandma seeing her grandson grow so much in just a single year. "Channie! You're back for the summer!?"

"Just for the weekend, auntie."

She didn't miss a single beat as she continued to serve her loyal customers. "Ah, you're too busy to visit me everyday now, huh?"

"Sadly, yes," he pouted.

"You want the usual, Channie?"

"Yes, please! Can you make that two?"

"Eh?" Again, the little woman squinted in your direction. Chan had let go of your hand and placed them on your shoulder, indicating that you were his guest of honor this afternoon. A teasing twinkle gleamed in her youthful eyes. "Ah, I see ~"

Chan didn't deny her teasing. He didn't say, 'nah, it's not like that' or say 'she's just a friend'. Instead, he hung his head down embarrassingly, his grin not faltering, neither yours. You wondered what he was thinking.

The line was long, but it moved quickly when Chan was by your side telling you stories of his childhood spent with Felix and his other friends making a ruckus in the streets and buying up all the meat skewers until not a single shop had any left.

"Jeez, growth spurt much?"

"Hey, a man's gotta eat, ok?"

Finally, it was your turn in line, and the Queen of the shop already had two plates full of noodles slathered in a dark, sweet-smelling sauce and two large styrofoam cups.

"Channie never ate anything else besides my kway teow noodles,” Auntie told you. “The first few years of eating it as a little boy, he thought there were no vegetables, so I never told him there were any because it was the only way he'd eat them - covered in my special sauce.”

"No need to relive my unhealthy childhood…" he muttered while you laughed.

"It's fine now, since you've grown up to be so~o handsome!" she pinched his chubby cheek. "Finally, you have yourself a girlfriend. 'Bout time! Even San beat you! But that’s no surprise, the ladies love that bad boy."

"O-Oh, we're not…!" you stuttered nervously, unable to finish your sentence. She really was like an embarrassing auntie…

"We're not together like that," Chan concluded. “She’s just a close friend.”

She scoffed incredulously. "Yeah, for now."

"Auntie!"

She ignored her favorite customer’s whining and turned to you once more. “Watch out for this playboy, he’ll be hard to tie down.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Chan needed to get you out of there before any more of his past was brought up. So much for his stellar, fool-proof plan. He handed Auntie what looked to be a lot of money, but you’re not sure what the conversion is to their dollar. A quick kiss on her cheek and he whisked you away. “Bye, Auntie! Love you!”

“Visit me more often, you stingy brat! And by, sweetheart, it was nice meeting you!” she called out sweetly.

Chan hastily grabbed one of the wooden benches just outside of the long street of vendors. He seemed quite relieved to have left his favorite food stand before Auntie revealed too much of the past summers. Your feelings clashed with a sense of jealousy and a bit of pride that she thought you were his girlfriend. Yet again did you have to remind yourself that no, _____, you cannot be jealous, you dumb ass!

“Sorry about that,” Chan sighed. “She doesn’t have a filter.”

“I like her. She’s very spunky,” you laughed. “Does she do that to all the girls you bring to her?”

“No. Why would you think that?”

“It seems like she’s met a few of them.”

“I’ve told her stories, but I’ve never brought any of them to this place. Now that I think about it, you’re the first girl I’ve brought to her. That’s probably why she thinks we’re serious.”

“Really? Why’s that?” You took your first bite of the savory-sweet noodles. It’s chewy, glutenous gold. “Holy shit.”

“Crazy good, right? Auntie makes them the best. And you’re asking why I never brought anyone else here?” You nodded silently, too preoccupied stuffing your face with Chan’s childhood favorite dish. “This place holds a special part of my childhood. I can’t just bring anyone here.”

“What’s makes it so special?” You took a sip from the styrofoam cup. It’s sugarcane juice!

“When I was a kid, I didn’t come here to bask in the sunlight and play at the beach all day. I’d go to summer school during the day where I was taught math and economics at least two grades ahead of me and attend Mom’s business and charity meetings in the evening. I was always so tired, no matter what time of day it was. One time, I was being so bratty and was crying so much from all the unwanted stress and my parents didn’t like it because I’m supposed to be the Charity Chairman’s perfect son and the perfect heir to the hotel franchise, you know? But I just wanted to be a kid. My family got so mad at me for being selfish that they kicked me out of the house for the night without dinner and I couldn’t come back until the morning.”

“That’s crazy! Where did you sleep!?”

“The pool house behind the main house,” he stated obviously.

“Oh, of course. Silly me.”

He threw his crumpled-up napkin at you before continuing. “That’s when I met Auntie. I was crying and wailing and sobbing like a baby on a Wednesday evening, so it wasn’t busy and no one really saw me. I sat at this very bench with my head down crying until I could fall asleep because I really didn’t want to return home. Then I felt someone nudge me awake. It was Auntie, and she gave me a bowl of curry with some paratha and I thought, ‘an old lady wouldn’t try to poison me, right?’ So I inhaled that whole bowl and chugged all of the chocolate Milo. I tried paying her with all the cash I had because I was so thankful, and she couldn’t believe a young kid like me had so much in the first place, but she never took it. I came every week to order from her and she remembered me every time. I tried everything on the menu by my tenth visit, and the kway teow is my favorite. I’d come here after a rough day with my parents, after I failed an exam, after I cried over some girl I had a crush on, after I found out my Dad had a mistress, you name it. Sometimes I came for no reason at all - I just didn’t want to be home.”

A shaky sigh escaped Chan’s lips. His eyes were glossy and it broke your heart to see Chan on the brink of tears, but he’s smiling. His upbringing was rough, but he’s smiling because he wouldn’t have survived his childhood without the spunky woman behind the food stand in the middle of the street. You dared to reach across the table and hold his hand, hoping he’d find some comfort in your touch. He does, and you know so by the way he squeeze it back so tightly. There were no more tears in his eyes.

“This place was my secret hideout for a good chunk of my life. I can’t just bring anyone here.” Chan began to trace little circles on the back of your hand.

“What am I if I’m not just anyone?”

“Special,” he replied. “To me, you’re special.”

The air was filled with your cute giggles and you took your hand back to cover your blushing, glowing face. Chan always had a way with words. “You’re a cornball!”

“I’ll have you know that the ladies love cornballs!”

“Not this one.”

“Oh, hold still, you got a little of the dark sauce on your cheek.” Chan leaned over the table with a napkin in his hand as you sat still. The very last second, he drops the napkin, scooped up a hefty dollop on his finger, and smeared it on your cheek.

“EW!”

“That’s what you get!”

Your special man began running to the car with you on his tail laughing like two young lovers on their honeymoon. Both of you failed to see someone taking pictures as they sent them to San’s entire guest list.

“Bro, you look hot.”

You jumped at Felix’s comment and chuck a pillow at his almost-shirtless torso. He had a weird habit of not buttoning up his shirts until the last minute. One of his many idiosyncrasies. 

“Chill, that’s a compliment! Didn’t I pick out a hot Valentino piece? Chef kiss, m’lady.”

“You’re so gross… But you do have taste, so thank you. You really didn’t have to ask your sister to let me borrow this, though. I still feel terrible.”

“Shut up, you’re fine. She’s never going to wear that, I promise you. Besides, I can’t have someone not wearing designer stand next to me, that’d be blasphemous.”

“Can you please button up your shirt?”

“Why? These Hawaiian Sweet Rolls too much for you to handle?” he teased, flexing his six-pack. You dry heaved dramatically.

“You two are like siblings, it’s so funny - whoa,” Chan stopped mid-sentence, completely stunned by your presence. Of course he’d love how you looked if you wore a hoodie and jeans because he never even imagined you wearing something like this, but you blew him away.

“Good whoa or bad whoa?” you panicked.

“Definitely a good whoa… U-Uh, I mean, yeah. Yes.”

“Thank you,” you grinned. You eyed the man in the black and gold polka-dotted Muslin Yves Saint Laurent button up (buttoned too low, as usual) tucked loosely in Yves Saint Laurent cuffed trousers. Certainly, Chan was bound to be the center of attention at one point, regardless of whose birthday it was. Felix sported Louis tonight and you thought to yourself that you three were quite a sexy trio. “You two don’t look too bad yourselves.”

“Straight from the runway,” Felix boasted.

“Straight from my closet,” Chan shrugged.

“Can we get drunk before I cry about how much money I don’t have?”

Chan’s driver sported a white Rolls Royce to take you all there, despite it being only three blocks away (Felix was more than happy because he didn’t want to scuff his shoes). You thought you were fashionably late, but it turns out San was just showing off his cars and leaving them parked on the circular driveway. The size of his house made the cars look so, so tiny, but his house was truly enormous, way bigger than Chan’s. Couples among couples began to file in the house, making you feel nervous and very, very single.

“Do people usually bring a date to these parties?” you asked the boys.

“Yeah, for clout. Two shots later and suddenly everyone’s up for grabs,” Felix explained, walking up the driveway without waiting. “I’ll see y’all back at home. Or not. Don’t wait up for me ~”

When Chan saw that what Felix said didn’t lessen your nerves one bit, he held his arm out for you. “Wanna be my date for tonight?”

“You won’t ditch me after two shots?”

“Two, no. Five, maybe.”

How could you deny his dimpled grin? You couldn’t, so you slipped your arm through and walked into San’s palace. You were taken to a whole new world; a whole new dimension of luxury and riches that you only tapped into upon landing here. There was indeed dancers twirling on ribbons from the ceilings, loud music from some famous DJ that headlined at EDC, and liquor of every shade of gold in crystal glasses. Everything was so magnificent and expensive, it was like you couldn’t even afford to look at anything or even anyone. Everyone who was anyone was here, and you recognized a lot of their faces from Chan and Felix’s social media. You couldn’t even pronounce the brands they were wearing! Again, Chan sensed your anxiousness, something he was so unbelievably good at, and slipped his arm down so that he could grab on to your hand. He figured if you were able to let all his past worries go away by just holding his hand across the table that he could do the same, only this time he was by your side like he always wanted to be. You always predicted that his hand would fit so nicely in yours.

“CHAN! MI AMIGO!” San screamed into the mic from the dance floor. “Everyone, the sexiest bachelor of the hour has arrived!”

“Oh, boy,” he sighed.

He was surprised to hear you giggle at his friend’s nickname. “Looks like we came a little late.”

San stumbled in front of you before falling into your arms for a tight hug. You weren’t used to such an affectionate San - you shared multiple classes with him and you’re surprised he even remembered you, if you were being honest.

“Happy birthday, San,” you struggled to say as you held the boy up.

“Hi, _____! Thank you! I’m so glad you’re here!” San’s foxy eyes widened at the sight of his questioning friend. “Chan! I missed you!”

“Miss you, too, buddy,” he chuckled, hugging the sloppy man. “Happy birthday, bro. Making Mina work hard, I see.”

“Why, do you see her!? Don’t tell her you saw me!” And that was the last time you saw San.

Chan shook his head at his childhood friend. Then he took your hand and lead you deeper into the party. “Let’s go find people we actually know.”

As you slipped between the crowd, you felt eyes staring. A bunch of eyes, actually. A lot of them. The owners were mostly girls, ones you recognized, and that’s when you knew it was because of Chan, the bachelor of the century. They eyed you maliciously, switching between judging you from what you were wearing and your hold onto Chan’s hand. Where was that handsome waiter with a tray full of shots? You needed that right about now.

On cue, Chan handed you liquid gold. “Cheers to a fun night.”

“Right… Cheers.” Bottoms up! Oh God, that burned! But the warm finish was quite nice. “More, please.”

“Jeez, what for? You trying to leave me after two shots already?” he teased.

“No, I’m just trying to blind myself from all those… eyes…”

“Huh?” Chan caught a glimpse of what you meant when he caught the eyes of familiar flings and old friends. His jaw clenched. “Don’t worry about them, ok?”

“I’m trying, but you’re holding me back if I can’t take at least one more shot.” Reluctantly, your handsome date gave you what you wanted and he followed suit. “Bottoms up!”

Bottoms up indeed, several times too many, if Chan thought so himself. But you were loosening up and not worrying about another thing he feared about this trip - that you would meet his exes, or worse, they would do something to hurt you because that’s just what girls with tons of money do. He soon forgot about all his worries when you dragged him on the dance floor and had your body pressed up against his. You were so goofy and cute when you were drunk just by itself, singing to all the songs and taking silly selfies, but when you were dancing? He could hardly keep his hands off of you.

Chan pulled away and you pouted, not wanting the warmth of his body to leave even for one second, but he told you he had to go to the bathroom and that he’d be right back, so don’t you move! But your intoxicated self didn’t listen and you found yourself wandering to the backyard where Hyunjin, Woojin, and a bunch of people you were familiar with gathered around the open-pit fire and having a little party themselves.

“Did _____ get her Rich Bitch ID?” Hyunjin teased, looking at the label of your dress. “Shit, I guess she has.”

“It’s Felix’s sister’s, so no, it’s just a fake ID to last me the night.”

Woojin swung his arm around you boyishly. “You’re always welcome to OUR Rich Bitch club. No cover for girls,” he winked.

“How generous of you.”

Chan didn’t take long in the bathroom. He made sure to come back to you as quickly as possible to pick up where you left off, but after a couple of minutes searching the crowd, he couldn’t find you. He’s not surprised you wandered off somewhere, he just wished you sent him a text, or something. He felt a tap on his shoulder, thinking it was you, but it ended up being Sana, his old fling.

“Channie!” she squealed happily, throwing her arms around his neck. “I missed you ~!”

“Hey, I missed you, too,” he hugged back awkwardly. “Long time no see.”

“I’m glad the feeling’s mutual. Whatcha doing?”

“I’m just looking for someone…” he said, continuing to scan the crowd like she wasn’t there. He shouldn’t have drank so much…

“You mean _____?”

How did she know your name? Not important. “Oh, yeah. Have you seen her?”

“She’s outside with Woojin.”

“With Woojin…?”

“Yup! Take a look.”

Sana took Chan by the hand and lead him to the back door. His tunnel vision, though quite blurry, found you with your back facing the door and Woojin, his childhood rival, to your right, where he had his arm around your shoulder. Oh, he was such a Kim! He always snatched whatever was his when he wasn’t looking, just like that modelling contract! Normally, Chan would be the bigger person and not care, but this was you, someone so important to him. He couldn’t let this go that easily. There’s this uncharacteristic rage and jealousy that built up in his chest, making his heart hurt with every beat. You weren’t even doing anything, but seeing you in someone else’s arms just as he left for the damn bathroom? After trying to make you his for so long? It hurt. It really, really hurt...

Sana took the opportunity to pull him away from you. “Hey, let’s dance. Like we used to.”

Without hesitating, Chan took the lead and went to the dance floor.

Time passed like it meant nothing while you caught up with some good friends, but sobriety was kicking in at three in the morning and you wondered how long Chan needed to go to the bathroom.

“I’m going to find my damn date,” you waved off to them.

Even at three in the morning, the house was still as crowded as ever, bumping music like the sun wasn’t going to rise in a couple of hours. You searched every room, every face on the dance floor, near every waiter that had a platter of liquor on it, and he was nowhere to be seen! Even the rooms that held couples making out (and then some) luckily didn’t have him in it, but where could he be? You ended up in the front yard last, perhaps he was looking at San’s cars, or something.

But that wasn’t where you saw him. At the end of the driveway, where it met the main street, you saw Chan walking some girl dressed in diamonds and crystals on the way back to the house.

That was the moment you knew you and Chan could never be. Even when he was with you for ninety percent of the night, he chose someone else. He was made to live his life in luxury, and that meant his love life was meant for luxury, too. No matter what you did, no matter how much you thought he liked you, how much you thought you were special to him, you could never live up to any of these other women at this party. You were nothing compared to them because you had nothing. You should have known better than to think otherwise.

“Hey,” you heard someone behind you. It was the ever-so handsome and dashing Woojin. Even in the dead of night, he looked so handsome. “Did you find Chan?”

“Um…” your voice was shaking. “Yeah, I think I saw him go home.”

From the tears in your eyes, Woojin assumed he didn’t go home alone. Typical heart-breaker Chan, always leaving girls behind to cry over him. Things never change. “Do you want me to walk you back?”

You nodded slowly. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

You and Woojin walked the three blocks in silence. There was a considerable amount of space in between as Woojin figured you didn’t want any man to be near you at the moment. Of course he understood - he’s had a fair share of his heart-breaking days. Those days were now over because he was getting tired of this lifestyle. His liver didn’t function like when he was younger and he craved something deeper than just one night stands. God, he sounded like a total douche.

The walk up Chan’s porch made you nervous and made Woojin nostalgic. He remembered coming here everyday after summer school when he was a kid. He kind of missed it here. Woojin was about to knock on the door but stopped when he realized you weren’t beside him. You stood by step, not wanting to go any further.

“Everything ok?” Woojin asked.

“Yeah… No. Not really. I don’t want to go to bed.”

“Why not?”

“Our rooms are next to each other and I don’t know how thin the walls are.”

Woojin didn’t laugh nor try to convince you otherwise. Instead, he walked up to you and stopped so close that you could smell his Gucci The Voice of the Snake cologne. Then, he smiled sweetly, a trait of his that you always thought was so cute, and sat on the stairs.

He patted the seat next to him. “I’ll keep you company.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t want to go home and I really don’t want to go back to the party.” His bottom lip pouted. “Please let me keep you company.”

You could use the distraction. “Even without trying, rich people get whatever they want.”

“Hey, we’re not all bad!”

“That’s what they all say,” you slurred, remembering that’s exactly what Chan said earlier.

“Yeah, you’re right. We’re pretty bad.”

“Maybe I should stop hanging around you guys and start hanging around my people.”

“But I like hanging out with you.”

“You know, before I met Felix and Chan and all your little yacht club friends who make fun of me for the clothes I wear -”

“Hey, that’s just Hyunjin, don’t lump us together like that! I like you no matter what you’re wearing.”

“- my life was so much simpler! I lived a simple life without luxury, I ate foods without truffles and caviar, I drank cheap soju like a regular poor delinquent instead of champagne and top-shelf liquor, and I didn’t like boys whose yearly income were worth ten times as much as I’d make in ten years!” You cried out to the skies above and buried your face in your hands. “Biggie was right… Mo Money Mo Problems…”

“There there…” Woojin comforted awkwardly.

“Woojin, can you be honest with me for a sec? Coming from a sad, average girl seeking advice from a rich bitch like yourself?”

“Of course.”

“Was I stupid to think I was anything special to Chan?”

Again, the handsome man beside you wrapped his arm around your shoulder like a good friend. Woojin was always a good friend to you. Outside of Felix and Chan, he was the only other man who was kind, despite you not being like the rest of his social circle.

“You said I can be honest, right?” he asked nervously.

“Oh my God, I’m an idiot.”

“Hey, that’s not what I was going to say. I was thinking naive was more of an appropriate word choice.”

“I’m so dumb, I might as well drop out.”

Woojin’s grip around you tightened. “Stop, don’t say that. You’re the smartest person I know, did you know that? Remember when you tutored all of us that one time? If you can tutor nine idiots in one session and we all somehow passed the class, you’re not an idiot.”

“Being book smart and Rich Boy smart are on two totally different levels of intelligence! Why am I so dumb in the latter!?”

“You aren’t. We’re the dumb ones. We let amazing people slip through our fingers because somehow this lifestyle sucks us back in. Some of us are able to overcome it, but most succumb to it.”

“... You’re right, you guys are the dumb ones.”

You and Woojin sat on Chan’s summer Black and White bungalow for hours, talking about the most useless things until the sun rose above the horizon and the light was almost blinding. It started out crying about how boys were stupid and ended with laughing until you couldn’t breathe from the stories he told you about his old flings.

“She said the mitochondria was the trap house of the cell,” Woojin tisked.

“She must have been kidding.”

“I can assure you she was not.”

“Wow,” you giggled. “You’ve dated a lot of… exciting people.”

“I wouldn’t say exciting…”

“Come to think of it, I can’t remember the last time I heard about some poor girl coming out of your place from Felix. He likes to whine about how lucky you are. Has Woojin lost his touch?”

“I will never lose my touch, don’t get that twisted,” he warned. “Maybe I’m tired of hook-ups. Maybe I’m trying to settle down.”

“Ha! Good one!”

“No, really!”

“Yeah, ok ~”

“Let me prove it. Let’s go on a date.”

Your laugh got caught in your throat. You’re stunned silent, looking at the man beside you like he was delusional. He had to be talking nonsense - it was six in the morning and neither of you had any sleep or anything to eat for several hours, he’s just talking crazy, right!? But the slight smirk on his lips told you that no, he wasn’t joking. He was enjoying that you were probably thinking about it right at this moment - what it’d be like to go on a date with Mr. Kim Woojin. He’s not wrong.

The front door to Chan’s house opened and startled you to death, but you’re so, so thankful that the girl Chan took home stumbled in between you two and you could avoid Woojin’s proclamation for a little longer. Both of you turned to see Chan in his pajamas bottoms and no shirt standing in the doorway, hair disheveled with droopy eyes, looking like he didn’t get any sleep at all.

Woojin helped you to your feet before greeting his old friend. “Good morning, Chan.”

The sleepy boy’s jaw tightened. Why did he look so triumphant? If you two were here the whole night, it’s not like you two did anything… right?

“Hey,” he greeted shortly. 

Woojin turned to you. “Think about it. I’ll see you later?”

You nodded silently, still too stunned to move. Then, taking advantage of your frozen form, Woojin swooped in for a quick kiss on the cheek.

Oh shit, this man was serious.

You’re completely sober and you really wished you weren’t because now you were going to reflect on everything that happened yesterday, from the time you landed until just this very second. On top of that, you were probably going to have to deal with Chan’s grumpy ass right now because when you walked right past him to the kitchen to chug a whole bottle of water, he followed right on your tail.

“How was last night?” he asked bitterly.

“Not as good as yours apparently,” you replied, trying to stay light-hearted and calm. Don’t get jealous, _____. You don’t have a right to.

“Nothing happened.”

“Oh?”

“She was puking all night. I barely had any sleep while taking care of her.”

“Did you bring her here just so she can puke in the comfort of your home, or was that just an inconvenient coincidence?” The words made you sound jealous, but you were genuinely curious. He claimed that nothing happened as if he knew you’d care if something did. Well, you didn’t!... you said, lying to yourself.

Chan stayed quiet. That was more than enough to answer your question.

“I’m tired,” you mumbled. “I’m going to bed.”

Chan wouldn’t let you. “What were you and Woojin doing?”

“Uh, talking?”

“On my porch?”

“Yeah? You left me at the party and I was all alone! So he was nice enough to walk me back here. I didn’t want to go inside to my room because God knows what you and her were doing there -”

“Nothing happened,” he repeated.

“Yeah, now I know. But if she wasn’t puking, who knows what would have happened, and guess what, I didn’t want to hear that or deal with it or even think about it, so we sat on your porch for hours until you opened the door.”

“You were the one who left me first. I thought you and I were having a great time! I was having so much fun with you and I wanted you back in my arms as soon as possible, but then I saw you in his. Do you know how much that hurt? I have liked you since the day you took my breath away when we first met, and I thought I could finally tell you that when you were back in my arms. But then I saw you in his and panicked. I swear to you, nothing happened with me and Sana. Nothing was going to happen, not when all I could think about was what you could possibly be doing with him. I thought you left me for him, and I got scared. I’m an idiot. I’m so sorry, ok? Can we talk about this over breakfast?”

That was what Chan wanted to say. But he’s tired, and he’s hurt, and the tears in your eyes were too much for him to handle. With his head down, he said,

“I hope you had fun.”

Chan brushed passed you to get to the coffee maker. He might as well stay up - what was the point in sleeping now?

You rushed up stairs so he didn’t see the tears rolling down your face.

The day was silent. Everything seemed to stop, but that was the last thing you wanted. You wanted to pack up, get in the damn cherry red convertible, and fly all the way home where you could forget about this whole weekend and the people involved. Felix finally made it home around noon, chatting nonstop about the yacht party that happened at four in the morning and all the girls he was talking to and thankful he couldn’t sense the tension between you and Chan.

The drive to the airport was silent. The flight back home was silent. The drive to your apartment was silent and the only noise you made that night was crying yourself to sleep.

Where did you go wrong? Was it when you wandered off to Woojin? Was it when you agreed to go on this trip? Was it when you fell for someone so unattainable for someone in your social class? Was it when you weren’t born with a billion dollars to your name?

Life was unfair and it had a funny way with playing with you and your heart.

You didn’t see Chan much after tonight.

[docholligay]

Follow Water Down

I have been wandering around in the woods since I was a small child. My family was not particularly well off, and from the ages of probably 3 to 16, the only vacations we ever took were camping trips. We left the house for the woods nearly every weekend. I live in Montana, and so when I say camping trips, I don’t mean we headed off to the KOA with a pool, I mean if I walked away from the campsite I was in the goddamn National Forest. I was genuinely happy with this arrangement, as I was a strange child who grew up to be a strange adult, and I enjoyed the quiet, the sense of exploration, the smell of the trees. 

I began leaving the campsite nearly from the word go, and by the time I was about 8 or so, I was very much off by myself in the woods for the majority of the day, which leads us to our post today. There are people who would call my mom grossly neglectful for having allowed me to do so much on my own at such a young age, and even she gets bashful when she talks about it, but I credit it with a lot of positives: 

I have an extremely good sense of direction

I have a strong core of self-sufficiency and am not easily overwhelmed by anxiety

I can be alone in the quiet with my thoughts

I am rough and tumble as HELL, owing to many many many falls down the sides of mountains, huge gashes in my legs, being stalked by a mountain lion, and one very memorable miscalculation that ended in me falling off a (small) waterfall

When I meet my fear, I can master it*

So what I am here to present to you today are very basic survival skills such as I would teach my own child, such as I was taught as a child. This is by no means comprehensive, and if you intend to get seriously into outdoor life, I recommend both doing far more research, and taking a a Wilderness First Aid class, which are frequently offered when it’s NOT Covid, and which I take about once every 3-5 years (I am due). This is a primer for those who are young, or new, or mostly want to experience the wilderness by reading about me doing it. 

Follow Water Down. 

I cannot remember how old I was when I learned this. It’s the sort of thing that is a part of my makeup, my mother must have told me when I was only a toddler and its stuck with me so hard that it’s one of the first things I tell people. 

If you are lost: 

Water will always lead you back to civilization eventually. Join up with the stream. See which way its going. Go that way. This is obviously not significantly helpful if you are lost in a flat desert plain but then again, I did start this by saying I was a child of the woods and not the desert. This seems like such an easy trick that people often ignore me when I say it, but it is the simplest thing for a child to remember. 

I can’t remember how old I was when I got lost in a tangle of hills and mountains in the Little Belts, where the trail faded but I kept going in my normal bullheaded way. But I was well and truly lost by the time it was about 3 pm, and in some ways I wish I had worn a step tracker back in those days because I am extremely certain I went miles and miles, as one does when they leave immediately after breakfast and don’t come back till dinner. I had no idea where I was, where the campsite was, or what direction I should be going. 

I was not thrilled. 

But I was not a kid who sat down and cried, in that I had smaller concerns before, and so could easily grow to meet the larger ones. I simply walked down the mountain, knowing a valley was more likely to have a stream I could easily join. Lo and behold, there in that little valley was a snowmelt creek, and I followed it downstream, knowing eventually there would be a house, or a campground, or something. In a twist of glorious good luck, it actually led me back toward where the campsite was, and as I began to recognize things, I easily clipped into our campsite long before any sign of trouble. 

Follow Water Down. If you aren’t near a stream, head for the nearest valley, and follow the valley. This will generally lead you to water. People will tell you to stay put and that is WAY smarter than wandering aimlessly in circles, which is why I say to follow something. You think you won’t go in circles, but you will. By following a streambed, not only are you doubtlessly heading back to civilization on a long enough timeline, but you keep yourself from doing that. 

Your Pack: 

Before you go out for the day, you should have a simple day pack. Mine is an Osprey Hikelite 18, but I hike all the time, and you don’t need something that technical. A plain ol Jansport will work as long as it fits you well. I do however, really approve of and recommend a waist clip. I also think a pocket for a water bottle on the outside is really useful, but you’re not going to fucking die if you have to take off your pack to get to your water bottle. I just find it takes up space I don’t want. 

Gear:

More important than your pack itself is what you have in it. Again, this is according to people named Doc, who are me. This is stuff I always take with me when I am by myself, on a trail where it would be realistic to assume I would not see someone else for hours. This is like 95% of Montana trails, or any time that I am off trail. 

Compass. You can get fancy, pretty compasses, but a lot of times they lack the actual essentials you need. I like this guy, which is well made, can be clipped to you backpack easily, and is inexpensive. I don’t have the time or space to really try to teach you how to use a compass, but here’s a really good simple primer from the American Hiking Society. 

Paper Map. I sometimes break this one, admittedly, but I shouldn’t. Having a paper map of the area is always a really smart practice, and used in combination with the compass, can help you get unlost quickly, or at the very least give you an idea of how close to any given outpost you are. 

Water Bottle. Please don’t tell me you were going to attempt to leave without this. I have no preferences on one, shockingly, and I’m being serious. I’ve been given to use an old disposable one, who gives a shit. 

Water Filter. Now THIS I did not have as a child, because my parents didn’t know any better, but if I follow in the grand tradition of my people and release my child into the mountains, I will give them one for certain. I knew what kind of water to look for if one was going to drink from a stream, and I did so, which probably explains why I am not susceptible to ~tummy upsets~ to this day. However, it would have been smarter for me to have one of these. I like LifeStraw but Sawyer makes a perfectly good one. Look for lightweight, it’s a day pack, kids. 

Knife. I have many many feelings about knives, which would require its own post, but this is fairly essential for being out and about. This is not a thing I would necessarily cheap out on, though there are fine options at most price points. This is my knife:

The Gerber Propel AO. The serrated and straight blade edge means there’s a lot of options for use as a tool, I find the blade to be strong and hold an edge well. Most American-made Gerbers (be sure and check, as they have a much shittier Chinese-made division) are incredibly well made knives. Leatherman multi-tools and Swiss Army Knives are, if you ask people named Doc who are me, a waste of weight and size, but if I were to buy a Leatherman, it would be a Free K2X. I would not buy a Swiss Army Knife. 

A jacket/fleece/pullover. Listen, i am the last one who wants to carry this shit but if you get lost overnight (as has never happened to me, kinehara.) you are going to want it. Read up on what the lowest temperatures are, and rate it to that. Depending on what mountain you are in, this is going to vary widely. And for the love of god, wear pants. I know, I know, it’s in the 70s and you’re hoooooooot but seriously, you’ll be less likely to injure yourself and you won’t fucking freeze. 

Flashlight/headlamp. 

There are fancy firestarters, but honestly I just throw in a bic. 

Food! Clif bars are great for this, lightweight, high calorie, keep well. this is in addition to your sandwich or whatever you’re packing for planned eating. 

Sunscreen/bug spray. Don’t be stupid. 

Whistle. Three sharp shot blasts is the easy and international sign for help. 

FIRST AID KIT this has its own thing. A first aid kit can be very basic to very intense. Our group first aid kit is more intense, but when I’m stuffing a day pack, I want stuff that’s light. 

Ibuprofen

Bandages

Gauze

Leukotape

wound wipes/antibac

Imodium, benedryl, caffeine

Oxycontin. This is leftover from long ago and basically exists in case I break my leg and have to drag myself out of there, or, as we like to say, a Worst Case Scenario. 

That’s it! It essentially fits in a bento box. 

You will want to be wearing a sunhat of some sort, sunglasses at hand, and a watch. Not a smart watch, a watch watch. It’s good to know what time it is, better to know that after your phone dies. Attach bear bells to your pack, or your shoe, or something. You do not want to surprise a bear, that is how people die. 

You may notice that I do not have a phone, external battery, GPS tracker or anything like that listed. GPS trackers are not a bad idea if you want to invest the money in backcountry--my wife has one--but I never have and I do not consider them essential. Phones and external batteries are not useful to me, and in the places I go there’s often not service. If there IS service, I find I’m more irritated than not by the people with me, who often can’t pull their faces out of telling their audience how much of a life they have to actually have one. Be alone with your fucking thoughts for once. 

Which leads me to my next thing: DO NOT WEAR HEADPHONES TO HIKE OH MY GOD. Being able to hear what’s going on around you is key to safety, and also to allowing you to get your bearings. If you are listening to music or something, you are far more likely to sneak up on something, or allow it to sneak up on you. Don’t do it. It’s a terrible idea. 

Should I bring bear spray? This is an excellent question! We have ample bear spray, and I often wear it but I just as often wear Montana Bear Spray (a gun). It’s easier to practice with a gun, I feel more sure of how to use it, and I’m comfortable around it. That being said, this is not the story for most of America, and I understand that. So make sure you are VERY familiar with how to use your bear spray. 

I suppose this went off the rails into supplies more than “tips for survival” but honestly I would rather help you all AVOID trouble than help you out of it. It’s easier to pack clif bars than set a rabbit snare, and its easier to not get lost than it is to build shelter. Also, this is already at 2,000 words, so if you have a SPECIFIC question, let me know! 

*Apologies to Phillip Pullman, but if I were going to get anything from HDM tattooed on me, this sentiment would be it, the only problem being the actual line is “You ent afraid are you?” “Not yet. When I am, I shall master the fear.” which doesn’t look as good but damn has that resonated with me since I read it.

[joseffie]

02.28.21 Ghost Diary

So i think my apartment is haunted. The vibes have been off for a little while around here, and my roommate is often gone on weekends bc she spends them with her boyfriend.

Yesterday was esp. weird. I had trouble falling asleep and I've been sleeping badly (weird dreams, waking multiple times in the night, trouble falling asleep) for a hot minute now.

When I work up my bluetooth speaker turned on randomly and said it was connected to my phone. All I had done at the most on my phone was turn off an alarm. It could've been my roommate turning on her computer which we connected to the speaker last weekend to play music, but it didn't say it was connected to that device, only my phone. Anyways I ignored it.

Later that night I had just gotten off of a late shift. We had been talking paranormal/metaphysical stuff and my co-workers are all a lil-superstitious. I came back to my apartment and was just on the phone with my best friend back home when my roommates touch light turned on randomly and suddenly. It's on the opposite side of the room as me and nothing could've touched it to turn it on. I was immediately wigged out.

I rang my bells to clear the energy but I was still intrigued.

I reached out to my apartment group chat to see if anyone else has experienced paranormal stuff if they believe in it (it's a college apartment complex, so much more chill). Mostly no responses until this morning;

here's where other people's stories come in:

- my next-door neighbor said she was experiencing weird vibes and dreams about ghosts. She said that she had thought she maybe felt or saw something but brushed it off

- two floors up from me messaged this morning that one of the girls in the apartment swears they saw a figure in their hall last night

- another girl on the 4th floor says she has always seen/heard ghostly things near the entrance to campus. this is much further away from the apartments but many of us are going to campus daily for work or classes. And it actually just so happens that a donor/founder of the school had his ashes encompassed in a sculpture piece near the entrance to the university

- another girl who lives on the third floor said she and her roomies named their ghost Gary and that ghostly shit happens a lot in their apartment (no specifications)

- another person who moved into the apartment with the girls two floors up from me said that she had a ghost named John in her dorm last semester and that he maybe followed her

So really wacky shit.

I've always been superstitious and believed in the existence of spirits/ghosts/past lives, etc. And last year I had a friend group for a short time that made a ouija board and often used it on campus. It got too freaky eventually and the friend group fell apart, so we stopped. A person I had a falling out with ended up taking the board because they didn't really believe in ghosts and the paranormal.

But I was thinking, what if it's not some group experience, could've brought this spiritual energy to me. An lo and behold I had a long conversation with this person after not talking to them for at least 3 semesters. It's not like we were besties now or anything, but i could've picked up some of their energy in that meeting. I often do pick up and reflect other people's energies.

I asked them after the light incident if they believed they were haunted/had ghosts in their dorm and they told me they weren't sure because they've never been attuned to that sort of thing. They did say that they accumulated another ouija board tho, and that freaks me out.

I take this seriously, obviously. So I wanted to log the experience here.

EDIT: I forgot to add that I also shattered to bottles of coffee yesterday. They were in my bag which i accidentally let it fall to the floor and they broke. It wasn't like they hit the floor too hard either. Two days ago my roomie's bowl cracked mysteriously too (chipped and cracked halfway through). Weird marks on my mirror too that look mysteriously like a capital letter "I"

Reblog/comment if you have any insight or a similar experience

[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #458

Top Ten Family Films of Lockdown

So we stayed in the house and watched a lot of films this year.

It’s weird, because I always feel that I miss out on more films than I want, but this year obviously was crazy. The last film I saw at the cinema was Birds of Prey; I was hoping to see Tenet and Bill and Ted in the late summer, but I was working and never found time, and then everything started to go to shit again. But even at home, for some reason, I found it very hard to find the time to sit down and watch a movie on my own, despite there being more choice than ever before. Anyway, what I’m saying is it’s even harder than usual for me to try to do an accurate “best of the year” list.

But what we did do, as a family, is stay in the house and watch a lot of films together.

It’s now become a tradition, something we do every weekend; have a family movie night. And I couldn’t be more thrilled. I’ve always wanted to have something like this, and when the kids were tiny babies, I’d fantasise about how and when we’d get to enjoy a film together; about when I could introduce them to this movie or that, ones that were important to me. And sure, we’ve started to do that, but mostly we just think of things they’ll like, whether they’re new or old. And in that spirit, here are the ten best ones we’ve experienced.

I say “experienced” rather than just “the ten best films” because I’m ranking them here in terms of how the whole “family evening” went down; did I like the film, did the kids, was it new and exciting or a trip down memory lane… basically, how many boxes did it tick? Otherwise it’d just be full of my old favourites. Sometimes I was surprised by quite how much the kids took to a film I didn’t think they’d be as into; and sometimes I was disappointed that a film didn’t hold up. And it’s amusing when an older film really piques their interest. One thing I have discounted, though, is a film where we’d all been to see it at the cinema – Toy Story 4, for instance, which I enjoyed a lot more the second time around, but which felt like a cheat for this list as even the kids already knew it so well.

Anyway, this has been my main cinematic event of the year, and like the year’s supposed other big cinematic event, it sort of involves time travel in some way. Long may it continue. We’re focusing on Christmas movies from now on, but I do look forward to introducing the kids to E.T., Batman: Mask of the Phantasm, and Transformers: The Movie. Roll on 2021.

Bumblebee (2018): we’re a big Transformers family, I suppose, and this is a great film on all levels. It’s a nice, gentle story for the most part, a girl and her alien pal, full of humour and heart, but it’s also got, like, giant robots what punch each other. My kids loved it, and we loved it too, and it’s got that cool opening sequence on Cybertron that’s like my childhood come to life.

Spirited Away (2001): I was hoping we’d make our way through all the Ghibli films, except my kids ended up watching them on their own! Clearly I’ve taught them good taste. Anyway, this is obviously a masterpiece, full of deep sentiment and creepy visuals, with beautiful animation.

The Adventures of Tintin: The Secret of the Unicorn (2011): this was a pleasant surprise. My youngest has a Snowy plush so she was into it, and having seen it before I thought my kids would like it, but didn’t realise they’d love it, properly into the adventure, laughing at Serkis’ great take on Haddock, and very invested in earnest, smart, baby-faced Tintin. Plus Spielberg directs the heck out of it. Even better than I remembered.

Addams Family Values (1993): we watched both Addams Family films over Halloween, and they proved very popular. Satisfactorily creepy, consistently amusing, but what really won them over was Christina Ricci’s Wednesday. Values is the better film, wittier and offering more for the fantastic young cast to do; the climactic Thanksgiving performance is a joy to behold.

Detective Pikachu (2019): we’re also big Pokémon people, and despite the fact I’d taken both the mini trainers to the cinema to see this one, we all enjoyed it as a family. A suitably compelling mini-noir, with some terrific world building and great effects, it’s the humour and Ryan Reynolds’ performance as Pikachu that really lifts it. Pity the ending falls apart a bit.

The Parent Trap (1998): in my experience, kids love films about kids getting one over on adults, so there's good stuff here. It's really aged well, too; Lindsey Lohan is frankly terrific in the lead role(s). It's funny and sweet and enjoyable, although I always feel a bit sad to see Natasha Richardson being so great and adorable.

Hook (1991): Empire magazine once called Hook the lemon in Spielberg’s basket, but I’ve always thought that’s unfair; overlong, oversugared, and a little bit all over the place it may be, but it’s got a lot of imagination and it can be both spectacular and fun. Plus the scene of the children going missing is quite horrible. Anyway, I quite like it, but my kids loved it, to the point where I think they’ve watched it at least three times this year.

Honey, I Shrunk the Kids (1989): one of the first films we watched in lockdown and a great success! I was very pleased to discover it held up just as well as I thought. It’s a great old-fashioned adventure story, with the kids who don’t like each other kinda bonding as they make their way through the garden. The effects, once state-of-the-art, have dated, but it’s still as fun and funny as ever. It actually skews a tiny bit older than I’d remembered. Moranis, of course, is always a treat.

Mrs. Doubtfire (1993): I had worried this might be too old for my kids, but I was very pleasantly surprised; they sat through the more intense scenes of domestic discord and fortunately all the sex references went over their heads. Instead they got a sweet and frequently hilarious tale of a man cross-dressing to win his kids back. It has aged a tiny bit, sadly, in both its portrayal of gender and sexual norms, and in its almost movie-of-the-week depiction of divorce, but overall it remains as funny and sensitive as ever.

Lady and the Tramp (2019): this was another very pleasant surprise, one of Disney’s live-action “reimaginings” on Disney+, but one that was really genuinely very enjoyable. The dogs look great (as for the most part they’re real dogs), the performances are good, and the deviations from the original are mostly sensible and worthwhile. Also the diversity of its cast is to be applauded. Genuinely, it’s a lot better than the Lion King remake; in fact, it probably ranks quite high on the list of live-action do-overs when all’s said and done.

So there we are. Lockdown has had its ups and downs but at least we all sat round the tellybox and watched some good movies. what’s next? Well, a lot of Christmas films; I was disappointed in Noelle, to be honest, but looking forward to Jingle Jangle and Christmas Chronicles 2. And here’s to a new Heslop tradition of regular movie nights! Next year’s when I finally get them to watch a Marvel movie…

[thejosh1980]

Update #21 – 1 week at “The Ocean Shores Resort”

Update #21 – 1 week at “The Ocean Shores Resort”

A week ago we left quarantine in Adelaide!!!

It's been another week of mixed emotions, but I have to say, for the first time in months, they've been mostly on the positive side of things.

Last Tuesday, we left the hotel without too much hassle. They'd given us a basic breakfast the night before to have first thing and they called us down early; luckily we were ready and down the stairs we went. Before you know it, we were in the hotel reception taking our masks off!

Adelaide and South Australia are COVID free, so no masks, no problems.

The checkout was quick (the big bill comes in a few weeks!!), the staff were awesome and the police informative. They all understand that quarantine is not easy on anyone, and they were patient with our questions and worries. We had won the jackpot of quarantine hotels: Pullman Adelaide and the staff helped make our stay tolerable.

Jumped in a taxi (with masks on cause we really weren't sure yet how to behave in the outside world) and off to the airport. We had to leave the hotel by 07:30, because another bus of incoming “Covicts” were coming in that morning. Our flight was at 11:50 up to Brisbane, so it was yet another waiting game to check in and fly. But first... coffee! (we actually bought a coffee from a coffee shop! Amazing!! It's the small things...).

The flight was about about 2/3's full, no masks.

Landing in Brisbane we had to do a border check, show our papers, explain where we had been and all that. The check was there to stop anyone who may have COVID from coming in without quarantining. Each State has slightly different rules, and they do change from time to time, depending on hotspots and COVID numbers. Because the flight was from Adelaide and we left the hotel directly to the airport, we made sure we had no problems entering Brisbane (Queensland). We definitely didn't want any chance of another 14 day hotel stay!!!

Our original plan was to fly into the Gold Coast airport, which is only about 35 minutes from Mum, but there were no flights on our leaving day, so we had to fly into Brisbane (which is 2 hours from Mum's). My cousin picked us up (bloody legend!). We were hungry, and we went directly to Yatala pies. This was the moment I started to realize we were almost home. The taste of home! (Yatala Pies is a well known bakery south of Brisbane, a regular stop for many).

My cousin could drive us as far as the QLD/NSW border. Once there, we walked across the border and Dave picked us up on the other side. A little complicated, but sure enough, the plan worked.

The whole experience felt like something out of the movies. Not that it was all “Hollywood”. It was more like: I can't believe this is finally happening. I wasn't really in the moment. Yet.

As we were getting close to “The Ocean Shores Resort” (which is the name we have for my Mum's house) I still didn't feel calm...

Anyhow, we arrived, and if you've seen our IG or FB Story on the day, you'd know that when I knocked on the front door, we had actually surprised Mum (a little early), and she couldn't find the front door key to let us in!! So our reunion started off with a scream and eventually a laugh!!

Mum did cry, but we all expected her to cry more... ;) Honestly, I think we both had cried too much the past 2 months, it was no longer needed. It was all about joy and happiness.

After meeting and hugging Alex (some more tears) we entered the house to find Mum had a “welcome home” sign and our picture up on the walls (lots of me and Alex, can't go wrong with that!!).

It was surreal.

A quick house tour for Alex and we settled down. Lots of chatting and catching up to do, and a roast dinner!

We'd made it.

The next morning (Wednesday), a son's work is never done and I was up early to take Mum to school. She's part of the support unit inside the primary school, working with kids with Autism.

Even though her eyesight is deteriorating, Mum can still work. Driving a car; that's out of the question. Reading the “use by date” on a packet of chips is almost impossible. Keeping an eye on children in the playground, developing their social skills or helping them with their school work (considering the text is usually quite large and the pictures bold) Mum can still do really well.

I've learnt she has figured out ways to cope with her eyes. She has a great memory, so once she's told something, she can remember it really well (like recipes for cooking etc). She's still a keen bargain hunter when it comes to shopping. I enjoy learning that she's kept her life as close to “normal” as possible, making small changes to the bigger things to keep her independence.

But it's those small things that are hard to do alone, which is why I'm here...

After dropping Mum off, Alex and I spent the morning of our first full day in Brunswick Heads. This is the town I lived in from the mid 80's until late 90's. I went to primary school here, learned to surf here, and know the old names of the shops (the hair dressers is now a surf shop, the butcher's is a cafe, the ice cream shop is a real estate agent and the bank has recently closed). Lots of changes for me, lots of new things for Alex.

We also went down to the beach, the south wall of the Brunswick River, where the river meets the ocean. We watched some waves. Taking in the salt air (I don't think I ever realized how salty the air is here until now).

It was a relaxing day.

But I still wasn't quite “here” in my head and heart. Leaving Dresden back in July, only to be delayed for 7 weeks, then another 2 weeks in quarantine, was going to take sometime to overcome.

Time to pick up Mum from school... Home... Unpack a little, dinner, chatting and a little TV.

Thursday morning, it was time for another radio interview. To finish off the 3 part story with ABC North Coast Radio I did another live interview with Joanne Shoebridge. I'm always nervous doing these kinds of things, even though in the music world, I've had to do interviews, they were never quite as personal as this.

After we dropped Mum off at school Thursday morning, we drove up to the Cape Byron Lighthouse and luckily got a park up close to the top.

I wanted to introduce Alex to the area as much as I could, without overwhelming her. Brunswick Heads, Ocean Shores, Mullumbimby and Byron Bay all played a big part of my childhood, and I wanted her to at least know these villages a little bit as early as possible. We'd covered Brunswick Heads and Ocean Shores a little, so now it was time for Byron Bay.

Bring on the whale watching!!

Within minutes of leaving the car, we could see whales jumping out and swimming around the cape. It was a wonderful morning. I'm so glad Alex got to see them (in fact I can't remember the last time I saw whales so close to the shore). They migrate each year around September/October, so it was perfect timing.

It was a special day for Alex...

The sun was shining, the whales were in plain sight and the tourists were kind enough to stay away from Byron Bay. COVID does have its benefits. Fewer people in these tourist spots isn't always bad (although I am quite aware the economy is suffering. The borders are opening up next week and it'll be very busy then).

Back into Ocean Shores, picked up Mum from school. Home... Dinner.. Chatting... Some TV...

Friday was the first day we had to do “stuff” in regards to living here permanently, and that was banking. So after dropping mum off at work, we drove into Mullumbimby “The Biggest Little Town In Australia”. I went to high school here.

Basically Brunswick Heads and Mullumbimby are like Neustadt in Dresden. You can't walk down the street without seeing someone you know, stopping and chatting. It happened in Brunz the other day, I literally parked my car, and lo and behold an old high school friend came out of the video store to say hi... Or in Mullum, as we arrive at the bank I see an old friend who used to teach me rock n roll dancing (yeah, I can still cut a rug)... and even inside the bank, I said hi to a fella from my high school year, we hadn't seen each other since 1997.

It's a small world...

The banking took a bit longer than expected, after much back and forward we settled on our new bank accounts and how to arrange things going forward. While I've had an account here since I was very very young, I cancelled most of my stuff when I left in 2002, so now it was time to set up shop again, especially since I had my wife with me and we have a future to work towards...

We walked the street of Mullum, grabbed a coffee and we let the country hippy vibe soak in. Alex commented on how many folks don't wear shoes here and she can't believe how many new coffee shops there are for her to try (there's a lot more than when I was a kid).

Picked up Mum from school... School holidays for 2 weeks! Yippeee!!

Home... Dinner... Chatting... some TV...

Over the weekend we sorted out things around the house. Set up better internet Wifi around the house, the pool is in good condition after the winter sleep, cupboards got cleaned out and we unpacked and the car was washed (first time I've hand washed a car in over a decade!).

Sunday I watched Mark's live stream (from his front porch in upstate New York) and I felt inspired (he does that to me). So I am considering live streaming next week. I have a guitar and good internet, so why not? I just have to find time to practice ;) I'm thinking net Sunday evening here, which would be Sunday lunch time in Germany. If I don't get to it this Sunday, then maybe next Sunday... I'll keep you posted.

Overall the weather has been warm, often over 20 degrees. But the mornings are still quite chilly, with frosty dew on the golf course out back. It's not bad for coming out of winter...

Today, Monday, we went “up the coast”, to Tweed Heads.

First thing we tried to exchange my German license for a mandatory NSW (State) license, unfortunately I gotta wait for some back checks, no idea what I did 19 years ago in Melbourne, but they wanna check it out. So onwards to shopping...

Yes!!! We bought a coffee machine! Finally we can wake and with a press of a button get ourselves a cup of joe. It's the small things....

Helped mum with the grocery shopping. She knows her stuff. She knows where everything is in every shop, but sometimes she just needs me to reassure her what is actually written on the box or package!!!

So that's basically our first week...

We are settling in well. Alex and Mum get on like a house on fire. I often can't get a word in edgewise and I'm always outvoted!

I still miss Germany and I still miss Europe... (I always will). I miss a lot of the “past life”, but that's just cause Australia has moved on without me these past 18 years. Each day here I get a little closer to that homey feeling I used to have as a teenager (when I didn't know better).

In hindsight, the past 3 months wasn't too bad... We survived... But that's easy to say now...

When we were in the middle of it, it was really tough.

It was really hard packing up our lives into boxes. It was emotionally draining saying goodbye after goodbye to our wonderful friends. Playing my goodbye show was one of the musical highlights of my life, even if it was one of the saddest.

Then we were ready to leave...

As you all know, that didn't go according to plan.

That's when the really bad feelings crept in. You know it's one thing to know you gotta pack up and say goodbye to leave (you are prepared for that)... It's another when you're ready and the world says “nope, not yet”... and again and again that build up and let down was happening, and until the last 2 weeks in Germany, we had no idea why!

As some of you know, I'm not really good at spontaneity. I'm not good when the plan changes... It was tough... But...

When we took control of the situation and booked new flights, it helped a lot. We were back in control.

Quarantine was a difficult time, it got a little dark there. It brought with it, it's own set of challenges and a steep learning curve. I, for one, learnt a lot about pressure. I put too much pressure on myself. Since we arrived here, I have tried my best to relax more, in my own way at least. My to do lists are shorter...

Alex and I had already figured out how to survive the German lockdown, the packing up of our lives and clearing out the apartment. Then we had 2 months at her parents stuck in “limbo” and then 2 weeks stuck in a room together. Our marriage is really new, and we survived that without any damage to our relationship. Sure, we both have a few personal scars, but nothing a little love and tenderness wont fix. I'm proud of her, Alex has a lot of patience for me!

I'm really happy I am here to help Mum each day. Those small things will slowly become bigger things, but for now, it's great to be able to do “stuff” with her. That was always the plan, to be here in time, before things got really bad.

We've been posting often on our IG and FB stories, so I hope folks have seen the day to day happenings. I'm sure we'll continue with that, keeping you up to date visually.

I think I'll end these FB journals here, and switch over to Tumblr full time. The idea being that if you'd like to continue to read these long “new life” chronicles, I'll still post a link here when I do update there... Confused? Me too! ;)

Thanks everyone for your messages of support and love. We are very lucky, we have the best friends.... You guys rock! You're awesome! We love you.

Love

Josh and @dauntlesscoffee

[witchqueenofthemoon]

BODY AND SOUL Part 10 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: This part sort of stretched itself a lot further than I originally anticipated, there was so much I wanted to elaborate on that consequently, it’s Part 11 that will feature Mackenzie’s dinner for Duncan, and the fulfillment of his morning promise (hot sex y’all) & the revelation of the special gift (I also decided I wanted everyone to witness that part through Duncan’s perspective, so we’d be privy to his thoughts and feelings regarding what Kenzie did for him and how worried he is about her safety/his desire to soothe her, among other things, and I’m trying to stick to the dual perspective pattern, so). I know this part doesn’t have smut and Duncan isn’t in it very much, but it’s very important to the development of Duckenzie’s emotional trajectory, and it took a long time for me to write it and it was emotional for me. I really loved spending this time with Mackenzie; I did my best to give her room for doubt while also being clear that she is fiercely individualistic and does indeed have a core of strength, even if she can’t necessarily always see that about herself. A lot of new AU versions of AHS APOC characters crept into this: Ben Wilder is obviously Billy Porter/Behold, Precious is Queenie/Gabourey, Zadie is Zoe/Taissa, Anchaly is Ariel/Jon Jon, Candice (my Cordelia AU)’s lost love Mia is Misty/Lily. I’ve toyed with the idea of making Samuel canonically an AU several times, but even though I think of Lance Reddick’s Papa Legba for him sometimes, he’s not really Papa; he’s someone else, my own character. If anyone wants to make fake Instagram edits for Duncan and Kenzie, I’d fucking love that. Please humor me with all the clothes in this one; I modeled the stuff Kenzie picks after things you can actually get on Madewell’s website, for what it’s worth, and I tried to plot out her Georgetown shopping as accurately as I could; there’s both a Sephora and a Dean and DeLuca within short walking distance of the Georgetown Madewell. The prints in Duncan’s living room are Bouguereau’s Dawn, Day, Twilight (Evening Mood) and Night. I made an edit representing the statues of Dike, Nike and Athena Duncan has in his living room here. Here is Ella Fitzgerald’s BEWITCHED, BOTHERED AND BEWILDERED. Nirvana Rose is a scent I wear in the spring; I always planned for it to be Kenzie’s scent of choice (vetiver, geranium and rose are the notes). I have to admit I put a lot of my own thoughts and feelings about money and the fantasy of money in this part; I struggle a lot with feeling guilty about wanting luxurious things in my life, so I sort of channeled that for Kenzie’s shyness about spending money that Duncan wants her to have. Had to finally bring in the fact that Cody and Billie are both Cancers. Kenzie’s lifelong imagining that Persephone loved Hades is my lifelong imagining.

Kenzie ran into the Post, her heart fluttering around in her chest like a butterfly trapped in a net. At home. At home. Her parting words to Duncan danced around in her brain, spinning and swaying. See you tonight--at home. She vaguely registered that she and Duncan had had their breathless conversation, between passionate kisses, on the open sidewalk in view of at least fifteen people milling around outside Franklin Square. At least, she thought. Probably a lot more than that, if I’m being realistic. She remembered the blonde woman snapping pictures of them; remembered the eyes of everyone in Emissary staring at her and Duncan as the woman made a scene. Fuck. She rushed into the elevator, her boots clicking in her ears, her bag smacking against her hip. Fuck, she was late. Fuck. At home. See you at home. I’m gonna make you come so fucking hard. Baby. Angel. His breath on her ear as she woke to his touch, the overwhelmingly hungry look in his eyes--storms, thunder--as she sucked his hard cock, the way he’d grabbed her hand holding the water glass and pulled her close to him, his hands on her thigh and against her ass, looking up into her face with that worshipping glint in his sapphire eyes--

FUCK, Kenzie, focus! You’re late for work!

Kenzie just made the elevator, smacking the button for the 10th floor, squeezing in between four other people as the doors slid shut behind her; she glanced down at her phone, dazed, as she heard it trumpet: Clairebear.

MACKENZIE LOUISE, oh my FUCKING GOD! Duncan is fucking beautiful! I see what you mean about his eyes, they’re like jewels?!?! He’s so tall and his hair like WHAT, how does it do that?? Those women in line ahead of you, what the fuck was that all about? I was absolutely STARSTRUCK with how beautiful you looked together, no wonder they noticed you right away, you were like two movie stars or something. He was so lovely and polite, who the fuck knew??? I’m just speechless!!!! You looked so happy, you were LUMINOUS, like you were glowing, bitch, love looks so fucking good on you!!! And the way he looked at you, like you were made out of moonlight or gold or something, fuck! He’s got it fucking BAD for you, I felt like he was singeing the ends my hair with that energy, I had to drink a glass of water when you guys left, WHOO

Kenzie felt the smile spreading across her cheeks as she read her best friend’s ecstatic text. Oh Claire, she thought, you’re so wonderful. She looked up to check the floor (5) and quickly typed:

Clairebear, I was SO HAPPY you were there, oh my god, I’m just so happy, I never knew I could feel so happy, I’m so glad you liked him, I can’t wait for us all to have dinner!!! He said he liked you immediately! Those women took a picture (I think more than one) of us without asking? It was really weird. They recognized Duncan and got shitty when he asked them to delete whatever they took and that’s when they left. I feel weird about it but we couldn’t really do anything?? Oh Clairebear. I’m in love. I really am. I love you, I’m sorry we had to leave so quickly, I’m so late for work. She added a distraught-faced open-mouthed emoji at the end.

She sighed, as if to let out the weight of the emotion that was enveloping her, threatening to crush her, bouncing on her feet a little as she looked up again; 9th floor. Almost there. She checked the clock on her phone. 9:26. Oh fuck. So late. The doors finally slid open and she jumped out, eyeing her little desk in the corner; glancing from side to side. No Candice in sight. That was good. She started to make a beeline to her desk, head down to avoid eye contact with anyone she might see, when someone stepped in front of her, blocking her path--someone wearing wildly colorful, meticulously tailored pants; she looked up into the severe, unimpressed face of Ben Wilder, the Executive Features editor. He was wearing oversized black-framed cat eye glasses and a blazer made of some kind of iridescently shiny, cobalt-red material, a vintage Hermes scarf tucked meticulously into the black pointed hem vest he wore under it, and he was glaring at her with narrowed eyes behind his spectacles. His dark skin was flawless; Kenzie wondered absently for the hundredth time what kind of moisturizer he used. She doubted he told people secrets as important as that one.

“Miss Stone, I have a bone to pick with you.”

“Hi Ben, lovely morning,” she answered nervously, hand coming up to fiddle with her rose quartz. Ben’s lips were pursed and he looked at her with that appraising, Anubis-weighing-the-scales severity that so unnerved every journalist in at the Post. As Executive Features editor, Ben was in charge of surveying that the quality of the Post was always at a high standard; some at the office said an impossibly high standard with Wilder as the critic. His real passion was for the Entertainment and Arts features, however, and he was infamously thorough and up-to-speed with everything happening in the DC art scene. He also knew every hot bit of gossip about every politician in the District; his knowledge was encyclopedic, and exhaustive. And he was giving her a very knowing look indeed.

“I’ve heard a rumor, dear,” he went on, ignoring her hello, “that you had a very busy weekend.”

Kenzie swallowed, her eyes darting from side to side, plotting an exit, her heart slamming into the bottom of her throat, like a dumbbell was suddenly clattering up and down her esophagus.

“On top of some very interesting photos found on certain online rags since yesterday--photos that have begun to trend on Instagram, I might add--a few more photos have materialized on Instagram in the past hour.”

He was silent for a moment, pursing his lips again, staring at her, his eyes unreadable. Kenzie looked up at him; she knew innately that the time for lies was long past, but she thought, wildly: maybe if I don’t say anything he’ll just disappear in a puff of smoke--

“Care to guess what these photos feature, Miss Stone?”

“I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.”

He pursed his lips further at that, lifting his arm and cradling the elbow against the hand pressed across his torso, holding the fingers out in an open gesture toward her that reminded her of Anubis holding some poor mortal’s heart, about to crush it into dust in his claw. Hers. He leaned down, bringing his face close to hers, his voice lowering conspiratorially, though as he had said himself: there wasn’t much of a secret left to keep, was there.

“Who knew a little thing like you would catch Duncan Shepherd’s eye.”

Kenzie pressed her lips together, trying to keep her expression neutral.

“I want an interview.”

“Ben, I--we’ve only been seeing each other for a few days--”

“Get me an interview and I will make sure your editorial gets to the top of the pile. I’ll ensure that when reviews come up, you’re considered very carefully for opportunities.”

“My editorial--my editorial is--” Kenzie suddenly realized wildly: my editorial is the kind of thing that’s going to make Annette Shepherd’s head turn on her shoulders. For real this time.

“You’re in the hot seat now, Miss Stone. You can’t smooch the heir of Shepherd Unlimited--a 3.5 billion dollar global enterprise trying to unseat the President of the United States--on the open sidewalk in front of a posh bistro and expect everyone to turn a blind eye. I suggest you take a look at the narrative unfolding online and get back to me. Promptly.” He stepped away from her, waving his hand a little behind him with infuriating sass, as if to say: see you soon, honey.

Kenzie watched his cobalt-crimson back retreat, her heart still pounding, her head fuzzy. An interview? Her temples throbbed against her skull harshly. How the fuck am I ever going to convince Duncan to do that? And my fucking editorial, FUCK, I didn’t even think about that. As if I need to add more reasons to the pile that is Annette Shepherd’s fuel to hate my guts.

“Mackenzie.”

Kenzie turned at the sound of her name; Candice stood outside her office in the short north hallway, hand resting on the door frame from whence she had just emerged, appraising Kenzie’s flushed face; today her boss wore a long, rose-colored pleated satin skirt, and a high-collared white blouse with a black ribbon tied in a neat knot falling down the front. Her dark eyes met Kenzie’s, framed by her wavy blonde hair that fell around her shoulders, shimmering in the overhead light; their concern sent an icy dagger coursing down Kenzie’s spine. Oh, here we go.

“Come into my office for a minute, please.”

Kenzie swallowed again as Candice vanished through the doorway, stepping up in resignation. I guess this was inevitable, Kenz, she told herself. Ben isn’t wrong. Clearly you’ve underestimated the difficulties that come with dating a man who is wildly rich, handsome, and reputable. And from a family known for stirring up controversy. Suck it up, buttercup.

She timidly stepped through the doorway of Candice’s office; a long window stretched along the back wall of the room, small ferns and falling ivy on the ledge of it, framing Candice’s golden head in a white glow where she sat behind her desk, which was meticulously neat. Kenzie’s eyes fell down to the gold plaque at the front of it, two gold paperweights shaped like open hands on either side of it: Candice Owens, Editor in Chief, The Washington Post.

“Shut the door and sit down, Mackenzie. Please.”

Kenzie carefully set her satchel down beside one of two lemon-colored upholstered chairs facing Candice’s desk, sitting slowly, her hands coming together in her lap. She felt resigned to whatever Candice was about to say; her brain felt fuzzy and faraway, as if she was observing all of this from someone else’s body, uncaring. At home, a voice whispered behind her ear. See you at home.

Candice looked at her for another long moment, her eyes unreadable. Then she spoke.

“I’m sure you’re aware of this already, but your relationship with Duncan Shepherd is about to become public knowledge.”

Kenzie couldn’t find it in herself to tell Candice anything but the truth.

“It’s only been a few days, but...yes. We’re dating.”

“Then I assume, or I want to assume, that you’ve considered the consequences.”

“I won’t let it get in the way of my work, Candice.”

“As you were late this morning, I’m not sure you’re doing a very good job at convincing me of that so far,” Candice replied, her tone even. She turned her head a little, questioning. “You do realize that Duncan Shepherd is a very controversial figure from a very controversial company led by a very controversial, very manipulative, very wealthy family?”

“Yes.”

“Whether you intend it or not, your relationship with him will bring scrutiny on the Post, and it’s going to change your personal life in serious ways as well. It’s only a matter of time before your name and occupation are spread around online. I anticipate that we’ll need to increase security in the building, which is already tight. Your mother being who she is--a staunch and very public opponent of Annette Shepherd’s political agenda--that’s going to cause a real controversy.”

“I’m sorry, Candice. This was all really unexpected...I didn’t expect us to...”

“Fall in love?”

Kenzie swallowed, blinking at her lovely, poised boss, feeling like she was unraveling under her dark-eyed gaze, feeling as though she were a sparrow under the eye of a falcon. Exposed.

“Anyone looking at those pictures could see it, easily. It’s clear that you are in love.”

Kenzie felt tears pricking the corners of her eyes, to her deep dismay. The idea of crying in front of Candice made her feel mortified; her respect for her boss was all-encompassing, akin to the deep admiration she felt for her mother; she was surrounded by so many incredibly strong women. And here I am, she thought, frustration seeping under her skin. A fucking mess.

“We are,” she whispered, her eyes looking down at her hands, afraid to look into Candice’s face again; unsure she could maintain her composure if she did.

“Mackenzie. Does Madeline know?”

Kenzie nodded; she tried to stifle the sniff that came out of her, but failed. She saw Candice lean to a box of tissues behind the desk, pulling a few out quietly. Her boss leaned over her desk, holding them out to her.

“She’s meeting him tomorrow. I haven’t met Annette yet. I’m terrified.”

Silence hung in the room for a moment; a little bonsai fountain in the corner of Candice’s office mingled with the sounds from the street outside; cars beeping and buses rushing by, pigeons outside the window, vague music, drums coming from the park across the street.

“I loved a woman once,” Candice said, surprising Kenzie, “who was the daughter of a prominent Republican Congressman. Her name was Mia. When I asked her if we could be together, she told me she could never disobey her father’s wishes; like we were living in feudal England. That she loved me; that she wanted to be with me; but that she couldn’t, because it would be a betrayal to her family. And she chose them.”

Kenzie wiped at her cheek, her wet eyes lifting up to her boss’ gentle face. She could see the vague shine that had cast itself over them; Candice too was on the edge of tears, but they didn’t fall; they hovered there, trapped in Candice’s resolve. I’m such a crybaby, Kenzie thought. Candice is so beautiful and so strong.

Her boss paused, then went on.

“Professionally, I have serious doubts about the advisability of your attachment to someone so infamous. Men in this town; they want power, and most of them are willing to crush anyone who becomes an obstacle to that power, Republican and Democrat alike. I don’t know Duncan Shepherd; but I know Annette and Bill Shepherd want one thing and one thing only; complete control of Washington D.C. and by association, the trajectory of this country.”

She paused. Kenzie lowered the tissues to her lap, now damp with the whisper of tears that had threatened her. She looks so beautiful this way, Kenzie thought. She thought of Duncan’s statues; Justice, victory, wisdom; all women. To Kenzie, Candice was a higher being, surveying all of humankind with an omniscient eye; like Cassandra, oracle of Troy, all-knowing, perceiving truth and future alike, cursed with her own sorrow and knowledge.

“But personally, I know what it’s like to be torn away from someone you want more than anything. And I would never presume to dictate the love that extends from one heart to another. Love is boundless and obscure, and it does not follow the petty rules set down by human philosophy.”

Kenzie felt her lip tremble again.

“If you need help, Mackenzie: come to me. Don’t hesitate. Promise you’ll do this.”

Kenzie felt another tear fall down her cheek.

“I will. I promise. Candice...thank you. I...I feel overwhelmed by all of this. I never expected this to happen to me. It feels like I’ve been living inside a dream for days.”

She hesitated, sniffing again. “I can’t help but feel...afraid. I’ve never felt this way about anyone, and it frightens me.”

Candice stood; moved around her desk, sat in the chair across from Kenzie, and reached out, her hand grasping around Kenzie’s in her lap, clutching the tissues. Mackenzie immediately felt a small wave of warm comfort wash over her, as thought Candice had lit a match and held it close to her skin; close enough for her to feel it, but not to burn her. The tears immediately dried from her eyes, as though someone had held a blowdryer against her cheeks for a moment.

“Fear? What has a man to do with fear? Chance rules our lives, and the future is all unknown. Best live as we may, from day to day.” Candice smiled at her, squeezed her hands a little, her eyes still shining with that hidden sheen. “Sophocles. Oedipus Rex. I was Jocasta in a production in college. I was awful. But I always loved that line.”

Kenzie smiled back at her, finding herself speechless. I still feel as though you know the future, she thought. I wish you could tell me.

“Back to work, Miss Stone. That’ll be all for now. Keep your wits about you,” and Kenzie thought of her mother, their words clashing together, echoing against each other.

Kenzie nodded, clutching Candice’s hand for a moment. Candice held it, and Kenzie felt that warmth spread through her fingers again; felt flashes of light behind her eyes. And then Kenzie stood, grasping the handle of her satchel, and walked to the door, looking at her boss over her shoulder.

“Leave the door open,” Candice said, and turned away.

Kenzie went to her desk, falling into her swivel chair with a heavy relief. She pulled her Macbook out of her satchel, setting it on her desk and opening it, her article coming up as the screen illuminated. She went to type towards the end of it, and balked. I guess I need to look at Instagram, she thought with another twinge of apprehension making its jagged way through her mind and stomach. She pulled her phone from her satchel, tucking the bag under her desk; as she lifted the phone to her face, the lock screen illuminated and she saw a text from Duncan.

I meant to mention it a few times, but keep getting distracted in you (Kenzie smiled at that). The Shepherd Freedom Foundation Gala is next week. It’s a huge event for the company every year and it has a strict dress code and a theme...my mother wants you to go to her personal stylist to find a dress for it. If you hate whatever he picks out, you don’t have to wear it. But my mother’s being really insistent about you doing a fitting with her. Is that okay?

Kenzie couldn’t stop smiling, despite her twinge of annoyance at the idea of someone else telling her what to wear; Are you asking me to be your date to the Gala, Mr. Shepherd? She typed.

She saw the telltale text bubbles appear under her reply almost immediately.

Yes, please? The theme is Gold in the Darkness: the juxtaposition of light and shadow in the works of the Pre-Raphaelite movement. I chose it, because it reminded me of you.

Kenzie breathed in sharply. Duncan had created the theme around her. The thought stunned her, made her skin feel hot, made her legs and the back of her head tingle. More to get used to, I guess. Whew, Kenzie Lou. Whose life are you living now?

That’s beautiful, baby, she replied. I can’t believe you did that.

Since you’re the only thing I can think about, it seemed natural. His reply popped up immediately. Kenzie imagined him sitting in the back of the BMW or in a meeting or in some gilded interview chair, staring down expectantly at his phone. She loved to think of him so distracted by her, though she felt a twinge of guilt. The drug that was his attention, his gaze, his touch; she wanted more, she couldn’t help it. She wanted him, all of him, his beauty within her sphere always.

I think those women from the coffee shop posted something on Instagram already, she typed, biting her lip. My coworker said something to me as soon as I got into the office. She left her talk with Candice out of it. She felt worried Duncan would be upset about her boss’ concern; there was a part of her that wanted to keep her conversation with the other woman between the two of them for as long as she could. I have to talk to him about it in person, she thought. When I feel less...unhinged.

Fuck, I had a feeling they wouldn’t waste any time, Duncan replied. My mother doesn’t want me to talk about you in interviews yet. She’s worried about the “optics”, her personal obsession in all things. But I don’t care. I love you. Let me know if anything else weird like this morning happens again. I have a feeling it will and I want you to feel safe. I can hire you a private escort as soon as you feel like you need one. And I’m going to send you Samuel’s contact right now; I sent him yours already. Please text him when you’re done with work, he can take you anywhere you need to go. I can take an Uber later. I don’t think you should take the train as often, at least, not for a little while, until the media stuff dies down. And I don’t think it’s going to for a little while.

The distinct iPhone contact bubble appeared under Duncan’s text; Samuel Adebayo.

A wave of dizziness washed over Kenzie again. I don’t think you should take the train as often. She thought of the way the woman had snapped pictures of them, the photos of them on the gossip website. A private escort? It was as if she’d been sucked out of the normal world and sucked into another one, a different timeline where nothing made sense. 

Okay, baby. I feel overwhelmed.

Duncan: I’m here. Anything you need or want from me, tell me right away. This will get easier in time, baby. I promise. I’m already dreaming about how hard I’m gonna make you come tonight. At home.

Her nerves thrilled again. At home. The thought of living at Duncan’s penthouse even sometimes was too dreamlike to even really consider. The fact that she was going to go there tonight with her own key made her feel like her stomach was trying to turn over inside her. She felt goosebumps on her arms again.

I’m dreaming about you too, baby, she typed. She left the lipstick stain emoji at the end.

Kenzie opened the Instagram app on her phone, squinting in apprehension. An alert flashed at the bottom: 2,457 new followers, 1,345 new comments, 567 new likes. Her eyes goggled. What. She hit the outlined heart at the bottom of the screen; she scrolled down; mention after mention of her handle (@kenzielouwho) on several posts made by other accounts. Oh god, they found my Instagram, she thought, closing her eyes for a moment in horror. We found it she’s @kenzielouwho her mom is Madeline Stone omg omg one said. Holy shit remember this this is @kenzielouwho’s mom ripping @duncanshepherd’s mom a new asshole another one said, accompanied by a link. Kenzie clicked it; it led to the infamous YouTube video of Annette storming off the air at C-SPAN after Madeline’s comments. Kenzie went back to Instagram. I don’t know why @duncanshepherd would even be interested in her she’s not even that pretty another one said. Kenzie made a face. Because I guess he should date you instead, she thought, and then immediately felt guilty. Ugh, this is weird. Kenzie went to one of the photos that many of the comments seemed to originate from. It was clearly the account of the woman who had taken the photo of them at Emissary earlier that morning; her handle (@greatpatriotjane, Kenzie winced) was a dead giveaway, accompanied by a photo of her in an American flag bikini and a spray tan. The latest photo was Kenzie and Duncan, of course; they were looking to the side of where she’d pointed the lens, probably towards the other woman in pinstripes, Kenzie tucked under Duncan’s arm, her hair pressed into his leather jacket and falling against her cheek, a tiny frown crossing her features; one of her hands was at her breast, fingers around her rose quartz, the other hand disappeared behind Duncan’s back. Duncan’s hand was around the crook of her elbow, holding her close to him, his expression concerned, his brow furrowed; his black phone rested, forgotten, in his other hand, which was raised slightly, at his torso. We do look nice together. He looks so tall. His hair falls so perfectly. He’s holding me so gently. He’s so handsome. I look scared. That’s accurate. I felt scared. I hated it. God, he’s so beautiful. And he’s holding me.

He’s your boyfriend, Kenzie, of course he is.

Saw @duncanshepherd with his newest girlyfriend at the coffee shop this morning!!! The woman had written below. He’s so sexy in person it’s RIDICULOUS, probably has a new girl on his arm every day!!! Kenzie snorted, biting into her lip. I guess this could be worse, she thought. We look annoyed but we look really good, at least, Duncan does, and I don’t look hideous, and she didn’t know my handle...I guess someone else found that. She went back to her mentions; there was another prominent post that lots of people seemed to have commented on that was more recent; Kenzie went to it (the handle was @geminibabiered; the account photo was a selfie of a girl with long, dark, very straight hair and heavy eye makeup taken in a bathroom mirror). There were several shots of--oh my god, already--she and Duncan standing on the sidewalk outside One Franklin Square a mere hour or so before now, wrapped in a passionate kiss, clearly taken in succession; this one a true kiss, of course, unlike the photo that had been captured of them outside Le Diplomate; Duncan’s hands were around her, in her hair, at her cheek, their mouths open against each other, eyes closed. He’s so much taller than me, Kenzie marvelled. At Franklin Square and @duncanshepherd runs after this girl who just got out of his BMW ahead of him and MACKS ON HER LIKE CRAZY in front of like 20 people, they said something to each other and then she like RAN away from him into the Post building, omg I bet she works there, DUNCAN SHEPHERD fucking a girl who works for the Washington Post like I am REELING the caption read. Fuuuuuck, Kenzie thought. This one is a lot worse. She noticed the comment proclaiming excitement at having found her handle was under this post; couldn’t have been that hard, my photo’s up on the Post website.

She noticed that Duncan had followed her, though, a small silver lining, she thought, smiling at his profile picture. It was professionally shot and black-and-white (he looks like a classic movie star, she thought dreamily), his hair tossed back from his forehead in a perfect cascade, his eyes illuminated but looking off-center, his expression calm and serious, that constant five o’clock shadow prominent (I love that, she thought, I love that stubble, pressing my mouth along its prickly curve, clutching his face there as we’re fucking), wearing one of the high black Oxford collars he was so fond of. Kenzie hit the follow button on his account, scrolling down; some of his posts had to do with the company and the TV show, but most of his posts were a plethora of professionally-shot images, including some from a recent profile he’d done for Esquire (one of him in a long black coat, lounging lazily in a throne-like chair, his hair even more artfully tossed than it normally was, his blue eyes staring off toward unseen subjects, one of him in a thick, dark gray Irish Fisherman sweater, eyes squinted, hand at his lips in that tick he did when he was thinking or nervous, one of him in a well-tailored blazer and band-collared shirt, adjusting his cuffs facetiously, a silver band, like a very simple crown, across his forehead; Duncan Shepherd: Heir Apparent, Prince Presumptive the editorial read). She double-tapped them, the heart floating in front of her, dizzily admiring how ridiculously beautiful he was yet again; I still can’t believe any of this. 7.8M followers, 124 following. She inhaled sharply. 7.8 million followers, holy shit. Millions of people to critique her. Millions of people about to leave a comment that said she “wasn’t even that pretty”. Fun shit, Kenzie, a real hoot. You’ve really put your foot in it now.

She noticed he’d gone through the past few months of her photos and liked most of them; especially the ones of her laughing or smiling, or of her outfits or her plants, anything that was really her. On one photo of her (one Claire had taken of her at Emissary at the end of the previous summer, on a balmy September afternoon, under the canopy of their outdoor seating; Kenzie wore a white sundress and a light gray sweater that was falling off one shoulder in it, looking off to the side, a frosty Aperol spritzer in front of her, her hair down and wind-tossed, a little rose-gold moon pendant at her throat, a faraway smile on her face; Clairebear always takes the best pictures of me, she’d written for the caption, followed by the celestial sun face emoji), Kenzie noticed he’d left several heart-pierced-by-an-arrow emojis. She realized this was the first time she’d seen him use emojis; they were never in his text messages. His comment already had hundred of likes; she didn’t dare look at the comments under it. But it was as if she could feel the tenderness with which he’d looked through her posts, and it made her chest feel warm and hazy. She felt her cheeks glowing; she brought a thumb to her mouth, teeth biting her nail in her shyness. Deep into the funnel of love, she thought, unprompted. She shivered a little. The last time she had looked at her profile, she’d had 400-some followers; now, she had over 3,000, and counting. Fuuuuuck. Don’t even look at the comments, Kenz. Don’t do this to yourself.

Kenzie set her phone down on her desk, pressing her fingers into the corners of her eyes where she’d started to feel the low pressure of a migraine. Suddenly, she turned her phone over and shoved it away from her, shaking her hair back. Fuck this, she thought. I have work to do. To hell with Instagram. And to hell with Annette Shepherd for that matter. I refuse to be afraid of her. And fuck any-fucking-body who wants to try to tell me I’m not good enough, pretty enough, or ENOUGH for Duncan Shepherd. I am. I’m fucking great. Sun shines out of my ass. She turned to her Macbook, reading the last few lines she’d written: the prevalence of PAC donors manipulating political narratives and candidates is a serious problem in American politics, and new policies must be enacted to ensure upcoming elections are just and fair to all candidates, regardless of their ability to receive funding from wealthy donors. Good, Kenzie thought. Now, keep going. She got to work, leaving her phone face-down, determined not to look at it again until her article was finished. Or maybe never again, she thought, feeling a wave of nausea climb up the wall of her stomach.  Maybe social media isn’t going to be fun anymore. So to hell with that too.

------

Kenzie rubbed her eyes. She’d just hit send in the email containing her finished article to Ben and Candice. She looked over at her phone, which was still face-down, hesitating. She’d eaten lunch without looking at it; gone back to writing without looking at it; left it on her desk every time she took a bathroom break. It’d taken all her resolve (what if Duncan texts me), but going on Instagram had shaken her badly; it had made a realization sink into the pit of her that she hadn’t really come to terms with yet. Your life is going to be different now, Kenzie Lou. And she wasn’t sure how to deal with that. She had always loved and appreciated privacy; had decided on a tiny apartment so she could avoid living with roommates; felt shy when she was the center of attention, and cried easily. How am I going to be this other person, she thought. This person dating the heir to billions of dollars; this person with thousands of Instagram followers, this person who has her picture taken by strangers in public places. I should call Momby. But as soon as she had the thought, she pushed it away. If she called her mother already, Madeline would say I told you so. I told you this man wasn’t right for you. And Kenzie couldn’t listen to that. Duncan was right for her; she felt that in her bones, in the pit of her gut, in the center of her heart. It was all this other stuff that was frightening and upsetting to her; not him. Not Duncan. He was her calm oasis in the scorching desert; her little island on a stormy sea, her blanket to hide under in the thunderstorm. When he was near her, her soul nestled into peace and joy and desire. It’s the best feeling I’ve ever had, she thought. Like going home after a long day and falling into bed, listening to rain fall outside your window. Only, it’s a person. My person.

She turned her phone over. Two texts. One from Duncan, one from Clairebear.

Duncan: I love the photos on your Instagram, they’re so beautiful. Almost as beautiful as you are. I saw the video and the photo that woman took. It doesn’t matter; don’t read the comments if you can help it, it’s all nonsense. This will all mellow out soon, don’t worry too much about it, it’s just something new for people to latch onto, and people get distracted easily. Let me know if you need anything from me. I can’t wait to see you in a few hours. I love you.

Kenzie felt a wave of warmth spread over her as she read it. Beloved, she thought, the word seeping into her as if it had drifted out of a dream. He is my beloved. I can see his hidden soul and it’s beautiful beyond all description. Her hands shook as little as she replied. I’m okay, it’s just disorienting. I love those Esquire photos of you so much (here she inserted the heart-eyes emoji). I finished my article, I’m going to send Samuel a message in a minute and go to Georgetown to get some stuff to make for dinner and some clothes and toiletries to keep at your house. It will be such a relief to see you...at home. I love you too.

She read the other text from Claire.

Clairebear: You’ve probably seen Instagram already, but holy shit, what a hot mess. Just don’t look at it if you can help it, some people are insane. I love you and I’m here if you need anything from me.

She felt another warm hand clutch around her heart. I’m so lucky, she thought. To be loved so genuinely by the people in my life. I’m so lucky to have these people to love. I’m grateful.

Thanks, Clairebear, she replied. You are a darling to me and I appreciate you every day. I’m gonna stay off Instagram for a few days, I think. I looked at it this morning and it freaked me out, haha. Duncan seems to think it’ll calm down eventually, so I’m following his lead here. He’s way more used to stuff like this than I am. He gave me a key to his apartment and an expense account, I’m just...he wants me to keep stuff at his penthouse. I still feel like I’m trapped in a dream. This is all so surreal.

Kenzie texted her mother next.

Momby, Duncan and I would like to have dinner with you tomorrow night at Busboys and Poets. Is 7 PM okay? We can pick you up or we can meet you there, whatever you want to do. He’s really looking forward to meeting you. I love you to the moon and back, she added; a phrase they’d used with each other since she was a little girl.

She took a deep breath, setting the phone down. She closed her Macbook, slipping it into her Margaux satchel; she noticed as she did that she must have put Duncan’s cardigan absently into her bag at some point between last night and today, because it was stuffed in the bottom. She pulled it out carefully, shaking it a little, pulling it around her shoulders. You can do this, Kenz, she thought. Just pretend it’s a game, like when you were little. You’re Princess Diana; you’re calling your magical car to take you to the movie theater, the imaginary one with endless pizza.

She was about to text Samuel under the number Duncan had given her when she noticed some of her coworkers milling around by the windows against the east wall of the office; staring down onto the street with curiosity on their faces, whispering to each other, some of them glancing over at her. She stood up and walked over to them; Ben gave her another coy, perturbed look with his lips pressed, as if he knew something she didn’t; he walked away from her as she approached him, waving a hand behind him again, before she could ask him what everyone was staring at. She looked after him, frustrated, an exasperated noise falling out of her. She noticed Precious and Zadie, two of her coworkers, talking in low voices to each other a few feet away, both of them staring out the window in concentration.

“Hey, Precious, hey Zadie--what’s going on? What are you looking at?” She felt suddenly afraid to peer out the window from the way Ben had reacted to her.

Zadie didn’t say anything, giving Kenzie an odd look, one that was sort of a mixture of pity and nervous excitement, her long, straight hair falling down her shoulders, her arms crossed under her little breasts, her lips closed. Precious gave Kenzie a look of vague annoyance and disbelief, one of her hands coming around to play with the big golden lion pendant around her neck. She nodded at the glass. “Kenzie, see for yourself. This is obviously for you.”

Kenzie bit her lip, set her nerves, and looked out.

Near the entrance of One Franklin Square, she could see the clustered heads of a group of probably twenty reporters with recorders and microphones, huddled on the sidewalk as if they were a pride of lions gazing carefully on unsuspecting antelopes at a waterhole, laying in wait. Oh shit. The press had found her.

“Fuck,” she breathed.

“Unfortunately, it would seem, kissing Duncan Shepherd in full view of a Tuesday morning crowd at one of DC’s busiest parks has some consequences,” Precious said, not unkindly. She looked at Kenzie knowingly, then turned, walking back to her desk, the graphic tee she wore flashing its cheeky mantra at Kenzie as she went; If you can’t handle the heat, the front said, and Kenzie watched her back retreat; get your face out of my oven. Zadie gave her another quiet, sympathetic look. “Maybe Candice will know what to do?” she said. Her brown eyes flickered over Kenzie with that same mixture of pity and odd thrill. It was clear Zadie couldn’t help but find this sort of exciting, and Kenzie envied her coworker’s ability to see it as an outsider; they aren’t here to follow you out the door, Kenzie thought. You get to observe and go home as usual. She wasn’t upset with Zadie for this; on the contrary, she felt a wave of envy wash over her. That sense of anonymity seems to have slipped away from me overnight, she thought. And now I’m not sure who this new girl is; the girl these reporters are waiting for.

She walked away from Zadie, feeling oddly disembodied, towards Candice’s office; Zadie’s eyes followed her as she went, curious. Kenzie rapped carefully two times. “Come in,” she heard Candice’s kind voice call out.

“Candice, I’m sorry,” Kenzie said, stepping into her boss’ office for the second time that day, meeting Candice’s warm eyes with alarm seeping out of her own. “But...I need your help already.”

------

With Candice’s help, Kenzie had managed to slip out through the back entrance; this one was usually reserved for delivery trucks, with a long ramp that slanted down, trash and recycling bins lined up against one side of the concrete. She’d texted Samuel less than ten minutes before; and here he was, to her vast, wild relief; the BMW idled on the corner quietly, its tinted window betraying nothing of the tranquil interior to the occasional pedestrian on the side-street. Kenzie stepped quickly down the ramp from the backdoor from whence she’d just emerged, looking carefully from side to side, hoping against hope; she’d almost made it to the car when she heard a loud voice to her left, a bark of sound that made her jump, her eyes darting in the direction it had come from.

“Miss Stone, Miss Stone! Mackenzie Stone!” A man in casual clothing, a smattering of beard around his face and the shiny pate of his balding head reflecting the late afternoon sunlight, was walking briskly in her direction, holding a camera carefully on his shoulder; he was flanked by a woman in a tight champagne-pink pencil skirt and blazer, and it was her sharp voice that Kenzie had heard; she was holding out a microphone, the kind Kenzie had used herself for press conferences and soundbites outside courtrooms, but the image of one being pushed towards her was odd and alien, and she balked, her eyes freezing on them. Her blood froze, and she suddenly felt as though she couldn't move; the microphone came under her and she shied away from them, her body singing with adrenaline almost immediately; she felt nauseous and panicked for an instant, and then she saw Samuel stepped out of the car, oh thank god, and his strong, warm arm was coming around her, and he was opening the backdoor of the BMW and pushing her gently inside, the man with the camera still trying to angle it onto her (“Miss Stone, are you and Mr. Shepherd romantically involved? Are you privy to the Shepherd Unlimited corporation and its assets? Are you engaged? What are your feelings about President Underwood?”, the woman’s sharp voice was ringing in her ears), and Samuel barked at him to step back (he did with an alarmed look; Samuel was at least a foot taller than him); the door shut with a sharp click and she could see them pressing against the dark window, trying to see inside, the woman still pressing the microphone into the window, the man still angling the camera on it; she could still see them but they could no longer see her through the tinted glass, and Samuel was suddenly, with supernatural swiftness, back in the driver’s seat, his foot on the gas, accelerating away in a blink.

----

“Miss Stone, are you alright?” Samuel’s eyes peered over the rearview at her, his brown eyes concerned and full of empathy. He was driving carefully, smoothly now; the last few minutes had been a blur as Samuel weaved through the narrow streets with an alarming agility; he was losing anyone who might try to follow us, Kenzie thought in a daze, but they were now heading south towards Georgetown, according to the GPS, at a much more measured, casual pace.

Kenzie was breathing slowly in the backseat, her fingers clutching the strap of her satchel with white hands; staring off into space. Her attention floated back from the nether into which it had drifted; adrenaline crashed down through her, and she noticed she’d started to shake. She noted, vaguely, that soft music drifted from the speakers; bewitched, bothered and bewildered am I / couldn’t sleep and wouldn’t sleep….when love came and told me, I shouldn’t sleep…

“I...I think so…” she murmured softly. She put her satchel at her feet, feeling for her phone; her hand closed around its smooth rectangle, and she felt relief flood through her. She held it in her lap, gazing down at it in a stupor; Duncan had texted her again.

Did you text Samuel? I’ll be in a meeting for another hour or so, and then I have to pick something up. I should be home by 7:30. I’m so excited to have dinner. At home. With you.

Kenzie looked dazedly at the time; it was just after 4:30.

There were a bunch of reporters waiting outside the building when I tried to leave work, she replied. My boss helped me through the back door, but two of them still found me. Thankfully Samuel was there, but I think they got me on camera. I don’t know who they were with. I’m okay. Samuel was wonderful. I’ll be so relieved to see you, baby.

“Samuel?”

“Yes, Miss Stone?”

“Please call me Mackenzie.”

“Of course, Miss Mackenzie. I would love to. Where should we go, Miss Mackenzie? This car is yours now, like it is Mr. Shepherd’s. I’m at your service, as I am at his.”

Kenzie hesitated, feeling disoriented. Her head was pounding.

“Miss Mackenzie,” Samuel went on, softly. “This will get easier. Duncan cares very deeply for you. I have seen it; I know it is true. You can trust him. He is cradling your heart in his hands. You have kindled the desire for life in him. Through love, all things are possible.”

Kenzie closed her eyes for a moment; Ella’s voice washed over her. I’m in love and don’t I show it / like a babe in arms…

“Thank you, Samuel. Thank you for your help back there. I was absolutely terrified.”

“I am here for you now, Miss Mackenzie. There is nothing to fear. Now, where do you want to go? I will take you anywhere.”

“Georgetown is okay, Samuel. I just need to go to Dean and DeLuca to get some things for dinner, and some of the clothing shops. It shouldn’t take too long. Thank you so much.”

“Miss Mackenzie, whatever you want, it is a pleasure. Mr. Shepherd is lucky to have you; I will do whatever I can to help him make you happy.” Kenzie smiled at him sweetly through the mirror; she felt full to the brim with emotion, far beyond words.

“I wish I could talk to him now,” she whispered softly.

“He’s with you. You will bring each other strength. This time of turmoil will be brief; your life will be long.”

Kenzie nodded a little, feeling the telltale stinging of tears in her eyes again. Someday, she mused,  I’ll have cried enough. Someday, I’ll be done crying. But not yet.

-------

Samuel was an excellent chauffeur (of course he is, Kenzie thought); he pulled up smoothly to the side of Wisconsin Avenue, hopping out of the driver’s seat and opening the door for her, holding out his hand. “Miss Mackenzie, do you want an escort?”

Kenzie shook her head, as much to decline as to clear the residue of tears from her head and her cheeks, and stepped from the backseat of the BMW, clutching her satchel and his hand as she got out. “No thank you, Samuel. I really want to do this alone, if that’s okay.”

“Of course it is, Miss Mackenzie. Please let me know when you need me; I’ll be nearby.”

She smiled up at him, nodding. He smiled back at her, giving her hand a little squeeze before he let go, stepping back around the car into the driver’s seat, and accelerating away from her slowly. She slipped her phone into one of the pockets of her long skirt, bringing the strap of her bag around the crook of her elbow. The sun was still out, steady and strong in the late May sky; dreamy cumulus clouds scudded over it every now and then, and the sapphire of the heavens behind them reminded her of Duncan’s eyes; everything reminds me of him now, she thought. Colors, smells, the touch of his cardigan against her arms. I want to feel his faith that everything will be fine. So I’ll pretend I feel it. I’ll pretend I’m confident, despite all of this. I will pretend I’m strong.

She breathed deeply; then she stepped toward the open entryway of the nearest shop; it was a Madewell, the May breeze coasting behind her through the blue doors which were thrown wide to the perfect weather. Kenzie knew her own style and taste well; it didn’t take her long to find outfits she loved that she knew would suit her; of course, the idea of an unlimited budget was one she wasn’t familiar with, and she couldn’t deny it was thrilling. A girl could get used to this, too. She perused the brick-lined walls with a careful precision. She’d loved clothes all her life; she could see how much Duncan loved and appreciated them as well, and her skin tingled thinking of the way he’d gazed over every outfit she’d worn around him thus far; the thought of him admiring her in anything she chose today was electrifying; the memory of his eyes on her like that made her feel drunk. She thought of the clothes she was choosing hanging in his walk-in closet, beside his perfectly pressed, perfectly tailored black clothing, and shivered a little. Together. She found a strappy, hemmed denim dress that fell to her ankles; a slip dress in a color that reminded her of grapes in sunlight; a long black chiffon dress with short sleeves and a slit up the side, covered in tiny flowers; a sweater dress with buttons down the sleeves; her thoughts drifted towards oncoming summer, choosing short denim skirts and velvet cami tops, a denim bell-sleeve top with a wrap around the middle that reminded her of a shirt her mother wore in a photo (taken in the 70’s) that was tucked into Kenzie’s bathroom mirror; a black top with a front-tie, and several mock neck crop tops with long sleeves in several colors; gray, mulberry red, dark brown. She picked up a pair of black suede boots and a pair of darkly tan leather Reagan boots; boots go with everything. She found a long necklace with tiny stars; two tiny chain bracelets with moons; little rose-gold earrings that reminded her of her succulents, and a slim black convertible bag with a gold-button clasp that she thought would be perfect for going out on evenings. Everything she picked was personal; a reflection of her.

She piled the things on the counter; the girl behind it had long dark hair tied back in a casual braid, and a warm stare. She was looking at Kenzie with a funny expression, though her smile was friendly.

“Did you find everything okay?” She asked.

“Yes, thanks,” Kenzie smiled back at her. She pulled her long black wallet from her satchel; suddenly, she felt nervous about using the card Duncan had given her. Ever since she’d gotten her job at the Post as a staff writer, she’d gained a sense of pride in using her own money; money she’d earned herself, with her writing. Using someone else’s felt strange. Then, Duncan’s voice floated into her head. Everything is okay. It makes me happy to give you these things. Please, accept them? She pulled the card out of her wallet, gripping it firmly.

The girl quoted the price to her; it was over $900 for everything she’d picked out. Kenzie handed her the card, her lips pressed firmly together. The girl swiped the card, but not before Kenzie noticed her eyes go wide from glancing at the name, a long receipt printed out.

“I thought you looked familiar.”

Kenzie felt her blood chill in her veins.

“I--I saw that video on Instagram,” the girl said, putting Kenzie’s clothes carefully into two white shopping bags with Madewell in black lettering along the side. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be so nosy, shit. You’re so lucky. He’s, like, the hottest guy ever. Good luck with everything, really.”

Kenzie blushed deeply, unsure of what to say. Today is the weirdest day of my life in a long string of weird days, she thought. “Um, thank you.” The girl passed the bags to her, shyly looking back at the register, clearly embarrassed. Kenzie turned, feeling disoriented again, and walked out of the shop. Back on the street she let the sun fall on her, warming her skin; just breathe, Kenzie Lou, her mother’s voice drifting into her mind again. She draped the Madewell bags over her arm, her satchel slung over her shoulder. She felt dizzy with the money she��d just theoretically spent. Don’t know if I’ll ever get used to this, she thought. And every piece of clothing in Duncan’s closet costs as much as I just racked up.

Kenzie turned the corner, walking up to where she knew she’d find a Sephora; make-up is so fucking expensive, she thought. I’ve lived on ramen for days to buy hair products and foundation. She perused the perfect lines of lipstain and eyeliner, picking out her standards; it would be a relief to have makeup and face wash and a hairbrush at Duncan’s penthouse, at least, if she was going to be there constantly (in various states of undress and dishevelment, she thought, unable to suppress the giggle that bubbled up). She picked up a full-size bottle of Nirvana Rose, her favorite scent, relishing the feeling of it in her hands; she only ever bought the roller-balls, it was so expensive. She imagined it sitting beside Duncan’s bottles of cologne in his giant bathroom with a thrill. Together. She imagined her hairbrush on his sink, her toothbrush next to his, her shampoo and conditioner in his (fuck) shower beside his. Together. It made her feel absolutely high. Knowing he wanted her things there. Knowing he wanted her there.

Kenzie had one more stop to make; she carefully perused the shelves of Dean and DeLuca, the fanciest grocer’s she had ever been to and normally could not begin to afford. She had been planning the dinner she’d make in her head since she came up with the idea to cook for Duncan; cooking was something that gave her a lot of peace of mind and comfort, and she felt, somehow, that she wanted to give this to him; she wondered how long it had been since someone who loved him had made him food. It was something her mother did for her all the time; something that made her feel close to her mother, something that gave her comfort, soothed her. She could see the ways that making food for someone was like telling them she loved them; this is for you. I made it for you, because I love you. It will nourish your body and bring you joy and I made it. Despite the difficult trajectory of her day, Kenzie felt innately that having a meal together would be healing for both of them tonight; unlike the prying eyes of the patrons of Le Diplomate, this would be just the two of them, with no one to spy. The thought filled her with relief, flowing through her body like the first hit of a bowl of good weed. Alone, together.

Once she was finished, she texted Samuel, trying to juggle a half a dozen bags in her arms now; as was his way, he pulled around within minutes to where she stood on the sidewalk outside the posh grocer’s. He immediately jumped out to help her with all her bags; she smiled at him, thanking him warmly. This man is so wonderful, she thought, sending out all the warm energy she could muster towards Samuel’s back bent over the BMW’s trunk, where he carefully placed her assorted bags. I already trust him with my life.

It only took a few scant minutes to make it back to Duncan’s high-rise from where she’d been shopping; its glittering facade was very still in the afternoon sun, and the street was surprisingly quiet. Samuel pulled up quietly to the curb, hopping out again to pull her door open; “Miss Mackenzie, please go inside, I will be up with the bags shortly. Don’t you worry.” Kenzie hesitated, feeling self-conscious, tucking stray hairs behind her ear; she glanced at her phone. It was almost 6.

“Okay. Do I need to tell the doorman anything?”

“Miss Mackenzie, they will know who you are. Duncan has told them everything.”

She balked at that. Told them everything. I hope not. She blushed.

----

Kenzie stepped into the building; a tall, portly, middle-aged doorman opened it for her, nodding to her politely. She felt odd, being there alone. The foyer was spotlessly clean, everything in gilded gold and polished marble. Another man sat at the front desk; he was short with closely-shaved hair and a tiny moustache, his slender eyes indicating his Asian lineage. He was deeply absorbed in a copy of Tropic of Cancer by Henry Miller. Kenzie approached him quietly, one hand clutching the strap of her satchel against her shoulder, the other buried in one of the pockets of her long skirt.

“I’m...going up to Mr. Shepherd’s penthouse.”

He glanced up at her, a gentle smile falling across his face. “I’m Anchaly. You must be Mackenzie Stone. Very good, Miss Stone. If you ever need anything, please let me know.”

“I’m a Cancer, you know,” she replied.

“I’m sorry?”

“That book you’re reading. My zodiac sign is Cancer.”

“Ahhhh. Children of the moon.”

She laughed at that, surprised. “I suppose so, yes.”

“Mr. Shepherd is also a Cancer. How fortuitous. Two moon children in love.”

She blushed. Two moon children in love. “Today has been a very strange day.”

“I find that strange days are often the best days, in retrospect.”

“It was nice to meet you, Anchaly.”

“Likewise, Miss Stone.”

Anchaly leaned back down towards his book; she stepped away from the counter. I’m not one to disturb a reader twice, she thought, walking over to the gold-embossed elevators and pressing the up arrow. She thought of the night she’d first come here with Duncan; both of them locked in a passionate embrace, locked in the passionate feeling of each other’s energy, locked in the moment. Who would have thought it’d become something so real? She thought. Who would have thought something so impulsive would become...what it’s becoming. Her heart shivered. Who would have thought I’d fall in love with him this way. She stepped inside, letting the doors slide shut behind her; staring at herself for a moment in the full-length mirror against the wall; her eyes looked tired, small dark circles vaguely visible under them, her eyeliner beginning to smudge. She brought a hand to the rose quartz at her neck for the hundredth time that day; for love, she thought. Duncan’s penthouse was at the top of a 30-story high-rise. She pressed the 30 button (it was silver with black numbers), knowing full well his penthouse was the only residence on that floor. It made her shiver a little again. She pulled her wallet out again, fingers falling over the credit card he’d given her for a moment before moving on to the keycard; she pulled it out, studying it. It had a another silver 30 on it, and the name SHEPHERD, DUNCAN in silver Garamond lettering beside the numbers. The card was jet-black with a strip on the opposite side; other than these features, the card was blank. It was heavy in her hand, made of some kind of metal (titanium, maybe...like that Black AmEx Duncan has). It felt expensive, like the card alone had cost a lot of money. It probably did. She was gazing at it still in the elevator’s warm golden light when the doors slid open on the 30th floor.

Kenzie stepped out towards Duncan’s long black door, thinking again of a few nights ago when he had fumbled the key there; her arm reaching out to steady him, her lips pressing against him. Where did all that bravery go? She wondered. I could use a bourbon now, honestly. She held the card out to the slot beside Duncan’s door, annoyed with herself when she saw her hand shaking; as if you’ve never been here, she said to herself. She pulled at the small gold knob and stepped inside as a low beep rang out; closing the door behind her, breathing out slowly, carefully, her eyes falling on the pristine quiet of Duncan’s apartment.

Being here alone was odd; she felt like an intruder, as though she was here without anyone’s permission, though she knew deep down that wasn’t true. She was struck yet again by how beautiful everything he owned was; how elegant and pristine and quiet and exquisite. She moved past the vast kitchen, the diamond-drop chandelier winking at her; into his huge front room with its low leather couch and the silent, watchful eyes of the three statues (Dike, the goddess of Justice, lifting her scales, Nike, goddess of Victory, headless and winged, Athena, goddess of Wisdom, in her battle armor) on three separate corbels, two against the wall of the study, one against the wall leading to the bedroom; the wall that she faced there was made entirely of one long sheet of weather-proof, bullet-proof glass, the view she’d neglected to admire the last few times she’d been in this room, too lost in the weight of Duncan to care about anything else. She walked up to it now, gazing out on the nation’s capital city. In the daylight, it was mostly smatterings of white and cream with patches of trees, gray against the blue and white of the sky. She supposed that if she ever remembered to look, it must be magnificent at night, with the city spread out in glittering electric lights. She turned to look at Nike, who was closest to her; she trailed one hand over the back of the statue’s left wing, loving the coolness of the marble stone under her hand. Three women, powerful and wise. She loved these statues; that Duncan had them displayed so prominently in his home was of some comfort to her. She had no doubt that he admired strong women; his fierce love for his mother most evident. Having been raised by a mostly-single mother herself, she wondered if it wasn’t so much of the reason he had turned out the way he had; with a hidden depth of feeling, a hidden shine of the soul, one that extended beyond his (admittedly overwhelming) physical beauty. She hoped again, in her own silent way, that she and Annette could find a way to be friends; find some meeting of the minds, at least when it came to Duncan. We both love him, she thought. At least we have that in common.

On the wall that faced opposite Duncan’s study was a series of four paintings of identical size in gold frames, and unlike The Youth of Bacchus, these seemed to be high-quality prints rather than the originals (I guess most of these paintings actually hang in museums, she thought); she had noticed them before, that first morning, (Pre-Raphaelites, she had thought then, and they were), but studied them more carefully now; each was a woman who appeared to represent a different time of day, the first with long red hair, bathed in soft lights with plants growing behind her (the morning, Kenzie thought), the next floating in sunlight, holding a branch out to a bird, leaves in her hair (the day), and then next, she with her pose of ecstasy, the waters of the sea at her feet, a moon rising behind her (twilight) and then she bathed in shadow, her mantle black, storm clouds behind her (the night). Kenzie loved them immediately and fiercely; goddesses of nature and time, she thought, a hand reaching out towards she of the Twilight; towards the moon that hung over her head. For women create all things.

Kenzie moved through the door to Duncan’s study, holding her breath; then she turned and gazed, eyes widening, at the beauty that was The Youth of Bacchus, in all its real splendor. Looking at it sober, she still somehow felt drunk on it. She could see the ridges and bumps of Bouguereau’s paint; see the brushstrokes around the eyes of the revelers, the skin of the maiden in the center, white and bare. Oh for the hundredth time today, she thought, feeling her tears. But she couldn’t help it. It was perhaps the most beautiful object she had ever seen. The thought of seeing it every day; of being near it, living beside it, moved her utterly. She turned away from it, toward his bookcases stretching along the walls behind the desk; they encompassed all genres, but she noticed that many of them were mythology books. Of course, she thought. I can see how much it means to him. I can see it in his house and behind his eyes and I can feel it. Justice, victory, wisdom. Three women; trios are always a pantheon of power. Like the Fates. Like Hecate in her shades. Like the Moon; waxing, full, waning. She thought back on her own studies of Greek mythology; she’d poured over the book by the D’Aulaires’ in the library for months the year she was 13; she’d read Bullfinch’s Mythology in high school and The Odyssey in college. She thought (drifting) of Hades stealing Persephone from the earth, bringing her down to the dark Underworld; in many versions of the tale, they called it The Rape of Persephone, an act against her will. But Kenzie had often imagined that secretly, hidden in the annals of time, lost somewhere, Persephone loved Hades; loved his dark sadness and his eyes like blue fire, loved his crown of curls, his dark cloak, his hands, his gentleness. As a girl she often imagined Persephone didn’t return to the Underworld because she had eaten Pomegranates; but that she returned because she loved him, loved him and could not choose between her mother and the bright flowers of the living, and her husband and the dark flowers of the dead. She thought of Duncan; his serious gaze, his eyes piercing through her like thunder; his lips pressed to her like the fervent whisper of a prayer; my own Hades, lost in his Underworld, only this one hovers above the masses in its own special limbo. And in that moment she did feel torn; torn between him and the world she felt she was leaving behind, whether she meant to or not. She went over to the little polished mahogany bar cart beside the wine case that stretched along the corner, admiring the Tiffany lamp on the shelf beside it, Duncan’s spotless turntable; she took one of the crystal tumblers and her eyes traveled over the bottles there, eventually choosing the spherical shape of Angel’s Envy bourbon, pouring a finger into the tumbler, bringing it to her lips, and sipping, slow, savoring the taste, moving it under her tongue. It coursed through her, down her throat; it filled her tired mind with heat, soothing her, and suddenly, she ached for the night to come and her lover to return to her. Today was a long day, she thought. And I long for him. She went to the turntable; a Beethoven record was sitting on it, the needle hovering just above. She pressed a button on the side of it, and the needle dropped; Moonlight Sonata, she thought. I love this one. I love that he was listening to this.

She gazed for a moment longer at Bacchus, bathing in the silence, relishing the sound of the music; the curtains in this room were light-tight, the better to preserve the priceless painting, she assumed; then she heard the front door of the penthouse open, and she went out of the study, the tumbler still cradled in her hand, to see Samuel stepping into the kitchen with her many parcels; he set the Dean and DeLuca bags on the kitchen counter, then moved through the living room to set her other bags on Duncan’s low leather couch; he nodded to her, smiling, then turned to leave.

“Samuel.”

He turned back, his brown eyes dancing.

“Yes, Miss Mackenzie.”

“Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. For everything.”

“Miss Mackenzie...it is my honor. Be well and be happy. I will see you again soon.”

He smiled a little; his eyes seemed to fall into him, deeper, stranger, like a universe unfolding and widening; Moonlight Sonata resounded in her ears, extending the moment. Than he nodded a little to her, turned, and walked to the door, closing it softly behind him.

Kenzie sipped from the tumbler again; lost in thought, in the fading light. Then, she went into the kitchen, flipping the switch on the wall so the diamond-drop chandelier burst into luminescence; she set the tumbler on the counter, and got to work on the grocery bags beside her; she reached up into Duncan’s cupboards, struck with excitement at his beautiful kitchenwares; only a man who cooks for himself has all of this, she thought. She hummed as she worked; and slowly, the light of day faded, and the light of the city came up, in the evening mood.

[xxmisty]

A little help re. Tumblr tags?

Guys, we already know tumblr is a broken mess, but can anyone give us some help regarding tags and what the hell is going on?

Ok, so right now i’m doing art full time and have been working hard to get my work out there and advertise for commissions etc. I always use tags on my posts but never bothered looking to see if they appeared where they were supposed to, until I started becoming more serious about my work and noticed there was like a... huge and unexplained disparity between the amount of notes on certain posts. I’d always just assumed some posts got lucky and the right person saw and reblogged them whenever a post had a decent amount of notes but there was a particular post I made at the weekend which didn’t get any notes at all which just seemed... suspicious?? So I checked the tags and it wasn’t appearing at all. 

I thought maybe because I posted it in the app so I reposted it from my browser and lol and behold, it appeared in tags and started picking up notes right away. But the next day I made another post and decided to check the tags, just to be on the safe side... and there was no sign of it again! I thought maybe it was because i’d included links to my patreon and ko-fi page so I deleted the post and reposted the pic without links, and this time it appeared in tags, no problem. I thought by leaving out links I would be ok, but the next day I made another post with no tags at all, checked tags and it appeared - for a brief moment!!! I scrolled down the tag to reblog some other stuff and then refreshed the tag - and my post was gone. It never reappeared, I tried multiple times before surrendering, deleting the post, reposting it later with absolutely no changes to anything i’d put the first time and - bingo - it worked fine and stayed in the tags.

This isn’t just affecting me. My lovely partner Lucy has been struggling to get her art out there at all recently and it seems her posts have just stopped appearing in tags, full stop. They were appearing fine until the last few weeks, i’d seen them just coincidentally when scrolling through tags she’d posted in. This didn’t even happen at the time of the tumblr purge or i’d assume it was connected, although I still wouldn’t be surprised if it was linked in some way. Neither of us have been pixelated or are blocked from the purge. There seems to be no rhyme nor reason to why some of my posts appear and some just don’t, whilst lucy’s have stopped appearing for no reason. None of it is nsfw in any way.

Can anyone offer any help or insight? @staff maybe? (Lol right)  any ‘unofficial’ tumblr rules (like the whole only-the-first-five-tags-actually-appear thing) that might stop posts appearing or help them to appear where they should?

Honestly, this makes any kind of creative work even harder to build up, and tumblr has always been the best place to reach out, build an audience and share your creativity with others. People have landed job offers off the back of their tumblr accounts, started new careers, crowd-funded comics and books and animations and all sorts, but these new issues are just another way in which tumblr is going to throttle its target demographic.

Thanks tumblr :/

[araminia16]

Of Beholders and Promises

I should be working on a bunch of other things but after the feels that Mileven have given me this week this story just had to get out. I hope you guys enjoy. I might do more if I feel like it but for now this is it. :)

 They are also a couple of years older in high school. Sophmores maybe.

 XxOxx

 Instead of nearly every weekend their D&D sessions were usually every other week, sometimes just one time a month depending on what each of them had going on. AV club usually, but sometimes other things like family dinners or sickness but still, even in high school they all piled into Mike’s basement and brought out the rulebooks, the board and went into a separate world for a while. Lately though they had two extra party members and it only added to their fun.

 Mike was, as usual, the DM of the group leading them further and further into the dark tunnels. However, the thing that was unusual or at least different from their old games was the girl sitting in his lap. Eleven watched the game with relative excitement from behind Mike’s divider. Her position, which was quite comfortable, just happened to be the curve where his neck met his shoulder. She found that it was the perfect cradle for her some time ago. His left arm curved around her to both hold her steady and keep her close.

 Mike had traded his usual chair for a larger one that he had found at a garage sale and paid for by money he had earned doing odd things around his neighborhood. It was far more comfortable and it also made room for the two of them.

 Sometimes she would sit down in her old fort, reading books, but Mike didn’t play as well those days. He would constantly watch her out of the corner of his eye, even after two years of her being back with him. There was still the fear that she would be gone again and he wanted to waste none of the time they had together. Sometimes she sat down in a chair next to him, or at least that was what she did before the green monstrosity entered the picture. Now, just as often as not she curled up in his embrace with her legs stretched across his thighs, sometimes reading a book and sometimes not.

 The other party member, after much coaching from the other three, but mostly Lucas, was Max. After some convincing they had gotten her to relinquish the “zoomer” title and adopt one of a rogue. Versatile, fast, and sassy her elven thief had gotten them quite a bit of loot and fame that otherwise they weren’t able to achieve and it made her feel more like a part of the group.

 The rest of them: Dustin, Will, and Lucas were currently arguing over which path to take. Right, left or center? Max, tired of it nudged Lucas with her thigh which was not difficult considering that they were side by side, the length of their outer thighs touching. They were less obvious than the two at the head of the board, but affection flirted between them all the same.

 “Let me do a trap roll.” Max requested.

 “Go for it.” Mike responded, his hand lazily stroked along Eleven’s thigh. She was Jane to the outside world, but that name had never quite caught on in their circle. It was not her name when she first came to them in the night, cold, wet and terrified. El is who she was with her family and that was fine with her.

 The sound of dice clattering onto the table and the subsequent roll of 13 revealed a large crushing trap to their left. Dustin, who had been telling them to go left sulked and changed his vote to the right.

 Lucas grinned and high fived Max. “Told you.” He taunted Dustin.

 “Shut up. Let’s just go.”

 Mike continued his narration and Eleven could feel his heart beat in his neck. The pace was picking up and she knew that he was about to surprise them with something interesting.

 “Kobolds.” He shouted, “Charging down the tunnel.”

 “How many?” Will cried.

 “The darkness obscures their numbers. It would be hard to tell unless…”

 “Can I see them?” Max again.

 “Roll.”

 “Damnit. 12.” She hissed.

 “Their little bodies and sharp spears thrust at you.”

 “Sleep. I’ll cast sleep.” Will shouted.

 “Roll.”

 “15!” He pumped his fist up.

 “Kobolds drop around you caught in the effect of the spell.”

 “Let’s kill them so they don’t come back looking for us.” Lucus chimed in.

 “But that’s like murder.” Dustin sighed.

 “They’re Kobolds. Bloodthirsty yipping little monsters.”

 “I have to agree with him.” Max shrugged.

 “You would.”

 “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 “You guys are dating. You have to agree.”

 “Will? What do you think?”

 Will was still quiet and they all knew that his time in the Upside Down and when the shadow monster had taken him still weighed heavy on his soul but most of the time he was fine and he looked at the board, then back up. “They will sniff us out again if we leave them here. You know that Dustin.”

 So they gave each Kobold a coup de grace kill and set down further.

 Eleven lifted her head, soft brown curls brushing up against Mike’s neck and she put her mouth next to his ear and whispered something while grinning.

 “Get a room.”

 “Boo.”

 They were peppered with popcorn as the other four catcalled and hooted at the pair.

 Mike pulled back and looked down at her, eyes wide and slowly his lips turned upward in a grin of mischief. He dipped down to give her a quick kiss and he heard the gagging of his friends. A quick middle finger at their direction only resulted in more snickers.

 “Oh. I don’t like that at all. El. What did you tell him?” Dustin asked in an increasingly high pitch despite his voice drop the past year.

 “Yeah I don’t like that look either.” Will joined in.

 Mike leaned forward, arm tightening on El to keep her in place. “Suddenly a strange presence fills the tunnel. It presses in on you like a glove and with it a just of unnatural wind. It’s coming.” Eleven shivered at his dark tone, this part of Mike secretly thrilled her. He told his stories so well.

 “Let’s go guys. I don’t like the sound of that.” Max chimed in and the rest of them agreed and so they ran down the tunnel.

 Mike opened it up into a large cavern filled with bones and gold.

 “Is it a dragon?”

 “No its not a dragon. We are underground, Will.” Lucas hissed.

 “It’s a beholder.” Dustin panted.

 “No. It can’t be a beholder.” Lucas argued.

 “With a crash and a rush of air the tunnel where you entered is broken apart and out comes,” He pulled up and slammed down onto the table a figure. “The beholder.”

 “Fucking shit.” Dustin half wailed.

 “Why do you always do this?” Lucas growled.

 “It was at the behest of your Dungeon Mistress guys.”

 “Why you gotta do us like that, El? I thought you liked us.”

 Eleven just grinned. Mike had asked her a while back if she wanted to help him plan a campaign and this had been her contribution. “Roll for initiative.” She ordered.

 Dice hit the table in a large clatter, and then finally Mike rolled for the monster. “Lucas and Dustin are stunned by the beholder’s initial mind blast from one eyestalk. Will, what are you going to do?”

 “Missile.” And he rolled, landing a hit on the monster.

 “Trap roll.” Max said quietly and her roll revealed three traps. “Good.”

 The battle raged for twenty minutes before they defeated the monster. Will was out of spells and at least one leg on his Wizard was out of commission. Dustin and his dwarf were severely wounded and Lucas got out of it with a hex to his arm which he would need dispelled by a priest. The only one who was not in some way disabled was Max, who surprisingly had landed the final blow to the monster’s central eye through the anti-magic ray.

 “What are you going to do now?”

 “Get as much of that shit as we can carry and get the hell out of here.”

 “How?” Lucas asked blearily, “The tunnel is blocked off.”

 “Detect illusion.” Max again.

 “How did she get good?”

 “My girl is a fast learner.”

 “Shut up.”

 “You see a glimmer of something on the wall to the right.” Mike narrated.

 Eventually they revealed a lift that would take them to the surface and piled on as much gold and magical items as they could carry. Will suggested that they take the central eye of the beholder as a trophy and possibly to use later.

 “What time is it?” Dustin asked with a yawn.

 “Oh shit.” Mike looked at his watch. “It’s ten.”

 He noticed that Eleven had her eyes closed. “I knew you guys could do it.” She said with a sleepy smile.

 “Well since its Saturday night anyway you guys want to do an old fashioned sleep over?”

 “Old fashioned? We just had one last month.”

 “Whatever.” Dustin retorted. “I just have to let my mom know.”

 “Me too.” Will chimed in, followed by Lucas and Max.

 “What about Hopper?” Mike murmured to Eleven.

 “Give me the radio.”

 Mike handed her the radio and she turned it on and started to beep out Morse code. “Staying with Mike and the guys tonight at his house.”

 A few minutes later, “No you are not. You are coming home.”

 “No. I am staying.”

 “No.”

 “Yes.”

 “No.”

 “Yes.”

 There was no answer for a couple more minutes. “I’ll be there at 8am sharp. Be at the door or you are going to be grounded.”

 “Thank you.”

 “There. Taken care of now.”

 “We need to get everything put…okay.” Will watched as the game board and table floated up and sorted out before his eyes. El didn’t even really get nosebleeds anymore with the small stuff, just things that took a lot out of her.

 With the space cleared the room grew in size and one by one each of the teenagers filtered down into the room. “You want to sleep here or in my room?” He asked them and they all voted for here so extra blankets and pillows were brought down. The pullout sofa was set up and Dustin and Will took up residence on it, Lucas and Max had made their own relatively comfortable bed and they each took turns up and downstairs washing up and dressing down for bed.

 Mike and Eleven were last and they took up residence in a larger version of the original blanket fort that she had called home for a total of seven days. She was dressed in a tank top and a pair of Mike’s long shorts and he was nearly in the same. They laid facing each other in the darkness and amounts the sounds of the sleepers. Brown eyes met across a space no bigger than the length of a hand as they shared the same air.

 He could count on one hand the number of times that they had slept in the same place next to each other. The first had been after she closed the Gate. Pale, with dried blood from her nose and ears he had been terrified to see her. After Hopper had laid her down on the couch he had shoved in to kneel down next to her. “Mike” She croaked out softly and he had grabbed her hand.

 “I’m here.”

 “I promised.”

 That night no one had gone home. They had all slept in this sort of funny dog pile of children with blankets on the floor. Even the older teens. Mike had taken up residence right next to the couch because no force on earth would separate him from her. Nearly a whole year had been taken from them and he would be damned if anyone kept them apart right now. So he slept next to her and when he woke later in the night he found her small form curled up next to him and he felt whole again for the first time in forever.

 If Hopper had noticed he didn’t bring it up the next morning.

 The next day she had nearly lost it when Hopper told her they had to go back. She was nearly a screaming, crying mess and he was not much better. Hopper sat them both down and told him to wait a month. He would fix it in a month. Neither of them had been happy but at least he knew she was alive. He watched her go with fresh tears in his eyes.

 But that next month was the Snowball and she looked so beautiful and his heart he was sure had stopped for a second or two when she had walked in in that blue dress. It was the happiest he had been since seeing her again.

 The next times were accidents. Like when he snuck out on a snow day and happened to fall asleep in the same bed. Hopper had sure as hell not been happy when he got home. Eleven had let him escape.

 But now, now, they were looking into each other’s eyes and he felt complete. The guys would call him a wuss or a sap or something but he couldn’t give two shits what they thought. He grinned at her and she gave him one of those smiles that warmed him all over, starting at his heart. She had such a beautiful smile.

 Eleven inched closer and pressed her lips to his gently. He returned her embrace with equal softness and they moved slowly, delicately in mimicry of activities they were still too young for. They weren’t sure how long they had been locked in their tender embrace but when he pulled back and she had this faint blush and he was sure he did too.

 Eleven closed the gap with a little more firmness, more ferocity but not much more. Mike was as eager as she was and they grew more animated in kissing. His hand cupped her cheek and she tangled her fingers in his brown locks and he kissed her like he would die without her. Like she was his soul and she returned that thought as much as she could.

 When they finally parted she was panting lightly and she could feel her heart racing and a strange feeling low in her belly that had come on sporadically in the past few months when she would look at him and think about kissing him.

 “We should sleep.” He sounded rougher, breathless and it only served to speed up her heart once more.

 “I know.” Eleven whispered back. “Will you be here when I wake up?”

 “Definitely.”

 “Promise?”

 “Promise.”

 He kissed her again and they fell asleep after staring at each other with adoration and eventually they nodded off with foreheads touching and his arm thrown over her side. Together.

 XxOxX

 They are so freaking cute and wholesome. If your SO doesn’t look at you the way that Eleven and Mike look at each other you gotta find someone that does. So many feels. I can’t believe they waited til the last ep. They were just so happy.

[redditnosleep]

Notes To The Girl Whose House I Live In

by JJX2525

It took me a week to find where you keep your wifi password. A whole week! I was really worried you’d thrown it away, but lo and behold, there it was in the cutlery drawer of all places. Everything about the way you organize things confuses me. I guess because you live on your own now you just put things any old place. I know there was someone else before, I heard you talking about him on the phone. Johnny, I think? Jimmy? Anyway, I know because you said it was tough being alone. But you’re not alone, of course. You have me!

There’s a crack in your roof where I can see down onto the street below. Don’t worry about the roof, by the way – yes, it's pretty cramped, but I like my spaces small. I’ve actually stuffed a few things up there to make it smaller (just bits and bobs from the recycling, I don’t think you’ll miss them). I can sit with my face against the wall and see down onto the street. That’s where I saw you meeting up with all those people wearing black. It would have been weird anyway because you never meet anyone, but they were all rubbing your back and holding your hand and stuff. I was scared you were going to bring them in but you just went off together so that was okay. I don’t know what I would have done if the house had filled up with people.

You know, it really explains a lot that there was someone else before me. Like the fact you have two sets of drawers in your bedroom, or how you’re living in such a big house all by yourself, and do weird things like leave the wifi in the cutlery drawer or watch the same TV show all day on a weekend.

I’m not one to talk, mind. I’m addicted to my toys - like the big lump of blu-tack I found a while back which is great fun to fiddle with but doesn’t taste too good, or the cigarette lighter that’s fun to flick on and off, or the tube that has all the patterns in you can change. I could look down that thing for hours. I often have! That’s what I normally do when you’re home. Or I just sit back and listen to you do the washing or run a shower or something like that. I crawl up the walls and hang there with my ear to the pipes and listen to the water rushing by. That kind of thing makes me happy. Plus you never have anyone around so once I got your schedule memorized I could move around pretty free.

I know what we have: It’s a symbiotic relationship. That means you help me by giving me a warm place to stay and wifi, and I help you by eating all the spiders.

Of course, there’s no need to thank me! I fell asleep under the towels in your airing cupboard once (before I found the roof) and I saw you trying to get rid of one that was living under your sink with a broom. I have never seen so much ridiculous fuss in my entire life. But it makes no difference to me how many legs something has, so I just eat them up whenever I find one, and any other thing that makes its way into the house without permission (aside from myself, of course!).

Since I only pay rent in spiders I try to keep the things I take to a minimum, but I can’t say I feel too bad about stealing your socks. You have so many socks! Why would one girl need so many? I get a lot more out of them then you do, anyway. I like to take them apart by the threads and then wrap all the threads around my fingers and pull them tight till the tips go purple. I can nibble my own finger-tips and not feel a thing. It’s pretty great.

I try not take too much food either. I’ve found I can usually survive off the things you leave out, or throw away (why don’t you eat banana skins? Another habit of yours that confuses me a lot. I like to open my mouth all the way and drop them in whole, no chewing). I’ve never needed too much food to get by. I really, really, really like butter though. Not to eat so much as just to play with. You once left a block out by the window in the sun and it went all melty while you were at work, so I sort of started playing with it. Once I’d stuck my finger in once it was kind hard to stop! I had it looking like a puddle by the end. But then I realized it was five and you’d be home soon, so I had to press it back into a rectangle as best I could. But then I heard you opening the door – boy, I was so startled! I went into the cupboard under the stairs (you know, the one you never go in as it’s full of men’s shoes and coats and things) and I watched you come in through the doorway. But then came the weird part: you didn’t even notice the butter. All you did was make a cup of tea and then give up halfway through and start crying. Then you ordered a chinese and barely ate any before throwing it away.

You see what I mean about your habits. I’m sorry but it’s just weird.

Sometimes if I’m having a bad night I like to get under your bed while you’re asleep. It’s nice because I can hear you breathing, and then I can match my breath up with that. I lie there for ages, gasping in and out, and if you get up for the bathroom or anything I have to go completely still and hold my breath. I don’t know why I do it – I guess it’s fun. You’re the first person who’s company I’ve ever enjoyed.

You cooked dinner the other evening. I noticed because you played music, which you never do, and you made something with took almost an hour and a half with about a million ingredients. I crept down to the top of the staircase and I could see you bouncing around doing moves with the spoon. It was so funny I had to cover my mouth to keep from laughing!

Then I saw something that got me really scared. You’d laid two places at the table.

I thought there was someone else in the house and climbed all the way up to the ceiling thinking they’d see me. As I was hanging there I saw you serving two plates and I couldn’t move for the panic. Another person! I just knew I wouldn’t like them as much as you. That they'd ruin everything and make me go all crazy like I used to be. I didn't know what to do. I was ready to hurt them - really, really hurt. That's how scared I was.

Then you sat down. You lit the candle on the table and started eating by yourself. Nobody else showed up, and after you were done you took the other food and threw it away. Even though I was relieved, I felt kind of bad that the other person never showed up. You didn’t seem sad, though. It was like you’d expected it to just be you.

After you went to bed I went through the bin and ate some of the food you threw away. It was delicious.

I knew something was wrong the next day because you didn’t leave for work, and then you ran a bath in the middle of the afternoon. After you’d been in there for ages and ages I started to get this horrible bad feeling. I crawled down to the landing. The bathroom door was open a crack, so I peeked through.

I saw your hand. It was hanging, not in a natural way, and there was this long red line going down it and then I realized –

I ran back upstairs.

I’m a coward. I know I’m a coward. I hid under my pile of stuff and started to cry.

I thought about running away. I thought about the colour a pink bathmat goes when it’s covered in blood. I thought about how much I wanted to be somewhere else. But most of all I thought about you, and how little sense you make.

What I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry I lit your roof on fire.

It was the only way I could think to get people to come. It actually worked better than I expected – that recycling stuff sure did burn. I ran down to the cupboard under the stairs and curled up with my hands over my head until I heard them kick the door down and carry you out. There was a lot of confusion and bad language, but they found you and I heard one say you were still breathing.

So my favorite place in the whole world is gone now. Most of my things as well, though I did think to grab the pattern tube. The rest is just a big black wig on top of your house. But I’m not scared. You’ll get better, and when you come back, I’ll still be here. I don't think it's nice to be alone.

[a-spell-a-rebel-yell]

shooting down arrows of impatience, patiently

Oh hello, it’s another Sunday post. What a coincidence, I’ve been posting consistently on Sundays for some unknown reasons—probably it’s going to be a weekly thing I guess. As always, welcome and hope you’re having a great day/weekend! (now I feel like some sort of a YouTuber with the identical parroted greeting, but whatever. Let me know if you have a better suggestion)

As you all know, my previous three posts have been half summary of my week and half musings of things in life. This time, it’ll be more of me reflecting on what happened yesterday, and specifically me delving more into two viewpoints.

For the last few days I’m back at my grandma’s house, with my cousins and nephews filling in the usually quiet place. Every night, everyone will gather at my grandma’s bedroom. The parents will discuss about the recent news of the day, sometimes escalating into a heated politics-related argument. The older ones will either exchange banter with loud laughter or mourning in unison about their job and workload. The smaller kids will talk in hushed voices about their secret crushes back at school, eyeing the rest with suspicious stares and giggling in between. Last but not least, my grandma and the youngest son in the family sitting in the corner, conversing in their own ‘language’ inside their own bubble.

Now, I’m in the ‘older ones’ section, busy with trying to persuade my other cousins to be my patients (hint: no one wants to, even when I said I’d pay for them. I’ll blackmail them later), but I’d always have my watchful eyes over everyone in the room. Especially for the latter.

At late in the night I’d disentangle myself from others and silently relocate myself next to my grandma. Whenever this happens, she’ll launch into a series of reminiscences, each a long story of their own. That was what I did last night, but at that time, my grandma was too occupied with answering questions from my five-year-old cousin to notice my presence. Apparently he was in the middle of retelling a story of him back at his kindergarten, asking those rare but not unheard of questions like how come birds fly and we don’t and my grandma enthusiastically responded to every single thing he said, even the quirkiest small things.

This happened for ten minutes or so, until my little cousin’s interest shifted into his Transformer robot toys. My grandma finally realized I was there, she beamed and within seconds she embarked on this particular story of her raising her seven children—my mum, aunts, and uncles—and having to cater to everyone’s needs meaning she had to listen to all seven kids, and that the current situation of her bedroom full of her children and grandchildren reminded her of just that. At one point she asked me what does baper mean, because she heard the word a lot from the telly. I held back a smile, not that there was a hilarious side of the story, but it was just that I realized she has told me the exact same story and asked the selfsame question for numerous times before. Still, I listened to her with rapt attention and gave her my genuine reactions, just like how she did with my little cousin.

In retrospect, now that I’ve sat down and thought about it through, I feel a sense of déjà vu. It reminds me of the times when my grandma was sick and I had to take care of her—changing her diapers, spoon-feeding her, keeping an eye on her while she was sleeping—and how the tables have finally turned around and I had to take on the ‘parent’ role. And to watch two generations playing its role back-to-back and also simultaneously right in front of my eyes—my grandma with my little cousin, and me with my grandma—I’m simply astonished.

With that being said, comes the first viewpoint I’m aiming to discuss: the cycle of life and maturing up.

Responsibility is always my top priority. I’ll be 22 years old at November, I’m in sound mind and legal, I’m recognized by common or statute law. I feel it, the transposition of how things work in our house, my parents more than not delegate more crucial tasks to me, the ones that they used to do for me. It’s like them passing the baton onto my hands, and now it’s my turn to complete the last lap to the finish line.

Only from these past few years do I really get what is it like to be patient. I remember my days as a kid crying, yelling, asking dumb stuff, and my parents would always endure it. Now I get to be the one to exert more patience, be it from listening to advices my parents gave me or from babysitting my younger cousins and nephews. Less opening up my mouth, more pondering of my actions and words in silence. Keeping things to myself makes it easier to comprehend what’s really in it, which most of the time ends in better results.

Questions of do you have a boyfriend or your older cousins have married, when’s your turn arise multiple times, and contrary to popular opinion, I never really feel bothered by it. To that, I always politely answer with a smile and not yet, insya Allah there will be a right time for the right person, and somehow whoever asked will automatically cease to inquire further. Ha!

Of course for a beginning, there’s an end. Death has never really leave the nooks and crannies of my mind. Since I was eight years old, my mum especially, already gave me the talk. She told me what to do if she and my dad are gone, showed me hers and my dad’s last will and testaments, and left instructions of future plans I have to carry on as the oldest child. It frightened me so much, but as time goes on I learned that it’s better to be safe and ready than sorry. Last year, in the span of ten months, I lost three family members, and this increases the frequency of my mum reminding me of that.

I’ve said this before but to emphasize it: ready or not, life goes on with or without me. So I better adjust and hang on to it. It’s not like there’s another option, even failing isn’t an option, it’s just what happened if we haven’t really tried enough.

Lo and behold, the second viewpoint, which actually stemmed from the first one: patience (and tolerance) is a virtue.

These days I’ve noticed how easy it is for people (and myself included) to came into conclusion and decide who someone really is just from their looks, their opinions, and their choices. Although I’ve been trying to tone it down, sometimes I found myself just unconsciously shot up an assumption about someone in my mind seconds after I glimpsed at them. Often it’s inclined to negative notion with a side of snarky remarks, be it about the way they dressed, the things they’re expressing about what they have in mind on certain topics, or even the way they chose to live their life with.

Now, all of you might’ve wondered what do all of those have to do with patience or tolerance, but let me tell you that they have everything to do with each other. Here’s the formula: with just an ounce of patience, maybe we can spare some time to understand their backstory. We can try to learn the reasons why, and by then we’d finally be able to tolerate their decisions.

I’m not saying tolerating means wholly agreeing to whatever they say or approving whatever they do, but it means to train myself to be more open-minded and to be kind at all times. This applies for everything. For something trivial like whenever I found someone with a bad body odor, I’ll try to not just think of how smelly they are, but also a rational explanation of maybe they’ve just finished working hard that requires lots of physical activities. For something more advanced in a touchy subject like whenever I found someone who is a part of the LGBTQA+ community, I’ll try to not just think of how completely clashing our beliefs are, but also a logical thought that even though we don’t agree on the same thing, it never justifies sending outright hate towards them.

Acting based on hate will always lead to perilous mistakes. Educate yourself enough on things before commenting anything. Not following these two basic rules puts you straight into the irrelevant and ignorant category. Engrave this on your mind: it’s a long road to wisdom, but it’s a short one to be ignored.

Writing these two concepts down is easy, implementing it in real life in every scenario is the challenge. But at the end of the day, what matters most is that we try. I’ve always believed in striving for the better. Making today better than yesterday, tomorrow better than today.

Wow. This one is long, eh? It’s nearly 1.5k words lol. Anyways, after all that’s been said, let’s just start from a good intention, keep it up along the way, and we might made it someday.

:-)

[wmucradio]

Q & A with Gabrielle Smith of Ó (formerly Eskimeaux)

On April 12th, I attended a show at the Black Cat featuring the band formerly known as Eskimeaux* as the opening act, followed by Why? It was the first time I had been able to see Gabrielle Smith and her gang perform live, so I was very excited. The show was incredible, and the band was very tight. Every pause or idiosyncratic beat was facilitated expertly by Felix and Gabrielle, followed by head nods and curtsies between Oliver and Jack. The band is a joy to watch live, as you can see and feel their chemistry in every song. The set included many of my personal favorites, along with a few previews of new material. Following their set, I met with Gabrielle for a “brief” interview that ended up lasting over an hour. I can only speak for myself when I say this, but our correspondence felt more like catching up with an old friend than it did an interview. Gabrielle Smith is honestly one of the most pleasant human beings I have ever had the pleasure to meet. I have transcribed questions from the interview below.

*Since this interview, the band has changed their name to Ó. This came to fruition following a confrontation with Inuk throat singer, Tanya Tagaq, in which she made clear that the term “Eskimo” is considered derogatory by much of the Inuit population.

 Q: What music did you grow up on?

A: When I was growing up my parents were really into Carol King, the Carpenters, and I grew up in choirs. So I was always performing, thinking about, and singing really weird hymns. A lot of Hallelujah and stuff like that. And my grandma is a pianist, so she would always play really good classical stuff.

Q: Was that when you started with music making? (Like when you were a kid, through choir, or did you do other things?)

A: Yeah, it was between that and I took violin lessons when I was growing up. But I didn’t really think of it as “making music.” I feel like when I was little I didn’t understand that choir, and orchestra, and Ace of Base were the same thing. There was this really big separation for me between musician, which I didn’t understand as being human, and the product. I sort of knew phonetically El-ton John and Ce-line Di-on, and Ace of Base. But didn’t understand that they were people until I was much older.

Q: Was it sort of like finding out that Santa Claus isn’t real?

A: It’s kind of the same thing. You’re like “Oh my god, someone made this. This is like art, I guess. Woah.”

Q: Are you still coping with that realization?

A: It’s kind of hard to. I feel like making music and doing this has made it clear that musicians are human beings. But I still didn’t connect some of my favorite ones. Like Why? for example. I was like “I could probably meet so-and-so if I networked this way.” Or “I bet this person through this person knows person X.”

Q: So it’s still kind of non-people with artists that you’re into?

A: Yeah. I mean, especially ones from my younger years.

Q: Did you have any specific female influences in your life when it comes to songwriting or even getting into instruments?

A: Yeah. Definitely Bjork was a huge one. Joanna Newsom. So amazing. So amazing. It’s unreasonable. I remember hearing her for the first time. There was this kid that went to a different high school. I thought he was so cool. He had a band, and wore scarves, and was very glam. He had “The Book of Right On” on his Myspace page, and I was like “What is this? I’ve never heard anything like this before. This is so amazing. It’s kind of annoying and it’s so brilliant. And the lyrics are so amazing. And I’ve never noticed lyrics before. And holy sh*t.” It was a huge realization. So, Joanna Newsom. Really big one. And probably Greta, from Frankie Cosmos.

Q: I was actually going to ask you about shaving your head. Because I know you’ve done it, she’s (Greta) done it, and so has Adrianne Lenker from Big Thief. I was wondering if it was significant in some way or if you all just did it?

A: So, I was on tour with Oliver’s project, Bellows, and Felix’s project, Told Slant, and The Hotelier. Pride Weekend happened and my friend Meghan shaved her head, and I was like “Wow. You look so hot and cool. I just think I need to know if I could do it.”

Q: Are you into any other art form? Because I know that you went to University of the Arts.

A: For like a second. I went for like a month. It was so bad. Not that the University of the Arts was bad, I was bad. I just felt like they… First of all, I wanted to go for animation. And they were like you could go for animation or you could go for film and we’ll give you a half scholarship. And I was like “okay, what’s the jig here?” And I never found out because I only stayed for a month. I basically got offered to go on a tour with this band, and then I said yes. And then I called my parents from Indiana. And I was like “I’ve been on tour for a week, and I’m not in school. So…”

Q: How did they take that?

A: They were really pissed, obviously.

Q: When did they finally come around- Have they come around?

A: They’ve come around. They came around. I mean, my parents have always been really supportive. But they really, really, came around after Frankie Cosmos played at the MOMA. That was the moment, they were like “Oh, this is cool.”

Q: Was it a hard decision for you?

A: I didn’t like it at all. I was miserable. We were just watching Westerns, and it’s so unreasonable. There were kids in my class that had turtlenecks and low pony tails. It was like the black turtleneck with the round glasses, the low pony tail, and the beret was what really pushed it over the edge for me. You can do anything you want. You can dress that way and it’s totally fine! I just think that sitting in a class talking about which Western is the best in the summer, while wearing those things. And that being said, it was really air-conditioned, so I kinda wished I was wearing it too. But I didn’t give in. My point is that these kids just took themselves really seriously. And I feel that the point of art school is that you’re supposed to unlearn everything you know so that these professors can say “this is how you do it. This is what art school is all about. This is the technique you never knew. If you don’t allow us to fully give you what we know, you’ll just waste your money here.” But these kids were like “my name is Remington.” I don’t know how else to explain it. It was just a vibe that I got. The kids were just super like “I was the weird kid in my town in New Jersey.” That’s also fine. I don’t know, I feel really stuck-up saying all this, but. My priorities were just elsewhere. I also think I wasn’t ready to go to college, realistically.

Q: Were you trained on the instruments that you play now, or were you self-taught?

A: I took piano lessons very minimally from my grandma. It was nice, except I was an asshole. She was teaching me about all these important things like scales and I was super not interested in what she had to say. I was like “Piano sucks.” It’s super overwhelming. It looks like nothing, so it’s just really weird. But lo and behold, I play keyboard in Oliver’s band. Well, I play synth. It’s more like pushing a button and turning the knob. I do know the chords!

Q: How was growing up in New York? Did you feel like you had a normal childhood?

A: I think so. My parents work so hard. My dad is a lawyer. And my mom’s had a bunch of different jobs, but they’ve always in the finance department of whatever thing she’s doing. Right now, she works at this humongous insurance company. I think they insure business, so like malpractice insurance. I only know this because I worked there for a little while, and they gave me this really fancy title. I was a “Junior Financial Analyst.” However, I was scanning W-9 forms and digitizing their clientele. I was basically a scanner.

Q: It’s fine. I just gave myself a job. My sister has this madrigal group so I made myself their “administrator.” But now I’ve actually started to do things!

A: What are you doing?

Q: I’m booking a gig for them! It’s crazy.

A: Wow, a madrigal choir. That’s so cool. I love that.

Q: My sister’s all about renaissance music. I’ll be listening to my music in the car and she’ll just be like “can I put on my recital repertoire?” and I’ll be like “Oh my god, okay fine.” And it just completely ruins my day, but it’s fine. She’s actually really good, so I don’t mind. But I don’t really like other people’s voices.

A: There was one day where for a few minutes we listened to Gregorian chants. And it was so amazing. Jack is really into this mash-up artist named Neil Cicierega. He just came out with a new record Mouth Moods. So, you should totally check it out.

Q: Is it what it sounds like it’s going to be?

A: Yeah. Well, he’s really about All Star by Smash Mouth.

Q: Why is everyone all about that song?

A: It’s just what it is.

Q: SO confusing.

A: It’s just the most amazingly horrific pump-up jam. You’re just like “yeah, I think I can do whatever I set out to do today.” So one day, this guy, Neil Cicierega, decided to mash up the YMCA to the Inception soundtrack. It’s really moving and really emotional. So we’ve been pranked a lot with that. You should just listen to it. It’s bad to describe it. You should listen to it even though you shouldn’t.

Q: I understand. Back to All-Star, the radio station played All-Star for 24 hours straight once.

A: That’s like two- two stories about that. One day, we tried to listen to Build This Pool by Blink-182. We tried to take the 45 minute challenge. We made it like 10 minutes I would say, but we had to stop. The other story is that I used to go to this camp, called Camp Lohikan. It was on the New York/Pennsylvania border. It was a really shi*ty camp. But the camp owner thought it would be really funny to play Hero by Enrique Iglesias for a full day over the loud speaker for the entire day of camp. So I forever know all the words to that song. We tried to cover Hero actually. We learned it one time, but forgot it since. So, we’ll have to learn it again!

Q: If you weren’t doing music what would be doing? What would your dream job be? Because I’m assuming this is your dream job.

A: It is my dream job, definitely. Well, I have this back-up plan. Which requires a lot of money. So it’s not really a good Plan B. But my friend and I are super passionate about animals. She works at the ACCT in Philadelphia. It’s a kill shelter, but her job is getting animals to rescue. So she calls rescues all day to promote animals that are ready to be adopted. She’s very cool. We have this pipe dream to have an animal sanctuary. And there was a moment this year, I guess it was last year, where I was just feeling super down on everything. I was like “What the f*ck am I doing? Why am I doing this? What does this mean? This is super weird. Well, you know. This is such a weird job. And it’s based on validation which doesn’t always come. Or like when you’re not on an album cycle, what are you doing? You’re just living your life and it’s weird. And I grew up in a choir, so being like “listen to me” is a weird impulse that I don’t really possess naturally. So anyway, I was having this whole moment of crisis, and then I called up my friend. We were talking about it and saying “we could just have an animal sanctuary.” And she was like “There are a bunch of goats in my job right now. You should come down and pet the goats.” And I was like “I can’t come down, because if I pet the goats I’m going to take them home.”

We discussed the pros and cons of having a goat as a pet in New York City, but decided that it probably wouldn’t be a good idea. However, according to Gabby, a goat would likely be one of the few animals that would understand her dog. She’s had her dog, Frankie, for 4 years. He’s a smallish pitbull-esque dog that a lot of their neighborhood kids are scared of. However, Gabby stated that he’s a very good “muffin.” We talked a little bit about the Chinese zodiac, along with the origin of the line “2011, the Year of the Rabbit.” (It was a “really good rhyme” that was incidentally true!) This led to a discussion about reading horoscopes and being a Taurus.

Q: What do you embody about a Taurus?

A: Well, we’re really stubborn. And we love food and money. And aren’t really good about either of those things. In that, because I have such a high standard for what food should be like, I’m really picky about quality. Though I’ve been trying to get better because obviously touring is a nightmare. It’s more of just like an “oh my god, this texture is disgusting” type of thing. I’m really weird about food. Like, I don’t like fruit. Yeah, none of it, it’s gross. I mean, I like lemons and limes.

We discussed the correctness of calling lemons and limes, “fruits.” Ultimately, we decided to be honest and call it what it is. They’re more along the lines of sauces and stuff to make lemonade with. Lemonade, according to Gabby, is just “sauce in a cup.” Back-up Plan C for Gabby may well end up being “Cup Sauce” lemonade. She’s even come up with the slogan: “Buy it. Do you like it?” A slogan that I immediately shot down and told her that she’d likely need to hire a better PR person. Gabby then brought up her stage banter during her set and said it’s not very good at selling. I, however, disagreed. Her understated and meek “thank you’s” perfectly compliment the direct tone in her songs.

She did tell the crowd earlier in the night that she was in a really bad mood. An issue that started earlier in the day with a looming phone call that she had already pushed back. The ride to DC was also stressing her out, and causing her to be angry and grumpy. (Something that I could never imagine!) She was able to turn it around though, and it ended up being totally fine. There were also some issues with the voltage of her second-hand Japanese amp. She was getting shocked during soundcheck but the sound guy helped her out with all the technical bullsh*t!

Q: Have you ever felt that you’ve had something to prove, because you are a female musician, to people who might know a lot about the technical stuff and things like that?

A: I think that I did when I was younger and first starting. I feel like I was really, really, adamant about being my own producer and recording everything myself. And whenever I enlisted the help of other people, it was as an arrangement kind of thing. I had a really big, well it wasn’t a really big deal, but I had this other bandmate who was a man. For a while, it was just the two of us. And a lot of times, people would come up to him, asking him questions. Or they’d be like “producer, Him, and songstress, Gabrielle Smith.” It was just like “Ew. F*ck. Uh, no.” So it took a lot to kind of re-write that. But, that being said, I am super, super, lucky. All of my friends have been supportive and treat me as an equal even though most of them are male. We all share secrets about songwriting with each other, and it’s this super reciprocally nice supportive process. So I’ve been in a bubble basically, for my whole coming up time. (She’s referring to her music collective here.) It’s been easy in that way, but I do think that people, even on this tour don’t assume- like, I work my own merch table, and a lot of times people are like “oh, is this the opening band? Are they good?” And they just assume that I’m not in the band. Most times, people generally know who we are before we get there. Yeah, it’s been really chill, to answer your question. I feel like it was harder when I was younger, but now I don’t really care, so I don’t think about it.

Q: What are you working on now?

A: I feel like, usually all of my songs have already come out before we come out with an official record. So yeah, this time, we have a whole record written. I’ve written a couple more songs on this tour that I want to see if they’re better than some of the other songs. Because some of them are kind of like- they’re good, but they don’t make sense on the record.

Q: Is there a theme that they’re not fitting?

A: Well yeah. The record, I think, the overarching theme, is sort of the opposite of O.K. Where O.K. was very like “and this moment is this, and I’m in love with this person!” and “ this moment is this, and I like you.” And “this is how you’re affecting me in this moment.” It was very descriptive of external observation and how I was feeling about them. The new songs are a lot more internal, and more about trying really, really, hard to exist in the present and not being able to fully be there. It’s a lot more impressionistic. There’s more color rather than nature. It’s a lot more internal and hard to escape yourself kind of feeling.

Q: And this was around the time you were having your “goat moment”?

A: Oh yeah! So sick- I’m gonna call it that from now on.

Her hope is that the band will hit the studio after this tour and the next tour (w/ Frankie Cosmos). She’s hoping they’ll be done tracking the record by July, and that it’ll be done and ready to release by the Fall. She’s very excited about it. In a new song, there’s even a visual of a goat that is trying to stand on a moving truck bed, but is having a difficult time standing up. She was hoping they would play this new song on tour, but they couldn’t due to instrumentation needs.

Q: What’s your favorite part about coming to DC?

A: Well, usually. This is going to sound like a humble brag, but I’m really good buddies with Bob Boilen. He’s the best, and so nice. Kate Tempest is in town, and he was like “I’m so sorry, I can’t come to the show. Usually you know that I’d come make it work, but you’re playing at exactly the same time as Kate Tempest. She never comes here, so.” And I was like “it’s totally fine,” but now I’m really sad. We just like chill. He’s so chill. The last time I saw him, Eskimeaux came here and played at Rock and Roll hotel with Japanese Breakfast, and he stopped by the NPR office. And we had written this Christmas song the night before that we performed on All Songs Considered. It’s really good. I actually stole- for one of the new songs that we played tonight, I realized that I actually stole one of the melodies and chord progressions from the Christmas song. And I had to text Michelle and be like “I hope this is okay. I’m really into this song that I just wrote, but I know that I stole the “Christmas tree-ee” part, and I know that it’s maybe not chill to do that. And she was like “oh my god, it’s fine.”

We then discussed the fact that interning at NPR’s Tiny Desk is my dream, our love for HBO’s Bored to Death, and methods for figuring out the name of someone you’ve forgotten. If you’re wondering, the right way to do it is by introducing another friend to the aforementioned forgotten friend, and just hope that they’ll say their name.

Gabby told me about her favorite things about touring: amazing food and being touristy. (Places that she recommended include White Sands National Park and Meow Wolf in Santa Fe.) Along with seeing friends from other cities and getting to tour with bands that are super inspirational to her.

“This is so surreal, and it’s really amazing that I was able to get so out of it that I was in a bad mood.”

When I told her that it was completely human to feel bad, and that she shouldn’t be apologizing or feeling bad for feeling bad, she said something that made me realize what an amazing artist (and person) she is.

“I just want so badly to not normalize this experience at all- and have it be this overwhelmingly amazing thing.”

We talked a bit more about the pros and cons of touring. According to Gabby, the worst thing about tour is that she’s not as available to be a good friend. It’s hard to be like “just so you know, I’m still your friend. Tell me if you need anything, I love you.” Another things is navigating her coffee addiction.  Something that started when she was working at a coffee shop in New York. She told me a bit about her experience there, which she asked to have off the record. She now drinks two cups a day, but Oliver is on a very rigorous coffee schedule. She goes along with it, but now has gotten into buying tinctures, so that she won’t need coffee as much. Apparently they taste like sh*t, but she’s been putting it into Kevita. (Which is basically just “bubbly cup sauce.”)

Q: Super weird question, but would you be willing to take a mirror selfie with me?

A:

Written and transcribed By No Boys Allowed DJ Ava Mirzadegan