#hOW do I have THREE mosquito bites after being home for all of 15 minutes and without seeing any

[throwing-roses-into-the-abyss]

"insects are dying" "only 30% of the usual amount of bugs appeared this year" "mass insect extinction" AND YET the mosquitoes in my house are absolutely thriving

[amillionsmiles]

in your bedroom after the war (Dick/Artemis)

Title: in your bedroom after the war Summary: As far as coping mechanisms go, Artemis could be doing worse. At least her method has a gymnast’s ass. / Post-Invasion, pre-Outsiders. Rated M.  A/N: I have one (1) agenda and that is messy grieving fuck buddies who are each other’s ride-or-dies. if you are not into fic that sits squarely in sad feral horny territory, then this is probably not your speed.

[Read and review here] or continue under the cut.  

| GOTHAM

| JANUARY 14, 2017; 12:05 AM EST

Artemis is a bit heavier than she was in her teenage years, but her feet land lightly on the fire escape by the window. An hour ago, she’d called her mom from Metropolis, promising she’d be home by midnight. Ever since her daughter faked her death a year ago, Paula Nguyen has become even more of a worrywart, and Artemis knows that the five minutes she’s running late are going to cause her to receive an earful.

“Didn’t think I’d see you back in this neck of the woods.” A familiar figure drops from the roof above onto the rung below her.

“Nightwing.”

She’s not surprised that he’s been keeping tabs. Officially, he’s been on a leave of absence for the past six months, but Dick, like her, is vigilant in his grief.

She’d come back to Gotham because it put her closer to Metropolis and Beta Squad’s continued investigation of LexCorp, but the truth is that she could have Zeta-tubed from Palo Alto easily. Their—her—apartment had been no good though, not without Wally. So she’d left most of her things in storage to figure out later and moved back in with her mom. On days when Artemis can’t muster the energy to get out of bed, Paula wheels determinedly around the kitchen, ready to whip up some mì xào  or a warm bowl of  mì gói.  They play card games and laugh about how bad Wally was at tiến lên the first time Paula tried to teach him. Your boy has no patience, he always wants to play his strongest cards right away, her mom had teased, and Wally had protested, I make it a rule to always put my best foot forward! and Artemis had loved him even more then.

Loved. Loves. She hates the past tense.

“I mean, were you ever going to ask me to grab coffee?”

She can see the bits of Wally in his cracks. In a room together, it was always easy to tell they were best friends from the way they riffed off each other. The acrobat and the speedster: all verbal gymnastics and fast-moving quips. But unlike Wally, who liked poking fun because he liked getting attention, Dick is at his wittiest when trying to avoid talking about himself.

Artemis reaches out and pulls him to sit down beside her. She makes a show of looking at her watch.

“How’s… 12:15 AM this Saturday?”

Dick pretends to check it against his mental schedule. If his is anything like hers, it probably goes: Wake up. Exercise (beating up bad guys counts). Mourn.

“Yeah, seems like I can swing it.”

“Perfect,” says Artemis, sliding up the glass panes to let them into her childhood bedroom. “I’ve got just the stuff.” 

*

In the kitchen, Brucely stirs briefly from his dog bed to sniff the air and  yip, then curls back asleep. Paula hands Dick a mug, waiting for him to take a sip before saying, “So you were the one who had the brilliant plan to have my daughter fake her death.” 

Dick splutters; from the table, Artemis rises to his defense. “Mom,” she says. “Leave him be.”

Setting his cup down, Dick leans against the cabinets, bending his head slightly and rubbing the back of his neck. He does a good job of appearing chastised, and Artemis wants to roll her eyes, if only because she’s heard from Bette and Raquel that this pose is far too effective at convincing women to want to forgive him or try again.

“I’m not leading much of anything these days, if that’s at all a comfort to you.”

“Hmph.” Paula sniffs. “You live alone?”

“Yeah.” Dick shoots Artemis a questioning look over her mom’s head. Artemis shrugs.

“What do you do to fill the time?”

“A lot of reading. Gotham’s library system actually has a pretty good selection, believe it or not. I’ve also gotten really into meditating.”

“And you don’t sleep.”

Dick stiffens. For the first time, he looks exposed, a boy with too much guilt and too much time on his hands.

“I do. Tonight I was just… restless.”

Paula nods and backs up her wheelchair so she can sit by Artemis, curling her fingers over Artemis’s hand and squeezing. She raises her drink, Artemis and Dick following suit, the three of them toasting to invisible losses.

“Aren’t we all.”

*

Later, back on the fire escape, Dick taps his fingers against the railing, jittery. “I feel like I need to start doing jumping jacks. What was in that stuff?”

Artemis bites back a smile. “Yeah, Vietnamese coffee packs a hit. That’s my bad. Probably should have given you something non-caffeinated at this hour.”

“It’s fine. I’ll jog it out, or something.” He turns to go, but Artemis stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, listen—it was good seeing you tonight. And if you need someone to talk to…” What she really means is: it’d be nice to be around someone who’s hurting as much as I am. Not to say that the rest of the team wasn’t as torn up over Wally’s death, but she and Dick had been ground zero. Closest to the blast.

After a pause, Dick nods. “Yeah… I could use a sparring partner, actually. I’ll send you an address.”

“Okay.” Satisfied, Artemis withdraws her hand, curling her fingers into her palm.

It feels like a start.

*

Dick’s directions lead Artemis to Wayne Manor; from there he takes her to the Bat Cave.

“I thought you were striking out on your own,” Artemis says, using her forearms to deflect a kick to her face. Dick grunts and recovers, throwing a punch to her stomach; she dances out of the way.

“I am. I just pop in here from time to time because Bruce has better equipment. Plus there’s less of a chance of me disturbing the neighbors.” He gestures to the eerily blue-lit stone walls around them.

Artemis feints and goes low, ducking under Dick’s guard. Two quick hits to Dick’s sternum pushes him back, before he gets a hand on her wrist and twists her around so that her back is pressed against his chest.

“Weren’t we supposed to be talking?”

Kicking his shin, Artemis breaks free. “All right, fine. I’ll start.”  Jab.  “I keep wanting a scapegoat.”  Kick.  “Like, one person to blame, instead of something as big as the Reach. But it’s not some giant revenge thing, and I know Wally wouldn’t want me to go down that sort of all-consuming rabbit hole even if it was, and that pisses. Me. Off.” On those last words, she manages to use Dick’s momentum against him and flips him over her shoulder.

For a minute, it’s so quiet between them she can hear the faint plip of water dripping from a stalactite into the water below the sparring dais. Still lying on the floor, Dick confesses, “I keep hearing him.”

“I make a joke to myself and he’s there, in my ear, with the punchline. And then…” He passes a hand over his face.  “And then I realize that the real punchline is him being gone.”

Slowly, Artemis approaches him. She feels like she did when they were undercover at Haly’s circus so many years ago, that brief moment of hangtime before their hands connected in the air. She means to sit down next to him, pat his shoulder, she doesn’t know what, but instead Dick sweeps her legs out from under her and she goes down hard, the air whooshing out of her chest as she falls flat on her back.

“Agh!” The release sets something loose inside her. Next thing she knows, she’s yelling again, louder, just because.

Dick catches on and then it’s just the two of them shouting, their voices echoing through the cavern, threading around and piling atop each other like a flock of birds. After they’re done, Dick rolls so that they’re lying side by side.

“You know, when we were starting out—when we first became friends—I used to make fun of Wally that if he kept talking so much while running he was bound to swallow more bugs, or something. And he’d just shoot back like, ‘Nah dude, you think I’m not fast enough to see them and dodge them in the air?’ But you know how he was always so hungry after missions? One time I was so mad at him I put a bug in his sandwich. I’ve never forgotten the look on his face after he bit into it and I said, dodge that.”

“You didn’t.” Artemis gasps and covers her mouth, horrified, but she can see it so vividly: the colors draining from Wally’s face, making his freckles pop even more against his skin, the same greenish tint his cheeks took the time they went to Vietnam and he got food poisoning. He’d spent two days feverishly glaring up at the mosquito netting, and Artemis had draped cold hand towels over his forehead and promised she wasn’t going to leave him for the very obliging boy who kept bringing them ice.

“I did.” Dick is gleeful. “Really put the ‘rank’ in prank.”  

Artemis snorts; the snort turns into a full-blown guffaw. Dick turns toward her, laughing too. His hair is matted with sweat but still soft; it brushes against her forehead.

It feels so good to be close to someone again, to be able to flip on a dime from sadness to frustration to anger to laughter and not have to explain herself. She can’t remember the last time she smiled and didn’t feel guilty about it, and she means it more affectionately than anything when she reaches over and brings Dick’s mouth to hers, like if she inhales whatever they’ve temporarily managed to create here between them, it’ll be enough to tide her over for the next few months. For a second, he’s warm and responsive, before his lips stiffen and he pulls back.

“I shouldn’t have done that.”

Shouldn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t.  Shouldn’t beat yourself up about it, shouldn’t blame yourself for getting back in the game.  Artemis is sick of people telling her how to deal, how it’s supposed to go.  It’ll get better and then it doesn’t. People talk like there are guidebooks for this kind of shit, like it’s a marathon she just needs to pace herself through. And it’s the stupidest thing, but she misses being held.

She sits up and crosses her arms, resisting the urge to curl in on herself. “You didn’t do anything. I’ll go.”

“No, Artemis, wait, I don’t think you should go, I just want to understand what’s going on—”

“I want you to touch me, okay?” she explodes. “I want you to touch me because he’s never going to again and I know you loved him too and—and maybe if it’s you, I won’t feel so desperately alone.”

Dick looks stricken, and then, hesitantly, he reaches for her. His eyes are so blue, the kind of crushed eggshell you’d use to make a paint. “You’re not alone.”

“Prove it,” she says, vision blurring with tears—wanting, needing him closer, and then his hairline is up against hers again and his nose is at her cheek, his mouth at her jaw, soft but with a willingness to bruise. Don’t ask me what we’re about to do, Artemis silently begs, and Dick doesn’t.

 *

 Wally had been a restless lover. Always turning them over, switching positions. Artemis had taken it as a challenge, part of the ongoing competition that defined their relationship. Deep down, she’d known that Wally would be just as content if the rest of their sex life consisted solely of spooning gently on Sundays, which, if anything, was why she’d been so eager to experiment—because it felt like an easy gift she could give, not something she had to master to “maintain excitement” or make him stay.

She’s not sure what she expected from Dick. Maybe that’s a comfort—that she wasn’t fantasizing before they happened, wondering about all the mechanics of how it would go. Dick lets her call the shots, lets her ride him into the ground, the grip of his fingers around her thighs the only reminder she isn’t just angling toward oblivion. When he presses his thumb between her legs, it’s a weird sort of anchor—like hearing a voice pick up on a line you thought was dead. She has a body, and here’s someone on the other end of it, caring about her release. As soon as that thought hits, the relief shudders through her; she keeps rocking long enough to feel Dick follow, a stutter and a grunt, before she collapses boneless over him, the sweat of his skin a comforting stickiness against her cheek.

Internally, she apologizes to Bruce for desecrating his training space. Then again, they’re hardly the first of the Justice League to get handsy in less than appropriate places. She’s seen how Black Canary and Green Arrow act around each other.

Below her, Dick catches his breath. The rush of blood—his or hers—is loud in her ears.

“I didn’t think you’d be so…”  Giving, she means to say, but it gets lost on her tongue. “I mean, Zatanna…” she trails off again.

If Dick’s embarrassed at the prospect of his ex-girlfriend having blabbed about the details of their sex life to Artemis, he doesn’t show it. His fingers find a snag in her hair; gently, he works it loose. The air smells hedonistic. He keeps combing. Nice is the only word she can think to describe it, and that makes her want to cry again, so she squeezes her eyes shut.

“Thank you,” she whispers against his chest.

Dick pauses his ministrations. He flattens his palm against the base of her neck and just—holds her there.

“Don’t mention it.”  

When she goes home that afternoon to shower, she runs the water on full blast for a long time.

 *

 Armed with Chinese food, she visits Dick’s place the next day intent on making amends. Dick doesn’t even act surprised; he just points to the glass coffee table where she can set the bag of chopsticks, napkins, and takeout.

“I’m trying to decide what to watch.”

There’s really no need for him to stand in front of the TV the way he does, one hand propped on his hip as he clicks through options with the remote. Artemis lets herself ogle, a bit. The surest way to blow past what happened between them yesterday is to be honest with herself, right? And as far as coping mechanisms go, Artemis could have done worse. At least her method has a gymnast’s ass.

“Any preferences?”

“Between what?” asks Artemis, cracking open the carton of lo mein and settling back against the cushions. The Netflix suggestion algorithm onscreen paints a condemning picture of Dick’s tastes. “True crime or… true crime?”

Wally had been really into nature documentaries. One time during freshman year, when they were still living on Stanford’s campus, they’d gotten high in Wally’s dorm room and watched Blue Planet. Wally had cried when the seal got flung apart by killer whales.

“I’ll Be Gone in the Dark it is, then,” says Dick. He settles next to her on the couch, peeling back one of the orders and sniffing its contents. “What’s this one?”

“Salt and pepper ribs. They were today’s special.”

“Artemis.” Dick beams. “You really do care about me.”

 *

 Ten minutes into the episode begs a single question: “Isn’t it sort of depressing that you spend so much of your day fighting crime, and then you go home to unwind and just watch… more of it?”

Dick shrugs. “It keeps me sharp. And it’s nice seeing other people solve problems.”

“Well, if you ever feel like branching out, there’s a short film about Rubik’s cubes you might like.” Artemis nudges his side. “Remember when you were a scrawny math geek?”

Bringing both hands behind his head, Dick smirks. “Still a math geek. Just not scrawny.”

Artemis stares. That was just a bit of friendly showboating, right? Or was it a flirt? Not trusting herself, she whips her gaze back toward the TV. What feels like eons later, the credits roll.

“Artemis,” Dick says, too soft for having just finished a show about murder. He taps the corner of his mouth. “You’ve got some food stuck.”

She wipes with the back of her hand; a breaded piece of orange chicken emerges as the culprit. Without thinking, she flicks it off, sending it flying somewhere onto Dick’s carpet.

“Oops.”

Chuckling, Dick shakes his head. “I need to vacuum tomorrow, anyways.”

The mention of tomorrow stirs her. “Right. I should head out.”

“Yeah.” Dick rises to help her clean up their mess, holding open the plastic bag so she can toss in the soiled napkins and other bits of trash. “Or—”

He hesitates, but the hesitation’s enough. It might as well be a hand on her wrist, with how it stops her in her tracks. All night, despite what she told herself, she’s been looking for proof: proof that his aloneness fits the shape of hers, that he needs her, too. This time, Dick makes the first move—cups her face in both hands and kisses her, slow and deep and full of heat. Some pepper from the food they ate still lingers on his lips, making her mouth tingle, and Artemis is dizzy and flat on her back on the couch before she knows it, giving in.

Not scrawny at all, she thinks, admiring the solidness of Dick’s knees on either side of her, the weight of his frame as they grind together. The sheer mechanics of it feel very horny-teenager-after-prom, but the way Dick sucks her bottom lip and swallows her breath down with it is decidedly adult.  These days, Artemis practically lives in her sports bra, which doesn’t exactly grant easy access, but when Dick’s fingertips skim over the cotton covering her breasts the sensation zings all the way down her spine.

“Need… off…”

“Yeah,” Dick murmurs, humming as he moves down the column of her neck. “Gimme a sec, I’m working on it.”

She’d worn sweats because she figured their bagginess would keep her from sparring again and any potential… situations that could arise from that. Instead, all it means is Dick unties the drawstrings easily, sliding her pants down her legs. Cool air brushes across her as he shifts positions; she wants to sob in relief. His teeth graze her hip and then catch the edge of her panties and—oh. Fuck. The moan tears out of her and she scrabbles at the armrest, hips rising of their own accord. Next time, she is handcuffing Dick to a bed, because what he’s doing with his tongue and fingers should be illegal. She can feel him grinning, the bastard, and the only thing keeping her from crushing his head to a pulp between her thighs is the maneuver he pulls where he hooks her knees over his shoulders, so he can change the angle and plunge in deeper. Artemis shoves the edge of her T-shirt into her mouth at the last minute, only barely managing to muffle her cry.

Dick surfaces from his solo mission looking entirely too satisfied, mouth glistening. Trembling, still, from her orgasm, Artemis squints at him, possessed by some combination of unbridled lust and rage.

“Dick.”

“You calling, or asking?”

“Shut up,” she hisses. She feels like a newborn foal, after what he just did to her, but the urge to dismantle him just as thoroughly sends her surging upward and pushing him back. Dick welcomes their reversed positions by peeling off his shirt and tossing it over his shoulder, all while Artemis works furiously at his belt. It shouldn’t feel so good, to hear the metal clink against his button and watch the leather slide through the loops. To see the shadows the light of the TV casts on him—the lashes on his cheeks, the hollow of his throat. Artemis hadn’t paid much attention the first time, too desperate and caught up a bit in self-loathing, but now she’s actually enjoying this, savoring the flex of Dick’s abs as he pushes up to meet her, his skin pebbling at her touch.

“I’m going to take you apart,” she purrs.

Dick groans and bucks. The sensation sends a sharp spike of pleasure through her, and she clamps down on him tighter, refusing to yield.

“Try me, Tigress,” he rasps, pushing himself up on one arm so he can mouth at her collarbone. With his other hand, he pulls off her hairtie so her hair comes free of her ponytail, and this is going to be a thing with him, isn’t it, him wanting to fuck her while her hair swings loose around her face. She indulges him for a few minutes, claws his back and bites his shoulder for good measure, but then she’s pushing him back down and stretching out her body as languidly as possible to remind him who’s boss. Their pace slows. Dick keeps a hand fisted in her hair, so he can tug her head back in order to keep her neck exposed to his wanton mouth, but his grip gets less sure the closer she pushes him to the edge.

“Art—” says Dick, the single syllable like a painting pinned to the wall, fraught with desire, and then he just lets it drop, the tresses of her hair falling through his fingers. She wants to tell him that he’s beautiful, that he does look like a boy wonder, right then, in the midst of coming undone, chest flushed and hair mussed and pupils blown nearly wide enough to overtake the blue.

She doesn’t, but she stays the night, and that’s close enough.

 *

  High-functioning, Artemis’s therapist had called her, before Artemis moved back to Gotham. And it does feel like a high—the sneaking around, the after-hours meet-ups, the back-and-forth. There’s no one really keeping tabs on her, though Artemis has plenty of cover stories if anyone asks (new intel, side reconnaissance, etcetera, etcetera). Her mom eyes her and says, “As long as you’re not planning on staging your own death again, because I will find out and I will kill you this time,” and that’s that. Artemis nearly laughs. If anything, what she’s doing is the opposite, a small resurrection. An entire month and a half passes this way: day trips and dinners and movie nights and Dick and her in a bathtub, in the shower, against a wall. She even wears a gown and heels once, not because they have an actual event to attend, but because Dick has a fantasy that involves taking her from behind in the Wayne Manor library.

They’re in his apartment on a Sunday morning bathing in the afterglow, sheets tangled around their waists. Thank god Dick is one of those assholes that splurged on not only a nice mattress but also a solid bed frame. Artemis reaches over to push the hair out of his eyes. The black tuft on the back of his head that she likes grabbing is fluffed up like a duck's tail, and under the sunlight slanting through the windows, he looks angelic.

“Are you falling back asleep?”

Yawning, Dick snags her around the waist, dragging her to him. She should not delight this much in being manhandled.

“You wore me out,” he complains, tucking his chin over her shoulder.

“They just don’t make them like they used to,” Artemis sighs. Dick growls a little at the dig, fingers tightening against her hip.

Well. If he’s going to nap, she is, too. Comfortably spooned, she snuggles back against him, prepared to drift off.

“Do you think Wally would have wanted…” Dick doesn’t finish the thought.

Artemis turns in his arms. Dick has long eyelashes, and he’s looking at her through them almost bashfully. She places a hand on his chest. Feels his heartbeat thump once, twice.

“I think he would want us to be happy.”

“Are you?” Dick’s voice fades out and he has to swallow hard to clear his throat. “Happy?”

“I’m not… miserable.” 

Dick runs his hand up her bare arm, over her shoulder. “Me neither.”

“You know, Wally and I thought…” She bites her lip, remembering a whoosh of air, Wally speeding to her side to kiss her and interrupting her report on the disabled Paris MFD.  I know we promised each other we’d get out of this game, but maybe we can have our life together and play hero, too.  “We thought we’d have everything.”

Dick’s response isn’t mournful; it’s matter-of-fact. “After my parents died, I never really convinced myself that I could have it all.”

“That sounds like something Batman would say.”

“Does it?”

“A little.”

Once upon a time, Artemis had stood before the team ready to lay bare her darkest secret, waiting to be kicked out. And Dick had shown his hand: he’d known from the beginning and hadn’t cared.  You aren’t your family. You’re one of us. She knows he’s second-guessed himself over the years, wondering how fit he actually is to play leader. But for her, trust has always been the easiest thing about the two of them. It was why she’d said yes so easily to his deep cover mission—because she knew that he wouldn’t quit until he’d brought all of them home, that he would do whatever he could to keep them safe.

Taking his face in both her hands, she looks deep into his eyes. “You deserve good things, Dick Grayson.”

“Mm.” Dick smiles into her kiss, hooks his ankle over hers. “Keep telling me that. I’ll start to believe it.”

 *

 Jade abandons Will and Lian on a Tuesday, and Artemis’s carefully crafted equilibrium falls apart. At least this time she’s not the one directly being left, unlike when she was a teenager. Her expectations of her older sister had hardly been high, but if she’d plotted them on a graph they’d have trended upward. Now they’ve tanked.

“Did she leave any hint of where she was going?” Dick asks over the whir of his juicer. He’s gotten really into squeezing oranges lately; Artemis can’t complain because he always gives her the first glass.

“It’s Jade. She never wants to be found, and I hardly think she’s about to try an  Eat Pray Love type thing.”

“Eat Slash Steal, maybe?” Dick offers, dropping two ice cubes into a drink and setting it in front of her.

Artemis sips, balling up a napkin and throwing it at him at the same time. “Watch it, that’s still my family you’re talking about.”

“I’m sorry. How’s Will taking it?”

“As well as any dad trying to raise a two-year-old by himself would.”

“So, poorly.” Dick taps his finger against the table. “Are they coming here?”

Artemis looks at him blankly. “Why?”

“I figured they might want to be closer to you and your mom now that Jade’s gone. Gotham’s not so bad—you and I turned out fine. And Will probably needs to look into preschools and a babysitter for Lian soon. If you move in with me, you can bring her over whenever.”

The last piece of information slips in so casually she thinks she’s misheard. “What?”

“If you move in with me, you can bring Lian over whenever,” repeats Dick. “This place is as good as yours. You’re over here all the time anyway.”

Suddenly, she can’t breathe. “You’re serious.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

She can’t meet his eyes. “W—Will’s home is in Star City. He’s not going to move.”

Slowly, Dick says, “Okay. But my offer doesn’t really depend on Will.”

Her stuff is still in boxes. She’s still paying for a storage unit almost 3,000 miles away. And Dick is waiting on her so intently it makes her chest hurt.

Artemis stands up. “We’re not doing this.”

Dick’s eyebrows rise. Annoyance, or maybe anger, flickers across his face. “You wanna fill me in on what exactly it is we’re doing, according to you?”

“We’re not going to fight about this like we’re…”  In a relationship. In love. In anything other than a messy configuration started by shared grief. She doesn’t say any of it out loud, but she doesn’t need to—Dick’s always been great at reading people, and he’s known all her tells from the start.

“Right.”  The single syllable comes out as cold and pointed as an icicle. He pushes his chair back from the table and stands up. The clouds are rolling in, throwing shadows across his features. Even now, Artemis wants to kiss him, wants to be the one to smooth the furrow between his eyebrows away.

“Dick…”

“Do me a favor, will you?” Dick grabs his jacket from the hook by his door, shrugging it on. He pauses, briefly, in the doorway. “Lock my door on the way out.”  

That night, she lies alone in her bedroom next to the picture of her, Wally, and Brucely. Brucely snuffles at the foot of her bed and then leaps onto the covers, and this time she doesn’t shoo him off. Neither does she fall asleep.

 *

 There was a song Jade had liked to sing, passed down from their mother: a Vietnamese lullaby about a yellow butterfly, to the tune of “Frère Jacques.” The butterfly flies all over the sky. Come and see. Come and see. When it became clear that Artemis’s hair would grow in blond, not black, Jade started pulling it, making her giggle. You’re the yellow butterfly, see?

The taxicab she calls for the airport is bright yellow in the morning light. Plain old civilian travel for plain old civilian business. You don’t need to be a superhero to fly across the country and move in with your brother-in-law and your niece. She’ll sing silly little songs and wash Lian’s hair, and they’ll be a family same as anyone else’s: clumsy, incomplete.

“Artemis.” Dick coalesces out of the fog. They haven’t seen or spoken to each other in a week, and she should be mad that he’s here because it probably means he’s been monitoring her web traffic and caught wind she’d bought plane tickets. Still, all she feels is relief.

Jade had laughed when Artemis had let slip what she was doing during one rare sisterly bonding moment. “Oh, darling sister, your thing with your little bird boy isn’t about moving on. You’re using him as a holding pattern. Try not to damage him too much, hm?” Rankled, Artemis had hung up the phone—what did Jade know about anything, besides shoving it under the rug and pretending it didn’t matter? Now, though, Artemis sees things more clearly. Jade did know something about bodies and what they could and couldn’t fix; after all, isn’t that why she ran?

She worries with the strap of her duffel bag, letting Dick approach.

“If this were a romcom, you would have waited until I got to the airport and then run through security.”

“If this were a romcom,” says Dick, stopping in front of her and shoving his hands in his pockets, “I’d be trying to make you stay.”

She thinks he might be the one person left on this planet who knows her best. She thinks they could save each other, if they’d let themselves try. But they each have work to do on their own, first.

Setting down her bag, she tucks her face into the crook of his neck and breathes him in. Wherever else she goes, this spot will always feel like forgiveness. Nose buried in her hair, Dick squeezes her back.

The taxi driver rolls down his window. “Is this guy coming with us or not?”

Artemis pulls back, and there’s so much sky in Dick’s eyes.

“You know where to find me,” she says.

 *

 | STAR CITY

| JULY 29, 2018; 7:30 AM PST

 “Who are you here to recruit this time?” Will asks, leaning against the doorframe, but Artemis doesn’t need an answer, doesn’t need any details but the black hair she can see just over Will’s shoulder, Dick’s voice at the end of a line.

He jumps, and she jumps with him. They’ll figure out everything else as they go.

Before Dick can respond, she says: “I’m in.”

[ahgaseda]

enough | three

even if everyone else leaves me, you’re enough for me, you’re my only one, stand by me forever, only you, just you...

summary : to survive as a single woman in the big city, you resort to letting rich men pay for your company, but never anticipated that your first client would be the boy you once loved, Jinyoung.

warnings : strong profanity, explicit dialogue, references to prostitution, mentions of gang activity, graphic sexual content, potentially triggering elements involving mental health, panic attacks, etc.

miniseries chapters : one / two / three / four / five / six / seven

Frustration was the understatement of the year.

After Jinyoung kissed you, he avoided you for the remainder of the evening. You were left to wallow in hurt and self-pity. Being faced with how badly you had damaged him, frankly had wounded you as it rightly should have.

His driver, a chatty trouble maker named Yugyeom, who towered over you and flashed a hundred-watt smile, but you learned very quickly he would be a great source of comfort given his willingness to gossip endlessly about his boss.

As the car drove into the night, Yugyeom kindly asked how your evening had been.

“He wouldn’t have sex with me,” you lamented, hoping for a laugh and relieved when you earned one.

After an amused chuckle, Yugyeom told you, “He may be a ruthless asshole, but he’s still a gentleman.”

“Yeah, but… you know what he’s paying me for,” you trailed unsurely, wondering how much you could divulge with this new acquaintance.

Yugyeom shrugged, clearly unbothered by your current “profession,” and gabbed, “The boss isn’t a rabbit. In fact, he’s rarely horny.”

Skeptical, you frowned and sighed, “Good to know.” Turning back to the window, you watched the city around you blur into one cohesive whirlwind of color and activity.

“Well, that’s what happens to guys who are smitten with a girl they can’t have. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

Biting your lip, you murmured, “No, I wouldn’t.”

Yugyeom chortled, “Yeah, if he finds that girl, then I retract my statement.”

Your brow furrowed and you abandoned the window in favor of his face. “Which statement?”

Yugyeom turned to you, taking his eyes off the road momentarily, and said, “About him not being a rabbit.”

You laughed aloud. If your memories of Jinyoung were any indication, his sex drive was through the roof. There were too many times you met up with him between classes to have a quickie and too many nights of parking in his rickety truck on some old back road with only the fireflies to see what sins you committed together.

A personal favorite you thought of often was the summer night he had filled the bed of the truck with blankets over a worn-out mattress. In the pitch black darkness of the moonless night, the two of you were a tangled mess of limbs as you fumbled around to get busy.

“Ouch,” he said, coming to a stop between your thighs.

On your back with your legs in the air alongside his hips, you held his face between your hands and asked frantically, “What? What happened? Did I hurt you?”

Jinyoung snorted and you wished you could see his face. You could barely make out his form above you in the darkness.

“How could you hurt me? You’re on the bottom,” he teased in his heavy dialect.

“I don’t know,” you exclaimed, embarrassed. “I’m new at this. You always say I’m tight. What if I break your dick?”

Jinyoung laughed hard and you grinned at the sound.

“Please, don’t ever break my dick. There wouldn’t be enough therapy in the world to help me recover from that,” Jinyoung retorted, stealing a kiss and accidentally bumping into your nose.

“Ow,” you squeaked, pinching your nose until the pain began to fade.

“I’m sorry!”

“Why did you say ‘ouch’ in the first place?” you asked with irritation.

Jinyoung winced and groaned, “I think a mosquito bit my ass.”

You giggled.

Snapping out of your memories as the car came to a rolling stop, you took in the sight of your new home. The vertical condominium was wedged between a row of identical copies, all neutrally shaded with stark black gates and railings.

Yugyeom pressed a button on a small hob before handing the device to you. The garage door began to open and he maneuvered the car slowly inside.

“Here are your keys,” said the chauffeur after he unlocked the door for you, handing the key ring to your outstretched fingers. “I bid you adieu.”

You bowed in gratitude and replied, “Thank you, sir.”

The house was too big for your liking; much too generous for a single person to live in. The main living space was almost larger than your entire apartment. As you meandered through the new residence, you smiled when you took note of your personal items stationed throughout.

While with Jinyoung at his penthouse, the movers had transported all of your belongings in a matter of hours. At first, you thought this would infuriate you - strangers putting their hands on all of your things. Then, you remembered you didn’t actually own much.

Stepping into a small room adjacent to the bedroom, you couldn’t fight a broad smile when you surveyed the office space. Your textbooks were stacked neatly and your school supplies were no exception. Sitting on the rolling chair, you did a few turns before releasing a deep sigh and closing your eyes.

Maybe this overgrown house wasn’t so bad after all.

For the next two days, you settled in, making the place feel more like a home and less of a work perk. You brightened the rooms with color and light, taking pride in the place that Jinyoung was essentially lending to you.

But you constantly checked your phone, wondering why he hadn’t called or even texted. You resorted to drowning yourself in homework and exam prep, hoping to distract yourself from the endless thoughts of Jinyoung and his dumb, handsome face.

Even as you sat in class, the monotony of your physics professor faded into static, pushed away by memories of Jinyoung and his adorable laugh. How many years had it been since you heard him laugh? You grimaced. Jinyoung at that conference table looked hard and severe, like he hadn’t laughed in years.

That saddened you; the idea Jinyoung had been living a life without love or laughter. To keep the tears from your eyes, you focused on thermodynamics and forbid Jinyoung from your mind.

On the third afternoon, you finally got the call you had been anticipating.

Briefly, you stared at the phone and counted the seconds in your head, knowing he would despise having to sit through a few rings. “Yes, my lord?” you finally answered.

Jinyoung droned while he chewed his lunch, “Yugyeom is gonna bring you here. Be ready in 15.”

Feeling he was already about to hang up, you yelled, “I’ll need more time.”

Indignant, Jinyoung grumbled, swallowing whatever was in his mouth and asking, “What the hell for?”

“To shave my legs,” you deadpanned.

There was a pause, followed by a stern, “Don’t bother.”

Then, he hung up.

Frowning at the phone, you proceeded to spend an hour preparing yourself for the visit to Jinyoung’s penthouse. Whether or not you were actually going to have sex with him, you adorned yourself as if it were an ever-present possibility.

This game of his had hopelessly reeled you in.

Yugyeom arrived to get you in a sleek black car and you found him a comfortable place to sit in the grandiose living area. When you told him the fifteen minutes allotted would not suffice, he whipped out his phone and offered to keep himself busy whilst you took your sweet time.

Yugyeom was easily becoming your favorite person, especially when he commented at what a good job you had done breathing life back into the abandoned condo. The two of you gabbed about abstract art and the mint colored record player on your nearby table. Yugyeom was passionate about music and recommended an entire list of vinyls for you to give your ear to. He seemed to jump on board your plan to keep Jinyoung and his almighty ass waiting even longer.

Over an hour later, you stood in the cold, glass box that took you to the heights of the residential tower. Your freshly-shaved legs did not tolerate the chill well and you suddenly wished you had opted for pants instead of the high-waisted shorts.

But hell, your outfit was on point. The v-neck shirt was tucked into your navy blue bottoms and your favorite push-up bra was here to work, leaving little to the imagination where your cleavage was concerned. You had gone up a cup size leaving home, and you damn sure wanted Jinyoung to notice. But to avoid looking too blatant with your bare legs and perky breasts on display, you wore a crisp blazer over the ensemble; vaguely casual.

“Alright, I’m here,” you announced as you walked into the penthouse apartment. “Let’s do this.”

Perched in the kitchen, Jinyoung continued to eat his apple leisurely, raking the knife over a chunk before taking another bite. He leaned back against the sink, ankles crossed in a pair of tight-fitting jeans.

For the brief seconds you passed in front of him, Jinyoung did a full head-to-toe scan of your presence, lingering over every curve of your form and resisting the urge to nod his approval. With the trail of delicate, fruity scents following you, Jinyoung surmised you must have just come from a long, hot shower.

Unbuttoning your blazer, you propped your forearms on the counter directly next to him, sticking your ass into the air and glancing over your shoulder. Drumming your nails on the surface, you whined, “I’ll have you know I’ve had a very stressful day.”

Rolling his eyes, Jinyoung sighed, “I never would have guessed.”

Though he stood at your side, he felt miles away. You sashayed your hips a little, inevitably drawing his attention once more, and murmured coyly, “I’ve heard rage sex can help with that.”

“So can a nap.”

You grumbled at another battle lost, standing up straight and stealing the apple from his hand. After taking a loud bite, you murmured, “The boy I knew couldn’t keep his hands off of me.”

Without missing a beat, Jinyoung snatched the fruit back from your grasp and chuffed, “The girl I knew would never have traded her body for money.”

You nearly choked.

Jinyoung cut another piece of the apple and forced it into your parted mouth, saying, “You shouldn’t bite into an apple. It’s bad for your teeth.”

You watched him saunter away, noting the broad expanse of his shoulders and the way his dress shirt hugged every line and angle. Once upon a time, you knew how it felt to sink your fingers into his back, to anchor yourself to him in every way possible as he took you to the heights of ecstasy.

You also knew how it felt to let him hold you, to comfort you when you needed his love most. Jinyoung was no stranger to you waking up in the middle of the night screaming, doused in sweat as your dreams turned dark and violent. There were too many things you had seen in your lifetime and your mind could never forget them no matter how hard you tried.

Jinyoung was just another frightened kid, no different from you, but he knew what to say and what to do. You would rest your head in the bend of his arm, your smaller frame tucked to his body as he rocked you back and forth. He would murmur the most delicate of words until you drifted back to sleep.

The memories of how passionate Jinyoung could be with you, how mindlessly in love you had once been with each other, brought a fresh surge of frustration into your chest and the sensation radiated through your body to the point you felt heat behind your cheeks.

Vexed by his dismissals, you trudged toward the door, drawing his confused attention momentarily as you shouted, “I’m going with Yugyeom to get food!”

The sound of the door slamming ricocheted through the apartment. Jinyoung stood rooted in place, watching where you had just stormed out, and nonchalantly took one last bite from his apple before tossing the core into the trash bin.

God, you drove him crazy. He loved you to the point of madness. Everything you did was both certifiably adorable and yet absolutely infuriating in his eyes. This little game he played with you was the highlight of his life at the moment. He was finally reunited with a sense of peace now that he could see you again, but he had no intention of giving you absolution any time soon.

You plopped into the passenger seat, greeting a surprised Yugyeom as he had been playing on his phone. You took the mobile from him and proceeded to finish his round of Candy Crush, asking him to take you to the nearest convenience store for snacks.

“You were barely in there for two seconds,” Yugyeom said, revving up the engine.

You groaned and explained, “We argued already. He annoys me.”

Yugyeom chortled.

“Your phone is ringing,” you told him a moment later, seeing Jinyoung’s photo on the screen. “It’s the asshat.”

“Answer it then,” Yugyeom smarted, focused on the busy street he turned onto.

You did as told and chirped, “Yugyeom’s phone.”

Surprised to hear your voice on his driver’s line, Jinyoung said, “You didn’t take a guard with you.”

You rolled your eyes and whined, “I’m just going to buy snacks. How much trouble could I possibly get into?”

“What’s he complaining about?” Yugyeom asked with a laugh.

Hoping Jinyoung would notice the difference, you drastically softened your tone when speaking to Yugyeom, “We didn’t bring a babysitter.”

“Mr. Muscles is in the back,” Yugyeom replied.

“What?” you exclaimed, turning around.

Sure enough, Jackson the burly security guard was resting atop the seat, an arm tucked behind his head with his eyes closed. Though after hearing Yugyeom, he lifted a hand and waved his fingers to let you know he was well aware of the situation.

You giggled and quipped, “Unbelievable.”

“Alright then,” Jinyoung sighed, satisfied you had enough escorts for a measly trip.

“Why are you even worried about me?” you asked spitefully, grateful for the distance between you and Jinyoung at the moment. “I’m sure I’m easily replaceable.”

“I’m not having an argument with you over the phone,” Jinyoung replied calmly. “Though you sure are a lot braver whenever you’re on one.”

You scoffed, but had no rebuttal. It was true. After a nervous pause, you stammered, “Want anything from the store?”

Jinyoung barked, “Yeah, three or four bottles of soju. I’ll need them if you’re planning on staying longer than five minutes this time.”

“You bastard,” you fired back. “I offered you my ass on a silver platter and you would rather talk about apples.”

Yugyeom and Jackson both made noises of amusement, though the latter still kept his eyes closed in an attempt to catch a nap.

There was absolutely no fluctuation in Jinyoung’s voice when he grumbled, “Yeah, because nothing turns a guy on like his girl flopping onto the kitchen counter.”

Bristling with fury, you snapped, “How would I know what turns a guy on? It’s been years since I slept with you.”

“Me?” Jinyoung questioned.

“Huh?”

Jinyoung shifted his weight, drifting into his bedroom, and asked, “I’m the last person you slept with?”

Immediately, you realized what you had said and fell rather spectacularly into a panic. “I’m gonna hang up now.”

Jinyoung countered in a low threat, “Don’t you fucking dare.”

You pulled the phone from your ear and stared at the screen, biting your lip as adrenaline rose in your chest. After a few tense seconds, you pressed the phone back to your cheek and whispered, “Yes.”

Jinyoung was clearly off balance after your confession, because his tone was tender and soft when he spoke, “No one else has touched you?”

Pinching your lips together, you wrestled with what to say. Had he assumed you had moved on from him? That you had gotten into bed with other men in an attempt to forget about him?

Firmly, you replied, “No.”

It was true. You had found and lost love with Jinyoung. You knew you wouldn’t find it with anyone else - you would only find it where you had left it.

Now, it was Jinyoung’s turn to be silent. After a moment, he murmured, “I didn’t know that.”

Why did he sound skeptical? Did he think you were lying to please him?

Wrath reared its ugly head again and you snapped, “Oh, I’m sorry I’m not a massive slut. Does this lower my street value?”

Jinyoung snarled, “Careful...”

“Wait, it should raise my worth, right? I’m sorry…” you trailed with a hollow chuckle to hide your wounded pride. “I’m not up to speed on prostitution practices.”

Running out of patience, Jinyoung hissed your name.

Squeezing the phone, you shouted into the receiver with loathing, “The last girl you paid to fuck you, should I call her for some advice?”

“Oh, shit,” Yugyeom suddenly exclaimed, slamming the breaks as a car darted out in front of him.

You screamed when the vehicles collided and inadvertently dropped the phone onto the floor between your feet. While you lurched forward from the impact, your taut safety belt shoved you back into the seat. Fortunately, you and your companions were unscathed.

“Real nice, Yugyeom,” Jackson chastised, opening his door and stepping out to survey the damage.

“Don’t get out,” Yugyeom told you as you reached for your handle.

You nodded, watching the man in the opposing vehicle storm up to the car you were in and slam both of his hands on the hood. Jackson approached him, speaking diplomatically, but the other man was shouting, motioning between the two of them.

“I wanna go back now,” you spoke shakily, eyes on the drama unfolding.

When his polite manners didn’t do the trick, Jackson braced his hands on the man’s chest and shoved him away, warning him to settle down or there would be consequences. After handing the stranger a few bills from the wad of cash in his pocket, both parties returned to their vehicles amicably.

“What are you paying him for?” Yugyeom exclaimed with discontent as Jackson slid back into the car. “We had the right of way!”

“Just go before the police show up,” Jackson ordered, reaching into his back pocket with a groan when his phone began to ring. He patiently answered, “Yeah, boss? No, we’re fine. She’s fine. It was a tiny collision. She does? No, she seems alright to me.”

“I’m right here,” you grumbled, glancing over your shoulder. The concept of Jinyoung being worried about you warmed your icy heart for a moment, but you were still too annoyed to let the gesture soften you.

“I will keep an eye on it,” Jackson whispered, then hung up.

“He told you about my history with car accidents, did he?”

Jackson relaxed back into his seat, like nothing had happened, and said, “He just told me to watch out for the signs, that’s all.”

“I’m fine,” you asserted. “My reaction is totally normal.”

“Really?” Jackson persisted. “Because my hands stopped shaking already. How about yours?”

You glanced down at your lap and saw your quivering fingers, immediately folding your arms and gazing out the window.

Stepping into the penthouse after a short return drive, you came face-to-face with a livid Jinyoung. Before he could utter a word, you sassed, “You won’t get rid of me that easily.”

He narrowed his eyes in reproach. “That’s not funny.”

Putting your hands on your hips, you dodged him and sang in a taunt, “It’s a shame you’ve lost your sense of humor, among other things.”

Jinyoung’s sharp tongue was not to be underestimated and he was quick to retort, “Yeah, it must be out there fucking what’s left of your dignity.”

You scowled, enraged.

Jinyoung planted his feet, crossed his arms over his chest, and asked sternly, “Why haven’t you been with anyone else?”

A ripple of nerves shot through you and you deflected, “Are we really gonna have this conversation now?”

Jinyoung would never admit it, but he was overcome with feelings toward you. You had stayed faithful to him. Even though you left him, you had made no attempts to replace him. Every fiber of his being was drawn to you, desperate to have you in his arms.

“Why not?” Jinyoung finally pressed, advancing toward you.

Folding your arms, you stuck out your hip and tapped your foot. “Have you been with anyone else?”

Jinyoung wagged his finger. “I asked you first.”

“No, Jinyoung,” you admitted with a heavy sigh, abandoning any ideas about lying to him. “I haven’t been with anyone since you. I’m not capable of trusting another person that much.”

Harshening his expression, Jinyoung sneered, “Trust is a funny thing, isn’t it?”

You bristled, reading his tone.

“I’m suddenly reminded of how much I trusted you until the day you jumped in that truck and ran away from me.”

You threw up your hands, assuming he was back to the game, back to his desire to punish you. Exhausted, you choked, “I wasn’t doing it to get away from you.”

Jinyoung scoffed, “Really?”

“Don’t talk to me like you fucking know me,” you yelled, drifting toward his room for much needed solitude.

Jinyoung’s gaze narrowed, fire coursing through his veins when he hissed, “I’m the only one that knows you.”

With a roll of your eyes, you stomped to his bedroom and slammed the door behind you. Plopping down on his bed, you fell to your back and focused on calming your racing heart. Because arguing with Jinyoung didn’t scare you - it excited you.

When you were with Jinyoung, the two of you got into fiery debates rather often. Both of you were reckless with your emotions, quick to indulge your tempers given the right situations pushed the right buttons. You and Jinyoung were adept at flinging sharp words and insults, but you never felt fear or emotional injury from your sparring with him. Jinyoung was the boy who held your heart. You knew he would never break it.

At least, not until you broke his.

Voices drew your attention a few minutes later. Jinyoung had made no attempts to engage further with you and you were slightly disappointed. Meanwhile, you had been grappling with the spikes of adrenaline still holding your attention.

It amazed you how little compassion your own brain had for your emotional well-being. Whether it be a small collision or even a fake car accident in a film, seeing either would bring back every visceral detail of the day you learned how dangerous your home had become.

The van had slammed into your truck, totalling it with ease. Your head hit the window and a concussion nearly faded your vision to black. Before you slipped into unconsciousness, your body alerted you to more impending danger - of men dragging you from the wreckage with no intention of rescuing you.

Jinyoung would never understand your hatred for the gangs. Not unless he had been through what you had endured that day.

Snapping from your dark thoughts, you opened the door and stepped toward the living area. You needed to see Jinyoung, needed him to anchor you back to reality. No matter the hurt and pain between you and him, he was the uncontested safest place in the world.

“Jinyoung,” you called unsurely, voice shaking as the conflict grew louder.

In your three days of being one of Jinyoung’s “employees,” you had only met Bambam once and all you knew about him was his handling of Jinyoung’s business relationships. He seemed to be the orchestrater, the man with his hands in every cookie jar.

At the moment, Bambam was shouting, visibly enraged. Even though his anger was not remotely directed at you, your instinct was to cower into the corner to make yourself a smaller target. As you paced backwards slightly, head down in submission, Jinyoung clocked a weathered glance at your movements.

While Bambam continued to rant, you thought of your mother - the way she screamed at you and her voice would carry through the house, ricocheting from every surface to the point you thought you were surrounded. At the memory, your breathing began to shallow and you stared at the floor.

“Stop raising your voice,” Jinyoung warned his friend, but his eyes were fixated on you.

Oblivious, Bambam persisted, “I’m sorry, but this is the biggest screw up since…”

Jinyoung cut him off to snarl in reproach, “Shut up.”

You remembered the way you had screamed when those men tore you from the car and the sound flooded all of your senses until you truly believed you were back in that same place all over again. The memories were snowballing, piling one after the other until you were buried under an avalanche of trauma.

“Jinyoung,” called Jackson worriedly, having finally noticed you.

“I know,” Jinyoung answered as he made his way over to you, grabbing your arms and guiding you to the floor. “Sit. Sit.”

To everyone in the room, you looked like a startled animal, eyes wide and chest heaving for breath. Following Jinyoung’s instructions, you wouldn’t call what you did sitting, per se. You more or less collapsed to the ground; your legs folding under you like a lawn chair.

Frantic, Yugyeom asked, “What’s wrong with her?”

Jinyoung pushed some of your hair out of your face and answered, “She’s having a panic attack.”

“Because of me?” Bambam blinked.

Yugyeom was quick to scold, “No, you idiot. You’re just the cherry on top of a milkshake from hell.”

Clenching his jaw, Jackson turned to Bambam and added, “There was a little incident earlier.”

At the phrase, your mind gave you rapid glimpses of the car accident and your chest tightened all the more. Many pairs of eyes were on you now and your brain warned they were systematically draining all of the oxygen out of the room, robbing you of much-needed air.

“No, no, don’t look at them. Look at me,” Jinyoung demanded, cupping your face. “I’m the only one that matters. I’m the only one here.”

You wanted desperately to wrangle your breathing back to normal. You screamed at yourself in your mind that you were overreacting, that you were spiraling out of control for no rational reason.

“Everybody, get out,” Jinyoung ordered under his breath, careful not to shout in your presence as he seethed before you.

Shuddering, you choked in an attempt to gulp in more air.

Jinyoung gripped you, gentle but secure, and ordered, “Hey, hold my arms and close your eyes. Focus on breathing.”

You winched your eyes shut and imagined waves lapping on some distant shore. Even in your mind, the place you tried to seek was dark with storm clouds, the ground quaking when thunder boomed overhead.

“That’s it. Just relax. I’m right here with you.”

His voice seemed muffled by the rushing of blood in your ears. Your skull pounded, oversaturated with survival responses.

Jinyoung watched your face, relieved to see you were settling down in response to his words. Once upon a time, he was adept at saving you from yourself. Shushing your whimpers softly, he sighed, “I won’t let anything happen to you. You’re safe, baby. You’re safe with me.”

The panic gave you one last spike of terror, a final attempt of claiming you. You hyperventilated in response, shaking at a fresh onslaught of adrenaline, but it was subdued and losing its power.

Jinyoung brushed his thumb through the tear rolling down your cheek and said, “Breathe.”

His voice echoed in your head, drowning out everything else.

“You’re doing great.”

You relaxed, breathing steadily.

Jinyoung angled his body, pressing two fingers to your wrist and seeking out your pulse. Satisfied at the speed, he ordered, “Open your eyes now.”

Your eyes cracked open slowly, tears escaping your lashes and streaming down your face. Meeting his penchant stare, you rasped, “Jinyoung?”

“Not now, sweetheart. Just focus on you,” he calmed. “We have plenty of time to talk.”

Composing yourself, you took a deep inhale and released the air. Feeling marginally better, you joked, “This day fucking blows.”

Jinyoung chortled briefly. “I know.”

Letting your hands slide from his arms, you began, “I’m sorry about what I said earlier. I got carried away.”

Jinyoung fervently shook his head. “Don’t apologize.”

Both of you got to your feet, the room thick with tension of a different kind. A smile forced its way to your lips as you had caught a glimpse of the old Jinyoung - the boy who loved you more than himself and never failed to drive away your nightmares.

Calling his name, you reached out for him and stammered, “Can we… just stop being angry with each other?”

Jinyoung exhaled, morose. Giving your hand a squeeze before letting go, he explained, “You’re angry with me. I’m angry with you. Time will fix that.”

You watched him escape into his adjacent bedroom and you followed without any doubts.

For minutes that passed much too quickly, you had been safe and sound in Jinyoung’s arms. Even now, every aspect of his body language was open and inviting. If you wanted to rush back into his embrace, you had no doubt you would be welcome to do so.

Noticing you had shadowed him into the bedroom, Jinyoung studied you and asked, “You good?”

“I’m fine,” you assured him with a nod. “I promise.”

“Alright, then,” he replied, turning to leave. Your presence was suffocating him. He had too many desires toward you at the moment and he didn’t want to act on them yet. This was a slow burn - a power play he had to win in the end.

You sat on the edge of his bed, looking down at your hands and relieved to see they were no longer shaking. Rubbing your fingers together, you watched Jinyoung pilfer his pocket for a cell phone, dialing a number.

“Stay here and take it easy. I’m going to send everyone home,” he told you passively, striding out of the room before you could answer.

You nodded your understanding and listened to his footsteps fade away. Resisting a smile, you glanced around the room and mulled over the silly boy you loved. He was already trying to repair his harsh exterior, forcing any buffer he could to keep you from seeing he was still the soft, kind Jinyoung you knew.

Your overwhelming desire at the moment was to kiss him - to press your lips to every inch of his face and neck until he wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed you with the fire and passion you knew he possessed.

A moment later, Jinyoung returned to the bedroom, relieved to see you hadn’t moved. Giving you a look over, the two of you merely studied each other, neither uttering a word. Where did you both stand in this relationship now?

Jinyoung could see the affection in your eyes. He had soothed your fear and rage in one moment of tenderness and vulnerability. He wanted nothing more than to hold you, to cradle you in his arms and let you fall asleep under his watchful gaze. For the past four years, he had been denied your warmth, parted from the feeling of your skin against his. Meanwhile, his heart - which he had started to believe was long gone - ached in his chest, twisting with need at the sight of you before him.

When Jinyoung shifted his weight, you knew he was a split-second away from finding a reason to crash on the couch; to put some distance between the two of you in order to hold on to his need to punish you. Longing to keep him close, you called, “Can I ask you for something?”

“Mm-hm,” he hummed, eyebrows raised with curiosity.

Your eyes were alight with hope as you posed the request, “Let me sleep in here tonight.”

And there it was. Mulling through indecision, Jinyoung decided he could lose a battle or two if it meant he would still win the war. After what happened over the course of the day, there was no way he could deny you any longer.

Ultimately, Jinyoung shrugged, feigning indifference, and he surrendered. “Fine.”

Blushing, you quipped to ease the tension, “I won’t make any moves on you, I swear.”

“Take off your jacket,” Jinyoung countered lowly, without missing a beat.

“Okay,” you replied, slipping out of the blazer as your brow stitched. “Why?”

Jinyoung salivated at the sight of your body in the tight outfit. He wanted to bury his face in your full breasts and grab handfuls of your plump ass, but managed to keep his composure for the time being.

Judging by the emotionless look on his face, you had absolutely no idea of the dirty thoughts racing through his mind. Jinyoung was momentarily daydreaming of all the many, many times he had taken pleasure from your body and given you back more in return.

Jinyoung began rolling up his sleeves, like he had a job to do that would undoubtedly require him getting his hands dirty, and replied, “I will give you a taste of what you want.”

Confused, you weren’t entirely up to speed yet with his shift in disposition and you searched his expression for an answer. “And what is that?” you questioned innocently.

“Put your hair up.”

You cocked your head, curious.

“Put your hair in a ponytail,” Jinyoung spoke slowly, almost patronizingly, when you failed to obey and pointed at the crown of your head.

With a roll of your eyes at what he could be playing at, you did as told and pulled a tie from your wrist to restrain your hair.

Jinyoung approached you, nose-to-nose, and surprised you when he reached around your head and grabbed the ponytail in his fist. You groaned at the sharp, forceful contact and braced your hands on his chest.

“Strip,” Jinyoung ordered, nipping at your lips.

Eyes widening, you could hardly believe your ears and you complied with his demand as if it were your body’s natural reflex. Jinyoung kept a solid hold on your hair and kissed you with abandon, smiling against your mouth when he felt you trying to shuffle out of your shorts.

Jinyoung cupped your jaw as he slipped his tongue along your bottom lip, teasing you for entrance. Rather than give in, you leaned into him and shoved your tongue into his mouth, stumbling as your shorts landed around your ankles. Jinyoung chuckled at your mindless urgency and the sound registered in your chest, causing you to smile while you played with his tongue.

His hand fell from your cheek, landing on your clothed breast and palming at the mound before grabbing the hem of your shirt and yanking it to the side to expose your bra. When you heard the material rip slightly, you broke from his mouth to gasp, but in the next instant, his palm was on your waist and stroking up your bare stomach.

The heat of his touch traveled up to your head and clouded your thoughts. You could hear and feel every harsh thump of your racing pulse in your ears. Your heart was clenching in your chest, celebrating at the taste of victory. Jinyoung was touching you. He was kissing you with the fervor of someone that had never stopped loving you.

Impatient, Jinyoung released you just long enough to spin you around, facing you away from him. You called his name, heat fogging your mind even more from the rush of arousal of his rough grip on you. Jinyoung guided you to his dresser, pushing you into it with the insistence of a man starved for the feel of your body beneath his.

Your hands collided and fumbled with his as both of you made it your mission to get you out of all your clothes. When you reached behind yourself to fiddle with his zipper, Jinyoung grasped your wrist and brought it to the dresser, pinning you there.

Jinyoung was completely clothed when he pressed to your back. It was symbolic - you were naked and wholly vulnerable, but he was guarded and concealed.

Bracing yourself on the dresser, you closed your eyes and hummed with pleasure, shivering at the feel of his warm, roaming hands on your body. His palms skimmed and traced every expanse of your bare skin, touching you with the seasoned experience of a boy who once knew every inch of you intimately.

Jinyoung groaned at how soft you felt against his fingertips. You hadn’t changed at all. He could see every shaky breath you took and thrived off of the effect he had on you. Sensing you were desperate for his touch, Jinyoung kissed beneath your ear and coiled his arms around your naked waist like a noose.

“I want you to know something,” Jinyoung murmured, tonguing a path up the side of your neck while he tangled a fist in your ponytail. “But first, don’t utter a word.”

You nodded your understanding and submitted to his dominance, purring when his hand lowered between your legs.

“I’ve fucked many women since you left me,” he sneered in a low whisper. “None of them could fill the emptiness you left behind.”

A rancid taste took root in your mouth as the revelation weighed heavily on your heart. Other women had slept with your man. There were whores out there that knew how it felt to have him inside them. You clenched your jaw and checked your anger, because unadulterated rage was beginning to boil in your chest.

Smirking at the way you stiffened against him, Jinyoung teased his fingers beneath your lower lips, chuckling devilishly when he felt the dampness and warmth of your flesh. He coated his digits in your arousal, playfully teasing your entrance until your hips jerked forward involuntarily toward his hand.

Feeling you getting riled up, Jinyoung chose to growl in your ear, “I closed my eyes every time, imagining you on top of me, but I knew better. They weren’t as warm as you. They weren’t as tight as you. They didn’t make those sounds I know you make.”

You wanted to be aroused by this. You would have preferred his words to fuel your ego, but you were too busy being absolutely infuriated. The territorial streak you possessed flared and you quickly pushed on the dresser in an attempt to loosen his hold on you.

Jinyoung chuckled, releasing his grip on your hair to reaffirm his arms around your waist. “Where are you going, baby?” he teased against your neck.

Irritable, you growled, “You fucked other women?”

Jinyoung was thrilled to hear your envy and he squeezed your bare breast to annoy you some more. “Of course, I did,” he replied with a spiteful edge to his voice as he pushed his way into your entrance. “You weren’t around.”

You were momentarily distracted from being angry when his thumb rolled your clit and a tiny whimper left your lips. Jinyoung pumped his digits into your wet pussy, stroking your sweet spot with the pads of his fingers.

After a gasp at the feel of your walls stretching around his penetration, you clenched your jaw and spat, “You are the only person I have ever been with. You’re the only person I’ve ever fucking kissed, Jinyoung.”

Jinyoung snickered and sighed on your shoulder, “Are you jealous, sweetheart?”

“No,” you smarted bitterly. “How could I be jealous of what’s rightfully mine?”

Thrumming at your declaration, Jinyoung grinned with pride and whispered, “Would you feel better if I told you I just used them to get myself off? I never concerned myself with pleasuring them?”

That did little to mollify you and you told him as much. “You were still inside them.”

“I didn’t come in any of them. Couldn’t risk that.” His voice dropped to a whisper when he added, “I miss coming inside this gorgeous bitch though.”

You shivered at his words, biting your lip as you remembered the times Jinyoung would say the dirtiest, nastiest shit to turn you on. Meanwhile, your memories also reminded you how it felt to push Jinyoung over the edge, to feel him losing himself on top of you. With a wiggle of your ass against his crotch and the obvious erection trapped in his pants, you whined, “I’m still mad at you.”

Jinyoung crowded your back a little more aggressively, sinking his fingers into your warmth down to the base of his knuckles. Chuckling at the way your legs quivered and you struggled to keep balance, he teased, “Well, I suggest you get over that in the next two minutes.”

Squeezing the corners of the dresser, you cried, “What do you want from me?”

“Right now, I just want you to relax,” Jinyoung crooned, stroking his free hand across your breasts and toying with your hard nipples. “I really wanna watch you come.”

“Mm,” you moaned, bidding yourself to ignore how angry he made you and focus more on his fleeting desire to pleasure you.

Jinyoung sank his teeth into the base of your neck and tongued at the crimson mark forming. Inhaling the scent of your hair, he growled, “You always looked so beautiful when you came for me.”

Listening to your pussy squelching around his fingers, you panted, “Jinyoung, I’m wet enough. Take me.”

“Who are you telling?” he chided, his fingers moving at an even faster pace. “I’m the one with a hand between your legs.”

“Jinyoung,” you moaned, desperate.

Jinyoung rolled your clit with this thumb and groaned in the back of his throat at the feel of your arousal dripping down his hand. “Tell me what you want,” he sighed.

“I want...” you stammered, releasing little noises every time his digits plunged into your core, stroking your walls good and rough.

You knew what you were about to say. You had passed beyond want and settled into need. Winching your eyes closed and sinking your teeth into your lip, you imagined how it would feel to make love to him after all these years; to feel yourself one with him again.

You craved it on a primal level, mouth watering at the mere thought.

When you failed to answer, Jinyoung seemed to read your steamy thoughts and released a shaky, aroused breath on your neck, rumbling, “Tell me.”

“You inside me,” you confessed without hesitation.

God, he wanted that. Your pussy was warm and welcoming around his fingers. He knew your cunt would clamp down on his cock in a vice grip.

His hips stuttered, smacking into your bare ass from behind in a seeking thrust. His body wanted nothing more than to go on autopilot. Feeling your naked skin and your undeniable heat pushed him to the height of his tolerance.

But Jinyoung was well in control of his priorities and pitilessly reminded, “I am inside you.”

Rolling your eyes with annoyance, you whimpered, “That’s not what I...”

With a vengeance, Jinyoung shoved his fingers deep inside your walls to match his words, “You want my cock?”

“Yes,” you cried out, moving your hips to match the speed of his hand.

Hunger gripped his voice as he continued, “You want this thick cock to fill you up?”

“Yes,” you shouted, grasping the corners of the dresser until your knuckles began to ache.

“No.”

Blinking in surprise, you exclaimed, “What?”

“I said no.”

Frustrated, you bounced your hips, driving to meet his fingers and simultaneously ensuring your ass coaxed against the bulge in his jeans. Though you weren’t clueless as far as this power struggle between you and your ex-boyfriend was concerned, you asked, “Why?”

“You know why.”

The moment those words left his mouth, Jinyoung bore down on you, wedging you underneath him with no way of escape. You howled his name and pleaded for mercy when his hand picked up speed, drilling against your sweet spot while his thumb rubbed your clit borderline viciously.

The orgasm slammed into you, consuming you - mind and body. You moaned at the top of your lungs, the sound abruptly cutting off as you shook in his arms. Your back curved against his body and you pushed at his hand frantically when the stimulation became more than you could bear.

“Oh, god,” you sobbed, fluttering limply onto the dresser and burying your face between your arms. Jinyoung was still ever so slightly sinking his fingers in and out of your heat, coaxing the aftershocks out of you while he rutted his clothed cock along your ass.

“Good girl,” he snarled almost inaudibly, fighting a grin at how hard you had climaxed from his fingers alone. You were extremely sensitive, which led him to believe this was the first orgasm you had experienced in quite a while. And he wasn’t wrong.

Jinyoung kept his body draped over yours and grabbed you by the throat. His lips were wet with saliva as he blazed a trail up the side of your neck before whispering, “I would love nothing more than to fuck the shit out of you. To stretch you open with my cock and fill you with cum like you want, but I won’t. Not until you beg me and not a moment before you admit you were wrong for leaving me the way you did.”

Tears pricked your eyes from the ministrations of his thumb rolling your engorged bundle of nerves, but were spurned even further by his words. You merely lay there with his body overtop yours, feeling the cold of the dresser against your breasts, and wishing to all the heavens he would just take you.

But more than anything, you wanted him to forgive you.

Jinyoung withdrew his hand and wiped your juices off on his jeans carelessly before opening the drawer at your side and finding a roomy shirt for you to wear.

“I’m back to being mad at you,” you hissed after finally lifting yourself from the dresser.

Jinyoung said nothing, though he gave you a stern, unaffected look before pulling the sweater over your head. You lifted your arms into the air and allowed him to dress you. Then, you shuffled to his bed.

You were disappointed but obviously not surprised when he didn’t join you. Noting an outline of the hard dick in his jeans, you watched him step toward the bathroom and considered pressing your ear to the door to listen to him relieve himself.

“By the way, I lied,” Jinyoung said as he stood in the open doorway.

Shifting under the blankets, you asked with indifference, “About what?”

Jinyoung settled his gaze on you, licking his lips at the sight of you sated and comfortable in his bed, and confessed, “I haven’t touched any women since you. I don’t have anything to give to another person. You took it all.”

Then, he closed the bathroom door behind him and left you to your solitary thoughts, missing the sight of the victorious smile that claimed your swollen lips.

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a/n : this story was previously Lacuna on my old blog, minheoney. I’m really excited to finally finish it! This fic was my baby for so long and I’m ridiculously happy to give it a new home :)

Hey there, beautiful! If you enjoyed this, please leave a like or reblog or follow me! Or maybe buy me a coffee so I can keep writing? Or check out my masterlist here for more stories! Thanks for reading :) - Katya

This work is fictional and for entertainment purposes only, but is licensed and protected under a creative commons attribution-noncommercial-noderivatives 4.0 international license. Any instances of plagiarism will be dealt with accordingly. Do not re-post or translate without my permission.

{ copyright 2018-2020 © ahgaseda // all rights reserved }

[ficsnroses]

Friends With Benefits Chapter 8 - Keanu Reeves x Reader

Chapter VIII ~ The Death of Us.

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

Word Count : 3.7K

Warnings : so much angst omg. nsfw, smut. crying? 

Series Summary :  What happens when two, lonely friends start seeing each other for sex? A tricky friends with benefits love story, when feelings get in the way.

A/N : Oh gosh. Welcome back, three more chapters after this! let’s get this show wrapped up by June. Feedback is so so greatly appreciated, please do leave comments if ya get a sec :)

Chapter 7 Recap : Keanu and Y/N sort out their argument, and Y/N apologizes for her behaviour. They spend an evening together, and Keanu decides he’ll put his feelings aside to keep Y/N happy; keep their relationship as solely fwb and nothing else. However, after ending up in bed together again, Y/N leaves Keanu’s home in tears late into the evening, unable to bear the reality, that their relationship will perhaps never be more than just sexual. 

.

Being lost; when the mind and heart won’t work in harmony.

You’ll find peace,

            Through harmony, they whisper.

The untouched hills and thick ash clouds promise solitude, they become tempting as the streetlights pass, light fading away before shot back up in the next lamppost’s amber glow. Beyond the hills, they cease. The surrounding land falls remote, only whispers of gusty dry wind and occasional howl of the nightly residents breaking amity. A blanket of silence falls the car, the feel of the cold steering wheel riveted in your clammy fingers,

the only tolerable sensation.

Skin frigid, yet your insides burn. A never ending burn- the sensation almost brings you comfort, something strangely familiar as of late; your facial muscles barely twitch, lacklustre formed to the thought of what you’d just run away from. What you’d left behind. Tension, apprehension exaggerated in the lines of his forehead. A faint grimace lingers the planes of your face, heart in agony to the thought of those haunting dusky orbs, drained and spent as he watched you leave.

He has a heart of gold, and you know you’re killing him. He cares for the ones who mean something to him far too much. You’re hurting him. You know it. It felt as if you’d constantly been pushing him, pulling him, never quite finding the balance you craved.

After all, only your weak, mortal shell remains, the breeze filtering in from the slightly cracked passenger window a residual grace to your skin.

Your dreary mind never leaves the passing streetlights. They seem almost as pulses of light, rhythms of transition on your tedious drive home. The light comes back around just when you start to need it most; the piercing glow ignites your way,

fleetingly although. 

Even the streetlights end down the road- for down the road, never-ending darkness is all that’s left to perverse.

Keanu. Maybe you and Keanu, would be out of streetlights soon.

How long could this go on anyway? When you started out, the rules were clear. Love hadn’t been factored into the equation, yet here you were. You are in love with the only man you weren’t supposed to be with. And you can run from it; from yourself. But you can't be with him around. Not when your relationship is founded on exactly what lovers do- yet a fallacy, for you.

You’d been looming in silence, for what felt like an absurd eternity. Lost in thought, as if silently quarrelling to yourself that you need to let him go. He doesn’t deserve this; you don’t deserve this. 

The sudden sputter of the car engine creaking rumbles, the reverberations of turbulence so dense as the turmoil increases, the worn out tires faltering slow. Gravity sinks its nails in, immediately dragging them down,

slow,

slow,

            before they stop.

Don’t they say, the one you long for never leaves your mind? Your thoughts are free to roam anywhere, chase any reverie, yet it's surprising how often they head in his direction. His words seem to spring as a song well rehearsed, a melody tuned a thousand times. “You need to get rid of this thing, Y/N.” - the ring of his slight chuckle cursing through your remembrance. “It’s going to break down on you someday.” He’d reason, tone thick on concern.

Ingrained on your mind, a thick groan coarses your lips, wheel clenched in your hand. Slammed on the wheel, your palm stings with pierce, frustration copious in each action, each movement.

Of course, this would happen to you. Stranded, at 11:00pm on an empty LA street, your home still miles away awaits. The towers and mechanics would have bid goodnight a while past, and you didn’t quite know enough people in town to call. Apart from,

the same man you’d just practically run from.

Your jaw clenches and your features fall stoic, left no other choice than to see if Keanu could come by. What would he think? Perhaps pity. Perhaps, disappointment. Feasibly, the infamous “I told you so”. Truth be told, he may have been the last person you wanted to see right now. The last person you wanted to ask for help. Perhaps it was your own personal defence mechanism; your chant to the world, to him, that you’re fine. You don’t need someone, even if that someone was him.

A chilled gust of wind propels through the car window, uncertainty broad on your mind. With your fingers gripping the cold frame of your cellphone, you anticipate his voice on the other end, as if in a race with your own mind. Had you even known what to say? What does one say when they’ve practically left you, without reason, knowing it hurt you? Yet again, the universe proves. Your vanity ends in failure.

You’d sworn a breath had caught in your lungs when you heard his voice on the other end, deep and worn, a drowse apparent. He’d probably tried to get some shut eye after the happening of the eve, and yet again, as always, you’d intruded. 

“Y/N?” His voice holds confusion. You swallow a lump, unsure of how to start. “Hey,” Adopting a milder, soft tone than when you’d left. “I didn’t know who else to call.”

“Are you okay? Something wrong?” He inquires, a ruffle of movement on the other end. Defeated, your cold hand runs through the weary strands of locks on your head, the smell of burnt gasoline impelling the tip of your senses, dense and robust.

                 Isn’t it funny, how the smell of gasoline is so pleasurable, even though you know it’s bad?

Guilt. Finding pleasure in the wrong place. It’s not good for you. Why must some of the best things not be good for you?

“I’m on 231st. My car gave out on me.”

There’s a slight silence that falls to the line; unsympathetic, hollow, ambiguous. Would he care? What if he’d been upset over how you’d left tonight? What if he’d finally had enough of these abrupt changes of pace? Keanu and you seemed to never get it right, never finding the balance you so desperately wanted.

In a moment, he begins, more ease to your hurtling mind now. “Don’t go anywhere.” He replies. “Stay in your car, lock the doors and keep your phone close by.” The door slams shut on his end, heavy footsteps pacing to the car. “Be safe, okay? I’m on my way.”

Relief washes over, seeing his tall frame and concerned expression trekking towards your car door. He’d been the last person you wanted to call; yet also the first, the only person you wanted to see. There’s always been something so familiar about him, something so comforting, something you can seem to escape.

The evening air is powered with something indefinite, twilight fallen with the first buzz of mosquitos in the distance. The air stood damp and cool, his features a little softer in the darkness that surrounds.

He opens the car door, allowing you to step out, your gaze unknowingly fixed to the pavement below. Relief shone clear and bright on his face, his urge to pull you to his chest; give you the security you deserved right now strong. Yet, he opts for a mellow hand placed to your shoulder, cautious from the events of the evening prior. “You’re okay?” He asks, giving a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah.” You nod. “Thanks for coming, really.” Assuring, your hand waves slight, a gesture of peace. “I know it’s really late and-” swift, his hand raises, waving off your words, considerate. With a nod of his head, he gestures you towards his car, heavy palm reverting to the small of your back now as he guides you, his need to make sure you’re really safe and okay fresh on his mind.

“My place is a lot closer, I’ll take you with me.” He casually throws out, prepared for the argument he knew you’d put up.

“No, it’s alright, really. You know I’m only 15 minutes from here.” You maintain, turning your gaze his way. With a sigh, he starts again, eyes hefty with please.

“Y/N, please.” His eyes clench shut, features tight and dense, breathing in a deep inhale. “I didn’t want you to leave tonight, but you did. And now this…” The street around you was quiet, dim light and distant cars humming made the atmosphere almost far from comfortable. “Please.” He reiterates. Glancing up towards the moonless black, you bite back another weary sigh. Perhaps…

“Okay.” Sucking in a dull breath, you gesture to his car, him following suit as with your enfeeble bones take place in the passenger seat. With his hand firm on the drive, he pulls onto the dark LA road, his house en route, lines on his forehead exaggerated with concern for the woman he loves so dearly, but can’t have.

You’d been acting strange lately, far too distant for his liking. It seemed as if no matter how hard you both tried, you couldn’t find the balance. Couldn’t find whatever it was you needed to save your sinking ship. And it was eating away at him, killing him to know that undeniably, undoubtedly,

you were slipping away.

            even if he never really had you.

It had been a tough night, a tough day for both of you. Yet, his mind only wondered what you were feeling. Were you alright? Did you hate him for making you come back? He needed to be let in so desperately, needed to know what was written out to be far too soon. It had been tough for both of you today, yet he only cared about you. You before him, always. With his eyes briefly diverting to you, staring out the car window with an intent gaze, he shifts his hand slowly, gently to rest over yours on your lap.

To say it hurt him when you flinched, so slightly, barely noticeable, would be an understatement.

It shot daggers in him.

Yet, he offers a gentle squeeze when you keep it in place ultimately. “What are you thinking about?” He offers, voice smooth, expression mildly curious as he turns to look at you, filling the silence.

You stay quiet for a moment, gaze never leaving the mountains outside, passing by. That feeling had come back. The feeling of assurance, the feeling of being safe with him. You almost wished your brain would forget how sheltered he made you feel.

It would make all this a lot easier.

“It was raining not long ago.” You speak, voice soft, low. His lips stiff straight in a thin line, minor hum of nod through his breath. Your tone stays quiet, the thought of him heavier on your mind than the sharp LA mountains outside could ever be. “But it stopped.”

“It always stops” He speaks. “Sooner or later.”

His voice had that gentle hum to it, the serene sedative comfort. And then to the thought of it, you stared out the window, and stared, and stared, and stared.

He placed his hands on your soul,

before reaching for your hips; or your lips. And that was what ruined you.

How did you ever let it get this way? How did you ever let it get

   this

   way.

Late into the eve, you’d found yourself back exactly where gravity seemed to pull you, each time. There, with him, under him while he made love to you; only the love was what was missing, and with Keanu, it seemed it would always be. He isn’t in this relationship, he never was, never will be. It’s just you, alone, hoping, pleading that he’ll see through you; understand what this is not how you want him.

With the only light in the room filtering in from the moon side glow & the LA city night lights, you feel him on top, weight of his body on yours, his arms on either side of you holding the bed as he thrusts. His features are barely defined, yet you make out a thin line of sweat on his forehead; mouth slightly agape, breaths rugged and low. His chest heaves, cock pulsing inside your clenched cunt, the bed frame rocks, hitting the wall with each jerk. He wasn’t touching you in any other way than his member pumping your warm, wet folds, hastily, a controlled pace steady with his rocking hips. His balls slam, hitting your core each time, loud in the quiet room as you whimper quietly, fingernails sunk into the blades of his shoulders,

and with each slam, you feel yourself further and further realizing,

         This isn’t working anymore.

This is all you know with him, so this is what you do. And you know you had no right to be upset over it. This is what you signed up for. You did this. You let it get this way.

These aren’t the sounds you want to hear anymore. This isn’t the way you want to feel him anymore. These sounds, these sinful sounds compare none to what you want, what you need. 

You wanted it all, 

the soft whispers, quiet laughs shared late into the night. The sound of his pure voice when you haven’t heard it for a while, the gentle hum of his throat when he’d tell you he loves you. The simple, mundane life together. A life where he’s a significant part, but in more ways than just this.

Your bodies shudder with pleasure, but you know it’s only a temporary illusion. You see him, and you want to feel him so close, but not this way. This isn’t what you ever wanted, it was never what you really wanted. That night when you first had sex a year ago should have never happen. And it should have never happened again, and again, and again.

You did this to your friendship. And now it’s too far gone for fixing; too far lost to mend.

This isn’t working anymore.

This isn’t working anymore.

The morning comes, as it always does. Your bones feel as if they ache, tired eyes needing a moment to adjust to the light around, remembering where you were. In Keanu’s bed, yet the spot beside you lays empty, vacant. Finding yourself bare from the waist under, you remember the sex session the night prior, and you’d opted to leave your bottoms on the bedroom floor as he drifted to sleep, beside you.

Was there even anything to hide from him anymore? Nothing he hadn’t seen a hundred times. 

With a lift of the heavy duvet, you barely climb out of the mattress, shimmying on the full of your clothes, before heading downstairs. You should be outta here soon, anyway.

The house air smells of dark coffee, the scent of a morning cigarette barely filtering in from the patio backdoors. You’d always hoped he’d quit the nasty habit, take better care of his health where he could.

Cold tiles trace under your feet, a small yawn elicited when you feel your weary bones ache, wanting nothing more than to go home, away from him for now. Seeing him, being around him was proving to be far too hard. There was no running from it now. It was clear as could be, laid out on the table.

You are in love with him. You know it, and you know it shouldn’t be.

But it is. It so fiercely, truly, is.

You find him stood by the window, gazing beyond the backyard foliage, phone propped to his ear as he speaks low, quiet. Making yourself known with a slight cough, your eyes meet as his frame turns, lips curled to a smile your way. His cocoa orbs look dewy in the morning light, cheeks rosy with a slight excitement, something so warm, so inviting.

You’d wish to hold him in your arms, just that way. Keep him that way forever.

Sitting at the kitchen stool, you wait for him to finish on the line, before you’d let him know of your soon departure.  Within a few moments, Keanu retires the phone call, moving your way. 

“Morning.” He greets, pouring you a roasty cup of a.m. coffee from the burner.

“I’m okay.” You return, shifting in your seat to sit straighter now. “I’m just about heading out actually, an Uber’s on the way.”

Brows furrowed, he speaks. “You just woke up. Stay, I’ll make us breakfast.” With a sip of his earthy dark, he sets his phone down on the granite counter, a lingering smile catching your eye. “I wanted to talk to you about something, actually.”

Your hands find place in your lap, listening to his words. “Oh...okay. Sure. What’s up?” You inquire, unsure, yet slightly hopeful it may be something you so desperately wanted to hear, something you’d frantically hoped he’d let fall off his lips; that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same.

That maybe, you could find the balance, together.

His hand runs through his overgrown, dusty mocha locks, a small chuckle let off. “Okay, I just got off the phone with an acquaintance who deals autos.” Your expression reverts to plain, a pierce of defeat courses through your nerves. “And there’s this brand new model of a great car. You just need to sign the paperwork and it’s yours. I’ll take care of it.” He tells, 

and you swore you’d heard a slight hint of sympathy to his tone. Cold, pitiful, 

sympathy. Is that what you were now?

“It would cost more to fix the one you have now than it's even worth.” He explains, watching your expression fall. “And I don’t want you having to worry about it, you deserve a break. Really.” He reasons, trying his best to make out the look on your fallen face.

With your eyes set on the counter below, your thoughts scramble, desperate to gather, choke out a response. But nothing comes out. Nothing at all for the first few moments.

“Y/N?” He asks, head tilting in an attempt to meet your lowered gaze. To be met with assertion; affirmation, is not what he’d thought would come, when the wavelengths of your sunken voice allow into the now colder room air.

Headstrong, yet collected, you regret the words he’d said. “Who do you think you are?” You say, voice low, yet assertive. Your hands unknowingly ball into a fist, emotions running high through your veins. “What is this, charity?” Standing now, you push the counter stool away, finally bringing your irate eyes up to his. “I don’t need your charity.”

“Y/N,” He starts, a hushed breath slipping past his lips as he stares wide eyed. You looked destroyed almost, raw, a sight he felt break at him.

“No.” You stop him, hand moving up to block his trek further. “Don’t.” Whispering, your voice breaks, the feel of complete, and utter, defeat gnawing your bones. There was a dull ache of exhaustion nearing your temple, your forehead pulsing, but you’d gotten very good at disregarding it by now.

His features tense, regret seeped. “Y/N, I didn’t mean it like that.” He reasons, attempts at moving your way shunned as you back away now, toward the door. You force your fingers to relax their deadly clench in your balled fist, eyes shut tight as you desperately pray this wasn’t happening.

It was finally happening. 

It was inevitable.

“Y/N,” He pleads, fearful that this time,

the rain would abide for good, transpiring a full fledged storm. And it wouldn’t end.

Not now, not ever. It’s all too much, & the friendship, the companionship feels far gone. It’s turned to sympathy.

You turn his way abruptly, locking eyes, voice dipping into something colder as you begin, tears forming in the corner drops of your eyes. “Did you even bother thinking about how this makes me feel? Or did it not matter because you’re ‘Keanu The Great’, fixing the entire world’s problems? And I’m just another hopeless case in the bunch?” You say louder than intended, lip quivering with a shame that felt wounded, the pain of him becoming more unbearable by the second. He watches you, and it's killing him to see you this hurt.

It’s killing him that he did this. Again. He fucked up, again. He feels the sting of tobacco on his tongue from a burned smoke earlier, but doesn’t look away from your eyes; despite the firm voice inside telling him that he should.  He watches you, unable to move. Unable to leave.

Unable to do anything at all to make it alright.

“You’re not…a charity case for me, Y/N. How could you ever think-” He barely manages, voice faltering thick in his deep throat, wanting so desperately to reach out and hold you in the comfort of his arms, explain that everything can be okay again.

Yet his words only seem to add fuel to the fire inside you, voice channeling through the house walls as you dispute. “Not a charity case?’ You fathom, jaw tightened as you try your best to uphold assertion, dominance. “We sleep together, for fuck sake!” You almost cry, feeling each and every wall around you,

Crumble. Crumble to shreds.

“Did you not once think how much this would hurt me? How degrading this feels?” you’d tried hard, yet they’d escaped. The tears escaped; and the end was near.

His legs move again, inching near your feeble frame. “I’m so sorry, Y/N, please, hear me out.” He pleads, reaching for the soft skin of your arm, as you retract away, wiping your bleary eyes. “Okay, I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.” He begs, backing away for your comfort, his own heart breaking piece by piece for his love in front of him, hurting, and it’s all

his

fault. 

“Please don’t cry, Y/N. Im sorry, really.” His weary hand runs through his hair, scared, in fear that he’d hurt your relationship forever, and any attempts at being more. “We’ll talk later, sweetheart. Okay?” He tries, hoping the nickname would bring calm to your rage. Noting Keanu’s expression, your watery eyes stay focused on his, sincerely connected, and you allow your features to soften, adopting a milder, more reasoned tone. With your voice cracking, you speak ultimately into the morning air, the words set solid, 

forever.

“No we won’t.” You begin, swallowing the lump in your throat. “This isn’t working anymore.” You croak, the tears burning so bad now, filling your eyes. “We’re over.”

And the words pierce through Keanu, as if the bullet of a thousand guns force. His heart drops, left nothing but a gaping hole of dark to fill the void, and the words black out his overthrown mind, pulsing with an ache.

           We’re over,

     Before we even started.

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

>>Part 9>>

In order for my fics to show up in tags, my taglists will be posted in reblogs from now on. Let me know if you want to be added or removed from either this series, or the permanent! :)

[chipper9906]

Third Times The Charm

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 15 (Episode 03: The Rupture, Episode 09: The Trap

Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 6,508

Status: One Shot - Complete

Chapter Preview: 

“Well… not… not that part,” Dean stutters out, taken aback by the fiery, spitting rage that Cas so rarely displays towards him. “If you’d just let me-,”

“No,” Castiel interrupts him, slowly rising back up with his duffel in hand. “You think you’re trying, Dean. You really do. But when it comes down to it, you’re not entirely ready to apologize to me. Not yet.” Dean couldn’t even get a word out as Cas reached into his trench-coat pocket before firmly planting something into his hand – something familiarly rectangular and thin in shape. “And even if you are… I’m certainly not ready to forgive.”

* * *

Three times Dean Winchesters attempts to "apologize" to Castiel. Except... This is Dean Winchester. Apologies aren't exactly his strong point.

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He knew he’d messed it all up the second the words left his mouth. And yet, in that moment of overboiling, long over-due anger spilling out, he simply didn’t have enough reasoning left to realize it.

So, he said it.

“Yeah, why does that something always seem to be you?”

Cas had looked at him like he had physically hit him. He might as well have. But through the seething rage he felt, he just didn’t care that he had hurt Cas. A part of him felt good about it. Vindicated. Because if he was hurting, then Cas should, too.

And maybe that’s why… that’s why he can’t take it back. It’s why he can’t just apologize, tell Cas that he didn’t mean it, that it was a moment where he wasn’t thinking right. And that right there was the problem. He had meant it. He had been thinking back to all those times, all those fuck ups that have happened in their lives, and there was no doubt that Cas was involved in a lot of them. Maybe it had been something clung to the back of his mind, building, and building until he was pushed over the edge.

But it didn’t matter. He had said it, and he couldn’t take it back. He couldn’t remove the pain he had inflicted on Cas.

And he still wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

But that was beside the point. They didn’t have time for this. They didn’t have time for petty silent treatments, and the boatload of therapy they probably needed. Mom was dead, Jack was dead, Rowena was dead, they had just barely averted yet another goddamn Apocalypse whilst simultaneously being thrown into another; this one with God himself out on a personal vendetta against them, and the entire friggen Universe, and goddammit, they didn’t have the time for Cas to go off sulking on his own!

So now that’s why he was sat here on the edge of the map table, phone in hand, staring glumly down at Cas’s name as it glowed back at him from the screen, thumb hovering just over his name. He didn’t have much faith that the call would even go through, considering the past twenty or so times he’s tried so far were sent straight to Cas’s voicemail. And not in a way that suggested his phone was off, or even that he was letting it ring out and not answering it. Dean knew that the few brief rings he heard before being cut off by Cas’s voicemail could only mean that the bastard saw Dean was calling and was rejecting the damn call.

Which is why, as he waited to be greeted by the same annoying voicemail message he’s listened to way too many times now, he’s caught by surprise when he’s instead greeted by the click of the call connecting, and the loud silence of Cas on the other end, not speaking.

“Cas? You there?”

Nothing but silence greets him. For a moment, the annoying part of him that still cares starts envisioning the worst scenarios. What if it wasn’t Cas? What if someone or something had killed him, and the killer wanted to know who the hell was stubborn enough to call someone twelve times in the span of around four minutes.

But no, it’s Cas that answers on the other end of the line with a very curt and unfriendly sounding, “What?”

Dean just about holds his tongue – pretty much has to bite down on it to stop himself from saying something he shouldn’t – and takes a deep, not at all calming breath. “Any reason you’ve been ignoring both mine and Sammy’s calls?”

“I think the answer to that question is fairly obvious,” Cas’s answer is scathing, dripping with levels of sarcasm that Dean didn’t think angels could even reach.

“Alright, fine. But couldn’t you at least answer Sammy’s calls? Or even just his messages?”

“No.”

Another deep breath, Winchester.

“And why’s that?” Dean gets out through gritted teeth, hearing his phone crack and groan in protest under his vice-like grip.

“Because I don’t want to.”

Turns out, that’s all he needed to be pushed over the edge again.

“Yeah? Well, Cas, funnily enough, you don’t always get what you want. Woulda’ thought you of all people would have learned that by now, with as much time you spend with us. And you know what? Now isn’t one of those times where you get what you want. Hell, what neither of us want. But we both know that the crap going down right now is bigger than what you, or me, or Sammy, or anyone wants. So how about we both put aside our hissy fits for the time being, get over our own damn egos, and you get your feathery ass back here and help us figure out how the hell we’re supposed to kill God?”

His voice has raised perhaps a little bit too much near the end there, so much that he felt like it was ringing in his ears for a while after he had stopped talking; perhaps even enough to drown out whatever it was that Cas decided to respond with. Except, Cas didn’t respond. Not for a while, anyway. Nothing but silence – in the form of crackling white noise – emitted from Dean’s speaker, stretching on long enough that he had to take his phone away from his ear and check the screen to see if the phone was still connected.

And then Cas laughed.

He’s pretty sure he can count on one hand the number of times he’s heard Cas laugh, and this one… was not a good one. There was some amusement in it, but mostly it just sounded tired. And… a little bit bordering on insane.

“Something funny?” Dean damn near growled down the phone.

Cas’s laughter faded away at that. “No. No, I suppose there isn’t.”

A single beep emitted from the speaker. Gone was the white noise. Gone was Cas’s voice.

Cas had hung up on him.

Dean takes another deep breath, one just as unsuccessful as the last few. He holds the phone limply in his closed fist, staring blankly out into the bunker before bringing his fist down hard on the table, barely resisting the urge to launch his “too expensive to keep breaking through rage or hunts” across the room.

“You stubborn son of a bitch,” Dean grits out, balancing his phone in his lap as he massages his now sore hand. “Just gotta make this complicated, don’t you…”

The idea pops into his head right then and there, jumping down from the table and settling into an actual seat. He pulls his laptop towards him, flipping open the top and getting to work. “Fine, Cas. You don’t wanna come back home? Then I’ll come to you…”

* * *

 There were a lot of things Dean thought Cas might be doing in some small town out in the middle of nowhere.

Well, not a lot of things. Actually… Dean had no idea. The last time Cas went off on his own – admittedly, not of his fault – he had gone and tried to be a proper citizen of America with his own degrading, low-paying, soul-sucking retail job. He supposed that was a possibility, but, he doubted it. Most of the time, Cas is… well, with him, Dean supposed. Helping him and Sam with whatever big ugly had decided to rear its head for the year. Cas didn’t really get much free time, didn’t have much time for hobbies (neither did he unless you counted drinking and porn watching, but whatever), so of all the things he expected for Cas to be doing…

Fishing certainly wasn’t one of them.

Cas had managed to find himself a nice little dock to fish off as well. A cozy, hidden spot within the reeds, far out enough from civilization that Dean actually had to hike out here to find him. Admittedly, he was a little pissed to have to leave Baby behind and hike for four friggen hours in the heat whilst swiping away blood-sucking mosquitos, but it wasn’t like he had much of a choice.

There was a single fishing rod cast out into the water, its little neon orange bobber oddly still despite drifting amidst the gentle waves created by the evening’s wind as it blew across the surface of the water. Strangely, there was an honest to God boom-box sat next to Cas, which would have undoubtedly scared away any fish in the area if it was playing music. Which… it wasn’t. Even from the other end of the dock, Dean could see the tape holder was open and empty.

Dean stands there long enough to see the little bobber start bobbing in the water, flicking left and right as fish nibble on its bait. It’s not long after that the lure disappears completely, sinking below the surface of the water and into its murky depths as a fish takes the bait. But… Cas doesn’t react. In fact, he hadn’t even been looking at the lure. He must have been holding something in his hands - what exactly that is, Dean can’t see from here – as he can tell from Cas’s hunched posture that this mysterious object must be whatever had won Cas’s attention over his bait being taken.

“You know, you’re actually supposed to catch the fish when fishing. I get that it’s supposed to be relaxing, but… you could at least try to catch something when it’s on the end of your hook.”

Cas doesn’t jump or startle at his voice, much to Dean’s secret displeasure. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if Cas somehow sensed his presence. Maybe he could smell his scent or something. Hear his heartbeat. Feel his soul. Something like that.

What he does do is sigh. Loudly. Loud enough for Dean to hear from all the way over here, which kinda hurts if he’s being honest. That being said, he does put away whatever he was holding into his coat’s pocket and picks up the rod at Dean’s words and hooks the fish, reeling it in like he’s done it a hundred times before.

“I thought I’d give it a try. Perhaps make some sense of my thoughts,” Cas says without looking back at him, keeping his gaze fixated on the water ahead. “Try and see why so many are invested in this past time. I suppose maybe it’d be different if I was human, but… I just don’t get quite the same satisfaction.” It seems that, in a blink of an eye, Cas has the fish reeled in and dangling in the air in front of him. He gets the hook out of its mouth just as quick, looking down to the decent-sized carp he held in his hands. “What is it about fishing that makes it so worthwhile to humans? Is it the struggle of trying to reel it in? The sense of satisfaction you get out of pulling this creature from its habitat? Some feeling of power, a superiority, that you’ve outsmarted and outmuscled a lesser being than yourself?”

“Uh… I’m not much one for philosophical debates, Cas,” Dean looks to Cas wide-eyed, taking a few cautious steps onto the dock and towards him. “I just find it relaxing, I suppose. Bobby used to take me and Sammy out a few times when dad was off on hunts. We wouldn’t talk about dad, or where he’d be taking us once he got back - - if he got back. It was nice to just sit out in the sun, Bobby and Sam next to me and… get to feel some sense of peace that I haven’t felt since I was four.”

Castiel only hums at that, gently lowering the fish back down into the water and letting it swim away. “How did you find me?”

Dean steps even closer. “Sammy put a tracker on your phone a long time ago, bud. Can never be too careful.”

“Sam did?” Cas said, sounding genuinely surprised. The first bit of emotion Dean had heard slip into his voice.

“Yeah. I actually argued with him over it, believe it or not,” Dean shoves his hands into his jacket pockets, keeping a small amount of space between him and Cas. “Guess it turned out useful…”

Cas was still refusing to look at him, which was all kinds of frustrating. “When did…”

“Not long after you came back from… y’know… the Empty,” Dean gets out. “But, uh… he brought it up after you knocked us out with your mojo and ran off with Kelly against our wishes.”

Cas tenses up at that, carelessly tossing his fishing rod to the floor next to him and finally, finally, standing up from the edge of the dock and turning to face Dean. “And if I’d have gone with your wishes, there would have been every chance that Jack would have ended up dead – perhaps before he was even born!”

“Yeah? Well, he ended up dead anyway, didn’t he?” Dean says it like the words don’t hurt him as much as it does Cas. He says it like he doesn’t see the way Cas’s face fall, the little frustration he held shifts into what can only be described as both shock and grief. And then, to make it worse – and because he just can’t his mouth shout – he makes it a hundred times worse. “Maybe we’d be better off if we had stopped him from being born. At least then mom would still be alive.”

There wasn’t any grief left on Cas’s face. No sadness, no anger. It was nothing but disgust that he held for Dean and his words, and Dean knew he deserved such a look from Cas, but it wasn’t exactly like the rational part of his brain that knows this is in control right now.

“What do you want, Dean?” Castiel asks him, sounding too small and tired for a mighty angel of the Lord. “Did you track me all this way, come all the way out here to… what? To hurt me more?”

“No!” Dean yells, which totally defeats the point of what he’s trying to go with here. “No, that’s not why…” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and scrunching his eyes shut. “I… I came to bring you home.”

Castiel raises a single eyebrow up at him. “To… bring me home?”

“Yeah. You know, back to the bunker. Look Cas, I’m not stupid enough to pretend that I… that we don’t still need you.”

“That’s surprising to hear,” Castiel bites back. “Considering you think I’m the ‘thing’ that goes wrong in every mess we’ve been through.”

“That’s not-,” Dean tries, but Cas has already turned his back to him; hurriedly picking his fishing rod back up and began disassembling it. “I’m trying, okay?”

“Trying to do what?” Castiel grumbles under his breath, pulling apart the rod pieces a little harsher than he intended.

“What the hell do you think?!” Dean throws his hands in the air, letting his irritation boil over. “I’m trying to make things right, I guess. Trying to… to apologize.”

Castiel actually pauses in trying to stuff the rod back into its duffel, his head snapping up to look at Dean. “Apologize…? In what part of you admitting your wish for Jack to have been terminated before birth should I take as an apology?”

“Well… not… not that part,” Dean stutters out, taken aback by the fiery, spitting rage that Cas so rarely displays towards him. “If you’d just let me-,”

“No,” Castiel interrupts him, slowly rising back up with his duffel in hand. “You think you’re trying, Dean. You really do. But when it comes down to it, you’re not entirely ready to apologize to me. Not yet.” Dean couldn’t even get a word out as Cas reached into his trench-coat pocket before firmly planting something into his hand – something familiarly rectangular and thin in shape. “And even if you are… I’m certainly not ready to forgive.”

There was nothing Dean could do. Nothing but stand there in astonishment as Cas simply walked right by him, leaving him there standing at the end of the dock staring down at the object Cas has pressed into his hand. And honestly, this in itself was more painful than anything Cas could have ever said in return.

In his hand was a clearly well used, well-loved mixtape, his own writing staring back at him in crudely drawn sharpie on the faded white label:

‘Deans top 13 Zepp TRA XX’

“Thought I told you you’re supposed to keep gifts,” Dean just about manages to get out, braving a look up at Cas’s retreating form.

Castiel’s steps halt for just a moment. Just long enough to say one more thing before continuing on his way. “You did. But, it is to my knowledge that you only keep a gift so long as it is wanted, is it not?”

Never mind. He was wrong.

That hurt a lot more.

* * *

He was a dick.

He knew that. He got that now. But now, it seemed, was too late.

He can’t say he wasn’t angry, because he was. What he can say was that he held onto that anger for too long. That he didn’t stop for a moment to look at things the way Cas probably did. Instead, he only saw things the way his anger wanted to, to keep him steeped in that burning rage, letting himself lash out at Cas because it was easy. Because he’d put the blame on Cas so many times before, so why not do it again?

And now, Cas might be…

No. No, he refuses to believe it. Cas is fine. He’s made it out of a few bad scraps before, he’s sure Cas will find a way to take out those dick-head leviathans and… and Eve… the mother of all monsters… right?

“CAS!” His yell echoes between the trees that surround him, seemingly amplified by the low fog that swirls around him. An endlessly hopeful part of him expects to see that trench-coat-wearing idiot stumbling towards him in the distance, maybe a little bloodied and battle-worn but otherwise whole. But there’s nothing. Nothing but the odd stillness of Purgatory when creatures aren’t busy ripping each other apart.

How long had it been now? It had felt like he has been out here, wandering aimlessly for any sign of Cas for hours. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone, and that awful squeeze of fear clenches around his heart at the timer ticking down, making it hard to breathe.

29 minutes. That was all he had. 29 minutes to find Cas in the whole of Purgatory and get them back to the portal in time. It took him damn near an entire year to find Cas the last time. 29 minutes just wasn’t enough, and it wasn’t fair. He couldn’t… He couldn’t tell Cas what’s been tearing him up inside, can’t tell him what Cas shouldn’t have to hear from him to know, and now he never will and-

“No, no no…” The words spill out of his mouth without his permission, sounding as close to a whimper of pain that actual words possibly could.

He didn’t want to do it like this. Hell, he didn’t even know if Cas even had enough grace left to hear him. But he had to try. It worked last time, didn’t it? Every damn night…

“Cas? Cas I hope you can hear me… that wherever you are, it’s not too late,” It was harder than he expected, saying this out loud. Almost like he was accepting that he was never going to speak to Cas again. Never get to say these words face to face. “I should’ve stopped you. You’re my best friend, but I just let you go. ‘Cause it was easier than admitting I was wrong.”

The incessant burning in his eyes gets too much, the heavy weight in his nose forcing a shaky sniffle out of him. He reaches out a hand to the tree next to him, barely enough time to process the scratchy roughness of the bark before his wobbly knees are giving out, forcing him down to a crouch, leaning his weight against the tree.

“I… Ohh…” He nearly says it, but the words get caught in the back of his throat. ‘Not yet’ a voice seems to whisper in his head. It was at least better than the voice that would always whisper ‘Never’ whenever he let himself think those words. “I don’t know why I get so angry. I just know – I know that – I-it’s always been there. And when things go bad, it just – it comes out. And I can’t – I can’t stop it. No matter how-,” His voice catches once more. He was well past the point of holding the tears back. “-How bad I want to, I just can’t stop it.”

This was it. He couldn’t hold back now. Not when this might be his last chance. Even if… Even if Cas was no longer alive to hear this message. “And – And I – I forgive you. Of course I forgive you. And – God, Cas. I love you. You hear me? I love you. And I – I’m sorry it took me so long. I’m sorry it took me till now, till it might be too damn late to say it. Cas, I’m – I’m so sorry. I hope you can hear me… Please, hear me…”

He can almost hear the ‘whomp’ of wings he hasn’t heard in years. Could almost envision the sight of Cas stood behind him, head tilted to the side, looking to him in genuine angel curiosity as he answers Dean’s prayers. But when he looks around, the forests of Purgatory look just as empty through his tear-filled vision as they did moments before. “Okay…” Dean forces himself up, wiping a hand down his face to wipe away any evidence of what had just happened. Reset himself back to Dean Winchester. Hunter. Son of John Winchester.

Get the job done. Get back home.

His mind seems to switch off after that. He’s sure he looked every part the stereotypical zombies in the movies and tv shows and comics as he shuffles forward in the direction of the portal, face blank and devoid of life, shotgun heavy in hand and only the barest of survival instincts keeping an eye out for any movement within the trees.

He wasn’t far now. Just up ahead was his way out of here. He would step through, and be home. Without the flower. And… and without Cas. Mom. Jack. Rowena. Now Cas? What was the point? Would the world expect him to keep fighting if he lost Sammy too? And… God, what if Cas wasn’t dead? What if he walks through that portal, letting it close behind him, and leaves Cas here to be trapped for eternity?

Maybe he still had time. Maybe he could-

No. He didn’t. The timer on his phone displaying the numbers ’00:02:56’ proved as much. There wasn’t time. Cas was-

“Dean?”

Both hands are wrapped around his shotgun and pointing it towards the direction of the voice before his mind has fully caught up. His finger slides away from the trigger as his mouth falls open, lowering the end of the shotgun down at the sight of Cas, glorious Cas, looking a little worse for wear sat at the base of a tree. He looked every bit as dirty, bloodied, and miserable as anyone would after nearly twenty-four hours in Purgatory, but it didn’t matter, as it was the best sight Dean had ever seen.

Cas looks equally as shocked to see him, grimacing to himself as he pushes himself up to stand. “You made it?”

Dean can’t help but laugh. Not really the time for laughing, but it was mostly the delirium and pure, sweet relief bursting out of him. “I made it?”

Cas stumbles towards him, a bit of a limp in his gait, and Dean quickly makes up the short distance between them, throwing his arms around Cas and pulling the angel towards him. Cas feels real and solid pressed against his chest, and Dean thumps his hands against Cas’s back almost to prove to himself that the whole of Cas is here and intact. He almost wasn’t. He almost lost one of the only people left in this world he can say that he loves.

Which... which he’s said now.

“You okay?” Dean asks as soon as he feels Cas begin to push away from him, letting his eyes scan across Cas’s form to check for any obvious wounds or spilling of grace.

“I’m fine,” Castiel insists, probably a lie if Dean knows him. But, other than the sluggishly bleeding scrape on Cas’s head, he does look fine.

“What happened?”

“They were after me, not you,” Castiel gets out through panting, pained-sounding breaths. Yeah, sure. Fine. “I figured it would be safest to give myself up.”

And there it is again. Just another goddamn slap to the face. Even after everything that’s happened, after all the awful crap he’s said to Cas, the way he’s treated him… Cas was so willing to just put himself in the firing line for him.

‘These are not just monsters, Dean. They’re Leviathan. I have a price on my head, and I’ve been trying to stay one step ahead of them, to – to keep them away from you.’

“They take you to Eve?”

“Yeah. We were en route. I waited until I… saw this,” Cas reached into his trench-coat pocket, pulling out a sad-looking excuse for a flower that looked about as beat up as the person holding it. “It… got a little smushed.”

Dean could almost cry. Again. Here Cas was, somehow having escaped from a bunch of freak leviathans before being handed over to what would likely be horrendous torture and a death sentence from the mother of all monsters, manages to find the stupid fucking flower they came all the way out here for, get all the way back to the portal where he sits and waits for him… and he looks embarrassed that the flower got a little ‘smushed?’

That’s beside the fact that he probably crushed it by hugging Cas.

“Once I had the blossom, I fought; caught them off guard,” Cas continued. “They fought back. I managed to get away.”

Dean smiles. For what feels like the first time in quite a while, he smiles. “You did it. You did it, Cas.”

And then, by some miracle by God – wait no, not him, by something or someone… Cas gives him a tentative smile back. “Well, they’re still after me. We should hurry,” Cas gestures with a small shake of his head towards the portal, already starting to move away.

“Okay, Cas I need to say something-,”

“You don’t have to say it,” Castiel interrupts, that tentative smile back on his face. “I heard your prayer.”

But that wasn’t enough. Sure, it was of some comfort knowing that the prayer had at least reached Cas, but… but something didn’t sit right with him about that. Besides the fact that what he said is something that really should be said face to face (and maybe sending a message like that over the prayer is the equivalent of sending it over text message or… or voicemail?), Cas’s reaction was just… not what he was expecting. Not that Cas was ever entirely predictable in his reactions, and perhaps basing what Cas’s reaction would be on what his reaction would be if Cas ever confessed to him like that wasn’t the best of ideas, but… still, it was odd. Dean was expecting at least something, some sort of reaction to his words other than an acknowledgment that it had been heard.

Cas was right, though. They really needed to hurry; what with a bunch of leviathans after them and probably around 30 seconds left before the portal closes behind them.

They race towards the portal, his hand on Cas’s back helping to push him forward as he struggles with that new limp of his. Dean can hear his pulse racing in his ears as they step closer and closer to the portal, watching its light flicker and shimmer as it struggles to stay open. He wouldn’t be surprised if God had somehow caught wind of their plans, and was waiting until the very last second when they were about to step through, to close the portal a few seconds earlier and laugh in their faces as the portal disappears from sight.

But that’s not what happens. They step through the portal, one after the other, neither being left behind. There’s a split second of nothing but blinding white as the portal flares, losing sight of Cas for just a moment, and then he’s there again; stood just in front of him in the bunker, the tension and stress of Purgatory already draining away from his hunched posture.

The portal gives one last pathetic flicker, and then it’s closing down on itself. The bunker is left in silence, the crackle of the portal’s energy gone, and they’re both left standing facing each other in this awkward, “what happens now” kind of stillness.

“Um… I suppose I should-,” Cas begins, taking the flower out from his pocket and motioning towards the bunker hallway.

“Cas, wait,” Dean pleads, taking an unsure step towards Cas, who freezes in place with flower still in hand. “I… I really need to talk to you, man.”

Castiel’s forehead creases in confusion, hesitantly reaching back into his pocket to put the flower back. “I already told you, Dean. I heard your prayer-,”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Dean cuts him off with a wave of his hand. His tongue darts out to wet his upper lip, a nervous gesture he could never quite hide. “I just… I feel like you should hear it directly from me, if that makes sense?”

“Not really.”

Dean huffs. “Look Cas, it’s… I meant it, okay? Even if I was panicking over the thought of you being stuck in purgatory again and… it wasn’t just a “I might as well say it because you might be dead” kind of thing, okay?”

“I know,” Castiel says, still looking just as confused as he did moments ago. “I know you’re sorry, Dean. It’s okay. I believe you.”

And then Cas turns to walk away again, and Dean can’t help but get the feeling that Cas isn’t quite getting what he’s trying to say here. So, he darts out a hand and grasps Cas’s arm, bringing the angel to a standstill. Cas looks down at Dean’s hand around his arm in genuine surprise, almost as if Dean had done something incredible offensive, and then brings his gaze up to meet Dean’s desperate one. “Dean? Are you okay?”

Dean couldn’t help it. He laughs, though it sounds about as humorless as he was feeling right now. “No, Cas. I’m not. But… are you… did you hear my entire prayer?”

Castiel frowns at him again, blue eyes scanning across the sudden, unexpected timidness look on Dean’s face. “Yes. I heard all of it.”

Dean returns the inquisitive gaze, searching for any kind of reaction, a give of some sort that Cas was thinking back to those words he had prayed to him. But there’s nothing. Nothing but the usual patient look that Castiel always held. “Listen man, I’m always one for avoiding big girly talks as much as the next guy, but… are you really not going to say anything about it?”

“About what?”

Damn it. He’s really gonna make him say it again, huh?

“You know… the bit about how I uh… the thing I said, after I said I was sorry?”

“Oh!” Castiel says, his tone bright in realization. “When you said you love me?”

And wow, what a way for Cas to say it. Like it was just… a matter of fact. Like he was simply stating what the fucking weather was like.

Dean must be staring at Cas with a damn right bewildered face right now, as the look of concern Castiel had worn for pretty much this entire conversation began to increase tenfold. “What is it?”

“Seriously?” Dean splutters out, throwing his hands up in the air. “You’re telling me I had to discover this mind-altering revelation for myself, keep it pushed down, come to terms with it and finally get the balls to admit it to you, and your reaction is absolutely nothing?”

“But… I already knew you loved me?”

It’s enough to bring Dean’s mind to a standstill. Had he… he had somehow told Cas he loved him and didn’t remember it? Oh God, that damn memory spell… had he somehow called Cas and told him something before his memory completely went kaput? No, no, it couldn’t have been that… the counter spell regained all his memories of that shitty night, he’s pretty sure… Could Cas sense it, somehow? What if it was in his soul? Some kind of change to his soul that Cas picked up on?

“You… you knew?”

“Yes… You’ve reiterated to me many times that I’m like a brother to you, and, given your connection to Sam, I assumed that meant that kind of love extended to me as well? I don’t mean to offend you Dean, the fact that you put me in the same regard as Sam is an honor of itself-,”

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, Cas. Oh, Cas, Cas, Cas. He had listened to what he had said, but he hadn’t really heard him. Strangely, it kind of hurt to think that, upon hearing his confession, Cas had just sort of automatically assumed that he had meant he loved him like a brother. Perhaps it hurt because, he wasn’t sure if Cas assumed that because of the way he’s always treated him, or because Cas could just never see Dean in any other way.

“Not what I meant, Cas,” Dean says quietly, though the words sounded loud in the quiet of the room. “Oh, Cas. You damn fool… I didn’t mean as a brother.”

Cas almost looks scared, and it’s about the equivalent of a rusty knife being twisted in his gut. Cas looked scared to be hopeful. Like he was scared to think of what his words meant. Dean reaches out a hand once more, gently grabbing hold of the sleeve of Cas’s trench coat. Cas doesn’t flinch or move his arm away, so Dean lets his hand slowly slip down, lets his fingers settle in the gap between Cas’s. Cas’s breath hitches at the feeling of warm skin against his hand, his eyes darting to their entwined hands then back up to Dean. His mouth parts, a question on his lips, which Dean answers with his own.

It’s… not what he was expecting. There’s no moment of inner panic, no feeling of wrongness that has him ripping away from Cas and furiously wiping at his lips. But it’s no “fireworks” moment, either. Cas’s lips are, confusingly, chapped and dry from the cold winds of Purgatory, and yet have a tender softness to them that has him leaning closer for more. He doesn’t taste like… well, that one Dean wasn’t sure about. He had kinda been expecting some kind of… of… soapy cleanliness taste of pure, heavenly Grace. But no, Cas tastes like dirt and sweat with a little metallic twang from what was likely a busted-up lip. It’s nothing like any girl he’s ever kissed has tasted like, and strangest of all, he doesn’t give him a damn. He’s not panicking about kissing Cas because “It’s Cas!”, he’s sinking into it, melting into the touch of Cas’s hand on his back, because It’s Cas.

But the moment can’t last forever. Cas goes tense under his hands, a sudden fear taking hold, and then he’s holding Dean at arm’s length. His eyes are wide and fixated on Dean’s face, chest rising and falling in tandem with his harsh breaths, despite the fact Dean’s fairly sure Cas doesn’t even have to breathe.

“Did you mean it?” Castiel asks, his fingers tightening their grip around Dean’s shoulders. “You… you love me like…?”

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean says with a blissed-out smile. “Not like a brother. I don’t just love you. I’m in love with you. And listen, I know I kinda sprung this up on you at a bad time, and… I know I’ve acted like a real jerk to you lately, so you have every right to just pretend like this never happened and-,”

“Don’t be an idiot, Dean Winchester,” Castiel cut him off, but there’s no malice to his voice as he does it. In fact, the small pull of a smile at the corner of his mouth widens to a gummy smile that Dean knows means this is a really happy Cas, and considering how rare he sees that from Cas, it brings him a sense of satisfaction that he’s the reason Cas is smiling like that.

“Sorry, Cas. Being an idiot is just who I am. Especially considering I was apparently stupid enough to go and fall in love.”

And then it’s Cas’s turn to make Dean freeze up in disbelief and stare at Cas wide-eyed, because he chuckles warmly at Dean’s statement and tells him, “I suppose that makes me stupid too, then.”

“Oh…” Is all Dean can squeak out, probably the un-manliest he’s ever sounded, but considering the beaming smile Cas sends his way, he guesses Cas didn’t seem to mind. “You, uh… you don’t have to say it if you don’t-,”

“I love you,” Castiel confessed, soft and sweet, yet it punches into Dean hard. “But I thought you already knew that.”

“Maybe you should stop assuming things, Cas.”

“And maybe you should stop waiting until you think I’m dead to say how you feel.”

“Touché,” Dean settles, grabbing hold of Cas’s hand once more and tugging him towards the door. “Oh, and-,” He stops mid-stride, Cas nearly colliding into him. Dean forces down a grin at Cas’s curious head tilt as he searches in his jacket pocket, pulling out the mixtape he’s kept there ever since Cas gave it back to him and planting it perhaps a little too harshly against Cas’s chest. “Don’t you ever try and give this back to me again.”

Cas places his free hand atop Dean’s on his chest, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Cas grabs hold of the mixtape before it can drop to the ground as Dean removes his hand, fingers curled protectively around the tape as he looks down at it with a fond smile.

“I suppose I should have known,” Castiel murmurs quietly, eyes softening with realization as he stares down at the tape. “You already tried to give your love to me. It was just in a language I had yet to truly understand.”

[idiots-stick-together]

𝒞𝒽𝒾𝓁𝒹𝒽𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝒲𝑜𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝐼

Headcannon/Shortstory: The Candy Shop: Lemonhead!

How you met Toga + started a ‘relationship’!

•  Warnings: Blood (duh), Violence, Stalking  •

Fluff (🍯) [’fluff’ in Toga’s definition]

❤️️ Reader Type: Feminine (She/Her/They/Them), Any race, is 15! ❤️️

Near the busted buildings decorated with broken glass and rats, was a little shop that sold candy, “Childhood Wonders” This shop is run by a grandfather that would do anything for his family. Though, with pesty kids stealing his candies, business is being put in financial turmoil. The local kids have been stealing POUNDS of candy every week. However, what can a 68-year-old do? Call his grandchild for help of course! He had to bribe them with a few bucks, but she’s here now, and armed with a broom! 

But...they might have a weakness for blondes...

-Meeting her:

🩸 After you bop the stubborn kids on the head with the broom, they finally dropped the candy and ran! Like the cowards they are!

🔪 However, if you thought the rounds of kids were done...ya’ might wanna recheck the left side of your brain, because you might need to bop common sense back into it.

🩸 After collapsing into the chair behind the counter, the sound of glass shattering energizes you up again! You get the half-functional broom and rush over there.

🔪 The blonde slowly turns around with smeared chocolate around her lips and hands. After you tighten the grip of your thief-repellent-weapon, you STRIKE!

🩸...out. You struck out...ya’ might of got your shit rocked...this chick has strength!

🔪 You cover your stomach to feel a wet spot developing, red and dripping onto the floor...ah...uh oh. Yup, issa knife.

🩸 Your heart is racing, yet you don’t and can’t back down! This is your livelihood! This shop has helped the whole family, plus your grandpa isn’t here right now. So, someone has to handle this situation!

🔪 Luckily, you have a quirk! You ‘disappear’. She is swiping all around her now. You run around her and strike!

🩸 You both paint the floors with smooshed chocolates and rolling gumballs. The place is trashed, as you both fight. The bastard even bites you a couple of times!

🔪 After a while, you both are bruised and bleeding, yet she doesn’t give up! However, you don’t really have a choice but to collapse.

🩸 She stares down at you and blanks a couple of times, before dropping a lot of candy onto your face. She still takes a couple of pieces of candies though.

🔪 You push yourself up enough to hold onto her legs and dig into her legs with your nails. She will tumble down a bit and try to kick you.

🩸 FINALLY, THE COPS APPEAR FROM THE ALARMS IN THE STORE. You release her as the cops rush into the building. She rushes out the building through the back door.

🔪 Some cops will put pressure on the cuts and gashes. Your grandpa was called and you were mindfucked.

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

-Acquaintances:

🩸 Now, weeks have passed and you were home recovering. Though, with your luck, your grandpa was sick. So, you stepped up and took care of the shop again. However, you came prepared! Yes, even you use knives!

🔪 After a few minutes, a blonde girl stands at the door. She has high knee socks on with holes, her skirt was a school skirt, and her shirt was covered in dirt. She smirks at you with her hands in her pockets.

🩸 You lock the door and flick her off. She stares at you for hours...seriously...the whole shift.

🔪 You stay on the phone with the cops and eagle watch her. Yet, she does nothing. When the cops arrive, she leaves.

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

Your Stalker...:

🩸 Every shift, you get chills. After giving some homeless kids some candy, something your grandpa disagrees with, the blonde is back! In front of you...

🔪 Before getting your phone, she slams candy onto the counter. She stares at you with a blank stare. You slowly grab the candy. She leaves the shop...this becomes a routine.

🩸 Apparently, this candy is from this store, yet you will never know where she gets this from....why steal from here and not eat the stolen goods??

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

A Friend?:

🔪 After this action, the store starts to see an improvement in income. Especially since you and her scare off the thieves! Yup, TOGETHER. How did this happen? You don’t know.

🩸 She is helping the business out now...yet she is still creepy. She stands behind you and breathes down your neck sometimes.

🔪 Now, you start to notice your boyfriends/girlfriends ‘disappearing’. Also, your crushes avoiding the hell out of you. Is it because you are unattractive...? Who knows! Toga knows! 👀

🩸 She starts to slowly become a business partner and friend??? A friend that comforts you through each “breakup”. A friend that asks to drink your blood and taste your blood...you pass this as a joke until you see her eyes darken...

🔪 Also, you notice your missing clothes from the house, especially your panties!?! Oh, also your open window, every night. Even when you lock it!

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

Your Friend! (and personalized ‘sleep buddy’ COUGH-stalker...):

🩸 Ever feel lonely? Not anymore! She is always with you in the shop...and around the city, but you don’t need to know that!

🔪 Since the business is succeeding more than ever, your grandpa finally met her. If you dare to tell him about who injured you months ago, she will stab you. Maybe even sabotage your grandpa’s business. So, you keep quiet...yet, were you even gonna tell on her in the first place?? Isn’t she your friend...?

🩸 Your grandpa lets you and her have a sleepover at his house. She takes your clothes, as she doesn’t bring anything with her. You’ll have to share your toothbrush too! So...good luck with cleaning your toothbrush.

🔪 Your grandpa will definitely questions her lifestyle. She wouldn’t respond. 

🩸 Also, you HAVE to share a shower with her, you don’t have a choice. She will behave and even compliment your body.

🔪 When you try to guide her around the house, she says “I know!” and walks into your room. She even places her dirty clothes into my laundry basket, the one that is in my closet, your closed closet...ok...

🩸 When you two are getting ready to go to bed, she will cuddle the hell out of you. If you need to get something, she’ll get it for you, with her hand gripping onto yours. Need to pee? TOO BAD.

🔪 Snack wrappers will be covering you two. Which would knock you out, but she will keep bothering you until she gets a goodnight kiss. A kiss on the cheek will send her up a wall! Lips? You wanna smash?!? (She’s joking! Unless...) But, seriously she is extremely happy on both offers.

🩸 When you have to go to school, she will help you get ready. She will claim to be from your school, you give her a spare uniform and go to class with her. Your grandpa will be suspicious, but won’t question it. Each class will be with her!

🔪 The teachers are confused...yet her name is on the role...so yeahhh...you don’t have any space anymore.

🩸 She is crushing your hand as you talk to your friends. Yet, they like her! She is entertaining and rebellious but protective of you. Any bullies? They are on the news being reported as dead. You definitely question that. She shrugs and ignores this conversation.

🔪 Your friends are now her friends! You all form a group that dances to Tik-toks and laughs at trash memes. You all create an Instagram account for her, “(Y/N)’sWife” She can’t help but tease you if you blush. Your friends join in and eventually actually ship you too!

🩸 She posts you a lot on her Instagram, she makes edits of you as well. Oh yeah, she uses your phone to do all of this. Since she doesn’t have a phone. Or house. Or family...

🔪 Yeahhhh, she finally opens up to you completely when her feelings are overflowing for you~

🩸 After learning that she is homeless, you question how she is in school without someone over 18. She uses fake IDs and documents to enter schools. Well, that’s...depressing.

🔪 You can’t leave her in this condition! So, your grandpa adopts her! But, her feelings are conflicted now...you are one of her family members now. Yet, she can’t see you in that way, she loves you. Do you love her???

🩸 When she hits you with that question, you freeze. No matter how you respond, she will either be ecstatic and smother you with kisses, or blankly stare at you and push harder. You will eventually understand that you love her. You just need a push...you will break.

Hers:

🔪 Flowers will be an everyday accessory! She will cover your room in half-dead flowers, she expects kisses for this effort.

🩸 Your grandpa will have already seen this coming, he was like “finally.”

🔪 Dates are usually ending in you two running from the cops, she might have tried to rob a flower shop for you...

🩸 You definitely slap her upside her head, but she keeps causing trouble, “ACCEPT MY LOVE!” as she hands you the head of someone that didn’t give you the right condiments for your sandwich.

🔪 Her murderous tendencies are very apparent...but it’s for you. It’s always for you. So, is it really bad??

🩸 If you have periods, she will be massaging your stomach, hold a heating pad against your stomach, kiss the tears off your face, run to the store to grab pads, and help you keep hydrated and fed. Even if her pancakes are uncooked, her bacon is burnt, and her eggs are bland, it’s made out of love!

🔪 She gets along with your grandpa easily, you haven’t seen your grandpa smile and laugh this much before. You three have movie nights and cook together sometimes. Toga may cry if he praises her. Please don’t tease her or mock her for that, she was never really shown love growing up.

🩸 You two are lovely-dovely everywhere, even if PDA doesn’t make you comfortable. She will force you onto her lap or cuddle you shamelessly.

🔪 The school is completely annoyed, yet your friends keep hyping you two up. You two even have a Tik-Tok following, 5k. You two are the “It” couple!

🩸 Before bed Toga makes sure to tell you how much she loves you. Please do the same, she is devoted to you!

🔪 After a couple of months, she will try to be intimate with you. If you don’t want that, she will NEVER force you into that act. If you do want that, you will be covered in cuts and love bites. Your grandpa might try to put mosquito repellent on you. 

🩸 When you are almost done with high school, she will become more distant and secretive.

🔪 After laying in complete silence, she will confess to a mistake.

🩸 You will be staring at her with your heart racing. Cheating?? Lost interest??? Nope, she joined the L.O.V.

🔪 Oh...that’s it??? She will be surprised by that reaction. I mean she KILLS people, this isn’t the most surprising news. Yet, you will try to convince her to complete school and achieve higher goals.

🩸 She will consider it...but for now, you and her are apart of a new family. Don’t worry if someone touches you or threaten you, they will die. Even if it means dying for you. As long as she knows that you love her, and she gets to see your smile before dying, it would be worth it. You will always be worth it.

🔪 When your grandpa dies, you two will be over 18. You two will be upset, yet Toga will ground you. She is there for you. She knows what it’s like to lose the only person that cared for you. She will steal two lockets and cut out pictures of the three of you. The heart-shaped lockets will persevere the loving and accepting nature of your grandpa. So, you two agree to never let the shop close. You two only the shop and even made more shops around the community. The homeless kids are given free candy every day. Toga made a charity for kids that don’t have parents, it helps them achieve education and help them get adopted into loving families.

🩸 She opens up to you more about her childhood and her feelings. Even though the public views her as a heartless villain, she will always be apart of your heart.

🔪 Without each other, you two would be incomplete. You make her want to do better...maybe finish school and go to college...marriage...kids...many possibilities. But, for now, she wants to protect and love you. She’ll get better, she’ll do better, with you.

———————————————————————

In conclusion, 10/10 girlfriend! That is completely loyal to you, just be comfortable with sharing underwear and saliva! ❤️

[crinkledmap]

Scattered Clouds, 77°F

N Fork Rd, Seaside, OR 97138, USA

Bikepacking: July 3rd - 6th, 2020

North Fork Nehalem River

Friday

It took forever to get out of the house. Between my school and Ian's work, there was littler time to prep during the week, so we had to use a vacation day to do a lot of it. Getting bikes set up for everyone to bikepack was more of a challenge than expected. Ian even had to make a trip to River City in the morning. We finally got loaded up at about 4p and headed out to the trailhead on N. Fork Rd.

The goal was a designated CG about 5.5 miles in. The route was a forest road where the first 3 miles were between gates on private logging land. The road followed the river most of the way and was pretty and not very steep. Ian realized that we had been on this same road about a month ago, trying to get back to 53 from the Rector Tower Lookout cache, but we hit the gate at the west end of the timber property and had to turn back just yards before the junction with 53.

When we got to the CG spot it was taken. There may have been a spot 2.5 miles back, but it was getting dark and if that spot at the CSF boundary was a bust, we were afraid that Morgan wouldn't make it back to the quarry, which was our backup. So, we went ahead and made camp at the quarry. 

Getting water was interesting since we were about 15 feet above the river. We devised a way of "fishing" for water by tying paracord (that I always carry in my kit) to the canteen. Ian got pretty good at it. I made dinner of homemade fettuccini alfredo while Ian and the boys set up camp. It was pretty tasty, for being entirely from dried ingredients. 

That night after we'd gone to bed, some trucks started barreling down the road pass camp. It was a bit disconcerting, but it really got scary when at one point headlights were pointed right at our camp and the driver revved the engine. We thought some crazy drunk person was going to do donuts on top of our camp and kill us all. We decided that we would have to move for Saturday night or go home.

Saturday 

I made homemade apple pancakes and bacon (shelf-stable bacon is amazing) for breakfast. After breakfast, we let Morgan sleep while the three of us explored up the road to where it left CSF and there were more falls. Them Ian and I explored a spur that led to a sketchy walkway over the river that led to a sketchy suspension bridge across the river. We made our way across, then down a sketchy trail to a beautiful fishing/swimming hole. We had a nice chat with a lady who was camped at the CG spot we wanted, who was fishing there. She encouraged us to go back down to the camp spot at the CSF boundary. Meanwhile, Aidan had found a Western Alligator Lizard and a shrew in the rock pile we were using as our kitchen.

Ian, Aidan and I thought it best to scout the potential new site and take a few pieces of gear to secure it if it was available, and let Morgan sleeping. The site was free and much nicer than the quarry (which isn't a high bar). It had river access and lots of shade, and was down a spur a bit so it was off the road. It also had a really healthy mosquito population. We grabbed Morgan and the gear and moved camp. After that, and a slightly terrible nights sleep the night before, we all needed a long tent nap.

After naps Ian made a fire (despite insisting that it would be impossible because of how damp everything was, he made a really great fire) and I made Chicken Corn Chowder, which was a hit. Ian did the dishes and we hung out a bit before hitting the sack. We slept better, not wondering if we were going to become roadkill in the quarry, but someone did drive down our road at 3am, and wouldn't leave until I stuck my head out of the tent and glared at them for several minutes.

Sunday

Sunday was supposed to be eggs and hashbrowns, but I'd had enough sitting on a bucket hunched over a tiny stove, so I made bacon and that was it. We cleaned up from breakfast and Ian and Aidan took off to scout some potential fishing holes, while I napped off a headache and Morgan just napped. They struck out, so Aidan and I fished from the river access from camp. I caught a little guy with my second cast. Aidan caught a snag. Then he caught rock. Finally though, he did get a good bite, and I caught and 8 incher that I let go. By the. Ian and Morgan had packed up camp. Morgan's allergies were kicking his butt, so the two of us headed to the car while Ian and Aidan finished loading the bikes.

Due to COVID we had to forgo our usual tradition of going out for food on the way home, so Ian and I dropped off the boys and picked up Killer Burger to go.

Powered by Journey Diary.

[ally-onthemove-blog]

Things to Know

A massive component of travelling is preparation and it’s a sad fact that no matter how much you think you’ve done, you will always have overlooked one bit or more. Whether it be that you didn't realise how much food would be or accommodation, or whether you didn't take into consideration how much it would be for shampoo like we did, there will always be something you’ll wish you’d have sorted a little better before setting off.

International currency withdrawals:

Our primary and be it biggest thing we needed to sort was our form of extracting money whilst we were away. We had spoke to everyone we knew that had travelled, read copious amounts of blogs and researched it until we were blue in the face, but a month before we were due to set off, all we had was a list of possible cards and no actual outcome.

We flicked between our options and a ‘Monzo’ card looked like our destined choice. We had previously sieved through an abundance of travel card companies and all had good qualities about them, but Monzo seemed the best and came highly recommended. We signed up and whilst being placed 11,000 in a queue to receive a card, we read up on them once more.

There was a little charge to use the card abroad, but not extortionate. It covered the vast majority of currencies and had an easily accessible app that enabled you to put money on the card. However, only £3000 annually could be taken out. For people doing a short trip, this may well be the card for you but for us, doing a year long adventure, we would most definitely be needing more than £3000. This isn't to say you cant pay on card for things above that amount but that just made a simple situation, complicated.

It was at this point, that now placed 9000 in the queue, I decided to look at what my bank would charge if I used my normal visa debit.

The answer to that question would be £1.50 a transaction but what I did spot out the corner of my eye at the bottom of the page was the credit card section.

Santander and in-fact many banks, offer a credit card with no transaction fees for abroad withdrawals, no limit to how much you can take out and no limit to what has to be in your bank to claim one.  (However, you do have to earn over £8000 annually to be able to apply for one). Within three days my shiny black new credit card had arrived and as i banked with the same company, my online banking conjoined with my current account, making them easily accessible.

What a bank rarely advertises is that you don't have to spend negatively on a credit card, you can in fact use it like a current account and put money on the card and take it off. This is what we have done for the entirety of our trip, using the card for both Ellie and myself, as being a student and not earning over £8000, she couldn't apply for one.

The only set back to this card is that it takes three days for the account to reset itself, so once you have put money on your card, it wont show up as there for a few days, but it is there and you can take it out, you just have to keep a track of what you've put on and what you've withdrawn.

Backpacks:

Currency withdrawals all taken care off, the next thing on our list was backpacks. Again, we researched this topic and after speaking to quite a few people, we decided against getting the biggest litre capacity available and instead opted for the 60L with the 20L rucksack attachment.

This allowed us room to be novice packers, whilst not being ridiculously heavy when carting it around.

After going to many shops and trolling the internet for a bag we agreed on, we by chance ended up at Mountain Warehouse in Freeport and as luck would have it, they had a sale on. We purchased ourselves two 60L backpacks with the 20L add-on, waterproof cover and a durable zip. After having £200 set to one side for our backpacks, due to the sale we only parted with £60 and as a result purchased a mosquito net each, two traveller sleeping bags, a hydration pack and two micro-fibre towels. The overall price tag still coming in at under £200.

We have still yet to use the sleeping bag and mosquito net but it was an item we both thought we’d rather have, than not have.

Now we had bought the bags, our shopping spree for clothes commenced and after purchasing copious amounts of vests and shorts, we packed them away into our bags as to save them for travelling.

The toiletry shop:

For this we headed straight to our local supermarket and spending over a hundred pound each, we bought one each of everything we could think of. Sunburn, shampoo, conditioner, plasters, bite cream, bug spray etc.

The one thing I would recommend is stocking up on shampoo, shower gel, conditioner, sun cream and bug spray. As much as this will bulk up the weight of your luggage and you will inevitably have people tell you ‘you can buy all that out there’, I really would recommend doing it anyway.

It is true, you can buy that stuff in every country you will visit, but at a inflated price. Bug spray is a necessity found cheaper and with a higher concentration of Deet out here and tampons, pads and clothes can be found for reasonable prices, but the likes of shampoo, not so much.

It is a often unknown fact that most Asian brands of creams contain whitening agent, meaning us tourists that no longer want to don our shade of white, have to buy imported brands. We bought a bottle of Nivea sun cream in England for £3.99 before we left and three months later, went to a shop to buy some more, only to find the same bottle and other brands, for £12. Needless to say, we held off until we were in a different country, but the price remained the same. This also happened with facial scrub, deodorant, shampoo, conditioner and shower gel: all coming in at 3x the price you would pay at home.

Travel Insurance:

We had read up on many companies offering travel insurance and there were several that came highly recommended, however most came with an upwards of £500 price tag attached.

Possibly one of the last things we sorted, I spent months researching which company was best, reading trip advisor reviews and comparing prices.

Eventually and and after exhausting almost every option, I stumbled upon Alpha Backpacker Insurance and after doing a quote, we each payed just over £100 and have no excess to pay should we need to use it (for an additional £100, Ellie also attached gadget insurance to her policy, covering her belongings for anything up to £1000).

Booking.com:

This has been our only source of accommodation searching. With it’s reviews attached to each hotel/hostel and an average rating, it was easy to find the best places for us and with their app allowing for easy use, it took mere minutes to book.

Also, thanks to the refer a friend bonus scheme they have running, Ellie and I refer each other and every few weeks, we both have £15 returned onto our debit cards.

All items checked off our list, we packed our backpacks, ensuring they were under 20kg as most of our pre-booked flights only allowed that as check-in and made our way to the airport.

Backpack checklist:

Clothes (We took enough for a week as laundrettes are easily accessible and cheap)

Bikini

Hat (Sunstroke is a bitch, let me tell you)

Slides

Trainers (Hiking isn't as fun in slides or flipflops and the dirty streets of india in between your toes isn't a cultural experience I recommend)

Poncho (It doesn't rain much but when it does, it does!)

Camara

Phone

Plasters.

Bite Cream

Bug Spray

Shampoo

Conditioner

Shower Gel

Razors

Tampons/sanitary towels

Antihistamines

Tissues (Not all toilets come with toilet roll)

Germaline

Blister plasters

Vitamins

Suncream

Aftersun

Moisturiser

Facial scrub

Travel Insurance

Passport

2x copy of passports

Visa’s

Money

Wallet

International driving permit (Acquired from a select number of Post Offices for £5.99)

Sleeping bag

Mosquito Net

Antimalarials (Dependant on countries you are travelling too)

Hydration pack (Optional)

Towel (You’re not going to want to use all the hotel towels you come across, I can assure you)

Toothpaste

Toothbrush

Vaccinations (The essentials such as TB, Polio and Typhoid are covered on the NHS, the additional recommended but not essential come at a cost, but for piece of mind, I’d advise getting them)

Padlock (Especially if staying in dorms. TSA approved ones can be found in most places, meaning if the airport have to go through your bag, they wont rip a panel open, as they have a skeleton key)

#travelblog #travel #blog #information #advice #backpack #lgbt #world #srilanka #india #thailand #laos #vietnam #cambodia #writer #explore

[campgroundspei]

St. Peter’s Campground

Campground #10

Last weekend we hit the 10 campground milestone!! We ventured out to St. Peter’s Campground in St. Peter’s Bay, PEI!!

We arrived sometime between 1:30 & 2:00, My first impression of the campground was that it was very small but I’ve been to small ones before that ended up being amazing!! I checked in and was shocked at how cheap our two night stay was!! (It was only $62.10/tax included for the 2 nights in an unserviced site!!) After I checked in I drove to my site to find my friends already arrived! The tent sites were VERY close to the highway so that part did kind of suck especially when the ferry boat traffic came in!! I had my tent and everything set up fairly quickly!! The kids and I sat around our site for a bit and blew some bubbles and just chilled before deciding to take a dip in the pool! (The pool did cost extra but it wasn’t too much...me and my three year old were free but my 10 year old was $4...however this last your whole day!) The pool was freezing cold and really hard to get into but when I finally made my way in I only lasted about 15 minutes because it was so cold!! We went back to our site and got ready for some supper!! After supper my friends camping beside us had a lot of family visit her for the campfire (she is from down that way so knows many from St. Peter’s) We soon headed to bed for a pretty sleepless night as the traffic was pretty heavy thru the night!!

When we woke up Saturday we had some breakfast and did the walk around the campground!! It wasn’t a long walk as it is a very small campground but it does lead right out to the confederation trail which was really pretty!! On this walk I also noticed that this campground was mostly seasonal!! After our walk the boys wanted to play in the playground so we watched them play and joined in on the fun too a bit!

At lunch we decided to try out the canteen, I got myself some delicious onion rings while my 3 year had some fries and chicken fingers! However, my poor 10 year old who is a super picky eater had to wait to get back to the site for some lunch as they didn’t offer anything he liked there!! (The burgers would have taken 15 minutes and they didn’t seem like they wanted to make them & they only cook the pizza when it’s busy 🤷🏻‍♀️)

After lunch, the kids wanted to head to the pool expect for my 3 year old so my friend took my 10 year old to the pool while my 3 year old & I headed to the climber and the sandbox!!

After the pool we relaxed in the sun for a bit! My 10 year old read a lot over the span of the weekend until he finally found a friend from his hockey team to play with!!

My friends family had all come back later that evening and they made supper at her camper (who is a seasonal camper there!) The kids and I quickly grabbed a bite but then headed back to our site to relax a little!

I ended up going to bed early that night but I think it ended up raining anyway so I don’t think I missed too much!

They do give you a wifi password here too but mine cut in and out all weekend and hardly worked!

The next morning I was up around 7ish and got packed up right away and was on the road home before 10am!!

I heard a “PEI rumour” that this campground was a party campground but the only thing I heard was traffic besides the normal noises that a campground brings! The mosquitoes were also nonexistent here was really nice!

My favourite part of this campground was the price and the nonexistent mosquitoes!

My 10 year old said his favourite part of this part of this campground was the pool but he also said “It’s more a one night campground not two” 😂

My 3 year old said his favourite part was the park & the climber!!

I think this campground is great for the people who are from St. Peters and area as I could see you would run into many people that you know from your community.

This campground would also be great for people who are traveling the eastern end of the island and looking for a cheap place to stay! We actually met two different couple who were biking the trail that stopped for a night! (Which was probably a cool experience in itself).

This campground is convenient, cheap and very clean kept! However this isn’t a campground for our family as they didn’t have anything extra for the kids and I found my 10 year old bored a lot (and this would be the first time I ever found him bored at a campground!!)

[ryecolombia]

Intro Camp

August 24th Day 1: I reached my final destination of Cali Colombia at 9:00 pm, a weary traveler anxious for the first confrontation with her new family. I was greeted with a sign, flowers, and the smiling faces of my new dad Antonio and sister Mariana. The drive from Cali to Tuluá seemed to fly by, in part because Antonio drove faster than any American I've known. About an hour later, we arrived at my new home to a greeting from my new mother Gloria and the two family dogs, Carnela and Luke. Gloria, dressed much like her daughter, didn't look a day over thirty. I was too sleepy to completely soak up the brief tour of my new home. From my hazy memory, I recall a gated driveway opening into an open room where Gloria met me with open arms. A deeper retreat into the building led us through a dining room protected by a roof but open to the uncovered driveway. Cool tile met each step as I gazed over the barren white walls. No paintings or photos but still beautiful none the less. I slept in Simon's (my brother) room that night but I will move into Mariana's room when she departs for France on exchange. Private bathroom, walk in closet, I couldn't ask for anything more. After the tour I groggily packed for the next day: my first Rotary conference with all of the inbounds, and then fell into a deep sleep. August 25th Day 2: Soft clatters and the bustle of morning chores gently rocked me from my slumber around 7:30 the next morning; The walls of my new house are very thin. I ventured out of Simon's room around 8:30. The furry face of my pupper greeted me as soon as I stepped out of the door. Mariana was soon to follow. "Would you like breakfast?" "Sí." This is how most of my interactions with Mariana go. She asks questions in English and I respond in improper Spanish. I've spent very little time with Mariana but I can tell already she is full of kindness. I'll be sad to see her go on Monday as she wings her way to France. "Eggs? Cereal?" I chose cereal. The first real difference I noticed between Colombia and Oregon was the milk. The same taste but drastically different packaging. I mean have you ever had milk that came from a bag? Me neither. After breakfast Gloria and I departed for the Tuluá pick up where I boarded a bus to Pereira. The students on the bus were kind and welcoming. I sat with a girl from Belgium and a boy from Missouri for the entirety of the ride, sharing stories about our experiences in Colombia. I find the bonds you can foster with strangers through shared experiences absolutely incredible. Before the bus ride, I didn't know a single one of the exchange students. After, we collectively unearthed each other's history and life through the power of small talk. The bus, taking us through areas of agriculture and lush emerald mountains, arrived in Pereira around ten. I was tired, anxious, but more than ready to begin the conference. The day commenced with a prison's rendition of a Colombian lunch (which is completely understandable seeing as they had to feed 70+ kids for three days). The group from Bogotá and surrounding area arrived a little later. We were given a bit of time after lunch to meet the new students and unpack. Then off to orientation where we were given an overview of the weekend and took photos with our fellow country members. I was surprised to discover that the country with the largest exchange student population was Germany. France, Belgium, Brazil, and the US had high numbers as well. A Spanish spelling bee followed. Fortunately, we didn't have enough time for everyone to spell so I did not have to participate. Before I knew it, the clock struck seven and it was off to another downgraded Colombian meal. I shouldn't complain about the food just yet because I haven't experienced true Colombian food, only fast cafeteria food served on styrofoam dishes with flimsy plastic cutlery. After dinner we returned to the first meeting room and were given a sheet of paper with a song printed on either side: una lady como tú and deja vu. Each with missing words in each verse. This simple sheet of paper filled me with memories of my Spanish classes in Corvallis, where we participated in the same activity. Music truly is the universal language. We filled in word by word until no space was left blank. As the teens we are, the repetition of the songs became aggravatingly boring and we were soon restless. Studying the music turned into dancing to the music. The teachers and Rotarians gave us a brief overview of the different types of dances popular in Colombia: salsa, bachata, etc. Watching them dance was incredible. Hips swaying and smiles radiating throughout the room, as if they were born dancing. I love this aspect of Colombian culture. Here, dance is am essential part of life. It brings people together effortlessly, fostering only the tightest of bonds. I ended my night with a shower. Icy water trickling down my spine in a slightly unpleasant fashion. Since I packed for the conference the night I arrived, I had no idea what to expect weather wise. Turns out, the nights are slightly too chilly to wear just shorts and a t-shirt. Despite the my inadequate choice of clothing, I was out cold as soon as my head hit the pillow. August 26th Day 3: We left our lodgings at 7:15 for our 7:00 breakfast. Punctuality is not a stressed topic here in Colombia. Milky coffee, fruit salad, eggs, a slice of white bread, and arepa with cheese stared up at me from styrofoam plates. Colombians are very proud of their arepa with beef, cheese, chorizo, anything you could think of. To me, the thick tortilla tastes like very little, but I haven't tried a non-cafeteria arepa yet. After breakfast we made our way back to the meeting building to listen to the rules of Rotary. Two hours later, we were well versed on the 4 D's (which were changed to 6 after they introduced no smoking and disrespect). To keep our impatient minds occupied, we were herded into a peculiar little zoo. Horses winnied from either side as we began the tour. Those were followed by cows, sheep, goats, pigs, an assortment of colorful birds, and many fish. Our eyes were then graced by the beauty of an array of Colombian plants in their prime, almost as if they were on steroids. As I write this, I already notice the affects of being immersed in the Spanish language. As I formulate sentences, the words that first pop into my head are in Spanish. Not egg, huevo, my mind isn't occupied, está ocupado. We were corralled back into the meeting room after the tour to make a skit about being on exchange with a team of eight people. My team ended up with ten students because two arrived late. The team was composed of Adrien and another boy from France, Isabella and another Emily from Brazil, Maude and Sebastian from Belgium, Laura from the Czech Republic, Roman from Germany, Clark from Colorado, and me. Our team name was Los Peces and our motto was nos movemos como pesces en el agua (we move like fish in the water). Which is apparently a common Spanish phrase. English was the most predominantly spoken language of the group, and the whole conference as it happens, but the two Brazilian girls did not speak it. This pushed us to communicate more in Spanish. I ended up writing the skit because no one else took initiative. Two exchange students arrive at the airport in Colombia. One breezes through customs while the other must convince the agent that they are the same person as in their passport photo. Finally they both make it through and greet their families. It was nothing great but I had ten minutes to prepare it. We ate lunch at a different part of the park, a four course meal of salad, a sort of squash soup, steak with rice and fries, and a peculiar coffee and maybe banana layered pudding. The coffee layer was delectable but the other was slightly sour. After lunch we divided back into our teams for Gymkhana, a team scavenger hunt where we had to complete certain activities at each place found. Los Pesces reassembled, tied at the wrist by neon green fabric. And we were off, team flag and park map in hand. Before beginning the hunt we had to find a raw egg around a nearby pond. A man fishing kindly pointed one nestled gently in the crook of a tree out to us. The French boy found another egg as we were making our way to the first destination: a bridge. After explaining that "solo necesitamos un huevo," he threw it back into the bushes. The first challenge was Spanish telephone. After completeling this, we raced through the park to one of the many pools where three members of our team were instructed to spell certain words in Spanish. Next it was back down the hill through a bamboo forest to the tennis courts located at the bottom of a steep grassy incline. We were instructed to crawl up the incline and around a tree, still attached to each other with the flag, map, and egg in hand. I came away from this challenge dirty and covered in new mosquito and ant bites. Our map had one place circled that led us on a wild goose chase to another pool, which didn't actually have a challenge. But it did have a view overlooking the bamboo grove to the green mountains in the distance. I honestly do not know if we finished the scavenger hunt or not but we decided to make our way back to the home base at our lodging. The sky darkened as we walked. Fat rain drops began to fall and the sound of thunder rumbled in the distance. We arrive wet, dirty, and in last place. But I wouldn't have traded the experience for anything else. The rain turned into a heavy downpour as we were greeted by the rest of the students who were coming back from the pool because it was raining too hard to swim. The shadow lifted from those who wanted to swim as we all splashed around in the courtyard, sliding on the wet tiles and taking showers in the water flowing from the roof in rivulets. Our fun finally came to an end when we were called to dinner. Back to the cafeteria we traipsed through the pouring rain. Unfortunately I had no coat or pants so I thankfully borrowed Roman's jacket for the walk. My shoes were tiny lakes by the time we arrived. After dinner we gathered in a small theater to perform the songs we had learned in the groups of eight. Our performance of una lady como tú and deja vu were were mediocre but Roman turned the performance around by rapping his original work in German. By then I was exhausted after the long day full of fun activities and ready for a deep sleep. Instead of telling us to retire for night, one of the teachers asked "¿quieren ir a dormir o bailar?" When in Colombia, you always choose to dance. The beat of the music and the energy in the room revitalized me. We danced the night away to the rhythms of Shakira and Luis Fonsi. August 27th Day 4: The final day of introcamp began with a breakfast of egg and arepa. This was followed with a final spelling bee and an awards ceremony for the group who outperformed the rest in each activity. My group came in dead last. But I wouldn't have changed my group for the any other. Los Peces allowed me to connect with unique individuals from all around the world in a non native language for all of us. It was truly special. The students from Bogotá and surrounding areas left at eleven for the long drive ahead of them. Us Cali kids said our farewells and then made our way down to the pool. Two German girls and I spent our remaining free time relaxing in the shade, watching them frolicking in the pool. We departed at one, making one stop for lunch. Within two hours, I was back in Tuluá, with my new family welcoming me for a second time with open arms.

[rouge-heichou]

{I CANT SLEEP SO}

Got a headache, but can’t sleep somehow, so I’ll just do this facts thing again, that no one cares for 

1. What is you middle//full name?

Rouge. ;)

2. How old are you?

20

3. What is your birthday?

A day in November.

4. What is your zodiac sign?

Scorpio

5. What is your favorite color?

Red

6. What’s your lucky number?

7

7. Do you have any pets?

Not yet. Probably gonna get a cat in about two or three weeks. ^^ 

8. Where are you from?

Germany.

9. How tall are you?

5′5

10. What shoe size are you?

Dunno American sizes, soo; 40

11. How many pairs of shoes do you own?

two or three. but I always just wear one pair for a long time. 

12. What was your last dream about?

I don’t know

13. What talents do you have?

I guess I can draw?

14. Are you psychic in any way?

No

15. Favorite song?

I hate everything about you by Three Days Grace 

16. Favorite movie?

Edward Scissorhands

17. Who would be your ideal partner?

Levi

18. Do you want children?

No.

19. Do you want a church wedding?

No.

20. Are you religious?

No.

21. Have you ever been to the hospital?

Yeah, got an eye surgery.

22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law?

When I was in elementary school, I tried to steal a stuffed animal in a toy store. Nice policemen brought me home. 

23. Have you ever met any celebrities?

I did meet a couple big german Youtuber’s if that counts. 

24. Baths or showers?

Showers

25. What color socks are you wearing?

INVISIBLE!!!

26. Have you ever been famous?

I guess I was / am quite known in the AoTTG community, but I don’t think I was famous or anything.

27. Would you like to be a big celebrity?

No. 

28. What type of music do you like?

Rock. 

29. Have you ever been skinny dipping?

The fuck is skinny dipping???

30. How many pillows do you sleep with?

Four. Two big and a small one. And one to hug.

31. What position do you usually sleep in?

On my right side, hugging my pillow.

32. How big is your house?

50m²

33. What do you typically have for breakfast?

Uh, I don’t eat for breakfast.

34. Have you ever fired a gun?

No.

35. Have you ever tried archery?

Yes, and it’s fun

36. Favorite clean word?

Levi

37. Favorite swear word?

“fuck”

38. What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep?

~72 hours after a break up lol

39. Do you have any scars?

Yeah, scratched mosquito bites and self-harm. 

40. Have you ever had a secret admirer?

How would I know if it’s a “secret”???

41. Are you a good liar?

Not sure if that’s something I should be proud of, but yes. 

42. Are you a good judge of character?

No.

43. Can you do any other accents other than your own?

Yeah. 

44. Do you have a strong accent?

Uh, I’m having quite the british accent and can quite easily fool people to think I’m from the UK. So I don’t think so, when it comes to my “native” german accent.

45. What is your favorite accent?

British and Australian

46. What is your personality type?

INTP-T

47. What is your most expensive piece of clothing?

Uh, I believe a jacket my nan bought me, for like 80€ or so

48. Can you curl your tongue?

Yes!

49. Are you an innie or an outie?

Innie

50. Left or right handed?

Right

51. Are you scared of spiders?

Not really. As long as they are not crawling on me  

52. Favorite food?

Pasta

53. Favorite foreign food?

Sushi

54. Are you a clean or messy person?

Messy

55. Most used phrased?

fuck my life

56. Most used word?

“fuck” & “like”

57. How long does it take for you to get ready?

Not so long, an hour, including having a smoke and a shower. 

58. Do you have much of an ego?

Kinda. lol

59. Do you suck or bite lollipops?

I don’t like sweet things

60. Do you talk to yourself?

Yes

61. Do you sing to yourself?

Yeah

62. Are you a good singer?

I think I’m okay, not bad but not good either.

63. Biggest Fear?

Being alone. 

64. Are you a gossip?

FUCK YES

65. Best dramatic movie you’ve seen?

If Seven’s route were a movie, it would be that. 

66. Do you like long or short hair?

long hair

67. Can you name all 50 states of America?

Ehehehe, no

68. Favorite school subject?

Art

69. Extrovert or Introvert?

Introvert

70. Have you ever been scuba diving?

What’s that???

71. What makes you nervous?

New and unfamiliar situations & talking to strangers irl

72. Are you scared of the dark?

No

73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes?

As in being a grammar nazi? Yeah, I do. ; But I generally do tell people when I think they’re doing something wrong. 

74. Are you ticklish?

No

75. Have you ever started a rumor?

Uh, I don’t think so, at least not on purpose

76. Have you ever been in a position of authority?

Yes

77. Have you ever drank underage?

Yes

78. Have you ever done drugs?

Yes

79. Who was your first real crush?

A dude called Simon. 

80. How many piercings do you have?

Including my stretched earlobe, Three. Labret, Septum, Tunnel.

81. Can you roll your Rs?“

Yes

82. How fast can you type?

~70 words per minute.

83. How fast can you run?

So fast, you can’t even see me!

84. What color is your hair?

Red. 

85. What color is your eyes?

Green

86. What are you allergic to?

Milk...

87. Do you keep a journal?

No

88. What do your parents do?

Mum’s a nurse. Dad’s “disabled”

89. Do you like your age?

No.

90. What makes you angry?

stupidity. 

91. Do you like your own name?

Eh, it’s an okay name. 

92. Have you already thought of baby names, and if so what are they?

I don’t want children. But if I ever change my mind; 

Liana or Lucia for a girl. Lucien or Luciel for a boy. 

AND FUCK OFF THIS IS NOT MM RELATED YEAH? I like those “Luci” names a lot. They sound really nice.

93. Do you want a boy a girl for a child?

Wouldn’t matter. 

94. What are you strengths?

Honesty, I’m actually quite the bold person. ^^’ And I know my friends value me for always giving them a proper honest opinion on something. I’m good at improvising too.  I’m also decent at “leading” something?? Like, my friends keep telling me I’m doing something that keeps my discord server at peace and alive, while other servers die within two weeks or have massive drama issues.

95. What are your weaknesses?

I’m extremely messy.  I get distracted really easily.  I can’t plan things in advance. 

96. How did you get your name?

Well... my parents gave it to me?  If it’s about my online Name, one of my ex boyfriends was called “Shadow” after the edgy hedgehog. And I ship Rouge and Shadow. But I kept the name after we broke up because Rouge means red in french, and red is my favourite colour. + All my friends knew me as “Rouge” already.

97. Were your ancestors royalty?

No.

98. Color of your room?

Black, Grey, White. 

99. Color of your bedspread?

Black.

100. Make up your own question

N O 

[keziacole]

tagged by @bumbleblossoms​ - thank you! 

Tagged Rules: Answer these 92 statements and tag 20 people.

THE LAST:

1. Drink: Coffeeeeeee

2. Phone call: My partner, just as they left the dentist. :( 3. Text message: Motherbot 2.0 4. Song you listened to: Been Caught Stealing – Jane’s Addiction 5. Time you cried: Uh… some point in the last couple months, I guess? Not sure when, but it was at something related to dogs. Honestly, I did most of my crying last year, during The Year From Hell, and I’m still a bit dried out.

6-92 under the cut. :)

HAVE YOU:

6. Dated someone twice: As in getting back together again? Nooooo. 7. Kissed someone and regretted it: …yup. Often. Sometimes not until a long while later, though!   8. Been cheated on: Not to my knowledge. 9. Lost someone special: Yep. 10. Been depressed:  Eh, I’ve never been diagnosed with depression, so no, I don’t think so. Situationally really fucked off with things? Yes. 11. Gotten drunk and thrown up: Once. Story time, everyone! 

So, I generally have a really good alcohol tolerance and a cast iron stomach (not necessarily for good reasons, but hey), but I did once go to a party that ended very badly. I was about 17, had recently been diagnosed with CFS, and was on a heavy painkiller regimen. I drank when I shouldn’t really have done so, because bullshit and All the Emotional Drama, BUT… I did not know that my friend’s asshole brother had spiked my drink. (He was a peach. Gave his 14 year old brother acid once just to point and laugh at the result. Fuckin’ hated that guy.)

At some point in the evening – somewhere after the sham marriages, interpretative dance, and someone putting someone else through a table, because teen parties – I realised I was wayyy more wasted than I should have been, despite the painkillers, and I ended up spending all night hallucinating and throwing up, plus feeling horrific for about three days afterwards. 

Moral of the story: if you spike people’s drinks, you are a gigantic bag of toe lint and should suffer mosquito bites on your asshole for a thousand years. The end.

LIST 3 FAVORITE COLORS: 12. Purple 13. Red 14. Blue

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU:

15. Made new friends: Not yet. Befriend me, tumblr, you’re my only hope.  16. Fallen out of love: No, though I have watched my relationship with at least one family member crumble into dust. Does that count?  17. Laughed until you cried: At least four times a week. Which is one big reason why I’m marrying that motherfucker.  18. Found out someone was talking about you: Yes. See 16. 19. Met someone who changed you: Not yet.  20. Found out who your friends are: Yes, sadly. It sucks when you realise how effectively someone has manipulated the people around you.  21. Kissed someone on your Facebook list: Nah, I don’t really do the FB thing. I should, I guess?

GENERAL:

22. How many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: See above. I kind of have a profile, but I only use it to message people I’m related to who are freaking obsessed with Facebook and won’t communicate any other way. Ugh. So… most of them? I guess?   23. Do you have any pets: One dog – Hector, a grumpy and elderly terrier - down from two resident mutts and a boatload of fosters. Older dog died last year, and I’m not in a position to foster right now, which sucks, because I miss having a house full of beasties, not to mention making a difference. 24. Do you want to change your name: Already have done/am doing! I have no real interest in keeping up with more than 80% of the people I’m related to, and I never liked my birth name, plus this is easier to spell and dictate to people, and isn’t known by the abusive assholes in my life. So, yay! 25. What did you do for your last birthday: Ordered pizza and watched favourite movies with my partner. We did The Blues Brothers and shit-talked the progression of police militarisation in the US over the past 30 years, and it was incredibly fun, despite the fact we’re 3000 miles apart right now. Also, they remembered my birthday, which is more than can be said for over two-thirds of the people I’m related to.  26. What time did you wake up: 9am, but in my defence I was up until 3 last night. 

27. What were you doing at midnight last night: Talking shit with my partner, knitting an afghan, and watching foster kitten cams and reviews of awful movies together, because these are good ways to help someone who has a dental appointment in the morning try to stay calm. 28. Name something you can’t wait for: Getting my current backlog of work finished. Sooo clooose…. Promised myself a movie and gaming binge when I’m done. 29. When was the last time you saw your mom: Last week. 30. What is one thing you wish you could change in your life: Either having enough money to fix all my problems (yes, in this case, money most certainly can do that), or just being on the same continent as my partner, so we didn’t have this immigration thing to worry about. Not having a debilitating illness that fucks everything up would be pretty awesome, too.  31. What are you listening right now: Freddie King 32. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: Yep, many Toms. All the Toms. Well, like, five plus. 33. Something that is getting on your nerves: Not knowing whether or not the electrician is going to show up tomorrow, which will mean I need to move the paintings and quilt top I currently have all over the sitting room floor. I’m not done piecing that thing yet. Grr. 34. Most visited website: Lots. Mostly Google, Politico, Reuters etc., but I’m living on eBay right now because I’m trying to sell off a bunch of DVDs, books, and vintage glassware. …Does anyone want to buy some vintage/antique glassware? 35. Mole/s: Yep. I had one removed from my back once. Turned out to be benign (phew!) but I got an interesting scar out of it. 36. Mark/s: I still have a faint surgery scar on my elbow, but it doesn’t look as Frankenstein-y now. Most of my scars have faded, but I still have some weird idiosyncrasies from things that have been broken or busted up. 37. Childhood dream: Writing was always my main thing, but also acting/directing. Illness took that away. Other than that, I always wanted to live somewhere rural with lots of animals, and be happy.  39. Long or short hair: Long. Lots. It’s huge. Send help. I like both on other people.  40. Do you have a crush on someone: Not right now. Give me ten minutes and a new Fet profile to stalk and I’ll get back to you... 41. What do you like about yourself: I’m a creative dynamo and I don’t stop until I fall down. I’m also proud of the fact that I’m a pretty compassionate and patient person, and I like the fact I’m slow to really anger. Someone told me recently I’m a very stabilising influence, and that was nice to hear. I feel like life can use more of that.  42. Piercings: Ears (two left, three right), nose (left). More on the way, maybe, when I can justify it.  43. Blood type: ???? I should check. I know the NHS won’t let me donate blood because of my medical condition, which blows.  44. Nickname: Zia. Some people call me Kez. One person is allowed to call me Admiral Fuckface McAsshole III.  45. Relationship status: Open relationship with my primary partner, technically speaking. Poly is good, but my planner is too cluttered for anarchy.  46. Zodiac: Aries w/ Aquarius moon, Virgo ascendant. I also have Mars and Venus in Taurus, so mooooo. And yes, I did used to do natal charts for beer money. I read palms, too. I’d still do it if asked nicely.  47. Pronouns: They/She. I don’t mind feminine pronouns, because I’m incredibly cis-passing and most people will assume “she”, plus I can live with being labelled female if it’s a binary choice, but I see myself more as a person than a gender, so I love that neutral pronouns are being used so much more now.

FWIW, I considered whether or not I was trans for a hot minute when I was a younger teen, because I used to love passing as a boy when I was a kid (until puberty at nine. Boo.), but for me it was the difference in how I was treated when I passed as male that mattered. It was the difference between “Oh, isn’t he confident and intelligent?” and “Hello, sweetie, don’t you look pretty today?” that affected me, not a real sense of dysphoria, so I decided the problem wasn’t really in how I presented, but in society itself. I have yet to really find a satisfying way of rectifying that, but I think we’re all making progress as a society. It’s very slow progress, sadly.   

48. Favorite TV Show: I don’t watch that many series, but Star Trek (especially TOS and DS9), X-Files (S1/S2), Game of Thrones, old mystery adaptations (all the Agatha Christie ever), Stranger Things, Better Call Saul, Breaking Bad… can’t think of anything else right now, but there are some. 49. Tattoos: One black and grey dotwork spiral goddess on my arm, next one coming soon (watch this space, now I’ve found an artist!) 50. Right or left hand: Ambidextrous. Yes, I can write with both hands. Sometimes, I switch in the middle of the sentence. No, it doesn’t look the same. I can also operate light switches with my toes from a standing position.  51. Surgery: I fucked up my ulnar nerve a couple of years ago by blacking out and falling on some stairs. It was melodramatic, and I lost the use of my left hand. Had surgery to correct it. I was awake but a bit sedated, and spent most of the time talking to the cute anaesthetist about chastity cages. Because... sedated? Yes. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Sadly, he did not call, though I’m pretty sure he did a lot of googling when he got home that night.  52. Hair dyed in different color: Always, since I discovered Olaplex, which means I can actually bleach my hair without it completely frying. Most recently, I’ve had a mermaid fantasy in turquoise, green, and purple, but it’s faded a lot. Not sure what I’ll do next. Maybe orange, or neon yellow again. 53. Sport: I can’t do much without turning blue and blacking out, but I’ve always enjoyed tennis, badminton, swimming, and equestrian stuff. Is hiking a sport? Hiking’s fun.  54. Do you use sarcasm a lot: Um... 

55. Vacation: Last one was to see my partner; next one will be too. So, the woods of NEPA. Hiking out with some granola and my favourite human, and spending a few days playing with shelter pitbulls. <3 Otherwise, I’ve never really been on holiday. I went on a school trip to Germany once where I nearly got arrested and, when I was seven, I went to Malta and there was a hurricane. I remember wedging wet towels into the window frames and hoping we didn’t die, because we were on the twelfth floor and there was nowhere else to go. 

I did go to Norfolk with my mother for four days after her breast cancer diagnosis. Macmillan, a cancer charity that is very worthy of support, granted her a short break. There was a lot of playing dominos and trying to convince her she wasn’t actively dying at that precise moment.

56. Pair of trainers: Converse. All the ratty old Converse low tops in the world. 

MORE GENERAL:

57. Eating: I have the house to myself right now. It’s awesome. I’m celebrating with homemade shiitake tofu stir fry, wontons, vegetable udon… and doughnuts. Not in the same bowl, though. 58. Drinking: Rum. 

59. I’m about to: Finish a short story, close out an editing project, format a print galley (again. Goddamnit, Adobe.), and try to finalise the running order of a poetry collection. Maybe send some emails, maybe eat the rest of those wontons.   61. Waiting for: The dizziness to go away, usually. 62. Want: The time, space, peace and quiet to focus on my work, and my health to cooperate long enough for that to happen. 63. Get married: As soon as possible, which basically means when we can afford it, because immigration, legal wrangling, and a ton of other bullshit. It’s a headache, but if there weren’t so many technical hurdles it would already be done.  64. Career: I write and make stuff. I’m doing it under a new name now, which is daunting, because it means starting over again, but I’ve spent the past few years doing a lot of genre fiction and being told my original work is “too original”… but I’m ready to say “fuck you” to that and see what I can carve out for myself. Come on, internet: don’t prove me wrong, ‘k? 65. Hugs or kisses: Ooh, tough. Yes? I guess hugs if I have to pick.   66. Lips or eyes: Eyes. 67. Shorter or taller: I honestly don’t care, though I do very much enjoy short subs. Pocket rockets are adorable. 68. Older or younger: It really doesn’t matter. 70. Nice arms or nice stomach: Arms, I guess? Doesn’t really matter. It’s all pretty to look at, but who really cares? Arms are best for hugs. 71. Sensitive or loud: Sensitive. I don’t like too loud. 72. Hook up or relationship: Define the terms, yo. I’d say relationship, but the definition of “relationship” can be open to numerous things. 73. Troublemaker or hesitant: Um… possibly a bit of both, but more hesitant, probably.

HAVE YOU EVER:

74. Kissed a stranger: No. 75. Drank hard liquor: Yup.

76. Lost glasses/contact lenses: I once dropped a contact lens down the back of a gas fire and spent three hours getting it out with Vaseline on a paperclip. My vision is awful and I wore very expensive gas permeable lenses at the time. 77. Turned someone down: Yup. 78. Sex on the first date: Nothing wrong with it (and nothing wrong with sex being the date), but it’s not for me. 79. Broken someone’s heart: So they said. 80. Had your heart broken: Yes, but not how you might assume. 81. Been arrested: Nope. 82. Cried when someone died: Yep. 83. Fallen for a friend: A couple of times, with varying degrees of success.

DO YOU BELIEVE IN:

84. Yourself: I try to, because few other people often do. (*the world’s tiniest violin plays*) 85. Miracles: Yes, sometimes in the form of coincidences, surprises, or the results of hard work. I believe in inverse miracles, too, when things go catastrophically wrong for no apparent reason. Or, as we call it at my house, Tuesday. 86. Love at first sight: Yes, in a way. Potential for love at first sight, I guess? I’ve usually found I know the moment I meet someone whether that’s a thing that’s going to happen or not. 87. Santa Claus: YES, DAMN IT. Okay, maybe not a literal dude in a red suit, but as a personification of the generous spirit of Non-Denominational-Winter-Solstice-and-Festival-of-Lights, he works. (I’m an eclectic neo-pagan/hedgewitch, but my most loved time of year is the whole October-February period, so I start celebrating Yule/Christmas around December 1st and don’t stop until Twelfth Night. I will take ALL of your symbolism, ALL your traditions, and – most importantly – ALL your festive foods and embrace them. In my belly. Thank you.)

88. Kiss on the first date: Probably. Unless it’s a baaaaad first date. 89. Angels: Again, not so much the literal sense, but it’d be nice to think there are positive presences looking out for us. I’d be very concerned about the serpent-like pillars of fire, though.  

OTHER:

90. Current best friends name: Aside from my dog, that’s my partner but they don’t like their details shared, so SHHHH IT’S A SECRET. 91. Eye color: grey-blue-thing 92. Favorite movie: You can’t just ask a person that at the end of the thing like it’s a simple question…! So. Many. Movies. Depends on the genre. The Blues Brothers, Priscilla: Queen of the Desert, Gattaca, Silence of the Lambs, Re-Animator, Die Hard, Stand By Me, Sleepaway Camp, Alien, Lady in a Cage, Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead, TRHPS, The Great Escape… those are movies I can watch a billion times (and have done). Honorable mentions, depending on my mood, go to things like Basket Case, Caramel, An American Werewolf in London, Exterminating Angel, Secretary, Gran Torino… I could have done 92 questions just on the most popularist movies I like!

tagging: I’ve been away for a few days and I don’t wanna tag people who’ve already done it, so if you’re reading this and want to do it, consider yourself tagged! <3

[lotsofdogs]

A Peek into Tuesday (Food + Fitness)

Hello, hello! How are you guys doing today? All is well over here. I wanted to pop in this morning with a little recap of our Tuesday. It wasn’t anything crazy or super special but since I managed to actually bust out my camera and snap some pictures yesterday, I figured a good ol’ day-in-the-life post would fit the bill for today. They’re still my favorite kinds of posts to read on other blogs so hopefully you guys enjoy them, too!

Heeere we go!

Morning

Sleep has been a little hit or miss around here lately thanks, in part, to what I can only assume is the beginning of the four-month sleep regression. Thankfully Ryder seems to fall back asleep fairly easily after nursing in the night, but there have been a handful of nights where I feel wide awake after a 2 or 3 a.m. nursing session. It’s no where near as bad as the insomnia I had when I was pregnant (that was brutal!) but it’s rough enough to cause me to skip my 5 a.m. alarm some mornings. That was the case yesterday and I ended up sleeping in until 6:30 a.m. when I got up and quickly got myself dressed for the gym before the boys were up for the day.

Ryder was up about 15 minutes later, so I nursed him and then brought him downstairs with me where I took a little time to make my coffee a little special.

I made myself a pumpkin spice latte and followed Brittany’s recipe because it’s the best one I’ve found for a creamy latte made with good-for-you ingredients. (There’s a reason her latte made my list of the 10 Best Blogger Recipes I Make Again and Again.)

When I heard Chase start to make noise, I figured I should quickly down my breakfast before getting him up for the day so I threw together a big green smoothie topped with pumpkin seeds, bee pollen and cacao nibs.

It always feels like the moment Chase wakes up our day kicks into high gear and yesterday was no different! We read some library books together while Chase ate a whole wheat pumpkin muffin and some strawberries for breakfast. Ryder seems to be falling into the pattern of needing a quick cat nap in the morning before preschool drop off so I did my best to get Ryder soothed and napping in his Rock ‘n’ Play and then Chase, Sadie and I spent some time in our backyard, filling the bird feeder and searching for butterflies and bees. (Ryder’s Rock ‘n’ Play was positioned so I could easily see him through the back door window.)

We had 10 minutes to go before it was time to leave for preschool when all of the sudden Ryder woke up and needed to nurse, Chase had to use the potty (a long experience some mornings…) and then Ryder had a massive poop that came out the back of his diaper. I was convinced we were crusin’ through the morning seamlessly but we ended up dashing out the door. Yeesh!

Chase was excited for school as usual and ran right up to his teacher to show her his mosquito bite (important stuff, ya know) and barely managed to remember to wave goodbye to me. I truly hope his enthusiasm for school and his intense curiosity lasts forever and ever.

After drop off, Ryder and I made our way to boot camp where he hung out in child care while I completed an athletic conditioning workout.

We spent three minutes at each station, switching back and forth between 10 reps of two different exercises. It was a sweaty one!

After my workout, I joined my friends Carrie and Jess and their little ones for a short walk at a local park. I knew Ryder would likely take a pretty solid nap during our walk since he was awake most of the time at boot camp and he snoozed away while I chatted with my friends.

Right after our walk, I quickly ate one of the new maple almond nut butter packets RXBar sent my way before driving home.

RXBar’s nut butters are some of my favorite on-the-go snack options and I love the way they offer a little boost of protein and healthy fats that help take the edge off my hunger. The new maple almond butter flavor was delish!

Back at home, I nursed Ryder again and then let him play and kick on a blanket while we did some tummy time and he chirped and cooed away.

He’s become so vocal in the past few weeks and hearing him chatter away and make the loudest high-pitched dinosaur noises makes me smile so much.

Afternoon

Before I knew it, it was once again time to head back out and pick Chase up from school, so I loaded Ryder into his car seat and we were off! Without fail, every time I pick Chase up from school he immediately runs to smother Ryder in kisses and I have to coerce him back to the car with the promise that he can play with his little brother when we get home. I have to give Ryder a ton of credit for being such a laid back baby because he tolerates Chase’s rather intense attention with smiles and looks of curiosity and adoration.

For those with two kids, have you noticed your older child picking up on the nicknames you have for your youngest? It cracks me up when Chase calls Ryder “Sweetie” or “Cutie Boy.” I wonder where he got those names from?

Before nap time we did our usual picnic + stories in Chase’s room and then I settled Chase in his bed with a few books. Most of the time he’ll fall asleep “reading” but I’m totally fine with him reading and playing with his toys in his crib as long as he gets at least an hour or so of quiet time. He truly needs it to decompress and relax after a busy morning!

While Chase slept, I tried to get Ryder down at the same time. It didn’t work so well, so my work time at the computer yesterday was rather limited but I did my best to respond to time-sensitive emails with Ryder in my Baby K’Tan.

I also quickly ate a jar of chocolate chia pudding that I made the day before and followed it up with more than a couple spoonfuls of coconut butter. (Coconut butter is my latest addiction.)

Once Ryder was over the baby carrier but still not ready to nap, we did a little house tour and I placed him in random baby gear holding spots around the house while I attempted to do random things on my household to-do list like laundry, packing prep for our trip to Florida, etc.

Before I had Chase, I still remember one of my friends telling me to register for products/baby gear that would allow me to put my baby down and now, two kids in, I totally see what she meant! I am always looking for “docking stations” for Ryder and since he’s currently at the age where he’s content in one spot for about 10 minutes before he needs a change of scenery, some days it feels like I’m taking him from the DockATot to the bouncer seat to the Boppy Lounger to the Rock ‘n’ Play and back again. At least we’re putting all of our baby gear to good use, right!? (Side note: For anyone currently creating a baby registry, this flashback post about Our Baby Registry was created with help and advice from a ton of mom friends and blog readers and I can now say with confidence it was a pretty comprehensive list and we used everything on it!)

Evening

By the time Chase was up, Ryder was ready for a good nap (go figure) but Ryder’s sleep gave me some quality one-on-one time with Chase in the late afternoon which I loved! Chase also helped me a bit with dinner prep which looked like a cilantro shrimp and avocado salad served with baked sweet potatoes.

We dug into dinner soon after Ryan arrived home from work and rounded out the night with the whole bath and bed time routine.

Well, I actually rounded out my night with vanilla ice cream and pumpkin seeds.

It’s a random combination but one of my recent favorites. I love the contrast of the cold, creamy vanilla ice cream with the crunchy pumpkin seeds, especially when the ice cream gets nice and soft. So good!

Thanks for stopping by the blog today, friends! I hope you all have a great Wednesday!

[Read More ...] https://www.pbfingers.com/a-peek-into-tuesday-food-fitness/

[tedisdillon1299-blog]

Day 3 Futile Attempts

Day Three: I woke up with ants and mosquito bites all over my ankles. After about five-ten minutes of itching I knew it was time to go kiss some ass. Yee. I walked back home (only like 2 minutes what a fucking b…) and seen her car still was not there. Oh well. I’d just wait. I was in a shit mood to say the least. Lost my ride, which I spent a lot of time tryna get. I was tired, feeling hungry, and I missed a bed. I felt like the whole ‘Come live with me son I’ll get you back on your feet’ was nothing but a waste of time. I spent months tryna save for a car while sending half of my pay to my children. I wasn’t rush saving every penny either, a mistake on my part, I should’ve this getting kicked out thing coming. After all, ‘She said she doesn’t like you rang in my head.’ Every time I bit my tongue when she went off on something stupid everytime and she displayed her narcissist attitude toward the household all felt in vain. I was in pain too, I’d never do that to my kids, they’d have to really fucking piss me off. I was making her that mad??? Anyway, after about five minutes of sitting outside of the door she pulls up, ignoring every plea I throw at her. As she enters her home she turns and looks at me with that really big eyed stern face look. “I do not have time for this! I have work in five minutes!” “But momma this shit is so petty! I can’t understand why you’d throw me out over something like this dumb shit! Please jus-” She slams the door. I stand there for a moment and now I’m full of rage. My cup was full. I punch the door real hard and start to walk off when I hear, “I’m calling the cops.” Guys I am NOT under exaggerating the extent or severity of what I did. Look at my DAY 2 post you see that I’m not doing anything to drive her crazy. She just don’t give a fucking shit about me. I was not shouting. I was not acting crazy. A punch to the door. That’s all. It ain’t no shitty door either. It’s a tough ass door my weak ass punch didn’t do shit to it other than hurt my knuckles. I’m walking off and I’m still full of rage and it needed a release. I remember thinking, “My fucking shit is still in that fucking house I could sell some of it!” I walk back, did the ‘angry ghetto lady knock until I got an answer. “Where my shit Unc?” He leaves and brings me my stuff. Door is wide open. She’s standing right there behind him, and I don’t know what overcame me but I blew past my uncle and screeched. He tried to force me out but he was no match for rage mode, not bragging JS. I probably called her every name in the book and then I stormed out dramatic door slam. Anyway until now this all happened in five minutes. So yeah. Quick incident nothing really dramatic. As I’m walking off a cop pulls up. They talked to me and talked to her and he came back to me and I shit you not he says, “Dude what did you do to make her hate you so much bro?” I told him she still grudging on the past, past as in when I was 15, I used to be a run away and the very first fucking time I ever cussed at her when I was nearly 16 she kicked me out called the cops and I got put on probation for VeRbAl HArrASsMeNt. My *cringe* dad used to beat us and did something awful to a sibling. I found out about it and told my school with a voice recording of this sibling talking about it. He was essentially a big bully, it was bad. A week later after I told my school he took his own life. Another story for my autobiography but not here, but she’s always been kinda pissed at me because of that. I’m not sure of why, but she treated like she has a grudge against me since. Shit ain’t been easy bro. I fought cancer too. Oh and one time I fought in the war against the Martians alongside Terry Crews but that’s a whole other story. Long story short cop said I was good to go just stay away from the house. Whatever I just found joy in the fact that the cop knew she was kInDa UptiGHT lol. Next thing I did was go to the gas station I love so much and tried to sell my ole PS4 for some money. No-one wanted it. Stupid lady I’ve always hated kicked me out the property. I mumbled “GO to hell Tamika” and walked off to the mall, which had a fucking GameStop I never knew about until I was told there was GameStop there. Sold it. Then I went to Wal-Mart and go some socks, (my uncle steals my socks) and fresh underwear (I think he steals those too… jk but I don’t know where they went was down to two pairs) and a phone charger which got lost or stolen later and turned my phone on. So that PS4 money was ending fast. If you check my post history you can see where I talk about planet fitness and how they have showers and how you can get in for a whole month for one dollar. Well when I decided I hate being filthy I looked up places that I could shower and found Planet Fitness, rode the bus there (3 buck all day pass) and I used the fuck outta the showers and massage chairs, my legs were sore and I have back pain a lot. I felt little knots in my back pop while using. He'll figured I’d try out the tan machine too but no-one told me for one of those good tans you really should use tanning oils. Shoulda looked it up. Kinda just hung out there all night. Next morn I did a lot thinking about God and praying and thanking him for blessing me with such a thing called Planet Fitness. And Subway. Made my way back to my part of town and chilled out till daylight. Fin. (Sorry for getting rushy I’ve currently been walking for 8 hours and I gotta get moving again soon so I don’t decide to make a place to sleep. This place sorta shady.)

[windycityparrot]

What Challenges Does Your Bird Face This Spring And Summer?

Linda F asks Hi, As spring approaches we look to protect furry as well as feathered friends. Any suggestions on Frontline and heartguard type products that are safe around parrots and toos (Cockatoos) when used on three little dogs? Are the two above mentioned harmful when used on dog that lives in same house as a bird? Thank you for all help I have received as my CAG (Congo African Grey, goffie (Goffin Cockatoo) learn to share our life together. Would not have made it as smoothly this far without your good advice and Birdy Brunch. Thank you again. Linda, Micha and Stewie   Hi Linda   Thank you for the kind words   In that dogs (mammals) and birds (aves) have different integumentary systems (fins, fur, feathers, scales) treatments should not cross over. Everyone likes to think of themselves as being prepared for disaster and certainly life’s cuts and scrapes.   I’ve personally sutured a dog in a garage (after 5 minutes of training by my vet :-)   I’ve yanked shards of glass out of more than one dogs paw and got them bandaged over the years.   Sutures are easy to come by if your vet is a fellow musher but for the most part many dogs, and I presume cat medical emergencies, can be treated with a human first aid kit.   Removing a little fur on a dog while rapidly getting a wound bandaged, is something a dog will get over pretty quickly.

Mammals are very different than birds.   Unless your birds are exposed to mosquito bites which is unlikely because they are indoors, the chance of incurring heartworm disease is slim to none.   Parasitic roundworms named Dirofilaria immitis affect mostly dogs but may manifest itself in ferrets, cats and other prey animals.   Once the roundworms mature they can be found in the heart, ergo the name heartworm but they can also be found in the lungs and blood vessels between the lungs in the heart.   It can take up to six months for the actual parasite to develop in a dog's heart.   Thus heartguard is certainly not a necessary prophylactic treatment for birds.   There is a topical flea treatment you can get from the vet.   SevenDust sprinkled on the ground helps kill the fleas in the sand.   I've used Adams flea and tick spray with success directly on birds who have fleas, but make sure to avoid their eyes and mouth.   Adams will work for feather mites and lice as well.   You may also try Pest Control Dyna-mite All Natural Mite-lice Repellent 8 Oz (.24 L)   best   mitchr   Migrating from spring to summer   We talk about parrots being equatorial animals and how life in North America, for example screws up their instinctual expectations for things like light cycles and temperature. So you would think with summer here all those problems would go away. Some do, but now we face new challenges. Escape routes Summer is the time of open doors and windows, screens instead of glass and much more in and out traffic typically. Flighted birds pose the risk of escape by flight, and summer increases that risk no doubt. But when your wing clipped 240g feather ball chews through the screen where you left the window open in the guest room on the second floor, your wing clipped bird could easily ride the warm summer thermals (those air things that keep un-motorized gliders afloat) and end up in the next state before you knew she was gone. If you open doors and windows, it’s best to keep your bird in a cage, flighted or not.   Ceiling fans A fan can be a human’s best friend. I’ve seen videos of birds who like to play in the airflow. That said, I’ve also seen birds who were placed under or in front of a fan with every good intention by its keeper. While keeping the air around the bird cool the birds feathers were always getting lifted. A “ruffled” feather needs to be put back in its place, and this is done by preening.   https://youtu.be/sIR-q9GsXcg   With the unceasing airflow from the fan comes when unceasing amount of preening, which has in the past triggered plucking. I advise you to keep your birds out of the path of direct airflow.   Ceiling fans fall under the category of super hazard for flighted birds. Veterinarians call the result “shredded tweet” For more ways on how we kill and injure our pet birds, read this. Shade We discussed the need for full-spectrum lighting on a regular basis. What could be better than the real deal, the sun. You know that thing that can fade paint, burn skin, crinkle car interiors? Yep, that sun.   Sunlight is good, direct sunlight is not - make sure your bird always has access to shade. If your cage is near a window check it throughout the day to make sure there is always a shady spot somewhere in the cage where your bird can seek refuge. Mosquitoes West Nile virus is usually transmitted through mosquito bites and can cause an avian condition resulting in death. Keep your bird protected from mosquitoes If you take him or her outside in a cage outside on an unprotected deck potential exposure you bird to mosquito bites greatly increases. An outdoor aviary may require an additional layer of screening. Burning the burgers Grilled food always taste better, who doesn’t like a good barbecue? Whether the barbecue is at home or your bird travels with you remember the smoke from campfires and barbecues may be toxic to your bird. Check to see that direct inhalation is not occurring through an open window, too.   The Varments For us the circle of life usually starts the supermarket and ends on our kitchen table. For a feral cat, a raccoon a nearby Hawk, the circle of life can be seconds away from your bird’s cage. Please don’t leave your bird alone outside for a moment. The ability to maintain a high and constant body temperature enables birds to exploit a remarkable range of habitats -- tropical, temperate, and polar. This achievement is not without cost, however. The "expense" of metabolic heat production must be repaid by taking in sufficient energy to balance what has been expended, and mechanisms must be available to shed excess heat when necessary. If the environmental temperature falls, birds raise their metabolic rate to prevent their internal temperature from falling as well. In contrast, if the environmental temperature becomes too hot, birds must mobilize water to lose heat through evaporative cooling (as we do when we perspire) and avoid death from overheating. Since birds have no sweat glands, heat must be lost through the respiratory tract by panting, or in non-passerines (birds with zygodactyl feet) by the rapid vibration of the upper throat and thin floor of the mouth ("gular flutter"). To minimize the energy cost of temperature regulation ("thermoregulation"), birds use a variety of morphological and behavioral traits to adjust their rateof heat loss and heat gain. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-yjBoxDYfv4   Unfeathered (uninsulated) body surfaces serve as important sites for heat exchange with the environment. When heat-stressed, therefore, some birds, such as Black Vultures, excrete onto their unfeathered legs to increase heat loss by evaporation. Emergency liquid foods for caged birds are: sugar water lemonade (noncarbonated) milk and egg yolk pediatric pedialyte To administer: Use a plastic eyedropper or syringe (no glass or needles!). Hold your bird's head back 45 degrees. Do not put pressure on the chest, because doing so may inhibit her breathing. Instead, cradle her body and lightly tilt her head back. Administer one drop at a time to avoid choking your bird. Stroke your bird's throat to help her swallow. Repeat the process, giving up to 7 drops for small birds (canaries), 10 to 15 drops for medium birds (parakeets & small conures) and up to 5 teaspoons for large birds (cockatoos). written by mitch rezman approved by catherine tobsing your zygodactyl footnote   via GIPHY Read the full article

[pets-of-our-lives]

It’s been a busy month, but busy is good; busy means so many more animals are sleeping in homes. Just in September we did 230 adoptions (95 dogs, 75 cats, 46 kittens, and 14 puppies). I think it has been especially busy because we have been helping a lot of animals from areas that were affected by Hurricane Harvey. As of right now we have received two transports of animals which have come from Texas and Louisiana. By transporting animals to California, shelters in the affected areas open up more kennel space for animals who were displaced by the storm and might still be reunited with their families. On September 22nd we received 30 dogs and 20 cats from Louisiana including puppies and kittens. When these animals arrived it was a privilege to join the intake team at the San Luis Obispo Airport to help unload them from the plane. When we arrived at the airport we drove our vehicles onto the tarmac and waited for the plane to land.

My coworkers and I on the tarmac

There was also another shelter waiting with us to receive their own group of dogs and cats. We didn’t have to wait long and once the plane arrived we pulled up next to the side door.

Things really began to speed up once the first animals started coming off the plane. Each crate was labeled to help identify the animal and its destination. Each crate with a pink label were designated for our shelter; the blue tags were for the other shelter. As the crates were handed down from the plane, I then helped my team load them into our vehicles; all the dogs were loaded into one and all the cats in the other.

Some of the dogs/puppies loaded in our van

I’m not sure how long the whole unloading process took, but it probably lasted an hour. We then headed back to the shelter to get the animals settled into their kennels for the night. After that long trip, many were eager to stretch their legs and eat dinner. Even though they had all had a very long trip they were in pretty good spirits. Not a one seemed excessively shy or scared. Even the cats were adjusting quickly; most appreciated affection and sought out immediate attention. One of my coworkers said that the animals seemed to know they were finally safe.

Once at our shelter it didn’t take very long for these animals to find new homes. For example, after being spayed/neutered, four black lab mix puppies were adopted within 15 minutes of being available. Additionally, many dogs from Louisiana only spent a day or two on the adoption floor before getting adopted. Here are a few of their faces…

All of the Louisiana dogs and cats were very adoptable and people in our area were very receptive and eager to open their homes to them. Who could resist these faces?

Two of five Siamese mix kittens from Louisiana

The only dogs that we still have from Louisiana are actually dogs that will have to technically remain in our care for some time. When transferring dogs from Texas and Louisiana there was always the possibility that we would receive several heartworm positive dogs. Heartworm is contracted from a mosquito bite, and therefore, places that have more mosquitoes have more cases of heartworm. In our transport we ended up receiving seven heartworm positive dogs. These dogs were examined, and then put on a treatment plan. Unfortunately, treatment for heartworm is a very long process—about three months. It became important to try and find these seven dogs foster homes so that they would not have to remain in the shelter the whole duration of their treatment. Fortunately, we have a foster program coordinator who has already found temporary homes for three of these dogs. There is also the chance that the families who are fostering might want to adopt their charge once the treatment is complete. By placing them with families now they get to relax and recover in less stressful environments.

Mudbug is one of the dogs who has already been placed into foster, and she is one of my favorite animals that arrived on the Louisiana transport. When Mudbug arrived she still had evidence of a recent burn on her back. It had healed but she still had massive hair loss, and a scab covering a once raw wound. We don’t know what happened to her but she is healing, and she will just need more time until she is fully healed. Even with her wounded back she has still been outgoing and very sweet. With just a bit of affection she begins to trust you and will seek out attention at any possible opportunity. After spending a short amount of time with her it became evident that she knows sit, and down. Moreover, she is exceptionally good on leash. Since being in foster she has still been doing well and enjoying her time with her foster family.

With the help of volunteers we are able to provide these heartworm positive dogs with an alternative setting in which they can recover. If you are at all interesting in foster I urge you to seek out these opportunities at your local shelter.

Travelers from Louisiana It's been a busy month, but busy is good; busy means so many more animals are sleeping in homes.