#i am so close to being done packing . i’m waiting for my french fries to be done and then im gonna brush my teeth and pack that and be good

[bright-and-burning]

hard shell luggage is a fucking hack what the hell

[let-the-dream-begin]

In My Daughter’s Eyes Chapter 4: The Past Can Hurt

Chapter 3

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Claire peeked at the rear view mirror again, and smiled again at the sight of her happy daughter. Faith's favorite "reward meal" was McDonald's. Claire had pinky-promised that if she was a good girl with the horses today, they would get McDonald's for dinner on the way home. She was contentedly waving around the Minion toy that had come in the happy meal, humming and kicking her little legs. Claire had both of their meals on the passenger seat, knowing full well that her daughter would make quite the mess if she let her eat in the car. So would Claire, to be frank.

Claire had made it abundantly clear how proud she was of Faith, had reminded her several times already how she'd been such a good girl. Whether this made Faith happy to hear, or she was simply still in the afterglow of petting a horse, was anyone's guess. Claire hoped Faith could see, could truly understand how happy her mother was. She supposed if she said it enough it might sink in, if it hadn't already.

Back at home, the moment Claire unbuckled Faith from her carseat, she insisted on carrying her meal in herself, to which Claire was more than happy to oblige. She watched, amused, as Faith scampered up the steps to their front door, waiting rather impatiently for her mother to catch up. This was something that Faith had done whenever they'd arrived at their home in Oxfordshire: squirm out of Claire's grip and bolt to the porch, rocking on her heels or bouncing while she waited for the door to open. As Claire pushed the key into the lock, her heart felt a little lighter.

She already feels like this is her home.

Faith immediately scampered inside and right to the kitchen, and by the time Claire got the door shut, stuffed horse onto the couch, and shoes off, Faith was already halfway through her chicken nuggets, sitting up on her knees at the kitchen table. Claire shook her head, laughing.

"You are certainly in a good mood, aren't you, darling?" She ruffled her curly hair and sat down across from her, opening her own paper bag, pulling out her burger and french fries. The teenager at the drive-thru had been quite bewildered when she'd asked for crisps. Such strange lingo these Americans used.

Faith was finished eating before Claire was even halfway through her burger, and she slid off her chair and reached for the chocolate shake that Claire put on the counter to be out of her reach until she finished. Claire sprung out of her seat to grab it herself before Faith could cause it to topple and make a mess.

"Let Mummy help, Faith," Claire said, frantically. "You have to ask for help..." Claire sighed in defeat, handing over the milkshake. She sat back down as Faith settled in again, knowing better than to leave the kitchen with food of any kind. Claire watched her little cheeks hollow out as she guzzled down the liquid, her honey eyes light with joy.

Faith's being nonverbal was not as much of an issue as it could have been, but it was an issue nonetheless. The worst of it was when she was clearly distraught and could not communicate the source of her distress. Had she made a mess of her chocolate shake due to her inability to ask for help, it would have been quite the inconvenience, but Claire supposed mealtime could have gone much worse. Claire knew her daughter by now, better than Claire even knew herself. She'd become accustomed to the various grunts and whines, associating meaning to each different sound over the years. She supposed, however, that this would not be a sufficient way to communicate to a teacher someday, or Mrs. Lickett when Claire was no longer able to stay home with them.

Claire's anxiety lessened a bit at the thought of the woman; Mrs. Lickett was certified to teach American Sign Language to nonverbal autistic children, and she promised Claire she'd have Faith doing basic signs by the time she was ready to start school, whenever that may be.

Then she remembered how close they'd come to a meltdown in the stable, and how easily Jamie had calmed her, how proud he'd been to introduce the horse to her as a reward, how happy it had made Faith. Claire's heart swelled for perhaps the hundredth time since they'd left. The sound of slurping filled the room as Faith reached the end of her milkshake.

"All done, lovie?" Faith took her mouth off the straw and smiled contentedly at her mother. "Clean up now, Faith. Garbage in the bin, please."

Faith did as she was told, and then Claire beckoned her into her lap.

"Come here, darling," she crooned, enveloping her in her arms. "Mummy is so very proud of you, baby. I'll never stop saying it." She kissed her cheek, and Faith giggled. "Are you happy, Faith? Hm?" She rocked her gently, but Faith just hummed and traced patterns on Claire's arms with her fingertips.

"Happy, Faith?" Claire said again, remembering the thumbs-up maneuver from earlier, and employing it now. "Are you happy, love?"

Faith giggled again and grabbed Claire's thumb in her little hand.

"Faith, no..." Claire couldn't help but chuckle, as well. "See? Thumbs-up if you're happy, Faith. Happy?" She tried again with her free thumb.

Faith giggled yet again, but this time, she returned the gesture. Claire laughed out loud and brought the little fist, still holding her thumb, to her lips to cover with kisses.

"I'm happy, too, baby girl," Claire said. "Very happy."

She gave another little giggle before squirming out of Claire's arms and pattering out of the kitchen. Claire cleaned up after herself and returned to the table to continue nursing her own milkshake. Faith bounded back in with a DVD box in hand and held it expectantly up to Claire. Claire smiled and took it in her hands.

"Ah, all about animals today, hm?" She cocked an eyebrow at Faith. Tonight's choice was The Lion King. This was typical, even back in Oxfordshire. Faith would toddle up to either Claire or Frank with a DVD after dinner and expect help to get it ready, so she could watch her movie before bed. More often than not, Frank would wordlessly hand the box over to Claire instead, and after a while Faith learned to only bring it to Claire.

Claire put the DVD in as Faith went into her room, returning with her baby Simba stuffed animal to watch with. She settled onto the couch, now righted to its position in the middle of the room, centered and straightened. There were still boxes and messes, but things were slowly coming together. Claire took this opportunity while Faith was glued to the telly to get to some more boxes. She peeled the tape off a particularly heavy box, and smiled to herself at the sight of the picture frames inside, covered in bubble wrap. She moved behind the couch to the long table pushed against it, exactly where she'd planned to put said pictures. She unwrapped them all lovingly and arranged them on the table: an infant Faith fast asleep like a little angel on Claire's shoulder; Faith in the photo studio with a large, plastic number "1" for her first birthday; Claire holding Faith on a carousel, smiling like a fool at her toddler aged daughter; Faith, two-and-a-half, grabbing at Frank's cheeks and laughing her head off.

Christ.

Claire froze, a hard lump forming in her throat as the opening chords to "Circle of Life" filled her ears. What was she supposed to do with this? Why had she even packed it? Well, that was easy enough: Faith looked simply darling. But...

She ran trembling fingers over both of their faces behind the glass, sighing with a shudder. 

Oh, Frank...How happy we once were.

Indecisive, Claire put the frame back in the box, reaching for another to unwrap: Faith mid-bite of a chocolate-chip pancake at the breakfast table. The older she got, the less complacent she'd been for photo opportunities, so Claire had to content herself with capturing candid, silly moments like this, and she honestly would not have had it any other way. She stood it up next to the carousel shot and reached for another.

God damn it.

Claire holding Faith at the church the day of her christening, Frank's arm wrapped around Claire's shoulders, smiling proudly.

Fuck you.

Claire pressed the frame face-down into the table, biting her bottom lip to stifle a sob. How dare he stand there, looking so proud of the family that he would so quickly discard? How dare he let that little girl touch his face like that, how dare he smile at her so brightly, lead her to believe he'd always be there?

Her fingers trembled as they hovered over the keypad of numbers. Was it worth it? Couldn't she just put Faith on the plane and change her number, disappear forever?

She supposed that might not exactly be legal, no matter the terms on which Frank had left the house two weeks ago.

She somehow found the nerve to finish dialing the number and bring the phone to her ear.

"Hello?"

She gulped. "Hello, Frank."

"Hello, Claire."

She cleared her throat. "I'm...I'm taking Faith to the states. And I don't think you have any right to try and stop me."

"I shouldn't think I do."

She shuddered with hatred at his indifference; though she'd expected as much, it didn't sting any less. "Alright. Good. I don't want anything from you, Frank. I am perfectly capable of taking care of her basic needs on my residency salary."

"Alright."

"But there's one thing. It's the least you can do. For the love you once bore me."

"I did not stop loving you, Claire."

"Oh, yes, you did," Claire spat. 

“Claire — ”

“No, that’s enough,” she said, firmly. “Listen. I want nothing from you but the exact amount a certain therapy will cost. It’s expensive, but the doctor thinks it can really help Faith. I’m asking nothing else of you, Frank. Just around six thousand a year, broken up monthly, to pay for the therapy.”

Claire knew she likely could afford the therapy, but things would be tight. Rent on Long Island was not cheap by any means; neither was the general cost of living there, and neither was the kind of babysitter with the qualifications necessary for taking care of someone with Faith’s needs. Not to mention she wanted to start setting money aside for a service dog, which would be an enormous investment in and of itself, but one that would certainly be worth it if it would make it easier for them to be in public places. The extra money from Frank would be worth it, no matter how sick to her stomach it made her to ask it of him.

“What sort of therapy costs that much?”

“Equine therapy.”

He scoffed. “You really believe — ”

“Yes. I do.” She had to clench her teeth and take a very deep breath through her nose to stop herself from attacking again. “Will you pay for it or not? As the man who sired her, who owes her something? Will you?”

A slight pause, then he sighed. “Fine. I don’t care how much it is, I just don’t want to deal with it.”

Claire almost choked on the expletives she swallowed. “I understand. I’ve already set aside a separate bank account for you to make deposits.” She read him the account number and the routing number, along with exact amounts needed each month.

“All you need to do is make the deposits every month. And you’ll never hear from us again.”

He sighed again. “Claire…If I could change things…”

Claire almost fell for it…but she knew what he meant.

He did not mean: “If I could change my behavior, the things I said.” He meant: “If I could change what our daughter is.”

And it made her sick.

“Goodbye, Frank.”

Faith’s humming and rocking brought Claire back to Earth. She looked up from the box to see Faith holding her stuffed Simba in the air, mirroring Rafiki on the screen doing just that. Claire chuckled to herself and swallowed any remaining urge to cry. Claire put the christening picture back in the box, deciding that she’d make a decision on what to do with it later. Perhaps she could try her hand at scissors, combine the two pictures in one frame. It would certainly be satisfying to literally cut him out of those moments in Faith’s life.

But on the other hand…was that cruel? Would Faith someday learn to verbally or otherwise communicate the question: Where did Daddy go? Should she keep these pictures intact for that purpose? What Claire would want to say in response to such a question would be that Faith did not have a Daddy and that she didn’t need one. But perhaps that was doing her an injustice.

Claire reached for another picture.

Yes…that was something that could wait to be decided on.

Claire had made a considerable dent in her unpacking venture by the time Faith’s movie finished, and she was altogether quite satisfied with her work.

“What do you think of that, Faith?” Claire sighed contentedly as she removed the DVD from the player and put it back in the box. “Your disorganized-as-all-get-out Mummy is actually getting somewhere with her organizing.” Faith slid off the couch to take the box from her so she could put it back where she found it. “Isn’t that a marvel?”

Claire watched with piqued interest as Faith sat on her knees in front of the little entertainment center, the cupboard beneath the telly opened for her inspection. Faith had a system, some sort of arrangement of her movies that she always abided by. Not a single movie was ever out of place. Claire could not for the life of her decipherer what the system was; it was something created and used only by Faith. Claire had unpacked all their movies and put them inside, only for Faith to gut the entire thing and arrange them herself. It had greatly amused Claire at the time. She’d been at it for hours.

It didn’t take long for her to return The Lion King to its apparent correct position, and then Faith shut the cupboard.

“Alright, lovie. Time to brush your teeth.”

Claire stood and led Faith into the bathroom. Claire lifted her up onto the counter to sit and Claire got to work brushing her own teeth first. Faith had not yet mastered the coordination of tooth-brushing, and Claire still did it for her every night. But her psychiatrist had said that if Faith watched her mother do it enough times, something might strike a chord one day, and she’d suddenly be an expert at dental hygiene. Apparently, Doctor Garner had seen this happen plenty of times before.

So Claire brushed, tilting her head slightly toward Faith as usual, and then moving on to brush Faith’s teeth. When she finished, Claire handed her one of the little paper cups they kept in the bathroom.

"Rinse and spit," she crooned, as she did every night.

Routine was everything to Faith, and Claire had even begun clinging to the lifeline that was knowing every next move for every day. It soothed Faith's ever present anxiety and gave her expectations for every day, and it kept Claire grounded in the reality of their lives. This was why she'd been so scared to move. Moving to the house next door to them in Oxfordshire would have been a big enough change to merit Faith's discomfort, let alone moving across an ocean to a completely different style of living. There'd certainly been an adjustment period for her routine-conditioned little girl, but it hadn't been nearly as long or as difficult as Claire had anticipated.

Doctor Garner had suggested that no matter how disorienting things were when they'd arrived at the new apartment, the sooner Claire could reestablish that same routine that Faith had been accustomed to in Oxfordshire, the better. It was the reason she'd had furniture sent to the apartment before they'd even arrived. The sooner Faith could associate the new home with the commonplace furniture, the sooner she'd begin to realize this was home now. And all that, combined with maintaining their old routines in a new place was actually working quite well.

Teeth brushed and pajamas on, Claire tucked Faith into her bed. Faith's brand new princess comforter had arrived on Wednesday, and Faith was over the moon. Claire hadn't yet had a problem getting her to sleep since they'd put it on the bed. Claire filled the medicine dropper from the liquid Risperdal bottle, and Faith dutifully opened her mouth to let Claire drop it in, her face screwing up in the usual disgust to taste the bitter liquid.

"Swallow, please," Claire said, cocking an eyebrow. Faith grimaced, but obeyed. "Good girl."

Claire knew full well that Faith hated the taste of her medicine; it had been an utter nightmare to get her to take it every night at first. She'd had to bribe her with a Smartie every time she took it. Claire had a little stash of M&Ms (apparently the American equivalent) just in case Faith was ever particularly stubborn.

Claire set the medicine aside on the nightstand and tucked Horsie (who had been properly cleaned and disinfected after being dropped in the dirt in the stable) under her arm.

"There's Horsie, darling. So you can dream of all the horses you saw today, like Pippi." She leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Goodnight, love. Today was a very, very good day."

Faith smiled a toothy grin as Claire rose to turn on the nightlight. She stopped at the door to flicker off the main light and take one last look at her daughter, savoring the contentment settling in her chest and warming her from the inside out before shutting the door.

——

 The next few days were not as smooth sailing.

Jamie had been quite right when he’d predicted the riding helmet would bother Faith. Since Mrs. Lickett only came by on weekdays, Claire decided it was as good a time as ever to give the helmet a try. After breakfast, Claire sat Faith on the couch and retrieved the helmet and Horsie.

“Alright, little girl.” She sat down, horse and helmet in hand. “Mister Jamie gave us this helmet. See?” She held it up to Faith. “Mister Jamie said you can’t ride Pippi unless you learn to wear the helmet.” She held both the horse and the helmet in front of Faith. “See? Horsie and helmet have to go together. Yes?”

Faith hummed happily and reached for Horsie. 

“Alright…let’s see…” Claire carefully attempted to lower the helmet onto Faith’s head, but her face immediately darkened and she groaned in annoyance, averting her head.

“It’s okay, baby, it’s just a little hat. Come on, now…”

She groaned again, louder, shoving the helmet away with both of her hands.

“Wait,” Claire said quickly. “Wait here, Faith.”

Claire scrambled into her bedroom and into her closet, tearing through its contents, throwing things behind her until she found what she was looking for. A plain blue visor that she hadn’t worn in years, but kept around just in case.

“Here, Faith, look.” Claire returned to the couch and sat down. She put the visor on her own head. “See? A hat.” Faith stared at her blankly. Claire smiled and took off the visor, plopping it onto Faith’s curly head. “See?”

Faith giggled, and Claire felt a renewed sense of hope. She took the helmet back in her hands and placed it precariously atop her head. “See? It’s just a hat. It doesn’t fit Mummy’s big head, though. It was made just for you.”

Claire playfully swiped the visor off Faith's head and replaced it with the helmet, and she did not squirm away.

Claire gasped with contrived shock. "Look at you!" she gushed. Faith was beaming. "What a lovely hat, Faith!"

She hummed and bounced, and Claire laughed.

Victory!

And that was when she made her fatal mistake. She got cocky.

"Now let's just fasten it, and then you're properly wearing your new hat, yes?" Claire reached for the chin strap and fastened it. "There! All ready to ride!"

Faith's entire demeanor changed, her little brow furrowing. She reached for the chinstrap and tucked her fingers underneath, starting to tug.

"It's okay, darling."

Faith began groaning.

"Hey, it's okay, Faith." Claire, having prepared for exactly this, reached for the yellow stress ball from the stables on the coffee table. "Faith, here, love. It's okay." She put the ball in one of her hands, but Faith did not latch on. She let it fall to the ground, not removing her fingers from beneath the chin strap. Dread settled into the pit of her stomach.

“Faith…” Claire stooped down to retrieve the ball, then realized it had rolled halfway across the room. She got up from the couch to pick it up, and when she turned around, Faith was tugging forcefully on the helmet, the chin strap digging into her throat.

“Faith!” Claire dropped the ball again and practically leapt back onto the couch. “Stop!”

Fingers trembling, Claire frantically fumbled with the clasp of the chin strap, desperately trying to stop her daughter from choking herself. The second she was free, Faith gave a loud wail and hurled the helmet across the room, causing Claire to jump back in shock.

Claire was too stunned to scold her right away, her medical degree kicking into full gear as she examined her neck and throat for any marks, listened to see if her breathing was normal. Once she was certain everything was alright, Claire firmly seized one of her wrists.

“We do not throw things, Faith.” Faith began squirming, pawing at her mother’s hand. “Faith, look at me, please. I need you to look at my eyes, Faith.”

She gave a loud wail and a particularly hard yank.

“We do not throw things. Do you hear me, young lady?”

A sharp pain suddenly stuck itself into Claire’s hand, and she cried out. She immediately released Faith’s wrist and recoiled her hand into herself.

She bloody bit me.

Faith wriggled off the couch and bolted for the front door. She started tugging on the handle, determined to open the door and get as far away as her little legs would carry. Claire knew she’d really do it, too, if the door wasn’t locked.

Claire briefly sucked at the blood that started slowly trickling from her hand and then strode to the front door.

“You’re not going anywhere, little girl.” She scooped Faith around the torso with one arm and carried her, kicking and screaming into her bedroom to deposit her on the bed.

“Listen to me, Faith. If you do not calm down this instant you’ll not have any dessert tonight. Do you hear me?”

Faith shrieked. She’d certainly heard.

“I’m going to count to ten! If I get to ten and you’ve not stopped crying, no dessert.”

Claire hadn’t even gotten to three when Faith started throwing her stuffed animals in her direction. Claire continued counting calmly, knowing full well that the cotton toys would not hurt her. It was only when she reached for the lamp on her nightstand that she stopped at seven, lurching forward to stop her.

“No!” Claire shouted. Faith immediately released the lamp and clamped her hands over her ears, and a horrible, searing guilt burned her gut. 

“Faith, baby, I’m sorry…I’m sorry, darling…” Claire sat down on the bed beside her and made to wrap her arms around her daughter, but she hesitated. Would she bite again, or punch, or kick?

Claire felt shameful tears stinging her eyes. Was she no better than Frank, raising her voice at her audio-sensitive daughter when she was being slightly difficult?

She shouldn’t have fastened the chin strap. She should have just let her get used to the helmet itself first. She maybe should have even waited for Mrs. Lickett to try the chinstrap. And now, because of her carelessness, she’d triggered her daughter’s biggest anxiety, and the poor girl was screaming her little head off, red in the face, because of her own mother.

Claire noticed, almost too late, that her hand was about to bleed on Faith’s brand new comforter. She hissed a frustrated “fuck” under her breath and quickly made her way to the bathroom to tend to it. She hastily wrapped some gauze around it and made her way back into Faith’s room to find her in the exact same position, hands on her ears, screaming. Claire sighed in defeat and quickly wiped her eyes clear of the tears that threatened to spill over. Perhaps it would be best if she just left her for now. There was no telling if she’d do something violent again if Claire tried to comfort her, and there was no consoling her otherwise. Claire decided to remove the lamp and anything else heavy that she could throw before leaving the room and shutting the door behind her.

Only when the door was shut did Claire finally allow herself to cry.

She didn’t care that Faith could have broken a lamp and shattered a lightbulb on the new wood floors; she didn’t even care that her own daughter had drawn blood from her with her teeth. What hurt worse than that was knowing that her little girl was in turmoil because of triggers that her own mother couldn’t understand, couldn’t make better, things that Faith was not able to communicate to her or to anyone. And to make matters worse, she couldn’t even comfort her. When she was a baby, before she was symptomatic, all Claire had to do was scoop her out of her crib and rock her, bounce her, sing to her, and all her anxieties would cease, her crying would stop. But now, the older Faith got, it felt like Claire was less and less capable of providing that comfort, that sense of security.

I’m her mother. That’s my job.

And I’m failing.

Claire dumped the contents of Faith’s room that she’d emptied onto the couch and collapsed next to them, letting her tears fall freely. Somewhere in her fevered brain, she had the sense to pick up her phone from the coffee table and text Gillian. She typed: “Hey, could I call you right now?” then quickly backspaced and tried again: “Hey, are you busy right now?” She hit send, and then frantically added in a second message: “No emergency. Just miss you and want to hear your voice.”

After she hit send the second time, she let her phone rest in her lap and rested her head back on the couch cushion. Leaving Gillian had been the hardest part of leaving England. She’d been Claire’s best friend all throughout college and medical school. They’d decided to be roommates sophomore year after meeting in the pre-med program, and they’d never lived separately again until Claire’s wedding, at which, of course, Gillian had been the maid of honor. They were two peas in a pod, though one wouldn’t think so to see them separately. Gillian was brash and loud, and delightfully inappropriate more often than not. Gillian liked to say that Claire was the odd one out, that she was much too proper.

Gillian had been there for Claire after Faith’s diagnosis when Frank had not. He’d muttered something about needing some air the minute they got home from the doctor, and Claire had immediately phoned Gillian, sobbing into the phone for hours.

“He’s going to leave me, he’s going to leave us…I can’t do this alone…”

Gillian scoffed. “Wi’ the way he’s acting now, I bloody hope he does leave. Feckin’ louse.”

Well, she’d gotten what she wanted.

“I never bloody liked the bastard. I knew I should ha’ said something when he proposed. God dammit.”

Gillian had been the one to assure her that she was a good mother, that Faith’s triggers were not her fault, that she was doing the best she could.

Claire just needed to hear that right now.

As expected, Claire’s phone buzzed shortly after. She picked it up, expecting it to be a text in response, but Gillian was already calling her. Claire smiled to herself and sniffled.

“Hello?” she said, already embarrassed at how snuffly she sounded.

Gillian was quiet for a moment, then said: “Oh, is that wee Faith?”

Apparently, her shrieks were loud enough to be heard across the ocean. Claire sighed. “Yup.”

“She’s having one of her meltdowns, and ye’re all upset and feelin’ like you failed her, aye? That ye made the wrong decisions?”

Claire’s eyes quickly welled up again. “Yes,” she croaked.

“Oh, Claire. Ye ken that lass thinks ye’re a bloody queen, don’t ye? She worships ye.”

“When she’s not biting me. Or throwing things at me.”

“Och, biting again, aye? Well…ye ken that’s the autism. That’s no’ yer wee Faith. She canna help it when it takes over.”

“I know. I just…”

“She loves ye, Claire. I’ve seen it wi’ my own eyes. And I ken that she knows how fiercely ye love her. The autism just makes it hard fer her to see sometimes, aye?”

Claire breathed shakily. “I know you’re right. I mean…I know all this already. It just…”

“I ken. Ye need the reassurance. ’Specially since the Sperm Donor hasnae given ye any such thing his whole miserable life.”

Despite the pain that that fact caused, Claire could not help but smirk at Gillian’s newest term of endearment for the man who sired Faith. “Right.”

“Must be hard over there, all alone.” Claire could hear the twinge of sadness in her voice.

“I miss you, too, Gi.”

“I’m counting down the days ’till Christmas. Canna wait to see my two favorite lasses.”

Claire smiled. “And I can’t wait to see my best friend, and my daughter’s Godmother.”

“I’ve got to run, I had to sneak into a supply closet to call ye. I’m in the middle of a shift — ”

“Gillian,” Claire admonished. “You shouldn’t be doing that — ”

“Nothing more important than making sure my girls are okay. Aye?”

Claire sighed and rolled her eyes, but her smile widened.

“I hear she’s still carrying on, but just let her get it out of her wee system. She’ll be back to her humming and her movies soon enough. Just wait it out. Ye ken.”

“Yeah…I know.”

“I love ye, Claire. And I miss ye. Hang in there. I’ll call ye again sometime this week when I’m no’ in the middle of a shift. I wanna hear all about this Long Island of yers.”

Claire chuckled. “Alright. I eagerly await.”

“G’bye.”

“Bye, Gi. Thank you. Love you.”

“Quite welcome.”

She hung up, and Claire dropped her phone in her lap again. Faith was going to be inconsolable for at least another half hour, and Claire didn’t think she could bear just sitting there and listening. She didn’t turn on the telly or any music, lest she miss a suspicious noise or not hear that she stopped crying, but she did get to work sorting through a few more boxes. On her way over to a particular stack, she tripped over something. She looked down to see the riding helmet. Claire grimaced and gave it a strong kick, sending it rolling under the coffee table. She almost laughed: she’d only just admonished her daughter for doing almost the exact same thing.

“Bloody fucking helmet bastard piece of shit…”

She dissolved into an incoherent string of expletives, grateful that Faith, nor anyone else, could hear her.

[satorisa]

Falling: Chapter 1 - In which the Hug is Finally Acknowledged

Rating: T

Summary:  "I wanna forget all this burden in my past."

Alternate Reading: AO3

Lift the Veil? I don’t know her.

D.N.Angel ending? I don’t know her.

But that hug? Lives, rent free in my mind, man.

Warning: Spoilers for the DNAngel ending abound.

After Dark disappeared, the hours continued to flow as if the incident had never occurred. Satoshi brought Risa home that evening before he visited the Niwa household to brainstorm a story for Commissioner Hiwatari’s disappearance. Daisuke slept next to him that night and, while comforted by his friend’s rhythmic breathing and familiar warmth, Satoshi kept his tired eyes on the window, watching as the evening skies brightened to a morning blue.

Commissioner Hiwatari was declared missing the next day, and Inspector Saehara decided to take Satoshi in for the time being. He moved into the Saehara household that same evening, everything he owned packed in a duffel bag weighing on his shoulder, and Takeshi showed him around the house.

Satoshi met Mama Saehara through a video call that same evening. She worked as a fashion designer, and her job had flung her off to Paris this time. He quite liked her.

After they hung up, he had a warm dinner with Takeshi and Inspector Saehara. It was leftovers from last night, but he enjoyed the food nonetheless.

That night, Satoshi slept next to Takeshi, who snored in his ear while either kicking him or rolling on him. Satoshi kept his tired eyes on the window, watching as the evening skies brightened to a morning blue.

He went shopping with the Saeharas the next day. They bought a bunk bed, a desk, and whatever else they thought that Satoshi would need. After that, the days fell back into their familiar rhythm as if the incident had never occurred.

Satoshi slept in the top bed for privacy. Takeshi took the bottom bed since he didn’t quite care. Their desks sat side by side in front of the window: Takeshi’s impeccably spotless and Satoshi’s covered in manila folders and schoolwork.

Everyday, Satoshi woke up, went to school, and attended the art club that Daisuke finally convinced him to join. On some evenings, Inspector Saehara would ask him for help on a case, and they always headed home after work with fried chicken for dinner. For the most part though, Satoshi spent his time after school with Daisuke and Takeshi.

Then Riku moved away.

Risa began to hang out with Daisuke and Takeshi just as much as she hung out with Ritsuko and the other girls, but she still maintained the same distance she had with Satoshi prior to the incident. She’d greet him, cordial and courteous, and she’d smile and laugh with the boys, just like him, but that was the extent of their relationship: friends of friends.

And that was how Satoshi’s second year in middle school came to an end.

…

The last of the art club members finally left. They were a group of giggling girls who clearly only joined to get closer to Satoshi but, after realizing that he wouldn’t pay any attention to them yet again, they decided to call it a day.

Satoshi sighed in relief when the door closed behind them and ran his hand through his hair. Daisuke, president of the art club, laughed at the strands that were sticking up.

“How long are you going to let them stay here?” Satoshi asked, watching the group walk and giggle down below.

“They’ll get tired eventually.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“Just wait. They’ll eventually realize how boring you are and set their eyes on someone else.”

Satoshi shot Daisuke a look. He laughed before slipping off his stool.

“So what did you want to talk about?”

“My painting.”

Daisuke, eyes shining with curiosity, scurried over to Satoshi’s canvas. His jaw slacked.

Before him was the familiar visage of Dark outlined in pencil. The sharp angle of his eyes, his chiseled features, his charismatic smile, and his dark hair flowing around him: everything was detailed to utmost perfection.

“Oh my god.”

“How is it?”

“It looks just like him.”

“It does, doesn’t it?”

Daisuke nodded, awestruck, but that eventually gave way to a darker expression on his face. “…why are you doing this, though?”

Satoshi shrugged. “I don’t know. Still life practice got boring, so I decided to try doing something different.”

“You could have done something else besides starting on a portrait of Dark.”

“I know, but this is what I ended up making.”

“…are you okay?”

“That’s a rhetorical question.”

Daisuke sighed. “It’s just—we’re worried about you, Satoshi. We don’t want you to hurt yourself, you know? If you’re not ready to face it, you don’t have to.”

“What? Would a portrait of my father have been better?”

“No, Satoshi, I—”

“Sorry,” Satoshi said before getting off his stool. He grabbed his bag and made his way to the door. “I didn’t mean to snap at you like that.” At the entrance, he turned around to face Daisuke. “But when the hell am I going to ever be ready?”

…

The sun began to set, casting its golden hue on the busts and wooden stands by the wall. Since Inspector Saehara didn’t need his help that evening, Satoshi stayed after the club meeting to work on his painting. A palette full of varying hues of purple floated gracefully in his left hand while a worn brush sat precariously in his right, waiting to lay down another thoughtful stroke.

The door opened.

“Hello, Hiwatari-kun!”

He tore his eyes away from the canvas to see Risa standing there. She no longer had her customary pink ribbon tying her hair up; her dark locks cascaded down just like Riku’s. If she trimmed some off, she’d be the spitting image of her sister.

Perhaps that was why she changed her hairstyle.

“Are you heading home soon?”

He glanced at his watch: 6:04 PM.

“Maybe.” Satoshi noted the bag slung over her shoulder. “I’m assuming you’re on your way back?”

“Yeah.” She frowned. “Saehara-kun kept us all late today because our monthly issue is coming out. What a workaholic.”

Satoshi smirked. “Like father, like son.”

“His dad’s just like that?”

“Absolutely. His mom’s the same way, too, so it probably runs in the family.”

Risa giggled. The door opened again, and it was the man of the hour himself. He pouted.

“I’m not as bad as my parents.”

“Sure,” Satoshi sarcastically drawled.

Takeshi just shook his head. “Whatever, bro. You headin’ back soon?”

“Maybe. Don’t wait for me if you need to head out.”

“Nah. I kinda want to hit up the arcade for a bit before we go grocery shopping.”

“Can we drop by the bookstore, too? I need to grab a couple of things.”

“Yeah. I think I need some stuff from there, too.” Takeshi then turned to Risa. “You wanna stick around with us, then? No hard feelings if you need to jet, though.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll pass. I don’t want to stay out too late and worry my parents.” She waved with a smile. “I’ll see you two tomorrow then. Bye!”

Risa skipped out of the room while Takeshi walked over to examine Satoshi’s painting. He whistled.

“Yanno, you’re a little too talented for someone who doesn’t like painting.”

“Shut up. You know how I feel about it.”

“And yet you joined the art club.”

“I have to start somewhere with that positive reassociation and all.”

“And how’s that goin’ for ya?”

“Terrible. I’m hating every second of it.”

“Well, uh, nobody asked you to make a painting of that Dark Mousy fellow, yanno?”

“Couldn’t help it. His handsome face kept bothering me.”

…

Mama Saehara popped up on his phone screen with the Parisian skyline behind her.

“Good evening, Satoshi.”

“Good morning, Saehara-san.”

“No need to be so formal with me! Please, call me Mama.”

“I’d rather not.”

She laughed. “Alrighty, hun. How’re you doing?”

“I’m alright.”

“And the therapy? Have you decided to go?”

“No. I don’t think I can.”

“That’s alright. You’re doing alright. No need to push yourself if you’re not ready.” She sighed. “I just need this project to finish and then I’ll take the first flight I can back to Japan. Just wait for me, okay?”

“No need to rush. Take all the time you need.”

“Oh honey, I appreciate the thought, but I don’t know if I trust those buffoons to take care of you. Speaking of them, how are they treating you?”

“They’re very nice. I like living here, Saehara-san. Thank you for taking me in.”

“I’m glad, Satoshi. And you’re very welcome! It’s the least we could do, truly.”

Her phone rang. Mama Saehara answered before launching into a furious tirade of French. After she hung up, she sighed and began to massage her temples.

“Sorry to cut this call short, but there’s an emergency. I’ll call again as soon as I can. Toodles!”

“Bye. Have a nice day.”

Satoshi saw himself reflected on his phone screen, and he took out his earbuds before leaving the room. He went downstairs to see Inspector Saehara at the table, can of beer open in front of him, while Takeshi began plating the food.

“How’s Ma?” Takeshi asked.

“Alright. Busy,” Satoshi answered. He grabbed some plates and bowls from the cabinets.

“Sound about right,” Takeshi said. “And you?”

“Hm?”

“How’re you?”

“Alright. Tired.”

Takeshi smirked. “Who isn’t?”

He patted Satoshi’s back before putting the plates full of table and hounding his dad about drinking: just another meal at the Saehara household.

Satoshi smiled as he began to set the table.

…

After the club meeting, Satoshi stayed behind to work on his painting, unrestrained by a request from Inspector Saehara. He mindlessly toiled away until the door opened.

“Hi, Hiwatari-kun!”

Risa’s voice broke his focus. Golden hour had passed and the blue hour settled in, dying the room a muted blue. Even Risa, despite her chipper demeanor, seamlessly blended in with the mood.

“Hey, Harada. Did the newspaper club meeting just finish?”

“Nope. It ended a while ago, but I stayed back to wrap something up.”

“So Takeshi’s already gone?”

“Yeah. I think he went to the arcade with a couple of our club members for some bonding time.”

“Ah.”

Risa swayed her head. “Are you heading home soon?”

“Yeah. Let me tidy up here, and I’ll leave with you.”

She smiled. “Thanks.”

Satoshi covered his painting with a tarp before leaving the room to clean his brushes and palette. He returned to see Risa on a stool, watching something on her phone. She laughed until she noticed he had returned, and she paused her video before offering a weak wave and smile.

Satoshi grabbed his bag. “You ready to head out?”

“Yup!”

She hopped off the stool. Satoshi closed the door behind them before they walked to the faculty office. He bowed before entering, leaving the keys to the art room with the frazzled student-teacher, and bowed after leaving. Risa trailed behind him uncharacteristically calm and quiet the whole time.

When they got to the shoe lockers, Risa finally broke her silence.

“Hiwatari-kun,” she began as he took off his slippers, “did you know him?”

“Know who?”

“The person I was waiting for that day at the lamppost.”

“It took you this long to ask me about that?”

Risa giggled. “Sorry. I couldn’t find a good time to bring it up.”

“Really? I thought you’d do it by screaming at me about hugging you and overstepping boundaries.”

Risa giggled again. Satoshi raised his eyebrow as he slipped on his shoes. “I was thinking about it, but I thought it’d be too rude to. After all, you appeared when I needed someone the most. Thank you for that.”

“I had a snarky reply to that but, since you’re being genuine, I’ll keep it to myself.”

They reconvened at the entrance. Risa’s smile looked more genuine that the one she had earlier.

Good.

“So, why bring it up now?” Satoshi asked as they began walking out.

“I tried to forget about it. Why should I stay hung up over someone I don’t remember? But, well, long story short, I couldn’t. I want to know who he was.”

They stopped at an intersection. Cars rushed by while commuters joined them, preoccupied with their own lives. Satoshi focused on the red light of the crosswalk, trying not to look at Risa’s expression.

“Are you sure you want to know?”

“Of course I do! Why else would I be asking you about him?”

“And what if I tell you that it might be overwhelming?”

“So? I’d still want to know!”

“Even if it’ll make you cry?”

“Of course! I don’t want to just forget about him!”

Satoshi sighed. The light at the crosswalk turned green, and they began to move. Risa’s head bobbed with each step, and Satoshi focused on the sidewalk to avoid looking at her.

“Harada, I’d rather not see you cry,” he said. “It makes me uncomfortable.”

“Okay then. I’ll try not to cry.”

“You? Who displays your emotions for the whole world to see? Forget it.”

Risa grabbed his arm, and he turned around. She forced him to look at her. He saw the determination in her eyes, burning just as much as it did when she was chasing Dark mere months ago.

“Hiwatari-kun, please.”

How could he say no to her?

“Alright. Fine. Just give me some time, okay?”

He brushed off her arm, frustrated by her stubbornness. But he saw the softness in her expression when he yielded, and he etched it in his memory.

[oscars-wifeyyy]

Chapter 5 (Mother Hen)

Time had passed, two months to be exact, and Oscar had been continuously trying to get Lilo to talk to him, but to no avail. She wouldn’t even give him the time of day while Cesar didn’t want to give Oscar the time of day, he had to since he is his brother. It was a constant of having him send her flowers and her favorite snacks, waiting at the school so he could catch her and try to talk, to sometimes even working on her car to get her to even say thank you. All of it ended with no words being exchanged, but a head nod in thanks from Lilo.

Slowly, his efforts had diminished and came to an end. His efforts were deeply missed by Lilo because she finally had felt wanted by the man that she had fallen for, but didn’t have the courage to approach him, scared of looking desperate in front of him. It was finally a Friday, the day where she has training right after school, the school bell rang telling all the kids that school was out and they could do whatever they wanted within their parents guidelines. Lilo sprinted to her car to try and get to her training session on time to see Cesar there waiting.

“Salad? What are you doing?” Lilo unlocked the car and shoved her things in the trunk to take out her workout bag.

“Can I come with you to training? I want to get more fit,” Cesar smiled.

“Sure. Get in,” Lilo chuckled.

The two drove to the town over and went inside the MMA gym to meet with her coach. When they stepped inside, Cesar was mesmerized by the hugeness of the gym and how popular Lilo was there, but he understood why Lilo was popular, she was Lilo. Lilo greeted her coach with a hug and pulled Cesar to her to introduce them.

“Martin, this is Cesar. He’s like my baby brother. Is it possible for him to train with us? A little easy on him though, this is his first time,” Lilo asked.

“For sure,” Martin nodded, “go tape his hands up and start him on a mile run,”

Lilo nodded, “thanks, Martin!” Lilo tugged Cesar into the taping room and grabbed a roll of white tape, “sit,”

Cesar sat down and watched Lilo tape his hands with concentration, seeing her in her element had made him proud of his best friend. After a minute or two, he was done so she motioned him out to the main room.

“Alright, so you are gonna run a mile around the area. A mile is about 6 laps,” Lilo explained, “now...go,” Cesar started running.

Lilo went back into the taping room and asked one of the people in there to tape it. Once she was done, she went back out and ran alongside Cesar then ran the last two laps by herself. The two went back to her coach and they started in various exercises and Cesar was learning beginner moves of the MMA. After a very intense hour training, they were finally done and on their way back home with music blasting through the speakers and dancing. When they got home, they saw Oscar’s car so Lilo stood next to her car to watch Cesar walk inside then went inside her house to take a shower and do her homework.

She came out of the shower, dressing into a pair of pajama pants that made her butt pop and her father’s US Marines shirt. Her backpack was still in the trunk of her car so she put on her nike slides, but a knock was heard so she walked to the door and looked through the peephole and saw Oscar. She groaned, but opened the door anyway so she could still grab her backpack, Lilo shoved past the cholo and felt his eyes on her butt. The senior had came back from the car with her backpack and put it down next to the door, turning back to Oscar to ask what he wanted, but that stopped when he was suddenly in her face and his lips were on hers. She had felt herself let go and start to kiss back, but the incident had returned to her mind so she pushed with all her might, forcing him to take a step back. They stared at each other, out of breath, but Lilo grew frustrated.

“Why? Why did you just kiss me?” Lilo put her hands on her hips, “I was just a hit and quit, right? No, I am not playing your game anymore,”

“Lilo, just listen to me,” Oscar closed the front door, “please. I just said all those things because the Santos was with me. No puedo mostrarles que soy débil con mis sentimientos por ti,” (I can't show them that I'm weak with my feelings for you.)

Lilo shook her head, “No puedo estar con alguien que no pueda mostrarles a todos que quieren estar conmigo,” (I can't be with someone that can't show everyone that they want to be with me.)

“Quiero estar contigo así que por favor dame la oportunidad de mostrarte que ya no me importa lo que digan,” Oscar put his hands on Lilo’s waist. (I want to be with you so please give me a chance to show you that I don't care what they say anymore.)

Lilo sighed, “I don’t know, Oscar. I know it’s hard for you to say to hell with whatever the Santos say since you’re their leader,”

“I can do it,” Oscar placed a hand on the back of Lilo’s neck. He leaned down and kissed Lilo, only this time Lilo had let him and kissed back.

“Fine, but if you mess this up then no more. I’m serious,” Lilo looked away.

Oscar nodded, picking up Lilo’s backpack, “c’mon. You go do your homework,”

The two walked back into her room to lay on the bed while she did her homework, but Oscar couldn’t help but stare at Lilo while she had her glasses perched on her nose and concentrated on the papers and books around her. To him, she was the epitome of beauty and he hoped that she would be his for a long time. Oscar softly smiled when her eyes had kept closing for a few seconds at a time so he looked through her planner that showed her homework and realized that she was almost done with an exception of a couple questions on her math that he knew he could in minutes so he took all the papers and books. He put it away in her backpack and moved her to lay down on the bed, moving to leave, but Lilo reached out and grabbed his wrist.

“Stay for the night, please,” Lilo’s eyes were drooping.

“Sure,” Oscar smiled and laid down next to her.

The next morning came and Lilo had felt the sun in her eyes so she squinted and felt something around her, looking down she saw a familiar arm. The events that had happened last night had flooded into her mind and she was smiling. She finally had the man that she had fallen for and he finally had wanted her back, but it dropped when she heard the front door open so she slowly detached his arm from around her and walked to the kitchen. However, she saw that it was Cesar with some breakfast food from a restaurant nearby.

“Wassup, Salad. How are you?” Lilo smiled.

“I’m good. Have you...seen my brother?” Cesar looked down.

“I’m right here, mano,” Oscar yawned.

Cesar looked shocked, turning to face Lilo, not believing that Lilo had forgiven Oscar, but she nodded to confirm that she did. His face had slowly grown into a huge smile because it had been a chance for the three to act like a family. He shook his head then held up the bag of food.

“Breakfast is here so let’s eat,” Cesar smiled.

The three stood around the dining room to pack their plates with all the food they wanted only to move to the family room to watch Netflix while eating. There was a little argument on what to watch until they settled with the Walking Dead. When they were done with their food and had everything clean and put away, Lilo had a great idea.

“You guys, we should go to the mall and do some splurge shopping. I got some money and, Cesar, no offense, but you need some new stuff,” Lilo wrapped an arm around Cesar.

“Yeah, I’m down,” Cesar nodded, turning to look at Oscar.

“Let’s go,” Oscar shrugged, “I gotta change though,”

The brothers went to their house to start getting ready as well as Lilo. Lilo decided to wear high-waisted destroyed jeans, a black belt to hold it up, and a black cropped tank top with a flannel over. She did her morning routine then waited for the brothers to be done by walking out of her house, grabbing her wallet, to head over to their house since they were gonna take Oscar’s car. Everyone was finally done so they went to the mall that was a town over so there wouldn’t be any drama or anything. Once their car was parked, they went inside and walked around the mall, going into a store or two until Cesar saw a board shop so he went inside with Lilo and Oscar trailing him.

Oscar finally wrapped an arm around Lilo’s shoulder, allowing it to rest there. Lilo was shocked to say the least, but let it play out and wrapped her arm around his back. Cesar saw the interaction, but didn’t say anything, scared that if he said anything then they would pull apart and forget the whole thing. The younger brother walked around and saw the new deck that he had been eyeing, turning to see Lilo smiling at him, winking as if telling him to get it so he did and walked to the register. The cashier rang it up and Lilo went up from behind Cesar and handed the cashier her debit card and once the transaction was done, Cesar hugged Lilo tightly.

“Thank you, mana,” Cesar whispered.

“No problem, papacito,” Lilo chuckled, “now let’s get some Potato Corner and frozen lemonade from Wetzel’s Pretzels,”

Oscar crossed his arms, “I could have gotten that for Cesar,”

“I don’t mind. I wanted to,” Lilo smiled at the taller man.

Oscar scoffed, but leaned down and gave the shorter girl a kiss on the lips, grabbing her hand and intertwining their fingers. Cesar went to Potato Corner to order them the largest barbecue french fries with Oscar’s cash while Oscar and Lilo went to Wetzel’s Pretzels to order three frozen lemonades for everyone. Oscar couldn’t help, but wrap his arms around Lilo and put his hands on her muscular butt which made her cheeks go red; however, she loved having his hands on her butt.

Once everyone got the fries and frozen lemonades, they sat at a table with Cesar on one side and Oscar and Lilo on the other. Oscar’s hand on Lilo’s thigh while the other was getting fries or taking a sip of his drink, Cesar was eating and talking to Lilo, and Lilo was smiling at Cesar talking about Monse while caressing Oscar’s forearm. The three looked like a perfect family to the outside eye even though they were far from perfect.

[hateswifi]

Rising from the Ashes: Of Dates and Disguises

So this is Part Seven here is to my Master List and Part Six.

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

He texts back his Angel asking to go out this Friday night. She responded positively. He told her that he would pick her up from work. She told him not to overdo it or she wouldn’t talk to him again for a month. He promised he would try and keep it lowkey. Damian fell asleep with a smile on his face and a place in mind.

She wore a red a three-quarter sleeve dress the flows out between her elbow and wrist, the skirt is flowy and ends above the knee. She wore cute ankle boots and black tights. She grabbed her black mini purse. It was still cold, so she grabbed her navy blue winter coat has fluffy faux fur on the hood. The next day of Marinette’s work went well. 

She excitedly waits outside of Lucky Spot for Damian. She hears her phone ring, she picks it up. "Hi, Angel. I'm running a bit late. I got caught up in a bunch of traffic. I thought I would be out in time, but I'll be around ten minutes late. Can I pick you up at your apartment?" Damian asks speaking louder than need be.

"Damian, that sounds super loud are you ok? Are you safe?" Marinette asked, walking towards her apartment.

"Yes it's just traffic," Damian says. "Umm, I gotta go.."

"Oh ok," She said while hanging up. She finished walking home, texted Damian her address, and turned on the news. Robin and Red Hood were fighting Mr. Freeze. Well, they finished fighting they had Mr. Freeze in cuffs and was in the GPD's custody. Robin ran off out of view, the reporter talked about the fight when she heard a knock on her door. She got up quickly while turning off the t.v. and answered the door.

"Hey Damian," She smiles as she sees the boy, normally perfect black hair was quite messy, but handsomely messy, his green eyes sparkling in her dim lights. "Welcome to my humble abode. Would you like to take a look around?" 

"That would be lovely," Damian said, closing the door behind him.

"Just let me remind you that I've only been living here for a couple of days and not everything is decorated or how I would like it to be," Marinette explained, quickly. "This is my kitchen and living room it's an open floor plan." If you follow me this way I have what will be my sewing room once I sell this twin bed. This is my bedroom, it's a mess right now so I'm just going to close this real quick. Then the bathroom is right here."

"This is quite a nice apartment for only being here for a couple of days," Damian compliments. "It doesn't look like you have much stuff though. Did you not take any of your stuff with you? Did your family not give you any housewarming gifts?"

"I recently lost my parents, that's part of the reason I left," Marinette said her face falling a bit. "They died when our house burned down, so I started from scratch. The things I own now were either left by the last tenant left, hand-me-downs from Chloe, or things I recently bought."

"Well I'm sorry for your loss, but I know you're strong. I'll be here if you need my support, Angel, as your friend or something more," Damian said, Marinette ran over and hugged him.

"Thank you, Damian. That means so much to me," Marinette said into his chest.

"You ready for dinner, Angel?" Damian asked, rubbing her back.

"Yes, just as long as it's nothing over the top as I said last night," Marinette said, looking up at the handsome boy breaking away from the hug.

"Yes, come on," Damian said as she locked the door. They walked downstairs, Damian then opens the door to his car for her. 

"So where are we going?" She says, buckling her seat belt.

"It's going to be a surprise," Damian smirked, looking forward at the road, safety first.

"Can't wait," Marinette said, looking at the window, watching the city go by. "The city is so beautiful. Oh! I forgot to ask, did you get caught up in the Mr. Freeze traffic. I saw it on the news, man it must have crazy growing up in this city."

"You saw that?" Damian asked, looking over at the beautiful girl.

"Yes, it was the traffic light boy," Marinette smirked. "and Red Hood. They took him down quite fast, but Robin left quickly after Mr. Freeze was in cuffs."

"Traffic Light Boy?" He asks, remembering what Ladybug had said the night before. He smiles, knowing that the girl he wants as his girlfriend, is even more amazing than he thought. 

Marinette blushes as she explains. "I didn't know Robin's name when I moved here, but my first impression was a traffic light. The designer in me died just a bit but since it's a right of passage, and it's quite honorable."

"We're here," Damian said, getting out of the car then he opens the door for Marinette. "Welcome to the first restaurant my father took me to when he first got custody of me from my mother."

"This looks so homey, what food do they serve," Marinette asked, taking a seat on a stool at the counter.

"Burgers, french fries, hotdogs, milkshakes, and pizza. I hated American food growing up because my mother had me on a strict diet," Damian said. "It's still not my favorite, but I want you to have the full American experience. Do you want to get a little of everything and just split it?"

"Sounds good," Marinette giggles. "So you've heard about me. What can you tell me about you?"

"I grew up with my mother Talia and my grandfather. They were big on self-defense, I spent a lot of time on learning martial arts; I have achieved many black belts. I don't want to talk about myself, I want to hear more about you," Damian said. The waitress came over and took their order.

"I started designing at a young age because I didn't want to be in my parents' bakery shadow. They were the best in Paris, but I didn't want to disappoint them if I wasn't as good as them. As a thirteen-year-old in collège, I started designing for Jagged Stone. I also was found by Gabriel Agreste after winning a competition. He then let me release my line," Marinette told him. The food had arrived and as Damian said they split everything. "So what do you want to do after you're done with school?"

"As the only true blood heir to Wayne Enterprises my brother decided that I would inherit the company, but they would always help me," Damian said, taking a bite of burger. "How do you like American food?"

"It's pretty good, but it seems super unhealthy. I think I'll stick to homemade Parisian food for a while. Next time I'll make the food," Marinette said, pulling out her wallet from her purse to pay.

"Ok you know that I am a son of one of the richest men in the world, but you insist on pay, why?" Damian asks, taking her wallet before she could pull out money.

"Because, my prince, you were first Damian, Titus' owner. The boy I first met was adorably nervous, complimented me, and insisted on paying for breakfast as a sorry for being tackled by his dog," Marinette said. "I'll pay the tip. It's a tip or all meal."

"Fine," Damian said, giving her back her wallet. He paid the part he said he would. They left and he held the restaurant door open then also opened his car door for her. Damian walked Marinette up to her apartment.

"Thank you, Damian, for walking me up to my apartment," Marinette said unlocking her door then turns toward him.

"Thank you for coming with me. You make me happy, Angel,"  Damian said looking down at her. Marinette leaned up and kissed his cheek. He leaned forward and whispered. "Angel, may I kiss you?"

"Prince, I thought you would never ask," Marinette leaned up and met his lips. They are incredibly soft. They broke their chaste kiss. "Goodnight my Prince."

"Wait, Angel, will you be my girlfriend?" Damian said stopping the door before she could finish closing it.

"I would love that," Marinette said hugging him. 

"Thank you, Angel, for making my life brighter," he said, kissing her head. "Good night, Marinette."

"Good night, Damian," She closes the door with a smile, she slides to the ground.

The next morning Marinette got up and put on a straight long brown with blonde highlights wig she had bought earlier that week. She put on green contacts and wore the horse miraculous. She wore an emerald green shirt and her black skater skirt, all paired with green converse. 

“Hey, Chloe,” Marinette said into her phone. “I’m about the teleport is it ok if I use your room.”

“Ya I’m here now, I’ll be waiting,” Chloe said then hung up. 

“You heard Chloe, girls,” Marinette said looking at the kwamis. “Kaaliki full gallop. Full forth!"

The portal opened and she stepped through, now standing In Chloe’s room. She detransforms and hugs her friend. 

“I haven’t seen you in forever!” Marinette said. 

“It hasn’t been a week,” Chloe said. 

“It feels like longer though. Guess what?” Marinette said breaking the hug now looking at her friend. 

“What, you got  Titus owner to be your boyfriend,” Chloe guesses, rolling her eyes. Marinette blushes. “Wait seriously? You’ve been in America for five days and you already have a boyfriend? I guess I need to come to America too. Help me pack my bags?”

“Chloe his name is Damian and he’s super sweet,” Marinette smiles. 

“Lila’s fake boyfriend’s name is also Damian,” Chloe snickers and then mimics. "Her Damiboo is so shy." They laugh together and Chloe takes a closer look at Marinette. "So who are you today?" Chloe asks

"Today I am Ann Prince, and I am here to visit my dear childhood friend, Chloe," Marinette said in a British accent, twirling.

"Hello Ann I'm happy to see you again, it has been ages," Chloe says, hugging her long lost friend. "What do you have planned for today?"

"Well, I would love to see the friends your friends you speak so highly of. If I remember correctly Adrien and Kagami have a fencing tournament, then Kitty Section has a performance," Marinette said with a smile.

"I'll text my friends to let them know that my dear friend Ann is coming," Chloe said texting them. "Want some lunch before the tournament?"

"I woke up, got dressed and came here, so breakfast would be better," Marinette said as they leave Chloe's room.

"How about brunch?" she says closing the door. "There's a small cafe near here we can go to."

"That would be lovely," Marinette said as they walk together in sync they talk about everything they had missed. They eat eggs and benedict. They talk about their futures, how Chloe is doing in school, and most importantly Christmas. 

When they arrive they sit in the front row. They're on the quieter side careful not to draw attention to themselves. After Kagami won the girl's division she came and sat with Ann and Chloe. She smiled seeing the bluenette turned brunette. 

"Good job you guys! Hi, my name is Ann, I'm one of Chloe's childhood friends," Marinette greeted, still speaking in her British accent. 

"Hi, I am Adrien Agreste, and this is my beautiful girlfriend Kagami," Adrien said, hugging Ann.

"Hello, Ann," Kagami said also hugging her. Lila and Alya walk up to the group.

"So who is your new friend, you're all so quick to replace Marinette. What? Is she a bully too?" Aha sneers. 

"Well I am Ann Prince, it is a pleasure to meet you," she said, holding out a hand with a sickeningly sweet smile.

"Ann you don't want to hang out with these people, they are bullies," Lila warned smiling.

"Lila, why are you here?" Adrien said, stepping in front of Ann.

"I came to see you of course Adrihoney! You are my boyfriend!" Lila screamed, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Lila, I've told you many times that we are not dating. I'm dating Kagami and have been for two years," Adrien said.

"We both know your father is making you date her. I'll be here for when you can finally be free from her cold claws," Lila said, walking off with Alya tailing behind her.

"Well, you guys ready to head to Kitty Section's performance?" Marinette asks.

"Sounds like a plan, Ann," Chloe said, locking elbows as they walk out of the school.

Kitty Section is playing at the TVi studio as part of a competition judged by Uncle Jagged. Apparently, he had been a bit quieter since his niece's funeral. She was excited to see her friends and her uncle even from afar. Luka won the best guitar solo, but Kitty Section did not win as a group. 

"Hi, Luka! My name is Ann and I'm an old friend of Chloe. It's nice to meet you," Marinette said still in her British accent, hugging the bluenette. "Congratulations, I loved your guitar solo! The rest of your group was pretty good." 

"Thank you, Ann, you guys ready for dinner? I’m starving," Luka said turning to the rest of the group.

"That sounds great! I haven't eaten since before the competition," Adrien said, rubbing his stomach.

They ate dinner together. They chatted and she told them the news of her and Damian. She told them about the Gotham heroes and everything in between. They told her about their Christmas plans. They smile as the pay and say goodbye. She left to go talk to Master Fu.

"Master Fu, it's good to see you, she says bowing. "I ended up in America, how are you able to get me the correct papers?"

"It's good to see you again Ms. Marinette. I like the wig and contacts a simple but good disguise," Master Fu compliments. "I just have my connections, don't worry it's nothing illegal."

The process didn't take long and soon she was heading back to Chloe's room. She opened the door to see her friends sitting down watching an anime. She sat down on the couch her friends and watch half an anime before they're interrupted by a bing.

Prince: Hey Angel how are you doing

"Aww Damian is texting," Marinette said, smiling at her phone.

Angel: Pretty good. what've you been up to today?

'Prince: I had a couple of meetings today. They were boring, but I'm alive. How bout you'

Angel: Chloe video called me so I could watch Adrien and Kagami's tournament. Then Kagami video called me so I could watch Luka's performance. It was fun. Want to come to my apartment tomorrow for a homemade meal

Prince: I would love that

Angel: Great see you, tomorrow prince

Prince: It sounds like you're getting ready for bed, but do you realize it's only two o'clock

Angel: Seriously I didn't even realize it

Prince: Lost in a design?

Angel: No, Adrien recommended us all a different and new anime, Sword Art Online. It's pretty good

Prince: Well I hope you enjoy it. Dick is telling me to pay attention. Bye Angel.

Angel: Good luck, Prince.

Marinette smiles, standing up while saying. "Guys. I should be going. It's already eight here, two in Gotham. I'll miss you guys, I'll be back for Chinese New Year and regular New Year." 

"Well we can't wait to see you again Ann," Adrien said, hugging the girl the rest join in the group hug.

"Kaalki, full gallop," She transforms back into Mare. "Thank you for announcing my moving, by the way. Full forth. See you guys soon." Then she was gone. She had taken some French food she had missed a bit. She put the food in the kitchen, and grabbed her sketchbook, wanting to sketch her new found inspiration from being home. After a couple of hours of designing, and a shower she went to bed early because of jet lag sorta.

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

Tag list (Open):

@northernbluetongue @melhuney @ladysblackcat @sturchling @otaku4312 @g-arya @smolplantmum @bluefyoto94 @echpr @moonlightstar64 @thesunanditsangel @cutechip @heaven428 @elmokingkong @kass-is-weird @niza13149 @urbanpineapplefarmer @ginamarie1512 @chocolatecatstheron @iggy-of-fans @crazylittlemunchkin @komatsuna-yuki @weird-pale-blonde-person @ellerahs @sinnamonroill @daminett4life @queenmj10

[purplesurveys]

1175

What’s the last vegetable you ate, and when did you eat it?  My dinner had broccoli and bell peppers in it.

What was your last Facebook notification for?  It was Aliyah replying to our comment thread on one of my posts. There wasn’t anything in her comment that was worth replying to anymore, so I just reverted with a Haha react.

What bands have you seen live? Paramore, Coldplay (not super legally), and One Direction.

Tell me an interesting fact about your mother:  She almost became a flight attendant, but she failed the final screening because of her height. I think the idea of her nearly having a completely different career is very interesting.

What do you think is the most important thing to happen to you before the age of 13?  In my case, probably getting my period. I got my first one when I was barely 10.

What were you super against as a young child but aren’t anymore?  Chicken curry. I also hateeeeeeeed Dora the Explorer with a passion, but now I find the show hilarious haha.

What are your plans later today? My work sched this week had been so fucking PACKED, that I want to do nothing but catch up on sleep all weekend. But seeing as I’m a proponent of revenge bedtime procrastination, I also highly doubt I’d let myself fall into a nap (Exhibit A: Me currently taking this survey at 2 AM...) If anything, I’ll probably just continue watching BTS In The Soop and finally start on Season 2 of Bon Voyage.

Are you doing anything exciting this weekend?  Well, it’s the weekend already, so...that ^ I will also have to take Cooper to the vet this Sunday.

Who do you talk to the most? Other than my team at work, Angela. I’ve been extra talkative these days because of our now-mutual excessive love for BTS, that I sometimes feel bad that I keep bombarding her with messages.

What are some things you do regularly that make you feel old?  Talk to my friends who are still in college, especially when they update me about the current happenings in UP that I have absolutely no clue about anymore.

Who is your best guy friend(s)?  I don’t have any best guy friends.

Do you wish your skin was lighter or darker?  Neither; I’m fine with my tannish skin tone.

If you had a tiny scar on your face, would you get it removed or just keep it?  Keep it; I already do.

Have you had an x-ray in the past year? Nah. My last one had been nearly 5 years ago, when I needed to get my back checked for scoliosis.

Do you think your first love still loves you?  No. And that’s okay. :)

What is something that is “going right” in your life?  EVERYTHINGGGGGGGGGGG I am so so happy with my life right now weeeee. I have the job of my dreams – I’m even working with THE ACTUAL K-POP GROUP SLASH PHENOMENON SLASH ICONS BTS for one of the clients I handle FHKDHGKHGFDKGHDKGH, I have the best and most supportive friends in the world, and I am now starting to grow my collection of BTS merch with my hard-earned money. Everything is going abso-fucking-lutely perfectly, and to think I didn’t think I would make it past 2020.

When did you feel ready to start dating?  Middle of high school.

When was the last time your pet bit you? If you don’t have a pet, have you ever been bitten by someone else’s?  I was play fighting with Cooper earlier tonight, and he got a little bit excited and ended up biting my upper lip quite harder than usual. It stung for a while, but it’s okay now.

Where were you the last time you made out?  I think it was my bedroom.

When was the last time you cried tears of joy? Yesterday.

How do you type your sad smileys?  Just this :(

Do you have “decorative hand-towels” that cannot be used in your house?  Nope.

What was the last soda you drank?  Probably the Coke I drank at an org event last year, pre-pandemic, out of sheer thirst. There wasn’t any water being served so I just gulped down the soda and tried to ignore the annoying fizziness. I don’t drink soda.

What was the last thing someone made fun of you for?  I was having a video call session with my workmates this afternoon as a way to end the week on a good note, and I recounted my experience of being locked out of the office while I was in the middle of a presentation for a client, and how I managed to get myself back in.

Have you ever had any type of surgery?  Nope.

Should kids be allowed to get tattoos/piercings without parental consent?  No.

Who was the last person to hit on you?  No one has in a while.

What was the last thing you decided not to do, that you were supposed to?  A deliverable a client asked me to do. It can wait til Monday.

What’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to tell someone?  Maybe straight up admitting to my mom that she can be hurtful sometimes. It’s hard because she never actually processes things like that and they do nothing but vanish into thin air, even though it takes everything in me to be that honest.

What do you put on hot dogs?  Mayonnaise.

Ever fallen in the shower?  Like once, when I was 10 or 11.

What’s the worst thing you’ve ever called someone you care about?  Continued from last night. It was probably ‘bitch.’ Based on what I’ve learned from my mom, I put extra effort in particuarly watching what comes out of my mouth, because I know how words stick.

Do you think that things will get better?  I did, and now it has.

Have you ever legitimately saved a person’s life?  I think I may have. The story is a little triggering though, so I wouldn’t share it.

What’s your favourite book genre?  Doesn’t really count as a genre but I like auto/biographies.

Have you ever walked out of a movie at the theatre?  I’ve felt like it, but I’ve never done it.

Do dogs like you?  Yes, at least for 99.5% of my experiences.

Would you say that you project an air of authority?  In certain circles. But there are some groups where I trust others to lead rather than me.

Have you ever jumped off a high dive into a pool?  Nah, because I’ve never seen one. But even if I did, I think I would be too scared to do it hahaha.

Do you use one towel when you shower or two? (one for hair, one for body)  One. I use it to wash my entire body already.

Have you ever been to one of the great lakes?  No.

Who do you know that had a baby recently?  The son of one of my old college instructors. I believe she had been born in March because that prof recently posted family photos on Facebook that celebrated the baby’s first monthsary.

Do you like Usher’s songs?  Not in particular.

When was the last time you went to a waterpark?  Not a big fan of these as I find them unhygienic haha. The last time must have been...like anywhere between 12-15 years ago.

Have you ever ridden a train? Just once, and I had to go with Jum because I didn’t want to go alone.

What do you eat your French fries with?  Mayonnaise. If there isn’t any available, I’d want the fries to at least be generously sprinkled with salt; otherwise I’d find it too bland.

Do you have family problems?  Nothing blatant, but I know we are more dysfunctional than how we make it out to be.

What’s the last food you ate that was stale?  Pizza. I got two extra large boxes for my birthday last Wednesday and until now we still have some of it around :((( I ate some slices at around 3 AM earlier and they were tough as fuck to chew, hahaha. Still good, though.

How do you like your grilled cheese?  I don’t have grilled cheese sandwiches often. Surprise me.

What is the most challenging meal you have ever cooked?  I don’t cook.

What was your favorite thing to do as a little kid?  I liked watching my cousin play video games; playing outside; and answering my friends’ autograph books (aka my pre-survey days, lol).

Have you ever been close to drowning? Yup but just once. I was swimming and was just about to come up for air when one of my cousins, coming from the bottom of the pool, suddenly started to playfully pull me down. I was nearly out of breath by then and he had a much stronger grip on me, so I struggled for a while and ended up panicking and thrashing around a bit before I was able to wriggle myself free.

Have you ever had a panic attack?  It’s rare that it happens, but when it does it’s really bad and there’s no telling when it would subside.

Do you like doing housework?  Some, and only if I’m in the mood to. If I feel like I have to do it, then I get lazy.

Would you ever get implants?  I considered it before as a teen, back when small-chested girls were still bullied or made fun of on an everyday basis. How fucked up is that? I’m so relieved at how much social media has progressed.

Do you own a robe?  No.

Do you have a little sister? What’s her name? I have a younger sister but she’s barely a baby; she’s literally turning 21 this year. Nina.

Do you like crust on pizza or do you cut it off?  I like crust as long as it’s normal crust or stuffed crust. I can’t stand thin crust.

What was the last song you listened to?  Euphoria - credited to BTS, but it’s a Jungkook solo.

Have any of your family members been to jail?  Not blood relatives, but I know of super extended unrelated family members who’ve been to prison. Is there anyone that you feel you still need some closure with?  I don’t think so. Sometimes no closure is closure.

Can you remember when you first learned how to read?  I can’t, actually. All I remember is that I suddenly wanted to read everything by the time I was 5 and asked for nothing but storybooks every Christmas.

What event in your life has transformed your personality the most?  College. Gabie also had a very big influence on me during our relationship.

Have you ever had any teeth pulled?  Yes, but it was because it was already decayed.

Do you still want to be what you wanted to be in elementary school?  No, but I do elements of it in my work so that works out well for me. I wanted to be an author when I was in grade school, and today I regularly write various materials in my job.

What’re some TV shows that you would like to get into?  I just wanna get reconnected with The Crown again. I was already into it but I had to stop watching for a LONG time, because the show had some personal connections to my ex and so it seemed hard to get into the new season without breaking down lol. Now that I’m doing fine, I feel like it’s a good time to revisit the show.

How would you feel if you were drafted for the military?  Won’t happen here, but it’s the kind of situation where I wouldn’t really have a choice and would have to follow.

What is your favorite Queen song?  I don’t have any.

Do you know how to use any foreign currency? What do you mean, use...? Don’t you just use money to pay?? Hahaha or if you mean convert, then yeah I know how to do that with several currencies – US dollar, Korean won, Euro, Japanese yen, and whatever official name the pound has.

Been kissed by someone who you knew was “bad” for you?  Nope.

Ever taken an at-home pregnancy test?  I have not.

When was the last time you were at a loss of what to do?  I usually don’t have plans laid out on weekends these days anymore, so lately it’s all been a matter of winging it and just wanting to make sure that by the end of the day I get to say I made the most out of my free time.

What did you do on your favorite date with a guy/girl?  The time we did museum hopping + Italian dinner, or the one where we had French dinner + jazz bar.

What’s a movie you have seen in the theater more than once?  I never do rewatches for movies still in cinemas.

What is the reason you’re still alive?  I was stubborn and wanted to see if life would get better; I didn’t want to leave my dogs behind; I didn’t want to miss out on how potentially great and exciting my life could end up being; I didn’t want to cause and leave an even bigger emotional rift on my family.

I’m so happy I stayed.

Have you ever had sex in someone else’s bed/bedroom?  Yeah. Not the best decision, and I wouldn’t do it again lol.

Do you ever brush your hair before you go to bed?  Sometimes, so that it doesn’t look like a bird’s nest when I wake up the next day.

Have you ever had a dream about sleeping with a celebrity? (You don’t have to give details.)  I don’t think so. I have definitely imagined it in...other ways, though.

Has anyone ever told you that they needed you? Do you think they meant it?  Both in the superficial and loaded senses, yeah. 

How did you feel when you woke up today? What was the first thing you thought about?  I felt kind of like shit, just because I slept for only 1.5 hours – my body automatically wakes me up by a certain time, no matter what time I fell asleep. And also because my back and shoulder muscles were killing me with how sore they felt.

Do you still tell your parents that you love them?  I show it, but I don’t say it. I’m pretty stingy when it comes to that phrase.

Have you ever said “I love you” to someone you weren’t going out with?  Yes? It shouldn’t be limited to people you’re dating? I express it to Anj and Andi all the time.

Have you ever been threatened before?  Sure.

Would you date someone with a physical disability?  Yes.

Think of the last person you had sex with. Do you think they’ve slept with anyone else since they last slept with you?  Purely guessing, it’s likely. I’m not updated about her life anymore, though; life has been going on as if she never existed.

The last time you dyed your hair, what color did you dye it?  I’ve never had it dyed.

Think of the last time you went out to eat. Who paid?  I went out by myself, so I paid.

Do you save at least 15 percent of your income?  Yeah. I had a very good saving streak in which I was able to save anywhere around 50-60% every month...and thennnn I became a fan of BTS early this month LOOOOOL so now I’m back to like square three when it comes to my savings haha. Like I still know my limits and when to fucking stop taking out money from my bank account, but I’ve been spending dramatically more than I have been in the last few months.

Do you ever go on Reddit? If so, what are some of your favorite subreddits?  I used to go much more regularly, to the point where it was a part of my daily routine. Now I go at least once a month. I usually check out the Ask Reddit (for anecdotes), Today I Learned (for trivia), and GMM subreddits. Sometimes I’ll get on the Squared Circle subreddit as well to be updated on wrestling.

Were you ever a flower girl or ring bearer in anyone’s wedding when you were little?  Many times as a flower girl, yeah.

Are your parents in good health?  Fortunately, yes.

Have you ever been a caregiver to a sick/disabled relative?  Nope.

Is there any type of medicine you can’t take? For what reason?  Not that I know of.

Do you have a favorite pair of pajamas? What do they look like?  I don’t have pajama sets since I find them too warm.

Do you have any interesting pillow cases?  Eh, I don’t think so.

If something on your body hurts, which part is it most likely to be?  Shoulder muscles or my lower back.

Are you more afraid of spiders or bees?  Bees.

Have you ever worn fake nails? If so, what did the last pair you wore look like?  No.

Is Russian or Native American history more interesting to you?  Native American.

[plugloveff]

Prologue

Chanel:

“Chanel we’re going to LIV tonight, and you’re coming. So, don’t even try to give me no bullshit” My best friend Aria said

Rolling my eyes, I leaned back in my chair and crossed my legs. “So, I don’t get a choice in this matter?” I asked.

“No, you don’t, you’ve been avoiding going out with us for almost a month now. You can’t let a break-up turn you into a grandma. It’s been over a month Chanel. Fuck him it’s his lose, not yours and it’s time for you to move on and hopefully get some dick because you’ve been really bitchy lately” Aria replied before taking a bite out of her burger.

Biting my lip, I looked down at my nails, and processed what Aria had just said. I hated to admit it but she was right, I’d spent the last month sulking after this breakup. It was time for me to get back to my old-self.

“Fine, I’ll go. But please stop talking about my sex life” I said flipping grabbing the stack of papers off my desk.

“You mean your lack of a sex life” Stephanie my other best friend said as she walked into the office.

Aria almost choked on her burger laughing.

“Fuck the both of y’all” I said flipping them off.

“You know it’s all love Coco” Stephanie said throwing herself on the couch next to Aria and stealing a French fry from off of her plate.

“Yeah, whatever. Don’t y'all have work to do? Or am I the only mother fucker that work around here?” I asked.

“I’m on lunch” Aria said tearing into her burger and slapping Steph’s hand away from her fries.

“My next client doesn’t come for another two hours. Stephanie said stealing another fry off of Aria’s plate when she wasn’t looking. “But I could definitely squeeze you in” she said pointing to the messy bun on top of my head.

“What’s wrong with my hair”

“Coco, you’ve been sporting that struggle bun all damn week. If I didn’t know you, I’d think you couldn’t afford to get your hair done or better yet that you didn’t own a salon” Steph replied.

Stephanie and I were the co-owners of a full-service salon in Miami. Aria was our manager.

All around Beauty was the busiest salon in all of Miami, because we offered everything from hair care to skin care. We were so busy that clients had to book almost two months in advance or joining our waiting list.

This salon was everything to me, it was my baby. I poured my all into this salon and it was definitely paying off. Not that anyone was surprised by this with me being the daughter of one of the biggest bosses in the state of Florida Carter Wright. He’s one of the biggest drug suppliers in the country. But he was smart he kept the most powerful people on payroll so he was untouchable. His moves were calculated and none of the drugs could ever be traced back to him.

My father is street royalty the king and being his daughter made me the princess. I didn’t have to lift a finger if I didn’t want to. But I wasn’t into sitting on my ass and doing nothing, I knew the weight my last name held but I wanted to make my own way.

“So, what you wearing tonight Nelly?” Aria asked.

“I don’t know probably a dress” I said shrugging as I continued to flip through the stack of papers in front of me.

“Wear that leather one you bought the last time we went shopping. That dress fits you like a glove” Aria said.

“Hell, yeah wear that shit” Stephanie said

“Alright, ill finish inventory while Steph does your hair” Aria said getting up from her spot on the couch.

“Damn does my hair look that bad? You hate doing inventory” I asked.

“Ehh it’s not terrible, but you not going to nobody’s club with me looking like that” Aria said.

Laughing I shook my head. Aria wasn’t one to hold her tongue for shit. If there was something on her mind, she was going to let it be known and it was what I loved most about my best friend.                                                      

                                                   ______________

Walking over to my mirror I quickly checked my outfit. I almost didn’t recognize myself it had been a while since I had dressed up. Aria was right about the dress, it clung to my body like a second skin. My hair fell down my back in soft waves and my face was beat to perfection.

Shrugging into an oversized denim jacket I took one last look at myself before grabbing my keys and stepping onto the elevator.

Once I was in the car, I sent Aria and Steph a quick message and let them know I was on my way. Speeding out of the garage I turned the volume up and blasted Lil Baby’s new album.

About twenty minutes later I was pulling up in front of LIV. Parking my car next to Aria’s G wagon. I stepped out of the car. Aria and Steph were waiting at the front of the club for me.

“Damn it looks like it’s going to be packed in there” I said noticing the line wrapping around the block.

“Girl you know we haven’t waited for a line ever” Stephanie replied.

Smiling I shrugged and walked over to the bouncer.

“Hey ladies” he said as he lifted the rope for us to enter. At the sounds of teeth sucking and protests I turned my head and noticed a group of girl’s dirty looks. I decided to have some fun, I flashed them a million-dollar smile and a wave as I stepped into the dimly lit club.

Moving through the packed crowd I smiled and greeted a few of the people I knew as we made our way to our VIP section. Once we sat down, a bottle girl came to our table.

“You ladies know what you want, or do you need a minute?”

“Nah we know what we want. Let me get two bottles of 42, three bottles of Moët and a bottle of Henny” Aria replied.

“42? Do y’all not remember the last time we had 42? We got into that big ass brawl” I said shaking my head at the memory of that night.

Stephanie chuckled. “Yeah, but them bitches tried it. But were not going to be getting into no shit tonight. Were just here for a good time”

“I hope not, because y’all better not have dragged me out of my house to get into a fight” I said.

“Girl, that would be the highlight of your boring ass life” Aria said.

“Yo, if you don’t stop coming for me” I said shaking my head.

“I love you darling” Aria said giving me a kiss on the cheek.

Rolling my eyes, I shook my head just as our bottle girl came. Grabbing the bottle of Moët out the bucket I popped it and took a swig.

Swaying my hips to the music, I took another sip of my bottle. I needed this night out more than I thought, it felt good to be out.

Right there, I made a promise to myself that I was done letting this breakup get the best of me. there and then that she was done being depressed over her break up with Rob. It was his lose he cheated on me and I had to move on with my life. Tonight, was the beginning of me taking my life back. Fuck Rob, I was back on my Bullshit like Jhené Aiko said.

Two hours into the night, and our VIP section was now crowded with men fighting for Aria and Steph’s attention. Standing in front of the railing I looked down and the party goers as I rapped along to every word of Lil Baby’s Sum to Prove.

“We see you in VIP Chanel” the DJ said as he pointed to Me. Smirking, I shook my head and raised my bottle of Moët.

“Yass Coco” Aria screamed behind me. The 1942 bottle was in her hand and one of the men had his arm wrapped around her waist.

Steph was laughing with another one of the men who I’m sure was spitting some bullshit in her ear.

I could bet money that he would probably end up at Steph’s house tonight and she would probably never see him again. Stephanie swore off relationships, she always said “Nigga’s are always playing games, so I’m playing too. And a lot better than them.”

I wasn’t entertaining any of the men in our section. I didn’t need the extra stress especially just coming out of a relationship. I was just trying to have a good time.

We spent another two hours at the club. Drinking, dancing and enjoying ourselves before the DJ announced the club was closing. Tossing the empty bottle of Moët into the bucket I grabbed my stuff and we headed out of the club.

Feeling the cool breeze after being in a hot club for the past four hours felt good. Shrugging my jacket on I grabbed a hair tie out of my bag and put my hair into a messy ponytail.

“Coco, we’re about to hit up a diner. I’m starving you down?” Aria asked as the man she was dancing with wrapped his arm around her waist.

“Nah, she coming back with me.” The sound of the familiar voice behind me made my heart raise. Turning around I came face to face with my ex-boyfriend Robert. A group of his friends were standing close by. “You have got to be fucking kidding me” I said at the sight of him.

Glaring at him I couldn’t stop my palm from itching. I couldn’t believe the same face I’d loved for the past 4 years made my blood boil now. “Rob, get the fuck out of my face” I said.

“Chanel, stop acting like that baby I said I’m sorry you know that bitch meant nothing to me. I just want to talk to you” he said.

“There’s nothing for us to talk about Rob, go talk to one of them dirty ass bitches you cheated on me with. You lucky I don’t slap you in your face right now”

“Coco, fuck him. Let’s just go” Stephanie said. Shaking my head, a spun on my heels away from Rob.

“Nah you’re coming with me; we need to talk” Rob said grabbing my hand.

Spinning around I yanked my hand out of his grasp and slapped him hard against in his face. “Don’t you ever put your fucking hands on me again. Have you lost your god damn mind? Do you know who the fuck I am? I will end you. Don’t fuck with me” I barked out. The mixture of alcohol in my system fueled my anger. I was seeing red, fuming and my skin felt hot.

“Yo what the fuck is wrong with you” Rob said glaring at me. But I stood my ground, I wasn’t afraid of Rob and if he wanted to go there with me it would be his mistake.

Rob tried to reach for me again, but before he could touch me a man came in between us.

“I think you might want to back up of her” he said.

“My nigga, who the fuck are you?” Rob asked pressing him.

The man let out a deep chuckle and shook his head. “My nigga you really don’t want to do this with me. I’m not the one” he said.

“Nigga what?” Rob said pulling up his pants. But before he could even lay a finger on him.

The mystery man pulled a gun from his waist band and held it under Rob’s chin. “Like I said my man, you don’t want these problems”.

Rob froze, as the steel of the man’s gun pressed against his chin.

“I-I ain’t mean no harm. I just want to talk to her” Rob stuttered.

“Well, she doesn’t want to talk to you. So, I’m going to give you 3 seconds to get the fuck out of my face. And if I see you anywhere near her again, I’m not talking I’m shooting. Understand?” he said.

Lifting his hands in surrender, Rob started backing away. He kept his eyes on me the entire time.

“Yo Meek, you a crazy mother fucker” the man that clung to Aria said.

Tucking his gun back into the waistband of his jeans he turned to face me. When I finally saw his face, my breath caught in my throat. He was fine, wait he was better than fine he looked like he was made of the finest chocolate.

Damn, Who the fuck is this man? I thought taking in his features.

“You alright Ma?” he asked looking down at me.

I couldn’t’ stop staring at him, where did he come from? and why did he look so good?

His skin was the perfect shade of chocolate, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he tasted as good as he looked. His hair was freshly cut with waves so deep I knew I’d get sea sick if I looked at them for too long. His beard was full but perfectly manicured, it framed his full pink lips.

A diamond earing in each ear and two diamond chains around his neck. On his wrist was an AP from the diamonds around it I could tell it cost him near 500k. The dark denim jeans he wore complemented the bright colored Dior t-shirt and Chanel sneakers he wore.

“Yeah, I’m good. Thanks.”

“Don’t sweat it beautiful” he said running his tongue across his bottom lip. My body shook at the motion.

“Yo Meek, we out to the diner. You coming?” Aria’s man asked.

“You going?” he asked looking down at me.  

“Yeah”

“Yeah, I’m down” he said smirking at me.

Biting my lip, I looked down at my feet, feeling the heat from his gaze. Placing a finger under my chin he forced me to look up at him.

“Nah, always keep your head up beautiful” he said

Damn this man. I thought staring at him.

“Alright let’s go I’m starving” Aria said walking to the parking lot.

Tearing my eyes away from him, I followed them into the parking lot and to the diner.

Fifteen minutes later I parked my car next to Aria’s, getting out of the car I watched as Meek pulled his Maserati into the spot next to mine. Getting out the car he flashed me a million-dollar smile that made me weak in the knees.

Nah this has to be the lack of dick I’m getting because there’s no way he has this effect on me I thought.

Entering the diner, we found a booth in the back away from most of the crowd. Sliding into the corner my heart skipped a beat when Meek slid in next to me.

We spent time together, laughing like we’d known each other our whole lives instead of people who had just met. I found out the other guy’s names were Dre and Wayne. Them and Meek had been best friends since the second grade. Their relationship reminded me of the one I shared with Aria and Stephanie.

When it was time for us to leave, I reached for my wallet. “Nah I got it” Meek said reaching into his pocket and pulled out a stack of money. Peeling off three hundred dollar bills he tossed them on the table.

“We out” Dre said.

Climbing out of the booth we headed to the parking lot.  

“Alright, I’m exhausted. I’m going to head out” Aria said waving at us with Dre hot on her tail.

“Yeah, I'm going to head out too, I got early clients in the morning” Steph said as her and Wayne headed for his car. Leaving Me and Meek alone.

“Well thank you for earlier and for the food” I said leaning against my car door.

“Don’t worry about it Ma. I’d do it again with no hesitation” he said looking down at me.

“Well, I better go” I said getting into my car. But before I could close my door, he stopped me.

“What’s up?” I asked

“Text me when you get home” he said

“How? I don’t have your number” I said.

“Well, we gotta change that” he said handing me his phone.

“Smooth... real smooth” I smirked taking his phone out of his hands I quickly typed in my number.

Handing him back his phone he called me so I could save his number.

“Well goodnight Meek” I said.

“Goodnight Ma, and make sure you text me so I know you got home safe” he said.

“I will” I said as he closed my door and watched as I drove off.

I couldn’t help the smile on my face, there was definitely something different about Meek

Meek:

Pulling into my parking spot I let out a sigh and nodded my head at the doorman. Stepping onto the elevator I pressed PH taking me to the top floor.

Leaning my head against the cold metal of the elevator I thought about my night with Ms. Chanel Wright. I knew about her, shit the whole of Miami knew who she was but seeing her tonight, being so close to her. I hadn’t realized just how beautiful she really was.  

Closing my eyes, I could still see her light brown eyes glaring at me. I pictured how at the right angle made them look like they were glowing. I knew I should stay away from her but being around her tonight I knew that I couldn’t let that happen.

Chanel was royalty, and I was just a young nigga trying to get my paper up. I was ruthless, I’d killed nigga’s without even flinching. My hands were so deep in the game I knew there was a very low chance of me coming out untouched. And I was usually ok with that, I was rich and living a life I dreamed of. But Chanel had me rethinking it, imagining a life where I wasn’t alone.

The sound of the elevator reaching my floor, broke me from my thoughts. Stepping out I tossed my keys on the table and ran a hand down my face. Walking over to the bar I grabbed a bottle of Hennessy VSOP and a glass. Pouring myself a glass I took a sip welcoming the smooth burn.

Pulling out my phone I scrolled through my messages thinking which one of my regulars I wanted to send over just to get my mind off Chanel. But none of them bitches seemed like they would get the job done. Not even Renee with the good head could get Chanel off my mind.

What the fuck did this girl do to me? I thought.

Tossing the rest of the liquor back I walked into my room and stepped out of my clothes. Taking a quick shower, I threw on some boxers and headed back into my room.

I was exhausted, and I knew I had shit I needed to get done tomorrow. But it was already an hour since I left Chanel and still hadn’t heard from her yet.

Grabbing my phone, I sent her a text.

Meek: You home?  

A few minutes later I got a notification.

Chanel: Yeah, I just got out the shower. I meant to text you.

Reading the message, I couldn’t help but think about how she would look fresh out of the shower. My dick jumped at the mental image.

Meek: All good love, you get some sleep

Chanel: Goodnight Meek

Smirking, I tossed my phone down and drifted off to sleep.

                                                  __________________

“Nigga I fucking told you what was going to happen if I caught your ass didn’t I?” Wayne barked as he held his gun to the man’s chin.

“Yo why you still talking to this nigga?” I asked pulling my gun from my waistband and fired three shots into the man’s head. Laying him out.

Tucking the gun back into my waistband I walked over to the table where they were counting the money from the last drop.

Wayne looked at the dead man on the floor and grabbed his phone out his pocket. He dialed a number and waited for a response. “Yo I need a clean-up” he said into the phone waiting for an answer.

“Warehouse” he said again before hanging up and walking over to the table.

“How much?” Wayne asked.

“Half a Mill” Dre said stacking the money.

“We got two more shipments coming through, by the end of the week. We each walking away with at least half a mill.” Dre said rubbing his hands together.

Nodding my head, I took the rolled blunt from behind my ear and lit it. Taking a long pull of the weed I let it sit in my lungs before I blew it out.

“So, Chanel?” Wayne asked glaring at me.

“What you about her?” I asked taking another pull.

“Nigga I saw how you were looking at her. You out here pulling guns out on niggas for her” Wayne said.

“She fine so. And you acting like I ain’t ever pulled my gun out on a nigga before” I said.

“Nah that wasn’t no she just fine. You like shawty” Dre said.

“Yo, why y'all on me? Like y'all wasn’t all over her friends” I asked.

“Oh, I’m definitely fucking with Steph sexy ass again. I’m just saying fucking with Chanel Wright is a different level; shit could end a nigga.” Wayne said.

“Well, I ain’t never been scared of a nigga a day in my life. Plus, you acting like I'mma marry shawty or some shit.”  

“Ion know you was over there drooling looking at her all night” Wayne said.

“Yo fuck you. Let’s finish this so we can dip”

“Why you in a rush? you hitting up Chanel?” Dre asked.

“Nah I’m hitting up yah mama. Let’s go nigga” I said

Dre threw a stack of money at me. As Wayne laughed. I knew Wayne was right fucking with Chanel could be dangerous because of who her father was. But I was drawn to her, I knew if I was smart, I would leave shawty alone. But I wanted her and I always got what I wanted.

[datingintampafails]

Chapter 25: Jake* Part 3

A Weird Weekend

He is still at his parents’ and is sufficiently drunk, sends me these:

Hindsight 20/20, I see that him saying not to take meeting his mom and step-dad serious didn’t so much mean “it’s not a big deal to them they're chill,” and probably more of a, “I don’t want you thinking this is a monumental step towards a full-fledged relationship.” But back to the story, he sends me a location pin and I head over that way with an overnight bag. At his mom’s place, he stays in a camper that is in their huge backyard, which he calls his “apartment.” This way I knew we would have our own space. At this point, I will be getting there almost at one in the morning, so I don’t really know what to expect.

When I turn onto his mom’s street, I call him as instructed. He comes out of a house and directs me to park by a fence, where I can see their boat over the fence. I’m not sure why he made this out to be so difficult but it’s fine. He walks me into the home and towards the backyard, where they have a beautiful setup. It is a fairy-light decorated area, with a pool, hot tub, patio set, multiple TVs, and a bar. Immediately I am thinking, I could definitely want to hang out here with him in the future. His step-dad has already gone to bed, but his mom did wait for me. Because it is still COVID times, I wave rather than a handshake and say it’s really great to meet her. His mom is truly very gorgeous. She’s wearing glasses but otherwise looks like Connie Britton from American Horror Story, 9-1-1, Nashville, etc. I’m not going to list her whole IMDB for you, you have Google. 

After meeting me she says she’s going to bed. His two dogs are running around and being silly. We sit for maybe a couple of minutes before he says he wants to go to sleep too. We walk over to his camper with our phone flashlights on, as I am warned there may be some poop piles in our paths. In the camper are a bunk bed set, a large king-sized bed, a small kitchenette, and a small bathroom. I’m advised that only #1s are allowed in the bathroom there, and otherwise, I would need to go inside. With that in mind, I say I’m going to use the camper bathroom real quick. The sink isn’t working, but I brought hand sanitizer so I just used that to clean my hands afterward.

His one dog is content being alone on the bunk bed, but the younger one must be sleeping with us in the bed. My experience with intoxicated Jake*, very text thus far, is that he is sweet and in touch with his feelings. Today I see a different side of him that honestly, I am not thrilled about. 

We are in bed together and he initiates sex, but with the tight corners, it is more tantric than climactic. He again jokes about “good girl” and at one point has his hands on my neck, which I tell him I really don’t like. When we aren’t intertwined, I try to tell him more about my previous abusive relationship, to explain why I don’t like choking in bed. He stops me and says “I don’t want to hear this. It’ll just make me really mad. I’ll want to kill the guy. I’m serious. Like I would drive up to Ohio and kick his ass.” These comments are both kind of sweet that he cares, but also a little scary. On and off with sexual activity, he does upset me once again when he seems disgruntled with my lack of being able to go real hard while I’m on top, “come on…” That irritates me to the point that I more or less give up and turn away from him, laying on my side. I’m for whatever reason sensitive and tear up a little. 

We talk about other stuff and it makes me feel better. All along, his dog is still in bed with us, just curled up and sleeping, he is closer to me than Jake*. Finally, we decide to actually attempt falling asleep. At around 4 in the morning, maybe an hour or so after we decided to go to bed, the dog that was in the bed is doing laps: jumping off the bed, running across the camper, jumping back on the bed, rinse and repeat. Obviously, this activity stirs me. We yell at him more or less to go to bed. Maybe five minutes later, I hear a noise, half-awake, after a few seconds of comprehending the noise, I realize what is going on.

“JAKE* YOUR DOG IS PISSING. YOUR DOG IS PISSING RIGHT NOW!” The dog is next to me standing on the bed, peeing. I scare the dog and the dog jumps off the bed. Jake* now is also yelling at the dog. I grab my phone and turn on the flashlight in the dark camper to see what the damage is. There is pee everywhere. I mean everywhere. Thankfully, I have none on me, but the rest of the bed that was more or less in front of me is soaked, the floor all the way up to the stairs by the door is covered in liquid. My shoes that were by the door have pee on them. My underpants and shorts I had at the foot of the bed have pee on them. The other bunk bed, which apparently the dog had jumped onto while running away, also had piss all over it. Ironically, the only area that didn’t have pee on it was the bathroom. 

Jake* makes both of the dogs leave the camper, I grab some paper towels and start trying to get the floor cleaned at least. He is telling me I don’t have to clean and I insist. He grabs the comforter and mattress topper and is making a pile, cursing continuously. At this point, we are just so tired and are speechless otherwise. I complain about pee being on my stuff and ask for a trash bag for me to put my pee covered clothes in, which he hands me. I stand by the door, just staring at Jake*, while he is cussing still and repeating “I’m gonna kill that fucking dog.” At this point, due to the dog running all over the place, there isn’t anywhere for us both to sleep.

“Jake*, you can do whatever you want, but I am going home. You can come with me, let’s just go to sleep and I’ll bring you back in the morning.” He thinks it over and says finally “fuck it yeah let’s go. He can sleep outside I don’t give a fuck.” The other dog, he brings inside, the bad one is still somewhere in the fenced yard. So now slightly after four in the morning, we get in my car and I drive back to my place, about 30 minutes away, so we can finally sleep. 

I am quiet the whole way, he keeps on and off cursing and repeating that he’s going to kill his dog. This dog was supposedly his baby, his favorite. I ask him if it’s okay for my dog to sleep with us, reminding him that she is a good girl and wouldn’t do any shenanigans. He is not against all dogs at the moment and agrees she’s a good dog. When we finally get back to my place, I ask that we both at least wash our feet before going to my bed. We wash our feet and I say I’m going to more or less fully shower since I was right by the dog when it started peeing and I feel dirty. He goes to bed without me, and when I walk in it’s him and my dog. He isn’t asleep yet so we cuddle, drifting away to sleep in each others’ arms. I have never slept so well with another man, but then again, we also are absolutely exhausted at this point.

In the morning we wake up, have morning sex three times, I only remember this because I text him about it, and more or less lay in bed until 10. Jake* had texted his mom about what had happened, and she says in the morning that she will take care of it and is amazed at the damage done. He and I decide to go get breakfast. We go to McDonald’s thinking that they still have breakfast, but by the time we get there it’s only lunch. Defeated, I just ask for french fries. We eat back at my place, and his mom comes and picks him up around 11 or so.

We are sitting on the couch together as he is getting up to leave, and we sit together on a manually reclining part of the couch. He goes to close the legs back down, and my ankle apparently is in the way. It gets caught and scrapes the back of my ankle, along my Achilles. I scream out, and he apologizes. I know it was an accident so I just hobble over to my fridge and grab an ice pack for myself. This mistake now has literally left me a literal scar on my ankle, so I will never forget him in a way. 

My new car is ready, so I pick it up later that day while he is hanging out with family friends. He sends me lots of pictures of himself. One with an older woman I mistake for his mom, because I have terrible facial recognition, and one of him smoking a cigar. My best friend hits me up and so we decide to hit the town in my new whip, going to Armature works. We discuss food and how Armature Works is too expensive, his words not mine, and gives me alternatives, theoretically:

I didn't hear from him for a couple hours, so I text him again later that night. I’m having issues with charging my car, a hybrid, so I’m picking his brain to figure out solutions. He offers to mess with it when he comes over the next day. At this point I have more or less three home projects for him to help me with, none of which ever get done.

Now it is Sunday! Time for him to cook for me. I mention that at this point we have a yellow heart on snapchat, indicating we are each other’s #1 best friend. I then further explain the emojis of Snapchat.

He mentions again his parents are asking about me. He’s also expressed that he has since forgiven his dog and is back to loving him. Jake* is out on the boat, I am jealous, and gives me step by step progress of him leaving, docking the boat, driving back home, taking a shower, etc. 

He responds with a “maybe.” Which is a lie, because he is considering his options of going back to school or joining the army,  the latter which I am not thrilled about, because already I care about him deeply and don’t want him to die or be hurt.

He arrives and I get out all of the ingredients needed for our sloppy joes. He is cooking when my mom calls. After discussing what he needs to discuss, she says she wants to talk to him. I put her on speakerphone and he is very kind. She asks him a question that is along the lines of, “Are you sassy?” And he says “Yeah but your daughter is pretty sassy too, but I like it.” He throws his “ma’am”s and makes up for a previous time when she got a less than great exposure to him. I had forgotten when in the timeline this story was, but now I am realizing it happened before this.

~~FLASHBACK STORY!~~ 

Earlier in the week, one night after work I went to Jake*’s to spend time together. I stuck around for a while then he was saying he wanted pizza and dinner. I needed to make a meal box kit so in the end, we decided that I would go back home, he would go pick up his order from Domino’s, then he would come to my place for us to hang out. He didn’t tell me necessarily when he was on his way from Domino’s I just knew to expect him eventually. My mom calls me and we are chatting for a while. I have my Airpods in. I hear a knock at the door while I’m on the phone and know it is him. I answer the door, “hey!” And what he says, normally  100% I would love and think was totally funny, which granted I still loved and thought it was funny. After my greeting he says “Yeah, uh, I have a delivery for you….. Except it’s not pizza, it’s actually my dick.” I stare at him, half smiling, half mouth agape as I utter, “I’m on the phone with my mom.” He mouths, “oh shit,” and I through laughter ask my mom if she heard him, she did not, but I’m still just laughing and laughing and finally just feel like explaining it to my mom so she doesn’t think I’m crazy. I told her that he had a pizza, and essentially said that the pizza had sausage… except he didn’t say sausage. She kind of chuckles but is like “oh, okay.” At that point I say I have to go and hang up. Jake* is confused like, “why in the world did you tell her,” and my only defense was that it was really funny.

After that, I was cooking, but he actually took over the cooking because I was “relying too much on the recipe” and more or less he thought he could do better. I was all for it, and just stood in the kitchen while he finished cooking my food for me. It was pretty good with the slight improvements he made to the technique, better than it would have been I’m sure. A lady could get used to this…. He apologized briefly for taking over the cooking, but believe me when I say, I was not insulted in the least.

~~Exit Flashback~~

The sloppy joes he makes this night are amazing, we each have two each. And we spend the rest of the night canoodling. Again he leaves, because of his headaches. At this point it is a chronic thing and I feel bad for him, he just always seems miserable when they come on. Continuously, he is having doctors appointments, trying to suss out everything between the infection and the headaches.

[ellixthea]

Unpredictable Part 1

A/N: Hi guys! I’m finally posting the first part! I hope you’ll like it! To be honest I’m really excited about this series ahah. Btw this part is quite long because i needed to settle the story for some reason so don’t worry if you only see mgk appears towards the end. He will definitely be a lot more present in the next parts 😉

“You can put your pen down. It’s over.” Your teacher told you. You did what you were told and gave a finally look at your paper before handing it. You were done with exams and school, at least for that year. You would get the result in a month and so you would know if you would be able to do your third year in university. You were still surprised how far you had come but you were quite happy about it. You walked outside of the building when you saw your group of friends waiting for you. “So how did it go?” asked one of your best friends, Lara. Lara and you applied to be in the same university in San Francisco and you were more than surprised when you both got the news that you were accepted there. “I think I did okay. What about you guys?” “I think I messed it up.” Replied your other best friend, Chris, that you have met during your first year. “Ohhhh come one! You always say that and end up getting the best grade.” Said your other friend Luke. It is funny to say that you all came from Ohio but only met in a different state. “I think we all deserve a reward. What about an ice-cream by the lake?” You suggested to your friends and they all agreed.

               You were all sitting by the lake, enjoying your first moment of summer when Lara started to talk about what activities you could all do when it hit you. The 4th of July was coming, and your parents were organizing a party and told you that you could invite some of your friends. With exams and all, you completely forgot about it even though it would be the next week. “Guys! My parents are throwing a party for the 4th and since it happens to be a Saturday it will be during the whole weekend. You guys can come if you want to.” “I’m definitely down!” Shouted Lara, obviously very excited about it. “Yes!! How about you guys?” You asked them and you could see Chris was disappointed. “I’m so sorry but my parents have planned this family trip and I have to go.” You could tell he felt bad for not coming but you totally understood. “I can’t either Y/N. I’m sorry.” “It’s okay guys don’t worry. We will still have the time to see each other though.” You replied and you all spent the rest of the afternoon laughing and enjoying ourselves.

               It was around 7p.m when you came back to your dorm. Since it was officially summer break. You had to pack all your stuff. You already had started since the beginning of the week, so you just had to put the remain books and clothes in your suitcases. As you were packing your books, the door opened and it was Autumn, your roommate. You were with her since your first year and to be honest you could not have asked for a better roommate. You would miss her during summer. She was standing by the door with a sad facial expression. “I hate goodbyes.” She told you and gave you a warm hug. “You know it’s only for a few months, right?” “I know but still.” She answered you, still hugging you. Even though you knew you would see each other in two months, the fact of not seeing her during all this time was making you sad. She became a good friend and you were so glad that she came into your life. She would be back in her hometown in Arizona while you would be back in yours in Ohio.  She eventually let go and looked at you in the eyes. “Try not to forget me okay?” She told you in an amused way, but you knew deep down that she really meant it. “Forget you? How can I?” You replied and you both laughed. “I better get some sleep; my flight is at 7a.m tomorrow.” You told Autumn before checking the clock. “Oh right! I was just passing by to say goodbye, mine is in 3 hours. Have a safe flight Y/N.” She told you and hugged you again. “Thanks, you too.” You replied and then she was gone. You changed into your pajamas, brushed your teeth before laying on the bed and eventually fell asleep.

               The alarm went off at 4a.m and all you could say was that it was too early. Your eyes felt heavy and it was hard to keep them opened. Even though you only wanted to go back to sleep, you had to get prepared to catch your flight. You took a quick shower, got dressed in very comfy clothes and put your hair into a bun. You did not bother to do your makeup because once again, it was too early for that. You got back in your room to take your suitcases. You gave a final look at the room, in case you would have forgotten something. You called an uber and soon you were on your way to the airport. When you arrived there, you grabbed something to eat and you waited for what felt like ages. When you heard throughout the speakers that you could abroad, you made your way to the door written on your ticket and then you were on your way to Ohio.

               It was 10 a.m. when the plane landed. You waited to get your suitcases back and then you were looking for your parents. You spotted them with a little paper with your name written on it and you could feel a smile growing on your face. You hugged each other and you could have sworn you saw a tear in your dad’s eye. “We missed you so much!” Your dad told you with a huge smile. “We did! Look at you! You look great Y/N!” “And tan.” Your dad added to your mother’s sentence and you chuckled. “California’s sun is something else.” You chuckled again. “and I missed you too.” You said and soon you were on your way to the house. You missed Columbus. San Francisco was amazing, but you missed being home.

               When you opened the front door, you were gathered by your dog Buck when you heard your big sister, Jo yelled your name. “Y/N! Oh my god it has been a while!” “Jo! I missed you so much!” You ran at her and hugged her. Jo and you were very close. Of course, you would argue sometimes over sister stuffs, but you could not stay mad at each other for too long. She graduated two years ago, and she was working in a fancy enterprise. “We have so much catch up to do!” “Yes, we do.” You laughed and hugged her again. It felt good to be back home.

               It was Friday which meant that the 4th of July party would start tomorrow so you would not be able to rest that much. Your mother explained to you what you had to do today, and you could not see how you could do all she said in one day but well you did not have a choice. Jo would help your mother by cleaning the house, preparing the rooms and all while you would go do the groceries with your dad. When you all knew what to do, your dad and you did not lose any more time and you were on your way to the grocery store since it was already 11:30 a.m. You got all the food you needed which meant meat, fruits, pasta, French fries, chips and drinks which were sodas and alcohol. You also got everything that was needed for the barbecue and some fireworks and with all of that done you stopped by to get something to eat. You ate outside of the Macdonald’s and you chatted a little bit. You missed having time with your dad. “I am glad you will spend summer with us. It was weird when your sister left but when you also did, the house felt empty. Having you girls for the 4th is very great.” Your dad told you as you took a sip of your drink. “Aw dad, even though we are far from you, nothing will ever change. It’s good to be back home.” You replied and gave him a smile. There was a moment of silence before your dad spoke again. “So, did you find any boy in California?” He asked you and you almost chocked on your French fries. You would not talk about those things with your parents, especially your dad. Not because you did not want to but because you were quite shy about it. You would more share those kinds of things with your sister. “Oh, um nope. I’m not interested actually.” You simply replied. It was half true though. Your ex-boyfriend was great well you thought he was but towards the end of your relationship, he became weird, distant and he eventually cheated on you. But even with what he did to you, seeing Lara with her boyfriend kind of made you want to feel loved again. But it was not your priorities. You quickly changed the subject to avoid any more embarrassment. “Oh god, it’s already 2 p.m. We better go.” “Oh, you’re right. You don’t want your mom to kill us.” You laughed and you were on your way back home.

               The rest of the day went by quicker than you expected. Jo and you spent the evening together, but she left to spend the night with her boyfriend Mike. He was a good guy, you liked him. You were exhausted so you decided to go to sleep.

               Your alarm went off at 9 a.m. You didn’t have to lose any time since the first guests would be there at 11:30a.m. You jumped in the shower and got dressed. Since it would be a hot day, you decided to wear a short and a cute tank top. You were doing your makeup when you heard the doorbell rang and your mom said, “she’s upstairs”. You knew it was Lara. “In the bathroom.” You let her know when she was upstairs, and she got in. “Hey! Dang! You look cute!” she told you, and you gave her a weird look. “I have done half my makeup.” You chuckled and kept doing your eyeliner. “Still!” “Well thank you. You’re not bad yourself.” “I know.” She replied and you both laughed.

               It was 11:30a.m and the first guests were arriving. Lara was with your dad outside, your mom gathering the guests and you were bringing the food outside. You were coming in the kitchen when you saw a group of people coming and you spotted Jo. You assumed it was her friends. Yes, she had a lot of friends. You took the plate of meat from the fridge and you were making your way to the garden to give it to your dad when a tall figure kept your attention. You had never seen him before. You knew all Jo’s friends but not him. He was thin, blond haired and his arms were covered by tattoos. You couldn’t stop starring at him. You were brought back to reality when you heard your dad call after you and that was when you realized you were standing there starring at him with the plate in your hands. Your dad calling you caused your sister and her friends, including him, to look at you and you panicked and went outside quickly. The rest of the guests arrived, and you said hi to everyone but your mind where somewhere else.

[shadowmcfly]

Calgary Expo

I cannot even BEGIN to process all that happened on this adventure. This will be a long post!

I made new friends from Canada and Australia! I was very thankful to be included in a wonderful dinner with the local DeLorean club, where everyone was so warm and welcoming.

Canadian hospitality is real, and the kindness I was shown meant so much to me. This was my first time out of the US and using my brand new passport, and I know for sure it will not be my last.

I cannot even begin to express my love and gratitude to Oliver and Terry for all that they've done for me, and continue to do. It's hard to explain, but some human beings are just... special. And these two are like Walt Disney magic. And sometimes, if you're lucky, that magic will touch your life. So much that happened was a beautiful byproduct of that magic.

My trip started off extremely rocky, with waking up to my 3:30am alarm to see my flight was canceled. I panicked and got on the phone with the airline. If I wanted to get into Calgary that day before 11pm, I had to leave NOW to catch a 6am flight. An hour earlier than my 7am original flight.

I somehow made it. And when I checked in saw the airline put me in first class for the inconvenience. Now that's a way to fly into Canada for the first time! This was my first weird divine streak of luck that would carry throughout the trip. Little did I know.

I went straight from the airport, luggage and all, to the Calgary Stampede where the con was being held to meet Oliver and Terry at the booth. From there we decided to visit the Calgary Tower which was right across the street from the hotel.

We had an INCREDIBLE and tasty dinner at the top of the tower, where the floor slowly rotates so you can see the whole city. From there we went up to the top of the tower. I stepped on the glass floor which was SCARY, but pretty damn cool.

I've been to quite a few cons, but it was a first to see a casino right next to the event center!

The DeLorean was located right between the Celebrity Autograph area and the Photo Op area, so I sure didn't have to go far to get both of mine done! That was pretty cool.

The first day I got to meet James Tolken (who came by the booth), who played Strickland in BTTF, and is also well known for his work in Top Gun. He is such a delight, and a very sweet person. He proudly sported a Flux Capacitor pin from the booth during the big BTTF panel on Friday night.

Friday morning was the Parade of Wonders, and as we pulled up in the DeLorean I was told that both Christopher Lloyd and Lea Thompson were riding right in front of us in the parade. OH OK?!?!?! NO BIG????? I had a lot of fun posing for photos with the car, and chatting with people. If you're wondering, when Chris and Lea arrived later on I did not approach. I was there representing Team Fox, and I wanted to remain professional and courteous. My time with them would come later, and it was very cool to watch them arrive and be so close to that. Lea loves doing Instagram stories, and I was thrilled to find out I ended up being a part of them from the parade! When I saw she was taking video I enthusiastically waved at her and got acknowledge with a "Hi!!!!!!".

The parade was beautiful, and I had so much fun getting to be a part of it. We ended up on the news, photos on news websites, and Troy was gracious enough to bring me a copy of the newspaper we were in, which I brought back with me. The route through downtown Calgary was beautiful, and what a way to see it!!!! So many people came out to both participate in it and watch it! Truly unforgettable.

The big BTTF panel on Friday night was absolutely fantastic. Michael walked out on stage and I got choked up at how grateful I was to be seeing this and watching this cast come together. Tom Wilson was so incredibly hilarious and personable, and guided the panel amazingly. He's very good at that, and offered some really insightful answers to questions these guys hear all the time. It was special to hear Tom talk about how he was bullied in school, and hearing him talk about how he had to search deep to be able to play the other side of that line. Christopher Lloyd was hilarious in how utterly over it he was with some of the questions. He's happy to let the others take over, and watching him and Tom is a gift.

Each one of them did their favorite line/lines from the movie, and hearing Michael do Marty quotes made my life. He's just as smart and witty as ever. Truly.

Michael: "Ok, you're playing this slacker kid who loves to play guitar and wants to take his girlfriend alone up to the lake. And I was all, ok I got this!"

Friday was a great day raising funds at the booth, and little did I know what exactly was going to happen Saturday.

The first thing that happened that day that led to something amazing was that I missed Michael's first autograph session. I walked up with my two tickets I had gotten taken care of in ADVANCE, and was told to come back at 4.

I was pissed but let it go, because then I could go ahead with my plan of one of those autographs being on our new photo together. I was hoping I could get my behind the scenes photo signed at the earlier time, then go back again for my 2nd. I wanted a few more seconds during that autograph time to connect that first time vs the rush and go of the photo ops.

That was the first divine thing that happened that lead to the vest. Getting turned away from that earlier time.

Even though I met Michael in 2016, I was in line for our photo trying to shake off the nervousness I felt. One of the staff members looks at me and says, "YOU have to wait in line?". I laugh and say yes. When it was my time, Michael looked at me very warmly and I think my eyes were wide as saucers.

I ask him if I can put my arm on his shoulder and he's ok with it.

"Let's do one of these." He says, and quickly makes the watch gesture I know all too well.

Oh yeah. Let's go. I've waited years for this.

Click.

I spend so much of my time making that shocked expression, but I couldn't do it for probably the first time ever. I was too happy. I smiled and beamed like the happy fool I was. Looking back, I kinda wish I did it, because that would have been hilarious. But I let the Master take the reigns. I thanked him and left, eyes wide and whispering, "Holy shit." under my breath over and over.

My duo photo op with Michael and Chris was about 40min later, so I queued back up in line.

When my time came I took a moment to be completely and utterly star struck by looking at Marty and Doc here in front of me. What even IS that??? How can you process that???

Michael warmly regards me.

"Hi again!" He says.

"Hi Michael, hi Chris!!!".

I ask Chris if I can put my arm around him, and he says I can. Michael looks at me talking to Chris in that moment.

Click.

I thank them and go whooping all the way to pick up my printed photo.

I go back to help at the booth until that 4pm autograph time.

The line is like being packed into a can of sardines, and the staff member laughs and remarks that I'm number 100 in line.

There is a strict NO PHOTO policy. You can't take a photo of Michael signing.

I have two photos for Michael to sign: our brand new photo together and a rare behind the scenes photo that I loved so much when I saw it, I asked my friend if I could get it printed and signed on the promise I wouldn't post it to social media, ect.

My time comes. One of Michael's handlers sees the behind the scenes photo.

"I've never seen that one before."

And takes a photo of Michael signing it. The second divine thing that happens.

I panic, but turn my attention to Michael quickly because I've got a few seconds. Go.

He's signing and as he is, I say:

"Hi Michael. I just wanted to say that it's an absolute honor using this costume to volunteer for your Foundation."

Michael looks at me.

"Thank you. I certainly appreciate that."

I thank him and leave, slipping back into the booth.

But the photo.

Would it have been the worst thing ever if it got posted somehow? Probably not. But I can't shake it.

I tell Terry what happened.

She walks me over, warmly greets everyone, and explains the situation. The photo is deleted, and as we're here getting this sorted, Michael is... there.

He's right there.

The line is gone. The only people there are the handlers, staff, and Terry and I.

Somehow... Michael was still there even though the line was gone.

Michael looks at me. Bright blue eyes. Recognizes me.

He's sitting but puts his hands on the table and stands.

"Your jacket."

"Wh.... what??"

"Your jacket... your vest. I wanna sign your vest."

"Wh....???" My eyes WIDE.

I take it off, it's laying front side up in front of him on the table.

I see he's going to sign the front and I remember I can form words if I try.

"Oh... oh uhhhhh Michael? I'm so so sorry but uh, could you sign the inside??? I use this a lot for charity work."

Oh my GOD. Who the hell do I think I am?!?!?! I panicked because I needed to keep using that vest.

I squeak out my name, when he asks, I think Terry echos me because she's much more composed and professional than I am right now.

With an elegant swoop of a black sharpie, he signs the vest. Right side on the inside.

I think I squeaked out a thank you or was just mute by that point, I don't remember.

Michael disappears and the most shell-shocked I've ever been, look at the vest.

It has my name on it.

He signed my name.

"Shannon

Love,

Michael J. Fox"

I lose it. I somehow make it back to the booth and call my mom. Crying and squeaking.

It sounds like she might be crying too.

It snowed. A lot. We walk out of the con center into a blizzard. Honest to god. That was a first.

Our friends graciously give us a ride to the dinner we're all going to with the local DeLorean club members as well as other DeLorean owners. A truly great group.

I'm told I must try something called "poutine". Never heard of it. It's french fries, gravy, and curd cheese. It's really good.

I'm pretty sure this was fit in at some point Saturday. When Chris came in the booth for his photo op session, I was able to briefly thank him for being here. I kneeled down, and shook his hand. But.. I didn't want to let go.

"Chris, could we hold hands for our photo?"

"Yes, absolutely."

He is so wonderful and special. He regarded me with nothing but warmth in our moment.

On Sunday for Lea Thompson's photo session at the car I did a brief TSA as we call it: handling bags and making sure they get back to their owners. As she was walking out of the booth I told her thank you, and got a, "You're welcome sweetie!" in return.

I'll tell you what guys, I couldn't shut my brain off Saturday night. I couldn't sleep for the best reasons possible. Which was a very welcome change for once.

I helped tear down the booth as normal on Sunday, and that was it.

This trip was magic.

[writeawayharry]

Waiting on You (Daddy Harry)

Part 2 - Part 3

You took your eyes off the road for a brief moment to look at your rear-view mirror. Little Caleb was strapped in his booster seat, glasses-covered eyes focused on the falling rain outside his window. You let out a sigh that you ensured was inaudible. You were hoping he had been reading one of the books you had packed for him; instead, he was sitting quietly, arms cuddling his stuffed monkey which was lovingly named Mr. Monkey. Clearly, he was nervous about spending this weekend with Harry. But not nearly as nervous as you.

“Mommy, when will be at my dad’s?” he asked in his soft voice.

“Soon, Caleb,” you answered. “We’re almost there.”

You hated that he specified Harry as “his” dad only. It was like he had been your ex-husband for so long that your son no longer associated Harry with yourself.

Caleb shuffled in his seat, a sign of nerves. You weren’t lying when you said you were almost there. Each second that ticked by you were closer to Harry’s home. Soon enough, you were pulling into his driveway.

Every time you saw Harry’s house, you were taken aback by the monstrosity of it. He wasn’t one for the flashiest of things and was usually an intelligent spender, but when you had that much, certainly you would splurge on your home.

“We’re here buddy,” you said, turning around to look at Caleb.

He took a steadying breath and clutched Mr. Monkey even tighter. Your breath caught in your throat. He shouldn’t have to be brave over something like this; it was probably just a bit of separation anxiety, seeing as the two of you didn’t spend that much time apart. Harry tended to be on tour more often than not.

You turned the key out of your beat-up Caravan and went to get Caleb’s bag out of the trunk. You noticed the baby blue paint in desperate need of a touch-up. The car hadn’t been new when you bought it last month. It wasn’t ideal, but it was all you could afford. At least now it was.

“Come on, Caleb, I got your stuff,” you called cheerily to the little boy. You took his hand in one of yours and carried his monkey-print suitcase in the other. “You’re such a lucky boy, Caleb, getting to spend a whole weekend with Daddy!”

“I guess,” Caleb said. “I’ll miss you though.”

“Mommy will miss you too, but I’ll be back soon.”

He gave you a small smile. You knocked on the door and waited a few moments for Harry to come answer it.

When he finally did answer, it felt like the wind was knocked out of your chest.

You were so worried about Caleb seeing Harry you didn’t consider how you’d feel seeing your ex-husband. It had been so long since you last got a good look at him, and even longer since you’d been married…but goodness gracious, how was he looking better with age?

“Caleb!” Harry squealed, kneeling down to his eye-level. “I’m so happy you’re here!”

 The look on Caleb’s face was so jovial and pure you couldn’t help but smile. So much for being anxious.

Then Harry looked at you.

“Y/N,” he nodded, extending his hand. “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to s—” You meant the words when they first left your lips, but suddenly you couldn’t finish them.

Someone had joined Harry at his door. A woman.

“Oh, is this the famous Caleb I’ve been hearing so much about?” A beautiful blonde woman asked.

Caleb shrugged. “Daddy’s famous, not me.”

The nameless woman laughed, a high-pitched, irritating sound.

“Y/N, this is Natalie, my girlfriend. Natalie, this is my ex-wife,” Harry introduced.

His girlfriend. You felt frozen in place and barely offered her a nod. Why hadn’t you considered the possibility that Harry would be in a relationship? You were paying the price now.

As if she was really trying to get you to hate her, Natalie leaned in to Harry and gave him a tender kiss on the lips.

“I’m really excited to spend the weekend with these two boys,” she giggled.

Your eyebrows raised. “Oh, you’re not leaving?”

Harry’s mouth went slack. So did Natalie’s.

“Y/N, she’s my girlfriend. She leaves here.”

You stared at him, intensity matching his. She’s a stranger, you wanted to point out. And this is my son. You were well aware that this conversation was taking place in front of Natalie and Caleb, so you let it go and offered a weak apology. As fast as everything had sprung up on you, you weren’t so concerned with someone hurting your son. You were concerned with someone hurting you.

Giving Caleb one last hug and kiss goodbye, you sped down the front steps without so much as looking at Harry or Natalie.

…

You fought tears the entire drive home. You just didn’t want to let them go. But by the time you got home, it was raining badly and you let the tears fall, mixing with the rain drops on your face.

Wet and cold, you stepped into the elevator and prayed it wouldn’t get stuck this time. The apartment complex was so old and dingy; things were always in need of repair. When you arrived in front of your door, you realized you had forgot to lock it. You didn’t feel an ounce of worry. The only valuable thing you had was at his father’s house.

Your place was freezing but you didn’t adjust the thermostat. If Caleb was here, you would have done it without hesitation. With only you there, you couldn’t afford to throw around money like that. Literally.

After you ate a bowl of cereal for dinner and wallowed in how sad the apartment seemed without Caleb, you set your outfit out for the following day. You wanted to roll your eyes at the cheap yellow fabric. At one point you wore suits and pencil suits and blouses, but that felt like a lifetime ago now. Had you really been fired from the accounting firm only three months ago?

Now, to make ends meet you were working at Diner’s Delight, a surprisingly upscale restaurant with a 1950s diner theme. The feel, the food, and the uniforms were all reminiscent of a classic diner but the prices were astronomically higher. As a waitress, you had to wear the yellow dress with red lining and wear your hair in a preppy ponytail.

One advantage of Caleb being away all weekend is that you were able to work double shifts both days. At least that would give you some more money.

With your body cold and your heart colder, you crawled into bed and fell asleep, dreaming of monstrous houses and ex-husbands.

…

“I am so freaking exhausted,” your co-worked Cayley complained.

You nodded your agreement, too tired to speak. It was 7 p.m., which meant that you had officially worked a 12-hour shift. It was a lot, but it was worth it. For Caleb’s sake.

“I need a smoke break,” Cayley announced. “Can you get the next table? Don said there’s a pretty big group at Table 13.”

“You got it,” you replied, turning to a new page in your notebook.

“I owe you one!” she called as you pushed through the swinging double doors of the break room.

Your eyes scanned the crowd, trying to remember where Table 13 was located. Right. It’s at the other side, towards the back. As you were walking towards it, you heard the laugh of a little boy. It instantly made you think of Caleb. You wondered what he was doing right now…

And then you didn’t have to wonder anymore.

Because he was here. Sitting at Table 13 was Caleb, Harry, Natalie and more than a few others that you didn’t recognize. They were all important-looking men.

You were about to turn away and run to the break room but Caleb saw you. Caleb don’t…

“Mommy!” he shouted.

Too late. Harry saw you. Natalie saw you. Everyone saw you.

Swallowing your pride, you straightened your back and approached their table.

“Hi, I’m Y/N, may I take your order?” you asked meekly.

“Y/N…” Harry said in disbelief.

“What would you like Harry?” You spoke with grit. You knew he had questions, but you didn’t want him to ask them here.

“I thought you were an accountant,” he said, still looking dazed.

“Shall I bring you a burger?” you said in an attempt to ignore him.

“She used to be!” Caleb piped up. “But then they put her on fire so she works here now! And we moved houses and live in a cool apartment!”

You wanted to cry, not because of what Caleb said, but because of how he proud he sounded when he said it.

“I…” Harry opened his mouth then closed it.

With the awkwardness thick, you took everyone’s order with minimal small talk. You didn’t even ask Caleb since you knew he’d want chicken fingers.

Now it was Natalie’s turn. “Do you have any caviar?” she asked.

Your head bobbed forward. “No, we don’t.”

She laughed. “I’m surprised you know what that even is! It’s definitely not a peasant food!”’

You looked down as you felt your face flush bright red.

“Anyways, what’s low calorie and fat free on the menu? Everything looks kinda um…fattening,” she said with disgust as her eyes scanned your body.

“Water,” you answered.

The table laughed and you made the mistake of making eye contact with Harry. He looked destroyed.

“Caleb,” you said, “What does Mr. Monkey want to eat?”

“French fries!” he announced.

“Um, he’s not real,” Natalie said, looking annoyed.

Caleb looked like he was about to cry. You swallowed, your throat feeling thick.

“Of course he is, Caleb,” Harry said. “Natalie is just being stupid.” He ruffled his son’s hair.

“I’ll uh, be back,” you said finally, running as fast as you could.

…

You knocked over a few chairs on your way, but you arrived in the supply closet soon enough. You went to slam the door shut but a foot caught it.

“Y/N, wait!” Harry said, pushing himself into the small space with you.

“Leave me alone!” you cried. You were embarrassed to be in front of him right now.

“Y/N…I don’t understand…why didn’t you…”

“Why didn’t I what? Tell you my life has gone to shit? When was I supposed to?” you spat back.

Harry’s gaze lowered. You had a point; it wasn’t like he checked in often.

“Go. Caleb’s out there,” you said.

“Don’t worry, he’s fine with Nick.”

You were glad he didn’t say he was fine with Natalie.

“Please go, I can’t even look at you right now,” you said, placing your head in your hands. Really, you didn’t want him looking at you.

Tenderly, he removed your hands and brushed the tears away. His touch was so gentle.

“My Y/N,” he whispered. You shivered. You hadn’t been that in so long. “I still…I still…” he struggled to find the words.

“Fuck!” he cursed, finally. “I thought I was done feeling this way about you!”

Heat spread over your skin. What was he talking about?

“Harry…?” you prodded.

“Come here,” he whispered.

You walked into his open arms and let him shelter you with his body. It felt so good, but so temporary.

“So long, so fucking long,” he whispered into your hair.

You were beyond confused. Harry had come in to talk about what just happened but now he was speaking in riddles.

You were about to speak when Caleb opened the door with Nick behind him. And Mr. Monkey in his arms.

“Found you Mommy!”

“Natalie left,” Nick said simply.

“Good,” Harry answered, looking at you.

“I’m tired Mommy,” Caleb yawned.

“I know, baby, we’re leaving now.” You grabbed his hand and began to walk away from the closet.

You didn’t look back at Harry. You didn’t hear his footsteps. You had to leave. Had to move on. You couldn’t wait on him.

Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed! x

Part 2 - Part 3

[cfleury315-blog]

I Have a Purpose. Just Tell Me What It Is.

I miss the provider role. I know that sounds misogynistic like the next few lines should say with a slight twang to my voice, “I feel less of a man because I don’t bring home the bacon. Instead, my wife brings it home, and I’m expected to fry it up.” No. I miss working. I miss making my own money. I miss the simplicity of going to the nine to five and contributing to the good old Canadian dream. I don’t miss what I did, working with blisters or burnt hands isn’t my kind of fun. Plus, I had to work with powdered lead, and really, nobody should have to take the risk with that stuff. Nevertheless, I guess what I am saying, I miss having a purpose.

The last time I had an economic sense of purpose was, I guess, about four years ago. I worked for a company named Activation Laboratories. They specialize in rock sampling. Basically, survey companies would go out and drill in various spots in the countryside looking for expensive, well, rocks. They would send us their samples, and we would process them. It isn’t as glamorous as I make it out to be. You stood in one spot feeding a machine all day. It crushes the core into pebbles; then another device turns it into dust. From there, it’s bagged, tagged, and sent to me. I take the sample and measure it, stick it in a cup full of lead, and set it on fire. After that, the fire melts everything into tiny sliver lead beads, and I put them into a test tube. I don’t know what happens after that; that kind of information was above my pay grade.

I assume you’re thinking, “Really, you miss being drenched in lead and sticking your hands into a hot molten furnace?” No. I miss the paycheck. Slightly above minimum wage, but, after taxes, all mine. You need to understand, I earned my money like all slavery-wagers do, with good old fashion blood, sweat, and tears. Yes, there were tears. You don’t suffer from second-degree burns and not shed squirts of salty sorrow. I may be masculine, but pain is pain, and second-degree burns are the worst.

The problem with low skill tertiary labour is the lack of job security. The work depended solely on supply and demand, so if there is no demand, employers don’t supply the work. Therefore, lay-off season was roughly every four to six months and lasted anywhere between two to four months. Employment insurance is dependent on the amount you pay into, and if you close out your EI claim from the last time you were laid-off, you must go through the entire process again. A six-week waiting period and all. I was foolish enough to close my claim because the EI benefit website does not tell you to keep your application open just in case you get lay-off again. With that realization, I felt this moment of sudden dread when my boss gave me a pink-slip. My mind kept running through moving pictures of the worst-case scenarios leading to the hardest question I had to answer, “What am I going to do now?” I was the sole provider. The fire that kept the pilot light burning. But without the oxygen compensating my flame, we were in cold water.  

At this point, I had been through a fist full of jobs since coming to Thunder Bay, and quite frankly, besides Act. Labs., the only thing I’m significantly qualified to perform is cleaning toilets, scrubbing floors, and wiping tables. I didn’t want to go back to that again. Nevertheless, being the provider, I had no choice but to find something. Anything. So, I laced up my worn-out sneakers and hit the streets with a bag-pack full resume.

Guess what? Businesses don’t accept walk-ins anymore. They kept turning me away with the same explanation: “We can’t take your resume, you need to submit it online,” said the receptionist from the Public School Board. Skeptically my eyes narrowed as I looked passed her thick frames into her formal stare. I shook my head in disbelief and replied, “Really? But your ad says you are looking for someone right now. So here I am, with my resume in hand, and ready to work.” In hindsight, I should have kept my tone a little less snippy, but earlier that day, I had that same conversation with the customer service representative in Walmart. “Sorry sir, you have to submit your resume online,” the receptionist reiterated arrogantly. Her composure was like thick ice, cold and transparent. She was professional, and I was some fool off the street.

After a few anxious weeks with a cell phone stuck to my hand, I came to realize that the job market wasn’t going to give me a break. There was nothing out there for an uneducated labourer. The only interview I had was with the Econo Lodge Hotel. I walked in with ten years of experience cleaning up other people’s messes, so working for a two-bit drive-in Hotel, I’m not too proud to say, I was over-qualified for the housekeeping position. However, the interview lasted five minutes and I left feeling uneasy. There was nothing out of the ordinary, the manager was a pretty nice guy, but I got the impression he was trying to convince me that this position wasn’t for me. His exact words were, “You know this is a cleaning position. The work doesn’t involve any heavy lifting or fixing furniture.”  I thought, “Hey, that sounds awesome.” I replied, “I know, that’s why I’m here. I’m a cleaner.” The manager looked at me like I was from Venus. I went on to tell him, “I would be a great asset to your company. I’m not afraid of getting my hands dirty, and I’m no stranger to hard work.” (Cliché after cliché after cliché) “As you can see on my resume, I know how to use a carpet shampooer, plus, I’ve done minor floor covering, so I know how to fix wear and tear.” The manager just nodded and smiled without any attempt to feign interest. He finished the interview with a shake of my hand and an assurance I’d be hearing from him in the following week. However, a week later, I found out from an old colleague that she has gotten the job. I asked her how; she chuckled as she said, “I’m a woman. Companies don’t like to hire men to do housekeeping.” You’ve got to be kidding me. She laughed uncontrollably at my naivety, and tried to comfort me by saying, “You should try the school board or the restoration places. They have good wages and they have more labour intensive work for a strong guy like you.”

My mind raced with this old information. Why did the Econo Lodge even bother calling me in for an interview, if he was going to end up conforming to traditional gendered roles? Does having a male name on the interview log sheet give a perception of gender diversity? The difference between my friend and me is not our work ethic.

I had never thought about the differences between the sexes as being anything more than biological. There were the old schoolyard stereotypes, yet, as far as I knew, real life didn’t replicate recess. I was living in the real world. The adult world. The world my teachers explained we are all equal. We lived in a democratic society built upon principles of morality, liberty, and justice for all. I thought about any kinds of inequalities because I was living in the twenty-first century and gender-politics should be an archaic notion. My wife and I have always lived equally. We both worked. We both looked after the house. We both took part in the child-rearing responsibilities. Having been denied work because the job involves a male performing domestic chores is completely backward.

Somberly, I turned to my wife and said, “I give up.” At that moment, I knew what I was implying. She didn’t. She looked at me curiously, her eye rapidly blinking as she spoke, “What do you mean?” I wanted to tell her that I was giving up what society defines as a man. I officially cracked under pressure. I was handing in my provider card, and taking a vacation. Instead, I told her, “I think I’m going to have to try McDonald's.” Those words slide out of my mouth, which tasted like stale, salty french fries, and regression. We sat on the couch in silence for a long time before she finally answered the hard question: “Why don’t I look for a job?”

Shockingly, her statement made a lot of sense, and why didn’t we think about this before? The simple answer: We had, but the retail market has no set hours so we would be working at all hours of the day and had no one to look after our kids. Our two oldest children were in school, but our youngest child was three years old at the time, and he would need daycare. That’s the other problem; daycare costs are astronomical. A licensed daycare cost $40-$70 a day, and the waiting lists are long. However, unlicensed daycares charge $25-35 a day, and well let's say, you get what you pay. Either way, if both of us are working, one of us would be working to pay for the daycare, which doesn’t make economic sense.

Being the product of our generation, we both believed that she should stay home to look after the kids because mothers are naturally nurturing, and they need her more than me. I had to work because I was told it was my responsibility to support my family, and I failed miserably.  But, my wife’s idea of going back to work was our only choice. She was more qualified than me. She has a high school degree and is a certified Personal Support Worker.

Within a few weeks of our conversation on the couch, she was working in Respite care and making double what I was making at Activation Laboratories. I settled into a life of domesticity. One thing I’ll have to admit: I love every single minute of it. Cleaning up the house took me an hour on most days, (two to three if I felt constructive) the rest of the time I got to play around with my son. We went on long walks to the park and the library. We chased each other around, or we laid in the sun reading a book. When my other two children came home from school, we would sit at the dinner table and help each other with homework. Then, we all pitched in with some chores. Most of the time, my wife would come home and not have to lift a finger, but there would be days when she would take the kids off my hands while I made dinner. I would be chopping some lettuce and thinking about how beautiful everything turned out. The window in front of me had a perfect view of the strawberries my son, and I had planted together. I smiled at the western sun shining off the vibrant red fruit, and I thought, “Wow, I’m actually managing to keep them alive.”

Suddenly, I felt a sting on my right butt cheek, and I turned to meet my wife’s playful gaze. “Hey dear, your butt feels more jiggly than usual.” As my knife sliced through the cucumber, I turned my head with a jaw-dropping expression, “How could you say something like that to me?” Her comment stung, but not as much as the knife hitting my fingernail. Luckily it didn’t pierce the skin. I took a step back nursing my finger as she laughed hysterically at me. “What? I was only pointing out that your butt feels jiggly. You put on some weight since you stopped working.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing; I was quite offended by her comment. Sure, I gained a few extra pounds. Somedays, my son and I sat on the couch munching on goldfish crackers while I folded laundry. Not every day can be beautiful. On rainy days, I like to put my feet up. There is only so much housework I could do before I begin to look around and nitpick at the single piece of cat food that happened to fall out of the bowl as they were eating. In a matter of seconds, I lament all this information to her, and she continued to laugh at me as she replied, “You need a hobby.” I threw up my hands in frustration, “Oh, like I didn’t have enough to do around here.”

She was right; I did need a hobby. The biggest problem was that I was getting bored. I filled my time with chores, maintenance, and children. Once it was done, I sat around and ate. Domesticity was my new purpose, and I was bored. Increasingly, I found myself scanning the want ads and job banks looking for something, anything to find some relief from the monotony of domesticity. There was nothing out in the working world for a high school dropout. The demographics had changed, and the jobs requiring brawn over brain were gone.

One day, I received a text message from a friend of mine. She had gotten wind that the Catholic School Board was hiring custodians, and most importantly, I didn’t have to apply online. I raced at the opportunity and submitted my resume. The hours were causal and in the evening. I could be home during the day with my son and go to work after my wife came home. I could finally get back to some normalcy, reach back into the provider role, and feel a sense of purpose other than a housekeeper and a father.

Nervously, I filled out the application. I squirmed as I tried to remember how to spell the names of the various equipment I had been trained to operate over the years. When they called my name, I met a group of men dressed in expensive suits sitting around a boardroom table. It was quite intimidating. It didn’t feel like an interview. It felt like any second a big man in a red candy apple suit should spin around in his desk chair like a bond villain. Then, unravel a sixteenth-century scroll and tell me to, “please sign here,” in a malicious voice. Realistically, I wanted to ask them if I was applying for the right position. Maybe, I checked off the box that was labeled teacher, not the box marked: the guy who scrubs poop off toilet seats.

Overall, I nailed it. Every question the interviewers asked, I had a great answer. I knew the equipment. I knew the safety procedures. I knew the lockdown policy. I knew how to handle hazardous waste, which also told them I could pass the WHIMIS test (for the millionth time). They said to me, on the spot, that this job was mine, except for one question I couldn’t answer: “Can you provide us with a copy of your high school diploma?” Crap! I tried hard to hold my composure and keep myself sounding as sincere as possible when I said, “Yeah, I mean, I don’t have a copy with me, but I’m sure I could find one you.” They told me if I could get one to them as soon as possible I could start right away. I shook their hands with a fake smile and left feeling like a failure. I had achieved so much in my short time on this earth. I had rubbed up against barriers before, but this one was like fate slammed my face up against a brick wall and using it as a cheese grater. There was no walking around this barrier. I had to go over, what I needed was a ladder.

Lucky for me, I came home, and the house was empty. A friend took my son for the day, so I sat on the couch stewing in my own self-pity. My laptop was open on the coffee table, and I sat there watching Google’s scream at me with its daily graphic of a nineteenth-century schoolmarm lecturing her students. I typed my only option in the search bar: Adult Education. Scrolling through the results, I found myself wondering if it was possible for a guy my age even to tease the idea of going back to school. I mean, at this point, I felt like I had forgotten more than I have ever learned. If I did this, could I succeed? Or was my age another barrier?

Well, I went for it, and I did succeed. I found my ladder. Now that I think of it, it seems so simple. The ladder was in front of me the whole time. Instead of looking forward, I should have looked down. The stupid part was what I couldn’t do in four years of high school; I did in three months. I went once a week to the adult education center for four hours a day. They set me up for the GED exam. I paid my two cents and passed. I hit the average passing grade for every subject, except English, I passed with an eighty-seven percent in the writing category.

           I must have stared at the certificate for hours after receiving it in the mail. I was proud of myself, yet there I was, a high school graduate after ten years of being out of high school, with the hard question still on my mind: “What am I going to do?” I could reapply at the Catholic School Board. Run in there screaming, “I have it, here it is, let get started.” Or, I could tempt fate once more, do the unthinkable, and take it one step further.

           So, here is where I should say, I’ve always wanted to be a writer. The truth is, I had the idea when I was young, but the idea was usually attached to some adult questioning, “What do you want to be when you grow up young lad.” Yeah, I wanted to be a writer as much as I wanted to be an astronaut or a firefighter. I always thought of it as a childish dream, yet as I stumbled through the university website with my eyes closed pointing at random programs, I felt like I was sitting on the opportunity to do something I’ve always wanted to do. I just needed to pick.

The day I walked onto the Lakehead Administration Office grounds. I had the same adult voice echoing through my head. The sound was so intensely amplified, I thought blood was going to start leaking out my ears, “What are you going to do? What do you want to be?” I figured, if I picked something, eventually, I would figure out what I truly wanted. However, the only way I could make the voice stop was to answer the hard question with certain honesty. So, I closed my eyes, reached deep inside myself, grabbed on my inner child, and let him make the decision, “What do you want to do? What do you want to be?” The child’s voice overtook my own and shouted, “I want to be a writer.” I opened my eyes to find that the entire administration office was staring at me like I was a mental patient. I saw a tall, brawny man with his phone in his hand, in which I assumed was calling security. I took a step back and babbled, “Hi, I was wondering if I could talk to someone about registering for next year’s classes.”

So here I am at the end of my third year as an undergrad. Trying to stuff as much information in my head as possible before it explodes all over the blank page. I know that most of my papers come back to me with the words “awkward” printed all over them, which makes me begin to believe that this is a defining characteristic. However, I’m finally confident enough to break out of my shell. But just because I know what I want to do with my life, I am still longing to get out there. Beyond this desk. Beyond these walls. I still feel like my sense of purpose is unfulfilled. Time is moving too damn slow, and it needs to hurry up. I’m craving my purpose.

Don’t get me wrong, going to university is excellent, I found some purpose in being a student, but it’s not the same. In a way, being a student is artificial. I work just as hard, but I can’t reap the rewards right away. Although I should be finding some sense of self-satisfaction about gaining additional knowledge about the world around me, I can’t take complacency to the bank, cash it in for prestige, and feed my kids on nineteenth-century poetry. They have a hard enough time digesting twentieth-century poetry. (One fish, two fish, no fish, boohoo fish.) I know when I get out of here, I’ll have more walls to climb. The important thing is I’m not afraid of those heights anymore. So, I have to wait a few more years for a piece of paper that tells me I’m good enough to re-enter the workforce. Then, I’ll officially be certified. No more legwork. No more knuckle dragging. No more backbreaking labour for minimum wage. Right?

[howyoutalktostrangers]

“This is how you talk to strangers”

by Will Johnson, originally published in Prairiefire

I’ve been reading the King James Bible lately. I like it so far. Sometimes I sit cross-legged on my roof, smoking cigarettes and flipping through Genesis, Exodus, Deuteronomy. I haven’t even made it to the New Testament. My favorite book so far is Ecclesiastes. Here’s this guy Solomon with nine hundred wives who can’t even sort his shit out. Everything is meaningless. It’s pretty bleak stuff. Actually, that’s what Hemingway named The Sun Also Rises after, a passage from Ecclesiastes. I read that book about three times a year. If those two were alive, I bet they would be fun to drink with. It would be one of those nights where you end up flipping over a table for no reason. The kind of night where you wake up the next morning and you feel totally humiliated in front of no one but yourself.

I grew up in Labrador City, the Iron Ore Capital of Canada. I was a pretty happy kid, actually. My mother loved us and my father made enough money, which is more or less all you need when you’re little. One day I was sitting on this pier with my two older brothers and this seagull started to pick on a smaller one. It pecked at it viciously and fluffed up its feathers and squawked. We all rooted for the smaller gull, even though it was destined to lose over and over again. My brothers kept throwing them French fries to fight over. Eventually the smaller bird just flew away. I don’t know why I remember that. 

Isn’t the mind terrible?

I never knew how isolated I was until I left. The first time I drove into Toronto I felt like someone was sitting on my face. So many people everywhere. I’ve done a lot of traveling in the last few years—Chicago, New York, Montreal, Winnipeg, Edmonton, Whitehorse, Vancouver, Tofino—but I never really get used to it. Walking on a sidewalk is a contact sport. In the bar everyone looks like a Viking except for me. I didn’t know how I was ever supposed to meet a girl. Shit, I don’t know how anyone ever meets anyone. It seems so illogical. I dare you to go three or four days without talking to anyone. Consider it a spiritual exercise that leads you nowhere worthwhile. Drive around to random cities, listen to On The Road on audiotape, smoke cigarettes and start thinking about everything that’s wrong with you. Seriously, try it. See what you think.

A few years ago I was walking around Charlottetown, just hating my life, and I was looking at this KFC sign. I thought wow, someone’s responsible for making that. I could never make anything nearly as beautiful. If everyone in the world had my drive, we would be living like hobos. I can’t even parallel park.

The greatest moment in life is when a woman lifts her hips, just slightly, to let you pull off her pants. Like this is really happening to me. The second greatest moment is when your car is all packed with everything you own, and you know you’ve got a lot of driving ahead of you, but at the other end is a job. Last year I was sleeping on my brother’s couch and I had been drunk for an entire month. It was time to move on—I was starting to get the distinct impression that his girlfriend didn’t like me very much. As I was pulling out of the driveway my brother ran after me, and when he came up to me in the street I thought he would say something like it’s been good or good luck with the job, man but instead he just wanted to bum a smoke. I gave him my whole pack because I had no idea when I would see him again. He punched me in the shoulder and it was the first time in a long time anyone had touched me.

I got a job as a sports reporter in the Yukon. Every day I go out to these sporting events. Baseball games and track meets and hockey tournaments. I take pictures and I interview people and I doubt they even really notice. I’m just some guy with a tape recorder and they don’t know anything about me. Their bodies are terrifying. They wear tight spandex or bathing suits and they look superhuman. Most of the time I just want to ask them why? Or maybe how? They drink protein shakes and they bike a hundred kilometers a day or they hike to beautiful places I’ll never see. They’re so fucking healthy it gives me the shakes. I covered a 3-day canoe and kayak race, and this guy told me he wears a catheter so he doesn’t have to stop to pee. I wrote a story about it and thought this is it, the end of journalism as we know it. But no one reads the newspaper anyway. And if they do, nobody cares about the fucking sports section.

My favorite song is “Take it Easy” by the Eagles. One time I listened to it fifty times in a row, while I was driving through the Rocky Mountains. I never get sick of it.

I’m terrified of death. Nobody likes it, sure, but sometimes I sit at my desk at work and all of the sudden my fingers don’t work and I can’t function. No matter how much I hate breathing, I don’t think I could ever convince myself to die. Because I don’t know what’s next. My older brother Trent is religious, and he worked for years as a youth pastor at this church out West. That seemed to make him feel better about things, but none of that ever rubbed off on me. Sometimes I think I’ll end up as one of those empty-eyed senior citizens relegated to their wheelchairs. I’ll have friendly foreign nurses that feed me yogurt and give me drugs. They’ll push me to the window so I can look outside. That sounds pretty good to me.

This guy at the newspaper told me to watch Cool Hand Luke. So I did. Firstly, I don’t think there has ever been a more sublimely beautiful human specimen than Paul Newman. His eyes look supernatural. Secondly—damn, is that movie depressing. Not because he dies. More because I’m never going to be that cool. Sometimes nothing is a pretty cool hand. I wish I had that attitude. When Luke’s getting the shit kicked out of him by Dragline, he never gives up. He just keeps swinging. One punch and I would be curled in the fetal position, probably peeing my pants and begging him to stop. I really am useless. Believe me. I’m incapable of honest labour. Most of the time I feel lucky I wasn’t born fifty years ago during any of the big wars. I would have been drafted right away and I wouldn’t have lasted a week. I watch these war movies like Saving Private Ryan and I thank an imaginary God that I’ve never had to pick up a gun. My greatest hardship in life has been living on cereal for a week. Or running out of clean laundry.

My second favorite song is “Flowers on the Wall” by the Statler Brothers.

I met this girl Megan in the steam room at the pool. She was doing yoga on the tiled floor with a pool mat and I was trying not to be a creep. But she was contorting her body into these ridiculous positions that made her muscles bulge and flatten in strange places. I watched the rivulets of sweat. They drew jagged lines down her stomach and dripped off the end of her nose. Sometimes I would wait, holding my breath, while one dangled. Her face was pink and the blond hair that escaped from her ponytail would stick to her forehead and cheeks. She had these elaborate flower tattoos that encircled her arms, purple and yellow and red. The vines were ropy and twisted in chaotic patterns behind the petals. We were the only two people in the steam room but I’m pretty sure she didn’t even know I was there. Her eyes were closed and she took the most relaxed, sensual breaths. It was beautiful. Finally I said something. I asked her if there were any good yoga places in town. Her eyes fluttered open. I said I’d always wanted to learn about yoga, which is probably the biggest lie I told that day. She looked at me, squirted some water into her mouth, and smiled. She said yeah, I teach twice a week at a studio in Whitehorse. You should come out.

Every now and then I realize I have a mother. My mother is a nice lady. And she loves me. If she really knew how I was living my life, I think she would have a heart attack. She’s proud of me for getting a job, but she doesn’t really know me anymore. I wish she did.

My attempts at yoga were pitiful. I spent the whole time wishing I could smoke a cigarette. I’ve never been so uncomfortable in my life. But afterwards, after I had a shower and rolled up my brand new yoga mat, Megan asked me if I wanted to go for beer. I though to myself this is it, this is how you talk to strangers and I said sure, yeah. We walked through the snow to the bar. We sat for two hours and whenever I said something funny she would touch my leg under the table. We bought a six-pack from off sales and walked down to the Yukon River. It was starting to get cold. She told me a bunch of personal shit about her life, but really I wasn’t listening to her words. I was watching the way she laughed, the way she moved her hands, the way her breath hung in a cloud and slowly drifted away.

I was covering this downhill bike race later that week when I broke my collarbone. It was my own fault. I was perched on the side of the trail taking photos, and I was trying to get a follow-focus shot. But everything kept coming out blurry. It was muddy and I was hung over, and as I whipped my camera along with the motion of a passing biker I fell down this embankment. It fucking hurt. I mean, I tumbled and rolled and knocked my head against a tree root. I’m lucky I didn’t break my goddamn spine. My publisher was annoyed and the paper was short-staffed, but it meant I got to sit at home and drink for a few weeks. I felt like Bukowski.

I often fantasize about being productive. I see people jogging around Whitehorse or going grocery shopping and I wonder where they get the energy. One day I want to write a novel, but I can barely convince myself to walk to the gas station for cigarettes. The first time I read The Rum Diary by Hunter S. Thompson I was so relieved. I’m not the only one. I mean, it’s not Tolstoy or Dostoevsky but here’s a person who thinks the world is as absurd and terrifying as I do, and he can actually write something half-decent. When I’m bored I Google stories about Thompson. I rented a documentary about Gonzo journalism from the library. One day I read his suicide note, just because I was curious what was going through his head when he pulled the trigger. Apparently they published it in Rolling Stone. The title keeps repeating in my head, like a mantra: Football season is over.

Megan came over a few times while I was convalescing. She made me a meatloaf and I ate it for every meal, three days in a row. I felt awkward around her. I tried to hide my empties and clean up my house before she showed up, but I didn’t have a phone so most of the time she just appeared unannounced. She was usually in a yoga outfit or her karate clothes. I sat on the couch with her one day and I asked her about the tattoos on her forearms. She looked really sad for a moment, and then she pulled the skin tight in places to show me her scars. They were methodical, horizontal stripes. I wanted to die for a long time, she said. But I didn’t want anybody to know.

By the time my collarbone healed, it was starting to get dark. It scared the shit out of me. Don’t listen to the people who live here. The Yukon is a scary place in the winter. The snow blankets everything and it’s freezing cold and all of a sudden leaving the house is like living in a Jack London short story. Life is not a matter of holding good cards, but sometimes, playing a poor hand well. The reporters made fun of me when I showed up to work wearing a parka, but I needed that fur against my face while I smoked cigarettes in the parking lot. Megan was starting to sleep over, and I liked watching her muscular back rise and fall while she snored. I couldn’t believe I’d convinced someone to sleep in my bed.

She showed up at my house crying one night. I tried to talk to her but she just cried into my chest for ten minutes. Finally, when I asked her what was wrong, she said its nothing, you’ll think its stupid. I told her no, of course I won’t think it’s stupid and then she drew her head back and looked at me. There was a huge pink pimple between her eyebrows. I have a bindi, she said. I have a fucking bindi. I usually tuned her out when she started talking about all that eastern mysticism stuff. She tried to convince me to read the Bhagavad Gītā but it just stayed on my bedside table. Whenever she talked about her spiritual beliefs it sounded like she was regurgitating these antiquated phrases she had learned in yoga school, or wherever. I didn’t want to seem insensitive, though, so I listened. She told me she was scared the universe was telling her something. She said the universe gave me a bindi to send me a message.

My favorite poem for a long time was Invictus by William Earnest Henley. I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul. But then Clint Eastwood took the title and turned it into a goddamn rugby movie.

I was covering this karate competition one weekend when a guy came up and shook my hand. I didn’t recognize him. He said his name was Eiji Matsumoto, and told me he was Megan’s karate instructor. What a cool name. She’s a very gifted student, he said. I nodded like this was something I had given some thought. I realized that we had been dating for months and I had never seen her fight. I had abandoned yoga after a second try. It made me feel like a bad person, knowing there was this huge part of her life I didn’t know anything about. This guy Eiji was easily a foot taller than me. He looked like he could lift me up and break me in half over his knee. He had the most luscious brown skin and beautiful dark eyes. It made my balls shrivel up into little prunes. Suddenly I wanted to shave.

It was a Thursday morning when I crashed my car. My windshield wipers weren’t working and I was trying to light a cigarette and all of a sudden this truck was stopped in front of me and I swerved off the road. I remember hurtling along. The whole car was shaking and I was wrenching the wheel around like a goddamn child playing with a video game and then I was upside down. One of my windows shattered and glass was everywhere and then everything stopped. All I could see was white, stretching out as far as I could see. People were calling out to me hey, hey are you all right in there? Are you okay? I thought about that bible verse where Jesus says he’ll come like a thief in the night. Some blood was drooling up my nose and I realized I was suspended over the ground, held by my seatbelt. I don’t know where my cigarette ended up.

My older brother Trent was arrested a few years ago. They found child pornography on his computer, and there were rumors he even molested some kids at the church he worked at. I didn’t know how to respond to that information. I still don’t.

For a week after that Megan drove me to work and back. She seemed really impatient, so I tried to spend time with my friend from the newspaper. We sat in the bar and drank too many beers. He kept saying embarrassing things to the waitress, and then we started arguing about Hemingway. He was saying Hemingway would drink beer and I told him no, Hemingway liked drinking Mojitos and bagged wine. We did some whiskey shots and then went out in the snow for a bit. I wanted to go down to the Yukon River, but my friend said it was too cold. We finally wandered into this dingy pub on Fourth Street, and the first thing I saw was Megan. She was sitting with her back to me, having dinner with Eiji. Eiji Matsumoto. My friend said what’s wrong and I said nothing, let’s just get out of here.

Whenever I’m feeling sorry for myself, I think do you know how old the universe is?

My father called me around that time. My mother was in the hospital in Winnipeg and he wanted to buy me a plane ticket. We don’t know how serious it is, he said, but she would like you to be there. I told him I would need a couple of days to arrange things with work, and he said that would be okay. I thought about Hemingway and Thompson, each of them perched over their shotguns. It seems cruel that not everyone gets to choose when they’ll die. My father told me my brother was already driving out from Edmonton with his girlfriend. The others were coming out from Halifax. He told me my mother had been sick for a while, but he didn’t want to worry me. I wandered around the twilight streets and I tried not to think about how fucking scared I was of everything. Relax ­– this won’t hurt.

You don’t really know much about yourself until you try to share space with a woman. Megan complained about crumbs on the counter, my unmade bed and how I always left empty packs of cigarettes everywhere. She kept pestering me to quit, and even convinced me to try the nicotine patch. She played this weird, mystical music and she meditated in our living room when I wanted to watch TV. I felt like Neal Cassady, always hiding things from his wife. I hadn’t brought up seeing her with Eiji because I didn’t want to be that guy. I’m not the jealous type. I kind of liked to see her angry, though. She never seemed like she was in control of her actions, and her moods would jackknife back and forth. One night, while we were having sex, she slapped me. Then she slapped me again. It turned me on so much she just kept slapping me until she was clawing at my chest and pulling my hair. The only ones for me are the mad ones.

I often wonder what would have happened if I never saw Eiji kiss my girlfriend. It was midday and they were coming out of a sushi place on Main Street. I had just bought a magazine and I was standing across the street smoking a cigarette when they emerged, pulling on their jackets. He leaned over and kissed her on the lips. It looked like a goddamn coffee commercial, like there should be music playing or something. I don’t remember crossing the street. I don’t even remember what I screamed at him. Maybe I took a swing, maybe I didn’t. All I remember was the way he looked as he reared back and kicked me square in the sternum. I flew backwards like you see in movies. My lungs felt like they were going to collapse. I was laying on my back on the sidewalk, struggling to breathe and panting when he leaned over me. Football season is over. I looked up at him and Megan while I lay there in the slush. I think I need to go to the hospital, I said. I think I’m really hurt. Help me.

I got drunk on the plane to Winnipeg. They just kept bringing me gin and tonics. I brought the King James Bible with me, but it was starting to lose my interest. Heaven and earth shall pass away: but my words shall not pass away. The New Testament sounds too much like those corny televangelists. I’m not too keen on Jesus, either. But there’s a poetry there, like Shakespeare. By the time we touched down the words were starting to mix together on the page. When the stewardess came to check our seatbelts I held out my empty cup. One more?

My father picked me up from the airport. It was the first time I noticed the deep wrinkles around his eyes. His handshake almost crushed my fingers. We drove through the grey streets for nearly an hour before we got to the hospital. I asked him if Trent was going to be there, and he reminded me that Trent was in prison and probably would be for a long time. We barely spoke after that. I didn’t even really recognize him anymore, and I didn’t know what I was supposed to say. Neither did he, I guess. What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun. He led me up the stairs, someone gave me a coffee, and then I was standing in the room with her. Machines were beeping at me and she looked so small. I came to the side of my mother’s bed and her eyes fluttered open. It’s you, she said. It’s my son.

You can’t go long in the Yukon without hearing a Robert Service poem. They’ve got him painted on walls. They teach him in elementary schools. Sometimes you’ll walk into a bookstore and someone will be reciting his poems over the loudspeakers. There are strange things done in the midnight sun by the men that moil for gold. The first time I visited Dawson City, I went to the bank where he used to work. It’s right on the main drag, just a stone’s throw from the river, this saggy, dilapidated eyesore. One night I saw kids break into it to get drunk. I peeked in the windows and inside it looks like a warzone. There are spider webs clinging to the heaps of garbage on the floor. I hear there’s talk of restoring it, maybe building a heritage site, but chances are they’ll just eventually tear it down.

My mother reached out to me with these wrinkled hands. A long tube trailed out from her wrist. She touched my face and then she held my neck. I thought she might cry, but she didn’t. I leaned down and kissed her. She smelled like cleaning products. I wanted to tell her all my stories. I wanted her to pull me into her lap and rock me while I fell asleep. I thought about this time, when I was a little kid. My brothers had gone on a trip with my father and left me home sick for the weekend. She took me to the new shopping mall in Labrador City to see a movie. Afterwards we walked through these towering empty halls like we were in a cathedral. She bought me a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle and a cinnamon bun. She told me this is our little secret. Don’t tell your brothers or they’ll be jealous. On the way home I fell asleep in the passenger seat.

Do you know how old the universe is?

My mother was discharged a few days later. I went back to work. Megan had already moved her stuff out of my basement suite. The snow was starting to melt, finally. Most days I sat at my desk and listed to John Prine or Willie Nelson. I stood on the sidelines of soccer games. I took pictures of people playing hockey. It cost me an entire paycheck to get my car fixed, so for two weeks I ate nothing but microwave popcorn and scrambled eggs. The sun also rises, and the sun goes down, and hurries to its place where it rises. On the weekends I walked down to the Yukon River and watched the ice slide into the water. One afternoon a giant chunk tumbled down the riverbank. 

It flowed slowly downstream until I couldn’t see it anymore.

The Literary Goon

[chloelucia13]

Vigilante (A Teen Wolf and Supernatural Crossover) (Part 2)

Pairing: Isaac x reader, Winchesters x sister!reader

Prompt: When the reader’s old friend calls for help, the Winchesters all rush to Beacon Hills immediately, and you immediately see someone you thought you’d never see again. But what happens when your brothers find out that you are best friends with supernatural beings that you all hunt?

Warnings: fluff, violence, language, a tiny bit of angst, kinda hinting towards smut

A/N: I hope you guys like part 2!

Teen Wolf tag list: @shine-and-rise-sammy​ (Tag list is open)

SPN tag list: @teamfreewill-imagine, @supernatural-jackles, @faith-in-dean, @ellen-reincarnated1967, @for-the-love-of-dean, @shakeswilde, @angelofwinchester17​ (tag list is open)

Series tag list: @writer-w-magic​, @namelesslosers​, @kamilasurujballi14​, @bands-and-shietz​, @blushingunicorn101 (tag list is open)

You towel dried your hair sighed softly, stepping out of the bathroom, now changed in new clothes. “We got you food,” Dean told you, tossing you a brown paper bag. You smiled at him and sat down on one of the two beds, setting the bag on your lap as you tossed the towel you were using at the bathroom door. “So, seems like you and Sammy have something in common.”

“And what’s that?” you inquired, taking a french fry out of the bag and holding it between your thumb and forefinger, your lips set in a straight line.

“Both of you dated werewolves.”

You huffed in annoyance and tossed the fry back in the bag, suddenly not hungry. “Don’t you just have the best conversation segues.”

“Y/N, we need to talk this.”

You pursed your lips in thought before shaking your head. “No, I don’t think we do.” You looked at the bag on your lap and your forehead wrinkled in confusion. “The bag is cold.”

You thought back to the night before, when Isaac came into your room.

“I brought you a burger and some fries. They’re in the fridge.”

You set the bag on the ground before standing up quickly, your hands on your hips. “You went over to Scott’s while I was in the shower!” you announced, your face contorted in shock. “And I never told you that I dated Isaac! I didn’t even say that I did whenever you were close enough to hear! You… you talked to him!”

“How the hell did you get all of that from a cold burger and fries!”

“So I’m right!”

“Yes, but how did you know?”

“He bought that food for me last night. He would’ve been the only person who knew where it was!” You huffed in annoyance and carded a hand through your hair. “Why were you there?”

“I wanted to talk to your friends.”

“About what?”

“About how it’s normal for you now to kill things, and that this is the only way we can kill whatever it is that is here!”

“But they don’t kill!”

“They’re gonna have to! And we’ll have to teach them how to!”

You groaned and sat back down on the bed, burying your face in your hands. “So I’m guessing you found out what it is?”

“Yeah. Hecate.”

“The Goddess of dark magic?”

“That’d be her. And she has an army.”

“Of what?”

“Vampires.”

“Great, so not only do we have to teach them how to kill, we have to teach them how to decapitate things!”

“All part of the job, Y/N/N.” You nodded and drummed your fingers on the bed. “We got you a room so you don’t have to sleep on the couch.”

“Thanks guys.” You stood up and Sam, who had been sitting quietly watching you two the whole time, handed you the key. “See you in the morning.” You grabbed your bag off the floor and left their room, walking to your room located across from theirs. You unlocked the door and pushed it open, kicking the door shut before flopping down on the bed, your bag falling to the floor. “You guys aren’t very hidden,” you murmured, propping yourself onto your elbows and arching an eyebrow at Scott, Stiles, and Isaac who all stood in the corner.

“I told you!” Stiles announced, pointing at the other two.

“That was your idea for a hiding spot, Stiles,” Scott stated, looking at Stiles confusedly.

“Why are you guys here?” you asked, pushing yourself off the bed and crossing your arms over your chest.

“Um, that girl said that you were the next target,” Isaac told you and you nodded, waiting for one of them to continue.

“We’re here to watch over you,” Stiles stated, smiling awkwardly.

“You sound just like Cas.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” You sat down on the bed. “Fine, you can ‘watch over me’ or whatever. But I’m staying up with you guys, so who wants to go out for a coffee and redbull run?” They all stood there and you rolled your eyes. “Alright, be back in a few minutes.”

You parked the impala and grabbed the tray of coffees and bag of 6 packs from the passenger seat, getting out of the car and hurrying over to your room. The door swung open and Scott took the tray of coffees from you. You thanked him and stepped inside, shutting the door behind you. “Alright, I got iced coffees, normal coffees, red eye coffees, redbulls, and booze. What’ll you guys have?”

“You know we can’t get drunk, right?” Scott asked and you nodded.

“Stiles can, but I know. Trust me, I barely can, I’ve grown such a high tolerance from it. I out-drank an angel who had to drink an entire liquor store to get fully intoxicated. Quite depressing. But we should at least water down all the caffeine we’re gonna drink!”

“How’d you even get alcohol?” Stiles asked as you tossed him a beer.

“I have more fake IDs than you can imagine. Including fake FBI badges, fake Sheriff badges-” You pointed at Scott and Stiles- “do not say anything about that to your dads.”

“How are you not a wanted criminal?” Isaac asked, taking a sip of coffee.

“Oh, I am. I’m on the FBI’s most wanted list, but I have a pseudonym.”

“God, you need to tell us stories about your life,” Stiles sighed. “The good stories, at least.”

You grabbed a coffee and shrugged, sitting down on the bed. “Gather ‘round children, Momma has some stories.”

“You have books based on your life?” Scott asked incredulously.

“Yup, and a musical based on those books. Oh! And in another universe, we have a tv show,” you told them, a big smile on your face.

“And I thought my life was weird.”

You chuckled and watched as they all yawned, stretching slightly. “You guys should get to bed. I’ll stay up.”

“Are you sure?” Isaac asked, looking at you with worry.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. And you guys need sleep. Big day tomorrow.” You hopped off the bed and let them all fight for it. Stiles, surprisingly, won and the two other boys sulked over to the pullout couch.

You sat in silence, watching all three boys sleep peacefully for a few moments before sighing and getting up, heading outside. You felt all-too-warm in your jeans and long sleeved shirt, although it was a fall night.

Stiles’ jeep caught your eye and you smirked, hurrying over to baby and grabbing the tool box out of the trunk. You ran back to the jeep and propped the hood open, sighing when you saw duct tape holding everything together. “Of course, Stiles,” you sighed, unraveling all of the duct tape before getting to work.

“You do realize it’s 3 in the morning, right?” Isaac asked as he stepped outside, a smile on his face as he watched you work on the jeep.

“Yup.” You continued working, unbothered by Isaac’s gaze.

What pulled you away from your work was Isaac’s warm hands on your hips.

“You know, groping me won’t stop me from being mad at you,” you explained, quickly finishing your work before closing the hood. You turned around and arched an eyebrow at him, crossing your arms over your chest. His smile just widened and you rolled your eyes.

“What?” he asked, looking at you confusedly. “What do you want me to say?”

“Three words. Eight letters.”

He chuckled and removed his hands from your waist, taking your hands in his, not bothered by the fact that they were covered in motor oil and grease. “I love you, I’ve always loved you, and I will always love you.”

“I was actually hoping you’d say ‘I have pie’, but that works too.” You finally smiled at him and he let go of your hands, wrapping his arms around your waist. You wrapped your arms around his neck, looking into his sweet blue eyes. “And I love you too.”

He smiled brightly and finally pressed his lips to yours, and tears of happiness welled in your closed eyes as the familiar feeling of home swept over you.

He lifted you up and spun you around before setting you down on the hood The pressure on your phone in your back pocket caused the song you were listening to earlier to play. Like Real People Do by Hozier blasted through your phone and Isaac chuckled against your lips. “Perfect timing,” he whispered, breaking the kiss for a moment to look into your eyes.

You chuckled and smiled softly, your bottom lip quivering. “I missed you so much,” you sobbed, tears spilling onto your cheeks.

He smiled sadly and moved his hands to your face, quickly swiping the tears away. “Me too, beautiful. Don’t cry.” You sniffled and he smiled brightly at you, cheering you up instantly.

“We should head inside,” you whispered, sniffling softly.

“Just a little bit longer.” He pressed his lips against yours and you chuckled, kissing him back.

“Okay, the first thing you need to know is that what we are fighting, they are not real people, they are purebred monsters,” you explained, dragging your machete against the foliage-covered ground. “By killing these, you are saving people, not killing them. These things are only focused on killing you, they do nothing other than that. Once they are dead, it will not ruin your status.” You looked pointedly at Scott and smiled. “Do not feel mercy for them, because they will not feel anything but hatred for you. Understand?” They all hesitantly nodded and you slid your machete into its sheath. “I know this will be hard for you knowing this will be the first time killing anything, despite what you all believe.” Malia nodded and you smiled kindly at her. “But, you all need to remember, at the end of the day, these things would have died immediately after their mission was done, and we are just protecting ourselves and others.”

“Now, how to kill them,” Dean stated and you nodded.

You re-drew your machete and held it up. “To kill the army of vampires that will be following Hecate, you must decapitate them. Yes, it sounds disgusting and extremely hard, but, like I said, you are saving people by doing this, not killing them. But, if you truly do not want to cause any harm to these monsters, you can inject them with dead man’s blood. It is extremely difficult, though, if you are not good with aiming. So that is what I will be teaching you all today.” You gestured to the print-outs of targets and the mannequins scattered throughout the forest. “There are 100 targets and 50 mannequins. All of the mannequins are set on a rig that will make them move. You can either inject or decapitate the mannequins, and both actions will cause the mannequin to ‘die’. All targets will be used for trajectory practice, so you can only use those for throwing syringes/knives/anything that contains dead man’s blood.”

“What does the dead man’s blood do to the vampires?” Lydia asked, already looking over all of the targets.

“The dead man’s blood, once the vampires are injected with it, will paralyze them, kind of what the Kanima venom does. But the dead man’s blood completely paralyzes them, not allowing them to move, which does not allow them to bite.” You nodded and they all visibly gulped. “Now, who wants a machete?”

Stiles’ hand shot up and you chuckled, handing him one from the bag of weapons you brought along, handing another one to Kira, knowing that she would use it. The rest all grabbed the syringes and blood-dipped daggers you arranged on a table. “So how do we know if they are ‘dead’, per say?” Scott asked and you picked up a dagger, throwing it and watching as it hit the bullseye in one target. The target then grew red, showing that the weapon worked.

“As you can see, once you have hit the target in a spot that will work to paralyze the vampire, the target will glow red, showing that it has been effectively paralyzed. For the mannequins, you will know because they will have no head.”

“What about Hecate?” Isaac questioned, examining a dagger before looking at you.

“All I can advise is that none of you go near her, which will probably not happen, considering you guys always love doing what you are told not to do. So, if you are caught up with her, take one of these-” you held up a vile of olive oil mixed with holy water “-and splash the contents on her. Dean, Sam, and I will all be working on a spell to kill her while you kill the vampires. Understand?” They nodded and you grinned. “Good, now, get to it!” You blew a whistle and they all hurried to the targets and mannequins.

“They’re good kids, Y/N/N,” Sam stated and you nodded, smiling proudly as you watched them land every target.

“I like that Stiles kid,” Dean voiced as he watched Stiles swing at everything that moved, nearly hitting Malia a few times, which earned him a flick to the ear.

“I’m so glad I gave him a plastic machete.” You all chuckled.

“You should go out there, have some friendly bonding time.” You rolled your eyes but withdrew your machete, twirling it before running out and joining your friends.

“Alright, you guys did very well on the weapon training!” you told them, smiling widely. “I was thinking, before we start our next lesson, we should get some burgers.” They all cheered and you laughed. “Luckily, I thought ahead and remembered what you guys all liked. Food’s on the table. Don’t kill each other for it.” They all hurried over to the table and you sat down, leaning against a tree as you watched them.

“Not saving any room for me?” Isaac joked as he walked over to you, a bag of food in his hand.

“Will you let me eat some of your fries?”

He chuckled and nodded. “Fine.”

You smirked and scooted forward, letting Isaac sit behind you. You leaned back into him and he set his food down before wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his chin atop your head. “Fry,” you stated, opening your mouth.

“You��re ridiculous,” he told you, grabbing a fry from his bag and putting it in your mouth. You smiled and took his hand in yours, kissing his knuckles. He pecked your cheek in return and you hummed in satisfaction.

“You better hurry up and eat. We’ll be starting back up soon.”

“But I’m busy admiring your beauty.”

“You’re a dork.”

“I’m your dork.”

“Yes you are.”

“Okay, next we will be working on hand-to-hand combat.You will be practicing for 30 minutes, then we will do individual combat tournaments, where the first to be pinned down will lose, and the winners will face off. Okay?” you explained and they all nodded. “Great. Stiles will be paired with Lydia, Malia will be paired with Kira, Isaac will be paired with Sam, and I will be paired with Scott. Now, get to practicing, and please try not to kill each other.”

“You sure you wanna have Stiles paired with Lydia?” Scott asked as he walked over to you.

“Everyone else would’ve broken him.” You both chuckled and you popped your knuckles. “Ready to get started?” Scott nodded and you both took your stances, eyeing each other before you lunged forward, Wrapping your arms around his neck before swinging all of your weight to one side and tackling him. You pinned his arms to the ground and smirked as he wriggled under your grasp. “One, two, three.” At three, you let go and helped him up. “You went easy on me!”

“No I didn’t!”

“Come on, give it your all! Beat the human, alpha!” You jokingly punched his shoulder and smiled. “I promise, there’s nothing you can do that can hurt me more than anything I’ve ever felt. I’ve literally died twice.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. Hell honestly wasn’t that bad, considering I’m chill with the King of Hell.” You chuckled and stretched your arms above your head. “Now, don’t hold back.” You both stood in your fighting stances for a few moments before Scott was the one to lunge at you. He tackled you to the ground but you flipped him over before he was able to fully pin you to the ground. He pushed up so you were in a sort-of standing position in order to dodge it, then he swiped his legs against yours, knocking you to the ground and pinning your wrists down. You smirked evilly at him before quickly pushing your body up with your legs, wiggling your legs out from under neath him completely. You pulled up, making go into a kind of sitting position before pushing him onto his back. You sat on his stomach, your bent legs on his biceps as you held his wrists down, whispering, “One, two, three,” before getting up and letting him go. “See? I can take it.”

“Can you take it easy on me?” You grinned and held your hand out, which he took. You pulled him to his feet and patted his back. 

You chuckled when you saw Isaac smile and wave at you. “Don’t be friendly, we’re the last two,” you joked gently nudging his shoulder.

“Does that mean that I have to win against you at combat?” he asked, grabbing your hands and pulling you close to him.

You rolled your eyes and squeezed his hands before letting them go. “Alright, let’s get to it.” You situated yourself into your fighting position and Isaac followed suit, a small smirk gracing his lips. “I wouldn’t be smiling.”

“Oh yeah, why’s that?”

“Because I’m gonna kick your ass.” You smirked and winked before lunging right at him, making him lose his balance for a moment before regaining it.

“That all you got, Y/N?” He chuckled and pushed you off of him with little effort. 

You arched an eyebrow and chuckled humorlessly. “Oh, you are so going down.” You ran over to him and jumped, wrapping your legs around his waist and swinging all of your weight to one side, taking him down. He flipped over so he was hovering over you and he flashed you one of his beautiful, bright smiles, which almost distracted you until you realized what he was doing. You wrapped your arms around his neck and untangled your legs, kicking yourself so you both were on your side. You swung your leg over more so Isaac was on his back and you were on top. You pinned his arms down with your hands and pressed your knees down onto his lower torso. “One, two...”

“Marry me.”

You stopped and looked at him with wide eyes and a furrowed brow. “What?” He smirked, noticing that your grip on him grew weak, and he flipped you over onto your back.

“One, two, three. I win.” He let you go and your jaw dropped, suddenly realizing what he did.

“That was so not fair!” you whined, sitting up and getting off of him, your arms crossed over your chest.

“All’s fair in love and war,” he teased, reaching up and wrapping his arms around your waist, burying his face into your stomach. 

“I hate you.”

“Love you too.”

You yawned and stretched, blinking your eyes to try and push the sleep away. “Get some sleep, sweetheart,” Isaac whispered to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing a kiss to your neck. 

“Too busy,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes and continuing to scroll the results shown on Hecate’s weaknesses.

“You’ve been staring at that screen for three hours. Come on, you need sleep.”

“Mmm, not persuasive enough.”

Isaac smirked against your neck, moving one hand to your hip and the other to rest on your pubic bone. You sharply inhaled and he moved his hand to your inner thighs. “How about this?”

You breathed out a small moan but shook your head. “I want to, but I really have to get this done.”

He nodded and moved his hands to wrap around your waist. “Fine, but... how about after prom?”

You turned your body around to face him, looking at him peculiarly. “Are you asking me to prom?”

He chuckled and grinned widely. “I am. What do you say?”

“I-I would love too!”

“That’s my girl!”

“But-”

“But?”

“But... I don’t know if I can.”

“Well, why not?”

“I have people to save, cases to solve, work to do. I don’t know if I can stay here much longer.”

Isaac nodded and let go of your waist, folding his arms over his chest. “So you’re gonna leave Beacon Hills, leave your friends, leave me, all because of some monsters?”

“Yes, because this is what I do. I can’t just postpone killing monsters and saving people! This is my job!”

“So you’re gonna leave.”

“I have to.”

“And I’ll be all alone again.”

Your eyebrows rose in shock. “You’ll be alone again? You were the one who left in the first place! I probably wouldn’t be in this fucking life if you didn’t leave!”

“Here we go again-”

“Yes, because this argument is fucking bullshit!”

“But leaving everybody behind to essentially get killed isn’t?”

“At least I’m with people who don’t leave me all alone when I’m suffering!”

“Well, I guess I should just do that again, shouldn’t I?”

“Yeah, maybe you should.”

Isaac nodded briefly and got up, yanking the door open and slamming it shut behind him with such force that the frames on the walls shook. 

You sniffled and wiped the tears from under your eyes, taking deep breaths to try and calm down. The light from your computer enticed you. “I guess I better do what he’s mad at me for,” you muttered, getting right back to work.

“Y/N, wake up, kiddo.”

You were roused form your sleep by someone shaking your arm to wake you, and you saw Dean’s worried face peering down at you. “What time is it?” you muttered, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Around 7.” You groaned and buried your face back into the pillow. “What happened last night? I heard arguing.”

“It’s nothing,” you muttered, sniffling softly at the thought of it.

“I know something’s wrong. You don’t look at me when you’re about to cry.” Dean wrapped his arms around you and pulled you up. “Come on, tell big bro what’s wrong.”

“I’m not 5, Dean.”

“Well then stop acting like one and tell me what’s wrong, and then I’ll stop treating you like one.”

You huffed and wriggled out of his grasp, turning to face him. “Isaac and I got into a fight.”

“What about this time?”

“He asked me to prom.”

“I... I don’t see the problem. You like him, right?”

You nodded and looked down at your hands. “I... I love him.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I told him that I couldn’t go.”

“Why not? Everyone’s gotta go to prom, especially hunters. We gotta live our lives to the fullest.”

“I can’t because I have work to do.”

Dean stared at you, completely dumbfounded. “Let me get this straight... You turned Isaac, the boy you are in love with, down because you have to do research and travel with your two older brothers?”

“Yeah, basically.”

“Give me your phone.”

You looked up at him and furrowed your brows. “Why?”

“Because I am going to fix this shit, whether you like it or not.”

[welshjule]

Doyawannarootorwhat?

January 1982

 It was snowing the day my family left Cardiff for a new life in Australia.

I was eighteen, living with my mum, dad and two younger sisters and none of us knew what we were doing!

We had never even been on a plane before and the furthest we had ever traveled was  Pontins in Prestatyn.

My dad’s brother and his family had emigrated to Perth and my parents had asked my sisters and myself if we wanted to go and live there. It all sounded really exciting at the time and we had travelled to Australia House in London about a year before and passed the interview.

But now, we were having second thoughts because the three of us had steady boyfriends and we had sworn undying love and absolute faithfulness to them, like only teenagers can. So, it was a very dramatic departure, with our ‘soulmates�� shivering in the street as we drove off.

Foreigner was playing ‘Waiting for a Girl Like You ‘on the car radio and the back seat was filled with brokenhearted sobbing as the three of us tried to out-do one another in our pain and suffering.  We only got about five minutes up the road before my father turned around from the front seat and yelled:

“If you think I’m listening to this sh*t all the way to Heathrow, you can think again. If you don’t pack it in, we’re not stopping at the services.’’

We soon shut up. We loved the services.

All kids loved the motorway services. They weren’t all about petrol. There was an air of excitement, as everybody escaped from the family car and did their own thing for half an hour. The video arcades were filled with flashing lights and loud music and they were a magnet for teenagers, who lined up to play Space Invaders and drive pretending cars at 500 miles per hour.

That didn’t interest me.

I went straight into WH Smith’s and bought my two favorite magazines, ‘Jackie’ and ‘Blue Jeans’ and sat down to a breakfast of sausage, beans and chips. I was soon lost in the ‘problem pages’ and an article on smokey eye make-up tips.

Then, we were back on the road.

In 1982, flying on a jumbo jet was a really big deal. It was glamorous and exciting and people dressed up for the adventure.

It all appealed to my inner diva and I was channeling Debbie Harry, who was my idea of cool.  

So a few hours later, with my ash highlights, Adam Ant pirate shirt and a sexy Jackie Collins novel in my handbag, I nabbed a window seat on the massive plane. Pressing the button on my seat, I ordered a Bloody Mary, put on my complimentary airline socks and lit up a fag.

There was absolutely no sense of safety in the air back then; The smoking seats were at the rear of the plane but the smoke just wafted over everybody in a thick smog. The cabin crew dished out as much free alcohol as a passenger could drink, everybody had a pocket full of lighters and combined with my mother’s duty-free Opium perfume the entire place was a powder keg.

I f*cking loved the Eighties!

But most worrying was that I was invited up to the to meet the pervert pilot three times in the first two hours. Mum and Dad were completely oblivious to this man wanting me all up in his cockpit but this geezer had no chance.

He’s in charge of gravity for God’s Sake!

Why would I interrupt the deviant responsible for keeping hundreds of people 30,000 feet up in the sky? As far as I was concerned, he didn’t need any distractions. You’ve got one job. Concentrate!

Anyway, the glamour soon wore off.

The feature film was ‘Raiders of the Lost Ark’ but I couldn’t tell you anything about it. With one screen up at the front of the plane, Harrison Ford was the size of a Lego block and the earplugs kept jumping out of my ears. Soon there were kids screaming, spines contorting and full-on fights over the precious arm-rests.

There were no straight-through flights then and for some reason, our journey seemed to involve changing planes at every Middle Eastern airport on our way to Australia, and thirty- eight years ago those places were intimidating. Security guards and police patrolled everywhere carrying guns and scaring the crap out of all the travelers with their blank glares.

Trying to find any kind of airport staff who could speak English was like hunting for a unicorn!

Hot, tired passengers walked around in a confused, sleep-deprived daze and we were all lugging huge suitcases (with no wheels), winter coats, overnight bags and duty-free booze. Everybody was on edge and scared they would miss their connecting flight which was a real possibility.

Walking into my first public toilet in these here parts was a real culture shock I could have done without because there were no toilets in the toilet!

I opened one door after another until it dawned on me that the hole in the floor was for squatting over. The place smelled like a sewer from the dark ages and my aching bladder dried up like a prawn cracker as I held my nose and made for the exit.

‘’You’ve got to go Ju,” my Mum warned, “We’re going to be here for hours, just hold your breath.”

“Mother, I am eighteen not ten,’’ I replied, ‘if I tried to squat on that putrid, wet floor and fell in that shit, I’d grab a gun off one of those guards and blow my brains out!”

“Oh, stop being so dramatic,” she sighed, spotting a little old lady sitting behind a wooden table counting change.

“Do you think she works here?” my Mum whispered,

“Oh my God, of course she works here, who would willingly sit in this cesspit. “

I was young and rude and had no regard for a woman who was forced to do this disgusting job day after day.

“Mum, I can’t stay here another second. I’m literally going to catch some shit-borne plague virus.’’

I ran for the exit and as the door closed behind me, I heard Mum asking for some toilet paper. I didn’t rate her chances because in those days toilet paper was a bit of a novelty and travelers caught short were pretty much up shit creek!!

Eventually, after missing a connecting flight and spending the night in Abu Dhabi, we arrived in Perth, Western Australia and were picked up at the airport by my dad’s brother and his family.

It was the middle of summer and as we walked outside to the carpark, the heat hit us like a punch and we stopped dead. We couldn’t catch our breath and I could feel my nostril hair burning!

‘’Bloody hell Tommy, how do people live and work in this?’’ asked my sweating father who was struggling with a suitcase the size of a small car. ‘It’s like being cooked.’

My aunty and uncle laughed and told us that it was about forty-two degrees. But apparently, we would get used to it.

Living with our relatives, the heat was no hardship. Their gorgeous house had air-conditioning and was as cold as a meat freezer.

Everything had a new, exciting, holiday feel and we played ‘It’s a Knockout’ for hours with our cousins in the swimming pool while our uncle barbecued steaks the size of hubcaps.

Perth is a beautiful city and in 1982 it had a very laid-back vibe. There was a strong American influence and we loved going to milk bars and drinking milkshakes from giant metal beakers. Sales assistants smiled and told us to ‘have a nice day’ and there were palm trees growing on the side of the road.

The first time I went to a drive-in movie I felt just like Sandy from the film ‘Grease.’ Waitresses on roller skates wore cute uniforms and carried trays of French fries and hamburgers. There were groups of teenagers everywhere, smoking cigarettes and sharing sneaky bottles of Jim Beam.

The movie playing was American Gigalo, but nobody was interested in Richard Gere.

Instead of cars, most boys and girls were making out in ‘shaggin’ wagons.’

These were small panel vans that were basically a bedroom on wheels. They first became popular with surfers because there was plenty of room for a group of mates with their surfboards to travel to the best beaches.

Now, horny boys all over Australia worked their butts off for one of these prized ‘sin bins’ and would pimp them out with shag pile carpet, surround sound speakers and strobe lighting. Add a mattress, a bong and an esky full of beer and it was a guaranteed shag pad.

The rule was ’If it’s rocking don’t come knocking,’ so kids waited their turn to make great memories or more often, drunken mistakes.

I thought it was a brilliant idea. A million times better than trying to mate in a sedan in the middle of winter.

Almost all the boys had a mullet haircut, which was short on the top and long at the back (think Billy Ray Cyrus) and the girls had curly, spiral but mostly frizzy home perms. The Aussie boys described their mullets as ‘business at the front and party at the back’ and they could definitely party!

The novelty of home pizza deliveries, bronzed lifeguards and breath-taking beaches made life blissful.

Had we landed in paradise?

Was this place absolutely perfect?                                                                                

Not quite, as I was about to find out.                                                                                                                

The first time my sister and I went into the city on a Friday night it was like being transported to Las Vegas. We were with a young aussie bloke called Brian who worked with our auntie and he was really excited to show us his town.

Brian was more Australian than Dame Edna and we didn’t have a clue what he was talking about. He said things like ‘crook’ and ‘mongrel’ and ‘fair dinkum’ and sounded like a seventy-year-old sheep shearer.

“Youse two are good looking Sheila’s, so if you want to crack on, go for your life” he told us.

Walking along Hay Street, the warm, balmy breeze gave the place a tropical feel and the lights from the restaurants and clubs added to the excitement. The air smelled like Chinese food, petrol and every teenager’s sexy dream.

Boys were hanging out of souped up Chevy’s and Toyota Camry’s, doing laps and calling out to all the girls while Jimmy Barnes and ACDC blasted out of their speakers.

Everybody seemed to be young, loud and ready to party and photographers were everywhere, taking pictures of the revelers for the weekend newspapers.

Beautiful bronzed girls walked around in bikinis, heading for nightclub ‘beach parties’ or Miss West Coast beauty competitions.

Pinocchio’s was the most popular place to spend a Friday or Saturday night and it blew our minds. The place was enormous with a huge dancefloor on the ground floor and two bars. Upstairs were more places to drink and dance and the place was packed.

It was all so exciting, The Police were singing ‘Don’t Stand So Close to Me’, and we were looking good.

There were dozens of blokes at the bar and we could see some of them checking us out and grinning at one another. Brian found some people he knew from work so my sister and I went and sat down in a velvet booth. Sipping our Cinzano and lemonades we looked at the dancefloor.

It was wall to wall girls, dancing around their handbags (yes, even here) and absolutely no boys whatsoever. Eventually, with Whitney Huston singing her heart out we hit the dancefloor.

Now, I was used to being wooed by Welsh boys and God love them, they had to have some bottle. If they liked a girl, nine times out of ten she was with a group of friends and the poor bloke would have to risk being ridiculed or rejected by all of them.

But many a boy took a chance and would ask for a dance or if he could buy a girl a drink, because if he asked enough girls, eventually, he might get lucky!

We danced for hours to Joan Jett, Men at Work, Adam and the Ants and Kim Wilde and I felt so happy because I loved Australia and I had just discovered B52 shots which I had been knocking back! Everybody seemed to be laughing and there was the exciting feeling of perhaps meeting someone new.

The disco lights were flashing blue and pink, the music was deafening and we were all choking on the smoke machine. It was bloody brilliant.

But, not one boy came near us

Brian was now sitting down so we went and joined him in the booth.

I had some questions,

‘’Brian, what’s going on?’’

‘’Why are all the boys standing together and ignoring the girls?’’

“Why hasn’t anyone asked us to dance?”

‘’How are people supposed to meet from opposite sides of the room?’’

‘’Is this a gay bar?’’

To be honest, I was a vain little mare.

It was all about me and I was just in a bad mood because nobody had chatted me up all night.

Brian looked at me in complete shock for a few seconds and then burst out laughing,

“Jeeze, who are you and what planet are you from?’’ he choked, ’Nobody cracks on ‘til the end of the night. Give the boys a chance, they’re drinking their grog.”

From what I could see, most of the boys at the bar were absolutely hammered and one dickhead near us had ripped off his shirt and was puffing out a skinny chest. They were all showing off, trying to out-drink one another and shouting at the top of their voices.

At about 1am the DJ started playing ‘Shut Up ya Face’ and that was our cue to leave and go next door for pizza, but before we could stand up, four young guys came over to our table.

‘’G’day ladies, how ya going?” asked the obvious ringleader with a horrible orange mullet.  He sat down next to me, grinning like a maniac and then turned to face Brian.

“Listen mate, I don’t wanna cut your grass or nothin’, so which Sheila’s yours?” he asked.

Brian shook his head, ‘’No worries there mate. They’ve just got here from England and I’m showing them the sites.”

The boy’s eyes lit up and he tried to put his arm around me,

‘’Me and the lads have been watching youse two all night. Right pair or ragers eh?’’

His mates fell about laughing

‘’Robo mate, you’re a fu##ing legend’’ shouted the boy with no shirt.

I doubted that

Robbo stank of beer and sausage rolls and his hair was dripping wet.

‘’Oh my God, stop sweating on me’’ I screamed, moving sideways along the seat.

‘’Hey, don’t spit the dummy” he grinned ‘’ I just wanna get to know ya.’’

“Well don’t come any nearer,’’ I said putting my arm out, ‘’you’re in my personal space.’’

‘’Oh she’s a pommie, ’’ shouted a tubby boy who was standing next to Robbo and seemed to be dressed as a bank manager.

“She’s well up for it. Give her the hard word.’’

Cheeky Bas##rd. I understood that alright!

Glaring up at him, I said,

“For a start off, we are Welsh not English and what are you wearing? I can’t believe the bouncers let you in here. You should be banned for life for having such hideous fashion sense. And by the way, I’m not up for anything, thank you very much.’’

But Robbo wasn’t giving in just yet and he suddenly lurched towards me, and said, ‘’Doyawannarootorwhat?

All I heard was root and what

“What is a rooterwhat?’’ I asked

Robbo threw himself back in the seat and grabbed his crotch and it seemed like everyone in the club was laughing at me.

I was over it.

“Brian, what is he talking about?  What does it mean?’’

The poor boy was starting to look uncomfortable.

“Well, a root means a sh#g, you know, getting laid.’’ he said

It was too much for me and I had to stand up.

Looking down at Robo, I couldn’t believe it.

“So, let me get this straight. You came over here to ask me to have sex with you.”.

“Bloody Oath I did. Nothing wrong with a bit of hide the sausage.” he laughed

“You must be bloody joking. You haven’t had the guts to buy me a drink or ask me to dance but you expect me to go home with you?’’

“Well not home exactly, me oldies wouldn’t like it’’, he said, ‘’but the car is parked in the multi-story on Barrack Street. We could go for it in there’’

‘’Wow, how romantic’’ I said

“Oh, so my lady wants romance, does she?’ A little dancing and some champers? said the bank manager. ‘’Didn’t realize we had Princess Diana in here tonight boys.”

“You’ve got that right,’’ I told him, ‘’I am a lady so you can kiss my arse.’’

“That’s what I’m talking about” shouted Robbo and I noticed he had vomit down the front of his shirt.

‘’We don’t want a formal introduction, just a root.’’

‘’Well I’m not interested’’ I told him, grabbing my handbag off the table.

We walked through the club and as we reached the exit, Robo’s bank manager shouted,

“Hey, Mary Poppins, no hard feelings eh! How do ya fancy a 68 and a half?

I couldn’t resist it

“What’s that?’’ I shouted back

‘’You give me a bl#w job and I’ll owe you one.”

I had to laugh.

That was the night I found out that most Australian blokes are very funny but if you want flowers, compliments and courtship, you’ll be waiting a while!

After all, there is no such thing as perfection.

[genevahale]

Getting into the Christmas spirit

Brussels and Bruges, Belgium

Planning!

Planning group trips can be a little challenging. Everyone has different budgets, things they want to see, and different ideas of what a relaxing vacation looks and feels like. Our only really restrictions on this trip were: keep it affordable, a see a Christmas market, and  it had to be Thursday through Sunday as Crystal has two small children and her husband had to be back at work Monday. Seem easy enough, and it was!

This was the first trip I had taken with Jessica and Crystal (two other wives living in Shannon). Jessica is originally from Columbia and has traveled extensively through Europe and South America. Crystal, however has not. She went to Disneyland Paris in the fall, and before moving here did not have a passport. So the idea of getting her out, and actually experiencing Europe was pretty neat!

As we started planning, I realized I didn’t really know anything about Belgium, and didn’t really have a lot that i just had to see. I wanted to drink beer and eat chocolate and waffles. Jessica found an awesome tour that included beer and chocolate. I booked the AirBNB, Crystal booked our flight, and we were off! Well, first I helped Crystal do a little bit of packing so that we would not have to check bags. And then we were off!

Thursday

Crystal picked us up after her husband was home from work. We made a mad (yet safe) dash to Dublin Airport. The drive from Shannon is about 2.5 hours which normally is fine but our flight left at 7:30pm. Again, should be fine, but it was also rush-hour. It was a little stressful but we parked, got to the terminal, had our boarding passes verified, and headed to the gate with time to buy some snacks.

When we landed in Brussels, the Immigration Officer was confused why three Americans with only little backpacks would have flown from the US to Belgium for three days. We explained that we live in Ireland and he looked relieved. Smooth sailing and on the to the next thing!

We attempted to purchase train tickets to get from the airport to our AirBNB, but the machine only took euro coins. I know the €2 coin is incredibly handy, but who carries €8 in change with them? Not us. We had to wait to purchase our ticket. The queue moved slowly and there one only one person working. It turns out, that 10:30pm on Thursday night, they probably need two people manning the booth.

We reach Brussels, find our AirBNB, and even though it was quickly approaching midnight, we were hungry! Following some quick googling, we decide to check out Friteland. We wandered through the closed Christmas Market (a teaser for tomorrow) and headed towards the smell of frites (fries)! The shop was busy but we were ushered inside by the man taking orders. We ordered via gestures and numbers on the menu. The man taking our orders offered Crystal a sausage, waggling it in his tongs with eyebrows raised. Well, this should be an interesting trip... We ate our fries, drank our Jupiler, and were already having a good time. We wandered back to the AirBNB after one, ready for some sleep and tomorrow’s adventures.

Friday

We got a late start to our morning (thanks to 12am frites). We wandered around the City Center and slowly opening Christmas Market. We took this chance to grab breakfast: our first Belgian Waffles! They were so good! A little sweet with Nutella was the way to go! And of course, coffee!

                             Photo care of Jessica. She is an amazing photographer                                      and this is just a small sample of the photos she took on                                    our trip.

We wandered around more and had a chance to see parts of Belgium's vibrate Middle Eastern community as was passed a coffee house. It was nice to be reminded of how diverse other countries are after having spent a lot of time in rural Ireland.

We headed back towards the market and started drinking some Gluhwein because it was 11am, after all. We had conversations regarding religion specifically why I am opposed to nativity scenes paid for by taxpayers in the US, why I think separation of church and state is important, and overall conversations that are not necessarily appropriate for “polite company”, especially at 11am.

After several more glasses of hot wine, we grabbed some lunch from a stall: melted cheese on a baguette with ham, pickles, and cocktail onions. It is an odd sounding combination, but it tasted amazing!! We perused the market, checked out various Christmas themed stalls and generally enjoyed ourselves. We headed back to the AirBNB again to rest up for our Chocolate and Beer Tour.

Regarding Gluhwein: In Brussels you pay a €1 deposit on a reusable cup with when you buy any hot drink. When you are done, you can return it to any stall to get your €1 back. It’s a great way to decrease garbage but also lead to some homeless people aggressively begging “for cups to return”. I’m a little conflicted about this turn off events, but I really liked the idea of reusable cups.

The Beer and Chocolate Tour was led by Marie. She was amazing and I cannot recommend it enough! It was like taking a tour with your best friend’s, best friend. She was brutally honest which was hilarious (”this place looks tacky, but it has really good ganache”), picked unique things for us to try (including cocoa nibs which were not good, and a beer that can only be brewed in Brussels because of the bacteria in the air, and an Earl Grey Tea chocolate), and overall she was a wonderful hostess for the city of Brussels and we really got our money’s worth on the tour. Plus a nice buzz! It was a little on the expensive side for a tour (€75 per person) but we did tour as a group for almost five hours, and was one of the best tours I have taken in Europe!

After the tour, Marie recommended a restaurant to us: Chez Leon. We shared mussels, frites, and more beer. The mussels were amazing! We ordered two kinds, one with garlic butter and cheese, and another version with just garlic butter. I have never thought having mussels with cheese and it was so good! The restaurant itself wasn’t amazing, and it was a little pricey but thanks to great company, it was still very fun.                      

Saturday

Before leaving Ireland, we had decided that we wanted to see Bruges. It is an hour from Brussels and costs about €10 round-trip on the train. On the way there, we were unable to get seats, but we did for the ride back to Brussels. Thank goodness, too as we had some very tired feet!

After disembarking from the train in Bruges, we headed towards the city center. It was easy as there was a crowd heading the same direction. We had to option to either take the bus or walk the mile and a half. We decided by foot would be better as we had no where in particular to go with no timeline.

As it turns out, Bruges is the cutest town that has ever existed. It looks like you have stepped into the Victorian Age but without the horrible smells and small children begging while covered in coal dust. If you ever think to yourself, “I’m not really a Christmas person” then you need to check out Bruges in December. The Christmas market is huge and complete with an ice skating rink in the center.

We stopped and had lunch pretty much immediately as we had skipped breakfast. We all ordered the Flemish beef stew. It was so good and severed with frites. Clearly Jessica and I opted for giant chalices of beer. I couldn’t tell you what it was, but it was delicious! Bruges was significantly more expensive than Brussels. Our lunch was €20ish. So not bad for one meal, but had we stayed in Bruges, it would have added up quickly.

We also were able to watch Christmas parade. It was an interesting combination of marching band, nuns, a priest, a nativity, along with the three kings. Including one in blackface! I know it’s another culture, and I cannot judge, but for such a progressive county this seems like an odd tradition to hold onto.

After wandering around Bruges for the day, we managed to run into our friends the Youngs! They coincidentally had planned a trip the same weekend we had.

Once we were back in Brussels, we returned to the Christmas Market for dinner, more Gluhwein (noticing a theme?), and the headed back to the beer store we had visited with Marie the night before. They were just as friendly as they had been on our previous visit. It was nice to be able to warm up, sit down, and chat with each other. From our vantage point we were able to watch a drunk lady run down the street being chased by the police and then pass out before being put into an ambulance. For the amount of drinking that takes place at Christmas Markets, this was the most out of control that anyone was. And in reality, she seemed like she was more a danger to herself than anyone else.

We finished our beers, grabbed a kebab and headed back to the AirBNB to rest up for our last day.

Sunday

Last day in Brussels. We grabbed a leisurely and delicious brunch at Peck 47. By opting to sit outside (with heat lamps) we were able to skip the long wait. Coffee, mimosas, and a salmon eggs Benedict hit the spot! The neat thing about sitting outside is that we were able to listen to a street performer who sang in French and was very good.

After breakfast, we ran around to our favorite chocolate shops from the tour and purchased some goodies to take home. I ended up spending almost €30 on chocolate but it was well worth it. We wrapped up our time in the city with a beer before catching our train.

Final Thoughts

Ending a trip is always bittersweet but one of many nice things about living in Europe, I have already planned my trip back to Belgium. I enjoyed my adventures with Jessica and Crystal, but I was excited to get home to see Ryan and Habibi.

Until next time Belgium!