#i have not drawn in like two months i need to get. reacquainted with my style LOL

[alliellama]

every time i draw this guy his hair gets a little bit curlier

[kindahoping4forever]

When The Sun Came Up, You Were Looking At Me (Prologue) // Ashton Irwin

It really cannot be overstated how excited @cal-puddies​ and I are for you all to finally start reading this fic!! I searched our chat and we actually came up with the skeleton idea for this sequel only TWO DAYS after Remember When We Couldn’t Take The Heat was posted LAST APRIL and we started seriously writing in SEPTEMBER. This is a long time coming. We hope you love it as much as we do and thank you again for encouraging us to continue this story!

Don’t forget we’re alternating chapters so the story continues tomorrow over on Cass’s blog. And of course, you can find links to everything as it’s posted in the masterlist linked below! 

Warnings: Tension, both dramatic and sexual. Mild angst. Meddling but well-meaning friends. The first smut-free work Cass and I have ever written together (don’t worry, we more than make up for it the rest of the series lmao)

Word Count: 3455

Cass & Crystal’s Masterlist  // Series Masterlist

Let  us  know  what  you  think!

The traffic light changes to green and you turn down Luke and Sierra’s street. You roll your eyes at the quickening of your pulse as you think about the party tonight; you’d give anything to skip it but you know Michael and Crystal really want you there and you can’t not show up for them. 

You feel your nerves settle a bit as you step out of the car and see Sierra waiting at the door for you, happy to have you over to get ready together. She grins wide and pulls you into a warm hug, Luke quickly coming over to engulf you as well. Their excited greetings overlap as they literally smother you with affection and you can’t help but laugh at the fuss they’re making.

“You always disappear for too long,” he murmurs, pressing a sweet kiss to the top of your head. 

“Just needed some space,” you say with a shrug. 

“You broke up with Ash, not us,” Sierra reminds you, squeezing your arm. 

“I know, I know,” you nod with a weak smile. 

Luke grabs the bag with your dress in it and takes it to their room while you and Sierra get a drink. “Thank god you’re letting me pre-game,” you joke. 

“How are you feeling about everything?” She asks as you head back with her. 

“Just doin’ my best to be OK,” you admit, without even thinking about Luke overhearing. “It was like… close to an entire year of my life you know? I know it doesn’t seem like much... I just wasn’t ready, you know? And I’m definitely not ready for tonight.” 

Sierra sits on the bed, listening as you sit at her vanity, absentmindedly looking over the beauty products on it.  “It was such an intense relationship, it makes sense you’re not over it yet, babe,” she points out gently.

“I should be over it, though, it was ridiculous. Our whole relationship was based on a foundation of fighting until we fucked to forget why we fought… it didn’t work, we never really communicated about anything.” 

“Well. You already know I’m not a fan of how the breakup went down,” she shakes her head, plugging in the curling iron you’ve been gesturing wildly with. “It’s been a couple months now, you guys still haven’t even texted?”

You scoff, taking a sip of your drink. “Please, we are the king and queen of Stubborn Town, I haven’t seen or heard from that man since I got the last of my stuff from his place,” you shrug. “I guess it still just feels… unfinished. I hate that.”

“I mean, it feels unfinished because you guys left it that way,” she says matter of factly. “You both decided you were done and then just… were? When you love someone, walking away like that doesn’t work.”

“I never said I loved him,” you glare at her through the mirror.

She settles behind you and starts sectioning off your hair. “Never said you didn’t either,” she teases.

Before you know it, 45 minutes have passed and Luke is at the door warning that he’s about to call the Uber; you’re deep into your girl talk catch-up and the knock on the door causes you both to burst into shrieks and giggles, scurrying around the room to finish getting ready.

Miraculously, you get yourselves together in time and as you stand in front of the house waiting for the car to arrive, Luke nudges you gently. “Ash is coming from a meeting on the other side of town, so you’ve got time to relax, he won’t be there for a while,” he reassures you. “And if you feel like you need to leave, let us know and we’ll come up with a reason to swoop you outta there.”

You put your arms around him and squeeze. “I’ve missed you too,” you say with a smile.

Luke tells you and Sierra how nice you both look as he ushers you inside the party. They both watch you scan the room, relaxing once you see Ashton hasn't arrived and then you all break off, making the rounds. 

You greet a few people but end up hanging off to the side, keeping an eye on the door, nervously half-paying attention to anyone who happens to approach you. 

You immediately tense when he enters. Luke moves to welcome him while Sierra comes to you, trying to be a silent support; her babysitting goes from feeling comforting to coddling very quickly and you urge her to go back to mingling. 

You try not to stare but you can’t help it, you haven’t seen him in so long. Even before you were together, when you hated him, it was hard not to be drawn to him. He just has that kind of presence. 

Luke hasn’t left his side since he walked in, chatting away, but you don’t think anything of it. That is, until everyone seems to be finding their place at the various tables and you’re still awkwardly standing to the side. You would typically sit with Luke and Sierra but they’ve made themselves cozy at a table with Ashton and Calum. 

You head for the bar and before you can order, someone comes up beside you. You ignore them until you hear the soft “Hey” fall from his lips, in that lush, slightly accented voice you missed more than you’d care to admit. 

You turn, fully taking him in for the first time tonight; his hair is different than the last time you saw him and he really seems to be feeling himself in his black pants and the lace button-up you used to make fun of. “Hi,” you respond, so quiet that Ash has to lean in to be sure he heard you. 

“Grab your drink and come sit with us,” he says, waving encouragingly. 

“Uh… that’s OK. I might leave,” you shrug. 

He snorts, rolling his eyes at your ridiculous suggestion. “No you won’t. First of all, I know you came with Luke and Sierra and they’re not leaving. Second of all, you’d never let Crystal and Mike down like that. Just come sit,” he insists, gently tugging on the hem of your dress. 

You melt a little inside. This was one of the reasons you liked him so much, he was always so confident that he knew you so well. But it’s also one of the reasons why you fought and he drove you crazy. 

“Fine,” you sigh with a slight smile. He waits for you to order your drink, also making you crazy, like he can’t trust you’ll do as you say.

“There you are!” Sierra smiles as you take the seat across the table from her and Luke. Sitting between Calum and Ashton is a spot you were very familiar being in; they’d constantly lean over you to share a joke and then one of them would fill you in afterwards if you were lucky. Your heart breaks a little when you realize that's not likely to happen now. 

You make small talk with Cal for a bit; you’ve missed his pinchable cheeks and his sweet laugh. You’d spent plenty of time with him when you were with Ashton but hadn’t really kept in touch since the split. He asks you about work and both he and Ash pay close attention as you chat about your job.

Sierra keeps a close eye on the two of you and notices how quickly you get reacquainted. The way Ash naturally rests his arm on the back of your chair. How when he started getting animated with a story, you knowingly shifted all the drinks over until he was finished. How he won’t let himself laugh at his own joke until he checks to make sure you’re laughing first. The hair toss you subconsciously give whenever he does make you laugh.

Later on, she catches him at the refreshment table serving your favorite dessert onto his plate even though it’s something he notoriously doesn’t like. She walks alongside him as he heads back. “You hate that,” she smirks, pointing at the offending dish.

“Oh. Right,” he says, realizing the old habit he just indulged. “She’ll eat it,” he shrugs, quickening his step to avoid any follow-up questions. 

Crystal makes the rounds to thank everyone for coming and stops Sierra with a hug; they chat for a minute but Crystal notices she seems distracted and eventually follows her gaze over to your table. Cal’s deeply invested on his phone, leaving you and Ash chatting by yourselves.

Crystal lightly snorts and leans in to her friend. “What’s old is new again, I guess,” she cups her manicured hand over her mouth to disguise her words. “You think they’ll leave together? I was shocked when she told me they haven’t hooked up even once since they split.”

Sierra shakes her head firmly. “They’re both too stubborn to admit they want even that from each other,” she rolls her eyes. “You should’ve seen how nervous she was to come here tonight.”

“Oh, Ash too,” Crystal whispers. “Ever since we planned this, Michael must’ve gotten at least 5 texts from him casually trying to find out if she was coming.”

Sierra sips her drink, never taking her eyes off your table. “It ended so badly, I can’t get over how comfortable they are with each other… there’s still just so much love there.”

Crystal shrugs. “Well god bless them but think of how long it took them to actually get together,” she points out. “I wouldn’t hold my breath for them to figure out that they called it off too soon.” 

You make light conversation with Ashton, trying to ignore the girls’ gabfest you see out of the corner of your eye; they were both supportive but clearly distraught when you told them about the breakup so you know they’ve got to be eating this up. 

Calum announces he’s stepping away for a cigarette and you and Ash pick at your plates in silence for a few minutes, suddenly feeling the weight of having to interact without a buffer. Finally, he offers up a quiet, “You’ve been good?”

You answer perhaps a little too quickly, nod perhaps a little too vigorously, eager to mask any implication of hurt feelings. “Yep. Busy. But good.”

He fiddles with the tablecloth. “You know... I meant to call sometime but it never felt right and then things got crazy with the band…”

“It’s fine,” you interrupt, shaking your head. “I didn’t check in either. Didn’t think you’d answer,” you laugh weakly.

He smiles and you hate how warm you feel at the sight. “Why did I always assume you were a ‘fuck that guy, delete his number as soon as you’re out the door’ kind of ex?”

Your heart sinks and you’re not sure why; it takes you a moment to realize it’s because this is the first time you’ve actually thought of yourself as “his ex.” You steady yourself. “Usually am. Decided to be mature on this one. You’re still at the top of my contacts. Listed under ‘Asshole,’ obviously,” you giggle.

“Ah, my favorite of your pet names,” he laughs along with you.

You talk for a few more minutes until Crystal makes her way over; Ash slips away while the two of you catch up and shortly after, you get a text from Luke asking if you’re ready to go. Your eyes scan the room though you aren’t sure what exactly you’re searching for, because you’re totally fine leaving without saying goodbye to Ashton. 

You're quiet on the ride back to Sierra and Luke’s and while you collect your things from their bedroom, she gently checks in.

“See, tonight wasn’t so bad,” she muses. 

“No, it was OK. Good to see everyone,” you shrug. “...Ash looks healthy.” 

“He looks good,” Sierra says pointedly. You say nothing. 

“You sure you’re good to drive?” Luke asks, coming into the room and sitting next to his girlfriend on the bed. “You know you’re always welcome to stay here.” 

“I’m fine, Luke,” you chuckle. You turn and hug them both. “I love you both, I’ll text when I’m home.” They respond by kissing the top of your head and you chuckle fondly as you leave. 

“They seemed OK tonight,” Luke mentions while they get ready for bed.

“They were more than OK, those stubborn kids couldn’t have been more into each other,” Sierra rants. “I think they really miss it, they just won’t admit it.”

“Oh, Ash definitely misses her. I swear, he talked about her less when they were together,” he jokes. Sierra raises an eyebrow, which Luke takes as encouragement to continue rambling about everything Ash had told him. “He knows they fought a lot but he even misses that... he’s been saying he’s glad he never told her he loved her, though. Things would’ve been a lot harder. Messier. I dunno, he’s always asking about her.”

You get home and drop your bag right inside the door with a huge, exhausted sigh and pull out your phone to text Luke and Sierra before heading to your room. You throw open the closet and it only takes you a couple seconds to spot what you’re looking for: that hoodie that Ash left behind and you never bothered to return. 

You stare at it for a beat and then leave to wash your face and brush your teeth; you already know what you’re about to do but you still try to talk yourself out of it. Back in the bedroom, you reluctantly grab the hoodie off of its hanger, change into it and climb into bed. You hold the sleeves to your face and breathe Ashton in; long, deep breaths, letting his smell fill your nostrils. You’ve done this more times than you’d care to admit these past few months; you miss him here, in your space. You curl in a ball and drift off, taking comfort in his scent surrounding you. 

You’re woken up early by your phone buzzing on the nightstand. You see it’s Sierra and pick it up, groaning, making sure she can hear it. “S?”

“Hey babe… can we lunch?” She bubbles. 

“You couldn’t have texted?”

“Sorry, Sunshine, just wanted to hear your lovely voice… and get a definite answer out of you. 1 o’clock, don’t be late!” She sing-songs, hanging up. 

You check your notifications and your heart sinks, not seeing anything from Ashton. You weren’t sure why you thought you would. You curl up and go back to sleep for a while. 

Sierra knows you well enough to guess you fell back asleep without setting an alarm and she starts blowing you up around noon. You text that you’ll see her soon and you start getting ready. You use the most fragrant soap you can find for your shower, ensuring the smell of Ashton's cologne doesn't linger on your skin.

You walk into your usual lunch place and easily spot Sierra on the patio. "Drinks are on their way," she shares as you take your seat.

You chat breezily about the party: how good the food was, how Michael's DJ setup was so much more elaborate than at the last party you attended, how much you loved what Crystal had worn. You wonder out loud if Cal had gone home with the girl he'd been making eyes at all night and Sierra seizes the opportunity to steer the conversation to her topic of choice.

"Speaking of making eyes," she takes a prolonged sip from her glass. "Things seemed a little intense with Ash last night."

You give her a tight-lipped smile, determined not to give her anything she can blow out of proportion. "I told you it was fine. Easier than I expected in a lot of ways, harder in others."

She places her hand on your arm from across the table. "I looked over a few times and saw him with his arm over your chair, you watching him talk… it was like we were back at that resort again," she says wistfully.

You evaluate her face for a moment. Since she's one of your best friends, you're used to being lovingly annoyed with her meddling in your life but sometimes you forget that it comes from a place of genuine love and concern for you. "Regardless of how things turned out, I'll always be grateful you forced me to stay on that trip," you smile. "That was some once in a lifetime kind of shit."

"From what I heard down the hall, sure sounded like it," she teases, grinning as you playfully shoo her hand off your arm. "That anniversary's coming up quick, isn't it?"

"Next week," you blurt, wincing at how quickly you answer.

"We'll have to think of something fun to do together," she declares carefully. "Not that you need it, but just in case you don't want to be alone."

This time you reach over and squeeze her hand. "I'm sorry I haven't been around like I used to, S. I just… needed time," you admit. "It's still hard. Most of the time, actually. But being around you and Lu again feels good. I think I need the support more than I realized."

"Babe," she pouts. "We were there for you before Ash, during Ash and we want to be there for you post-Ash. We love you."

You feel better than you thought you would as you head back to your car. Being honest with Sierra - and yourself - was easier than you expected. You briefly think about texting Ash - nothing major, something chill like "fun catching up last night" - but think better of it.

Sierra gets to her car and immediately texts Crystal, who requested an update when she heard you were getting lunch. She suggests asking Cal’s perspective to get the full picture of where Ash is at, so Sierra calls him on the drive home. 

“Hey Sweet Boy!” She greets him. 

“Sierra!” She can hear the grin on his face at the nickname. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” 

“Well, I wanted to ask you how Ash is. I mean, I know what Luke tells me but I feel like he gives you more,” she explains. 

“How do you mean? You saw him last night?” 

“How has he been since the breakup?” She emphasizes. 

“Oh… OH!! Oh! What are you planning? Please tell me you’re doing something, he’s making me crazy. I don’t know what came over him last night,” Cal babbles. 

“I think Luke had a hand in that,” Sierra admits with a sigh. “She came over to get ready with me and I think he probably shared some things he shouldn’t have. You know how he is.”

“What’s in that beautiful brain of yours?” Cal murmurs, letting out an excited little laugh. Out of everyone, he tends to enjoy Sierra’s plans like this the most, especially when they aren’t directed toward him. 

“I don’t know yet… I feel like we just need to get them talking alone again like they were last night, remind them what was there...” she muses. She talks through a few ideas with Calum and he’s on board for any of them.

By the time she gets home, Sierra is raring to go; she practically runs up the stairs to ask Luke for his help.

“Hey hun!” He greets her with a smile when she raps on the door to his studio. He moves the guitar off his lap, silently inviting her to come lay on the couch while they talk. “How was lunch, how’s our girl?”

She fills him in on everything: your mood, your conversation and the consulting she’s been doing among the friend group. Luke seems interested but about halfway through becomes engrossed in his phone and Sierra sits up, irritated. “Babe, you asked, are you even listening?”

He briefly looks concerned and then grins. “Sorry, just distracted by Ash blowing up the group chat, asking if anyone wants to go away next week so he doesn’t have to deal with their anniversary,” he proudly holds up his phone.

Her jaw drops at the opportunity that’s fallen at their feet. “What if…” She starts furiously typing into her phone. “Yes… that house you guys stayed at when you were planning the last album is free.”

“Palm Springs? OK, so…” Luke trails off, trying to follow her logic.

“Band retreat for the boys. Self-care trip for the girls,” she answers, shooting off texts to Crystal, Mike and Cal. 

“That house really isn’t big enough for all of us,” he comments, still lost.

She finally looks up at him, smiling widely. “It’s a good thing they’ll be the only ones going, then.”

————-

Taglist is breaking the links in the post and I currently do not have the brainpower to figure out the problem lol. We’ll try again tomorrow but in the meantime, if you aren’t notified, you can always check the masterlist which will be updated everyday!

@mymindwide​​ @suchalonelysunflower​​​ @pxrxmoore​​ @loveroflrh​​ @ghostofmashton​​ @sexgodashton​​ @feliznavidaddycal​​  

@castaway-cashton​​ @ashtonlftv​​ @cashtonasfuck​​ @megz1985​​  @angelicfluffs​​ @findingliam-o​​ @youngbloodchild​​  @irwinsbetch​​ @everyscarisahealingplace​​

@wiildflower-xxx @metalandboybands  @realisticnotes  @makeamovehemmings @golden166​ @burstintocolor

​@youngblood199456​​​ @notinthesameguey​​​ @seanna313​​​  @zhangyixingxing1​​​ @stardust-galaxies​​​  @zackoid​​​

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@laura66sos​​​ @calumrose​​​ @karajaynetoday​​​ ​​​ @jazzyangel242​​​ @babylon-corgis​​​  @heyheyhaleyd​​​ @calmsweetcreature​​​

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@meetmedowntown​​​ @myloverboyash​​​

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@trix-arent-for-kids​ @uh-huhh-honey​ @tobefalling​ @aladyofalbion​ @likehuhdude​

@curlycalums​​​  @cxddlyash​​​  

@fedorable-killjoys​​​  @iamcalumswhore​​​   @i-like-5sos​​​  

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@crazyforcal​​   @neso-k​​   @deliciouslydisturbed365​​  @blxndeprincess

[0ghostwriter0]

Peaky Blinders Imagines

This is a bit random. This is not edited or proof read so please read and like if you want. Not tagging anyone for this as can be very sensitive.

Pairings: Thomas Shelby x Original Character (Lucille Hughes)

Warnings: Suicide but no major detail, emotions, violence, mention of affairs, swearing

The two meet for the first time when Shelbys chose to expand to south London. Lucille is the niece of Father Hughes so she’s uses to a different way to life.

Before the war, Lucille was abused by her father sexually and physically. His excuse was that he blamed his daughter for not being able to conceive another child after her birth. A fact that her mother had turned a blind eye to. During the war, Lucille was 14 when her father had left for the war and months later she would be orphaned following her fathers death in action which triggered her mother’s depression. By 1924, the 24 year old had been running the Hughes for 10 years. The Hughes were powerful business people but an even more powerful London based Gang. Much to the young Lucille’s dismay, the Hughes became notorious. Being the only person to hand during the war, it was her responsibility to control the legal and illegal business from going under. During the years of the war, Lucille face abuse and hardship from every angle. Much to her surprise, the uncle who comforted her sought out to abuse and rape her for many years before she claimed her full power in the Hughes during 1919. After which the young woman had prematurely aged in wisdom and became one of the most powerful gang leaders in London. After the Italians and Russians were run out of London by the Shelby’s, the young Hughes became a legend. The death of Father Hughes allowed Lucille to hide in the shadows and conduct her business as she saw fit. The once well known woman of society, started to decline from social events until she stop attending, the risk was too high to be left unguarded with socialites. As her power grew so did her lack of trust and rightly so.

By 1931, Lucille was reacquainted with Thomas Shelby. The two began their professional relationship but Lucille wanted an out. Thomas began to see a different side to Lucille that she tried to keep away from her work- the abused woman. Following his wife’s ultimatum, Mr Shelby kept Lizzie away from charity events in order to get closer to Lucille. But when Lizzie, got paranoid about Thomas sleeping with other women even though she said he could “sleep with another if they weren’t in their home and he hadn’t held his children’s hand the day prior”. The MP had been falling out of his marriage for years but for the sake of his children he would stay. One after noon, Lucille had received an invitation for a charity ball being held by the Shelby foundation. Such an invitation had not been received by Ms Hughes for quite sometime and with the added protection of the peaky blinders, Lucille chose to attend. The night was tedious. Lucille sipped on gin as she warmed up to the riches, even though she was also now a woman with money she felt out of place. After hours had passed, the near 31 year old started her goodbyes before meeting eye to eye with Thomas Shelby.

“I’ve heard that you’re making your great escape before the host can by such a beautiful lady a drink”

“Shouldn’t that woman be your dear wife”

“She neglected to join me tonight”

“Too bad she’s a lovely person to hold conversation”

“Not behind closed doors”

“I must be taking my leave Mr Shelby, I imagine the Monday meeting is still to go a head”

Thomas nodded and placed a kiss on the young woman’s cheek before escorting her to the door. Little to his knowledge, Lizzie had watched the encounter and after Thomas watched Lucille go, Lizzie confronted him.

“So that’s your new whore good to know she has no morals”

“What do you want Lizzie!”

“I want you to be mine, my husband not fucking whores”

“I’m not having this tonight Lizzie, there’s a room full of people waiting for me to go back out so just fucking leave it”

“So you are fucking her. Brilliant. I should have divorced you when I had the chance.”

“Divorce! You want a divorce, fine, I’ll give you one. Lizzie Stark you’re no longer my wife. You no longer have to worry about my business. Oh and that woman, the one that left, I haven’t fucked her”

In the days that followed, no one would have expected the events that unravelled.

It was the following Wednesday when Thomas Shelby proceeded to hand over the divorce papers as a man of his word. The past whore sat silently as she watched the Shelby walk away- walk out of her life. The peaky blinder was far from okay but would never let show the heartache he was suffering. His first wife died and haunts his days. His second, the woman who mothered Ruby and took care of his son, paranoid and divorced. He needed a friend, someone he could drink with and forget. Although, the only person he wanted to see was the lovely Lucille who always found a way to put him in his place.

Later that day, events occurred which no one could predict. Perhaps the only way you leave this family is through smoke clouds. It was around 11 when the Hughes meeting started.

“Now I know what you're going to all say so I'll say it for you. Why are we here? Well, it's come to my attention that over the years I've let things slip through the cracks. So if you're in this room, then you are one of the very few that hold my trust. I can count you all on two hands and I'm willing to cut off fingers. So I suggest you leave or prove that I chose correctly” she sat and waited for one of the rugged faces to stand an walk out on the Hughes for good.

“Right then, there's a file under your chairs. This information stays in the room. Any issues we sort them out now.”

They spent the next 2 hours editing and explain the lengths of the documents. It was 1:15 when Sophia, the Secretary, interrupted whilst stumbling through the door.

“Sophia, dear we're in the middle of a meeting, ” Lucille spoke softly while looking up from her hard oak desk. Although, after immediately meeting the gaze of the stumbling woman, Lucille nodded.

“There's a Lizzie to see you”

“Send her in, I'm sorry about the disruption this should only take a moment” Lucille nodded as she responded. Soon, a distraught sight of a woman entered the office.

“Mrs Selby, what-” her words caught off.

“You don't get to say that name, you whore.”

“Lizz-”

“Dont you fucking dare. He gave me these. I'm guessing your fucking doing!” Lizzie bellowed which shocked the room. Although, Lucilles attention was drawn to the divorce papers that fell on her desk.

“I knew you were fucking him behind my-”Lizzie was cut off by Lucille standing.

“Now I will stop you there, Ms Stark, I suggest you take a walk and return when you've calmed down. These papers have no reason to involve me, so please kindly leave”

“Im not leaving until you understand” as a gun was raise Lucille remained calm as she stood from her seat.

“Do you want to shoot me?” Lucille spoke softly as she gestured for the others in the room to hold their horses. Stepping around her desk, Lucille didn't hesitate to stand closer to Lizzie.

“As I see it you have two choices, stand here and shoot me or hand me the gun and go home.”

“I have no home. I've lost everything. So it's your turn.”

“You still have your daughter and your dignity so I suggest you hand me the gun or shoot me now” Lucille stepped closer.

In this moment, time started to freeze over.

From the corner of her eye, a man rose from his seat as Lizzie cocked her gun. Turning slowly, Lucille regretted taking her eye off of the distraught woman.

The next moments will haunt her for the rest of her life.

She felt the spatter before she heard the sound. One single shot. It wasn't the man she was now facing who had made that single shot. Trembling subtly, Lucille ran her fingers over the splatter of fluid that grazed her cheek. Her fears had been confirmed. Time stood still as the younger woman turned to the spot previously occupied by a broken woman. It was empty. Lucille refused to look down as the shocked faces confirmed what she needed to know.

Looking around the room, she planned the next step.

“In light of this sensitive event, I ask you all to hold your tongue on today’s events. Go home, kiss your other halves and I will converse with you when I am proficient.” she watchedas they all filtered out. Turning quickly,

“You ever try that again I will have your head. I was in control and you tried to be the alpha male. Today this is on me but next time it's on you. Now go.” she spoke harshly with a soft undertone as the burly man dropped his head and left like a stray dog.

The boss watched as the alpha male left and her heart dropped as Sophia started to head for the door.

“Sophia, dear I suggest you don't come in any further. Send for Mr Shelby, say nothing and take the rest of the week off. Inform the rest of the offices to leave for the week.” Sophia nodded and scurried away.

Fear filled her mind as she sunk on to the top of her desk before finally looking down. Lizzie Shelby had blown herself out. Yes Lucille was attracted to Thomas Shelby but knowing full well that Thomas was spoken for and a business partner of the Hughes. But now she had blood on her hands -her face- something she vowed never to do. She became everything her mother and father wanted except she wasn't a man.

[nessianthrowaway]

ACOSF 78.5

Wrote a chapter that i felt was missing, plz convey ur thoughts  plagiarized the sex scene bc that felt uncomfy to write lol

 Hours later, once Feyre and Nyx were sound asleep and Rhys had some color return to his cheeks, Nesta and Cassian flew back to the house. The new family was under vigilant watch by Mor and Elain, the latter who had refused to let Madja leave without the finest bouquet made from the rarest plants in the river house garden.

Mor had winnowed Gwyn and Emerie back to the library – Emerie had no desire to return to Windhaven just yet, especially when her home had been torn apart both by their Illyrian kidnappers and later, by Cassian’s utter panic. Nesta was not quite ready to part with her sisters-in-arms just yet, but knew they all desperately needed a bath and a warm meal.

Alone in the sky, Nesta rested her head against Cassian’s shoulder. She savored his scent, taking deep, heady breaths of him as they flew under the twinkling stars in the sky. She savored the feel of his strong heartbeat alongside the steady beat of his wings. She pressed a kiss to his jaw and idly traced the veins of his neck. She had missed this feeling desperately over the past week. And for a few terrifying moments on the slopes of Ramiel, she thought would never be in his arms again; the though threatened to set free the tears she hasn’t yet shed. Cassian must have sensed the direction her thoughts had headed in and only clutched her tighter to him.

Cassian flew them higher and higher, and with each beat of his wings, Nesta allowed the bone-tired weariness to creep in. She couldn’t remember the last time she ate a full meal or got a full night’s rest. She ached to be reunited with her bed or be reacquainted with the House’s culinary creations.  

A few wingbeats later, Cassian arrived at the landing of the House. He gently lowered Nesta down to her feet, but as soon as her legs touched the ground they threatened to buckle. He wordlessly lifted her back up and carried her past the threshold of their home.

“Welcome home,” he whispered against her ear.

Nesta shuddered; her home, her friend. In response, the house brushed a calming wind against her forehead, and Nesta could smell of roast beef (or was it a steak?) wafting from her room and hear a trickle of water coming from the adjoining bath. As if the house knew exactly what she needed; an old nursemaid indeed.

Cassian carried her down to her room and cautiously set her down. Her knees wobbled but she remained upright. They both silently took in their surroundings and started; in the corner of the room stood a spiral staircase, a staircase connecting her room and Cassian’s above her.

Cassian chuckled, “Guess someone has been doing some redecorating while we’ve been away.” 

“I guess so,” Nesta mused. To the House she said, “Thank you.” Nesta could’ve sworn the air around her bowed in response.

“What should we do with my room upstairs – we can turn it into an indoor training ring. Or an auxiliary library. Or into a giant closet. The opportunities are endless,” Cassian grinned. 

Nesta blinked away the tears threatening to let loose. It was so silly – so silly to be brought to tears by something this mundane. But to have options, to have the ability to plan for the future. The future with him. This was something she would never again take for granted.

“We can do whatever we want.” She said in response. She took in a deep breath. “But right now, I think I really want a bath.” 

Cassian nodded. “I can’t say I like the scent of you in another male’s clothes. I’m looking forward to using this outfit as kindling.” 

Nesta snorted, and slowly, painfully walked into the bath chamber towards the already drawn bath. The enticing scents of lavender and lilacs drifted towards her; but she found herself too exhausted to peel off her clothes, oversized though they were. Cassian silently entered behind her and gently took off the stolen, stinking clothing. He lifted her naked body into the bath and Nesta groaned at the first touch of warm water against her aching body.

The water didn’t sting against her injuries as it should have; taking a quick glance at the bottles lined up next to her told Nesta that the House had mixed a healing salve into the water. Nesta couldn’t be more grateful.

As soon as she was settled in the bath, a tray of roast beef and vegetables appeared in front of her, resting across the tub. Next to the main course was the most beautiful slice of chocolate cake Nesta had ever seen. The sight of the steaming meat and shining dessert had Nesta ready to break down in tears again.

“Looks good enough to eat.” Cassian said, a touch too innocently. Nesta smiled up at him.

“Do you want to get in?” She asked him, echoing the question from so many months before.

The amber in his eyes darkened, his eyes scanning over her body like a brand. His gaze lingered on a cut on her shoulder; Cassian sucked in a breath, and schooled his face into neutrality. Courtier indeed. His response was the same now as it was then, and a softer type of pain slashed across his eyes, “You’re hurt.” 

“That didn’t stop you before.”

Cassian growled, low and heady in his throat, and Nesta’s blood sang in response.

Cassian pointed towards the tray of food. “Alright. Get started on your dinner. I’m going to go dispose of these godsforsaken clothes and be right back.” Cassian turned and picked up the pile of torn and dirty clothes and strode out of the bathroom.

Nesta’s tired and aching body thrummed in anticipation, creating a strange combination of exhaustion and eagerness. She turned her attention towards her food, and began to eat, counting down the seconds until her mate returned. 

*

Cassian hadn’t been gone more than four minutes when he returned to the bath. He laughed softly at his view: Nesta dozing off, in front of her a half-eaten plate of roast beef and a second plate, completely empty, where not a single crumb of chocolate cake remained. Nesta’s mouth was lined with her dessert; he had never known his mate to be an ill-mannered eater, but the residue from her meal showed him how starved she must have been.

Mate. His mate. He leaned down and helped himself to the remaining beef and vegetables on her plate. This wasn’t quite the food sharing ceremony that he wanted, but what was hers was his, and what was his was hers. They might as well start sharing now.

He lifted the empty tray off the bath and set it on the floor. He turned to grab a towel but was halted by Nesta stirring.

“What took you so long?” She grumbled.

“I was gone for less than 5 minutes. You’re exhausted.”

“I don’t care. Get in.” Nesta threw as much bite into the command as she could, but her exhaustion won out. Instead, she wound up sounding like a petulant child. Irritated, she made to scooch forward in the tub and stared up at him expectantly.

Cassian loosed a sigh and rolled his eyes. “Your wish is my command, my lady.” He peeled off his clothes, keeping his eyes on hers. He wanted her – needed her – badly, but knew she needed rest. He lowered himself into the bath behind her, wings and all.

“Dunk your hair in so I can wash you.”

Nesta obeyed, and was rewarded by his fingers skillfully lathering something scented with lilacs into her hair. He massaged her temple, her hair, and behind her ears with such skill that she moaned. She felt him hard and ready behind her and made to reach for him. He flicked her hand away, his laugh a quiet grumble in his throat. Cassian leaned his mouth down against her ear to whisper, “When you’re healed and looking pretty again, then I’ll let you fuck me wherever you please in this House.” 

“Using my own words against me. You’re a quick study, Courtier.” Nesta chuckled, “You would think saving the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court would entitle me to some sort of a reward.”

Cassian felt his heart clench, and quickly forced the somber thoughts out of his mind. She had saved them; she had saved them all. He would never stop being thankful for his brave, beautiful mate. “Dunk your hair back in the water and we can get you dried up.” 

“I don’t want to leave the bath yet. I like it here.”

I like it here with you, were the words that were left unspoken, but understood, between the two of them. Cassian nodded silently against her, pressing a kiss to the back of her head.

Nesta leaned more fully against him and closed her eyes, and Cassian wrapped his arms around her waist. In their home, his mate in his arms, he relished in this moment. This is more than I could have ever dreamed of.

Nesta whispered, “You’re more than I could have ever dreamed of.”

Cassian stared down at her, but her eyelids were drooping and he knew that she needed rest. He only held her closer and began soothing strokes down her leg.

Safe in her mate’s arms, Nesta slept. 

*

Hours, or maybe even days, later, Nesta awoke in her bed. It was dark again – could she have actually slept an entire day? She rubbed her eyes awake.

Wings, she realized. She had been sleeping cocooned in her mate’s wings; they both were. She turned to face him; her beautiful, kind, and fiercely loving mate. Her love.

It was rare that she awoke before him; his Illyrian training had him up at the crack of dawn every single day. It wasn’t often that Nesta had an opportunity like this, an opportunity to stare at his perfect face. A face she hadn’t seen for a week. A face she hadn’t been able to fully appreciate in their reunion that had been cut short.

Conveniently enough, they were both naked – she peered down and laughed quietly. Even in sleep, he was ready for her.

Nesta lifted an arm to trace the velvety membrane of his wing. She traced from its outermost border toward his back, stroking determinedly where skin met wing, and pressed a kiss to his chest, trailing her mouth upwards. She reached her other hand down and began pumping him softly, and felt her own wetness begin to pool between her legs.

“Good morning,” he whispered when her mouth met his.

“Good morning,” she whispered back, smiling. She lifted her hips in silent command.

Grinning wickedly, Cassian obeyed. He nudged at her entrance but halted there, and Nesta whimpered.

Cassian snickered, “Still so impatient, Archeron.”

Nesta growled. She arched her neck in a second command digging her fingers into his shoulders, and Cassian didn’t hesitate a single second before licking up her neck and plunging into her at the same moment.

I missed this. Being drenched in you. Nesta gasped at Cassian’s voice, as clear as any words spoken aloud, in her mind. Cassian chuckled, his laugh a song to her blood. One of the many benefits of the mating bond, in case you forgot.

Cassian drew out in a long slide, leveraging Nesta’s stunned silence to his benefit. He thrust back, seating himself fully and watched her eyes roll back into her head. The sight of her so undone so quickly had him ready to come instantly, but he willed his cock to relax.

He withdrew again, and watched his cock slide out, gleaming with her wetness, and then plunged again. With every thrust, he lost himself in her, as if he hadn’t already done so weeks, months, and years ago. He lost all sense of himself, and there was her, only her.

I love you. He said into her mind with every thrust. I love you.

Nesta couldn’t stop the barrage of tears freeing themselves from her eyes. The words that had evaded her for so long, the words she knew to be true with his every action and every glance in her direction. The words she didn’t know she needed to hear until now. 

“I love you,” she choked out, “I have always loved you.”

 I love you. With everything I have ever been, with everything that I am, with everything I will ever be. I love you.

Release barreled into them both at the same moment, and he rammed up into her with such a mighty thrust that they both screamed. She clamped around him, and he spilled as much of himself as he could into her.

They clung to each other, Nesta stroking his arm and Cassian clutching her tightly to his chest on top of his thundering heart.  

“I love you,” he whispered, silver lining his eyes, “More and more with every passing moment, with every passing day.”

She kissed him deeply, letting her lips and mouth and tongue convey what words could not. Surrounded by the love of her House, the love of her mate, and her growing love for herself, she said to him, do it again.

Cassian grinned, happy to oblige.

[heyitssmiller]

Leo is tired. A lot has happened in the last couple hours, and all he wants to do is be left alone.

Nurses flutter in and out around him, taking his blood and checking the machines next to him Some try to make small talk. He’s grateful for the ones that don’t.

When he’s rolled out of the room for a CT scan, he doesn’t see Finn or Logan in the waiting room. He does see a few other people sitting there, though.

A tall man with hazel eyes. A dark haired man with glasses. A man with an impressive poker face who’s allowing the blonde woman next to him to braid and unbraid his thick hair absentmindedly. All four of them watch him go by silently, and all four look sad. He hopes whoever they’re here for will be okay.

Leo’s doctor keeps asking him questions. Yes, he remembers his own name. No, he doesn’t recognize anyone who’s been in his room. Yes, he is aware he’s in a hospital. No, he isn’t sure how he got there.

He knows that everyone is only trying to help him, but he feels like none of it is getting them anywhere.

After what feels like forever, his doctor clasps her hands. “Mr. Knut, if you would like, you can request Mr. Tremblay and Mr. O’Hara be present as you receive my formal diagnosis.”

He stares at her. “Uh...?”

“The men who were in here with you earlier.”

Oh. His mouth goes dry. Would they want to be here? If he still knew who they were, would he want them here? He exhaled loudly. “Yeah, okay. I think I’d like them to hear this.”

His doctor flashes him a sympathetic smile and signals for a nurse to go to the waiting room.

When the men come in and sit down, they’re holding hands. Leo’s eyebrows start to raise but he stops himself before they can see his surprise.

“I believe Mr. Knut has Focal Retrograde Amnesia,” his doctor begins. “This means that he remembers old things— his childhood, his name, his age— but not more recent memories.”

Finn’s eyebrows are drawn together. “Okay... so how do we fix it?”

She turns back to Leo. “There’s no real cure. We can’t proscribe a medication or anything like that to bring back your memory, the most we can do is try and slowly submerge you back into your life. Hopefully in a couple of months you’ll have regained some memories, but there is always a chance you’ll never remember.”

He swallowed around the lump in his throat as his doctor clicked something on her computer. “Luckily, your short term memory doesn’t seem to have been affected. This means you shouldn’t have a problem with retaining any new information or skills.”

Finn reached with his other hand to scratch his hair. “So what do we do? Can we do anything to help?”

“Yes, actually. It will be beneficial for you two to bring him around familiar objects, people and routines.” She swivels towards Leo again. “Not too fast, though, we don’t want you to be overwhelmed.”

A nurse knocks at the door. “Doctor? Room 487 needs you immediately.”

Standing, Leo’s doctor closes her laptop with a smile. “Well it seems I have to go, so I’ll let you three get reacquainted now.”

Part of Leo wishes she hadn’t left. These men know him, but they’re meeting for the first time in his mind. He fiddles with his thumbnail nervously. “So, um. How do...how do we all know each other?”

Logan and Finn look at each other, and Logan takes a breath. “We’re your boyfriends.”

Leo’s eyes go wide. “Boyfriends. As in...both of you? As in two?”

Finn’s mouth twitches upwards. “Yeah, Nut, boyfriends as in two.”

“I’m sorry, why do you keep calling me nut?”

Finn’s smile slips. “It’s, uh, it’s a nickname. Because of your last name. When we first saw it we thought it was pronounced ‘Nut’ and it, um, kinda stuck from there.”

Leo nods stiffly. “Oh. Okay.”

Logan shifts his weight. “Leo, we know you don’t remember us, but we’d really like it if you gave us a chance. Get to know us. Again. What do you...what d’you think?”

Leo looks between the two of them. They both looked so hopeful he would say yes. They were still holding hands, pressing their shoulders together to steady each other, and Leo could practically feel the love they had for each other. Did they have that love for him?

Maybe.

He wasn’t sure yet.

But a large part of him wanted to find out.

I SCREAMED when I saw this notification oh my god!!!!

Anon you are so amazingly talented!! The picture you paint with your words is so vivid and just wow 🤩

[thesassenachswiftie]

Lover Chapter 7: “Afterglow”

Read on AO3

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 // Chapter 5 // Chapter 6

Summary: A chance meeting at a football game from Jamie's perspective, and what happens under the bleachers.

Notes: Thanks so much for reading and all your kind comments on the last chapter! I promise we're almost "Out of the Woods" as far as angst goes (for now).

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter 7: Afterglow

Jamie’s heart was still aching a month after Claire left him. However, his pride kept him from reaching out to her. The truth is, he’d forgiven everything she’d done and everything she could do long before that day. For him, that was no choice. That was falling in love. He threw himself into his work on the farm and his family. Helping Jenny with meals, driving the children to various practices and scout meetings, helping Ian with the unending harvest September brought.

On this particular Friday evening, Jamie found himself at his nephew Ian’s homecoming game. He tried to pay attention to the game, but he really couldn’t wrap his head around the complexities of American football. It was so stop-and-go--what exactly was a ‘down’? It reminded him of battle maps of the Rising he’d seen in a history textbook when he was in high school in Scotland. Naturally, his thoughts drifted to Claire. As the cold September air wrapped around him, he felt it was fitting. His heart had been cold, frozen without Claire’s light and love for the past month. He could have buttoned his jacket, but what was the point of feeling warm?

He didn’t even realize it was half time, until he heard the marching band start playing.  Everything around him was bright and alive, he felt like an island, detached from his surroundings, drifting in the waves. In truth he’d been living like an island all month. He decided to get some snacks to distract himself. He hadn’t sat like this without a distraction all month. At least with Kitty’s soccer games he could focus on the game. Here, where the game was an enigma to him, he needed a task to deter his restless mind.

           “I’m going to go get something to eat, anyone want anything?” he asked his family.  A barrage of orders came at him from his nieces and nephews, and he recited them back--intentionally messing up their orders (much to their amusement) before correcting himself and making his way up the bleachers.

           It was on his way back down that he spotted an unmistakable mop of curly brown hair and almost dropped the snacks he just shelled out twelve American dollars for. Sassenach. His heartbeat immediately picked up to match the beat of the marching band. God, she was beautiful, but she looked so fragile there, cold and alone, head down, wearing a muted blue grey jacket that seemed to match the air around her. He suddenly realized how stupid he’d been all month to ignore her. He’d punished her with silence. How many times had he typed a text to her only to erase it without pressing send? How many times had he pulled up her contact but couldn’t press the call button? Now seeing her like this, she looked so utterly broken. It was excruciating to see her so low. Had his own pride allowed him to do this to her? I blew things out of proportion now you’re blue. He wanted to wrap her up until he saw that beautiful spark light up her face again. He just wanted to lift her up and not let her go. Before he knew it he was beside her, “Claire?”

           “Hi Jamie, fancy seeing you here!” He had no idea how to reply, it was as if he had gone mute. He just stared into those whiskey eyes that looked so full of sorrow. He almost started to reach out to her, forgetting the concessions he was holding. Luckily, she offered to help him carry them and before he knew it they were headed down the bleachers together.

           When she agreed to sit with him his heart was soaring. If simply sitting next to her was all he could have for the rest of his life, it would be enough. I don’t wanna lose this with you. They were actually able to talk and even flirt a bit as she tried to watch the game, but his eyes couldn’t leave her. He felt so comfortable with her, they just seemed to fit together effortlessly. She was so close he could smell her shampoo, something herbal that he couldn’t quite pin down. It wasn’t fruity or overpoweringly floral like some women he had met in his life--it suited her. Having her there, inches from her made him feel bold. He formulated a plan in his head to get her alone, he needed to be closer to her, but not with his entire family right there.

           He had ended his bold, flirtatious exchange by winking to make it abundantly clear what he was asking her. She had seemed responsive. Her face lit up like it had so many times over the summer they shared. He was starting to sweat despite the chill in the air pacing underneath the away team’s bleachers as he waited for her. How long should he wait? What if she wasn’t coming? What if she saw this opportunity to leave again? It’s all me, Claire, just don’t go, please, come to me mo nighean donn.

           After what seemed like an eternity, she came to him. He heard her feet soft on the gravel, approaching him in the dark. He saw his opportunity, and met her, taking her in his arms as soon as he could, ready to take her mouth as he had imagined so many times in the past month.  How many times had he imagined kissing her again? How many times had he tried to recreate their last night together—conjuring the thought of pinning her hands behind her back and making love to her in the soft light of their hotel bed.  He wished he had committed every moment to memory, not knowing it could have been their last. None of that mattered now, his Sassenach had returned to his arms--but just like that, she was gone again running away--but he wouldn’t let her go this time. Don’t walk away. He pulled her back and set her straight. Poor, beautiful, broken, Claire collapsed before him. He sat with her, trying to calm and comfort her, when she could speak, she confessed she was afraid.  

           “Claire, there now, what are you scared of?”

           “I don’t wanna--I don’t wanna do this to you” she sobbed, choking out the words.

           “Claire, what are you talking about?” he could see the pain on her face and he needed to explain, needed to say his piece. “I’m to blame Claire, I see your pain, I should’ve come after you, I shouldn’t have let you leave.”

           “He, it’s all me, in my head. I’m the one who burned us down. I just tried to leave you again, but it’s not what I meant. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t know if we can put this back together. I don’t know what’s going to happen to us.”

           “Is this it? Chemistry ‘til it blows up, ‘til there’s no us? Is that what you want?” He placed his thumb under her chin, lifting her head so their eyes could meet. She didn’t look away. “Claire, please just tell me what you want.” Tell me that I’m all you want.

           “I--I don’t know what I want. I thought I did, but now--” she paused. Jamie could tell she was thinking, and let her mind work as he stared into her beautiful amber eyes. Claire could see her pain reflected in his own eyes. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him a month ago in the car, she knew now if she had she would have seen it then too.  He was just as broken as she was. Why’d I have to break what I love so much? Her tears started flowing freely again. “Oh Jamie, I put you in jail for something you didn’t do. I’m sorry that I hurt you. How can you ever forgive me? After all I’ve done--how can we be just fine, how can we be together?”

           “I forgive you, I’ve forgiven you. I swear to it, I wanted to text you, to call you. I let my pride get in the way. I just need to know, Claire, I need to know where your heart’s at now. Tell me that you’re still mine. I need to hear you say it.”  

           Claire realized in that moment that she was fighting with true love. It was like boxing with no gloves--futile, hopeless and most of all painful. She couldn’t keep herself from him no matter how hard she tried.  I thought I had reason to attack, but no. What did she want? She wanted him. She wanted him to be the one by her side, the one she told when she finally got into a residency program. The one to celebrate life’s victories big and small. The one to be there as she put her life together. She knew she couldn’t put it back together without him. He had bared himself to her, and she knew he wasn’t going to let her get away with silence. It was her turn to share her feelings. “Jamie, I want to be with you. More than I’ve ever wanted anything. It terrifies me, but I can’t help it. I’m drawn to you; I can’t explain it”

           Jamie’s hand was still on her face, thumb stroking her cheek, as she spoke, he took her hand in his other hand, entwining their fingers together. Something about this moment told him this love was worth the fight. “Aye, Sassenach, I feel it too. I don’t ken what it is, but I think we’re meant to honor it.” Claire nodded in agreement. They had been drawing in closer to one another as apologies and declarations were made in the dark. Each moment they shared under the bleachers, their faces inched closer together. “Claire, I would very much like to kiss you” he whispered, “May I?”

           “Yes” came her breathless reply.

           Instantly, their mouths were joined. Slowly, tentatively they reacquainted their lips before opening to each other fully. Tongues finding their way back between open lips, teeth finding their way to lower lips. All the pent-up passion of the last month culminated into one enduring kiss.

           Claire finally managed to pull away, realizing where they were. For a moment, they basked in the afterglow of their reunion, meeting again after a painful month of separation, each living a half life. “Jamie,” she panted, slightly out of breath, “take me home.”

           “As ye wish, Sassenach.” he replied, rising to help her to her feet and slipping his arm firmly around her and kissing the side of her head as he led her to the car.

End Notes: This chapter actually has two complete iterations. I orginally wrote it as "Me!" and it worked pretty well, I was actually pretty proud of myself for using such a catchy pop song for such an emotionally weighty chapter. However, as I started to write Chapter 8, I realized "Afterglow" didn't fit after they'd already hashed everything else out. The title really threw me, because we're "meeting in the Afterglow" in the future, but the lyrics hold the emotional weight. I think I'll post the "Me!" chapter as an outtake in case anyone wants to read it, since I am pretty proud of it. Stay tuned for that later.

Thanks again for reading!

[hiirunakaarchive]

– to act in haste (pt. 4)

↳ preview

Dr. Sakurai, between acknowledging her company and putting on a smile for the press, let her eyes flit away momentarily from whoever it was she was shaking hands with at that moment. Her lips were pursed in a tight smile in an attempt to keep herself collected amongst the overwhelming attention, and her eyes wandered outside of her immediate surroundings.

And he recognized it. The moment her face fell and her smile faded, he realized that Haruna’s eyes had already met his. 

Her lips parted slightly and then back shut at the sight of him, as if to stop herself just before reacquainting with the feel of Dr. Ramsey’s name on her tongue. 

“Ethan...?”

↳  (pt 1), (pt 2), (pt 3)

◇ pairing: ethan ramsey x mc (haruna sakurai)

◇ genre: angst, a lot of yearning, maybe a little break in between :/

◇ word count: 3.3k+

◇ tags: @aworldoffandoms, @perriewinklenerdie, @jooous​, @senseofduties​, @moteestro​, @haesselnut​, @princessfuzzy12​,

◇ author’s note: to the very limited audience who actually enjoy this fic: thank u for ur patience!! this chapter was so mf hard to write and FOR WHAT. after a couple months of sitting on google docs at 4am trying to update this fic instead of doing my schoolwork like i was supposed to, it turns out this chapter is not the finale at all🤡 ive considered incorporating smut into this since those seem to get notes but that’s one of my literary shortcomings so im gonna refrain and save face✨ feedback appreciated, yall know the drill xoxoxo luv u guys

chapter four

Diamonds. Oh, how that woman loved diamonds.

Carbon atoms arranged in a tetrahedral structure. The hardest natural substance on Earth. Yet another natural phenomenon upon which mankind had imposed their shallow, materialistic beliefs. 

But he bought one anyway; kept that damn two carat, marquise cut ring in the bottom drawer of his bedside table for five years. The velvet box sat in the dark that entire time, unworn and collecting dust, thus Dr. Ramsey couldn’t help but wonder if it was still suitable for the hospital heiress it was intended for. 

“Dr. Sakurai will be present as the keynote speaker.”

Harper regarded Ethan carefully when she said it, far too aware of his and the younger doctor’s history. Ethan met her pensiveness with a simple nod of his head.

“I see. She’s made quite a name for herself.” 

“You’re taking this surprisingly well.” Dr. Emery observed, raising a brow, “I was expecting a bit of protest in attending, but you seem fine.” 

But Dr. Ethan Ramsey was not, in fact, fine. 

“Have you seen her?” Harper continued, 

“Aurora ran into her in Manila, doing some philanthropy it seems. She looks different, might be the afterglow of success. Might be that boyfriend she brought along too.”

That what? 

It didn’t necessarily come as a surprise, but he still stopped listening. He’d tuned Harper out, something about the boy being on Haruna’s research team in Japan, a prodigy that interned at the WHO when he was only fourteen; Harper said they were a good match, but Dr. Ramsey, as a final form of consolation, hoped he’d heard her wrong.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, because Dr. Ethan Ramsey was far too old and far too calculated to rely on something as subjective as a “marriage pact”. Blurted on a whim, didn’t keep in touch, hell, he wasn’t even sure if he still remembered her face. That shallow promise they made five years ago came with too many uncertainties, and far be it from him to be bitter over her newfound happiness.

So his silence spoke for him, living a life of 52 seconds before Harper noticed he’d gone quiet. He earned a glance from his colleague, Dr. Emery trailing off and sparing him a thoughtful look. Her gaze softened in realization, and she bit her lip regretfully.

“Oh, Ethan, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you still-” 

“I don’t.” He snapped. 

Bullshit. 

He released a long, drawn out breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, collecting himself. But the damage had been done, and nothing he could say would wipe the suspicion off Harper’s face. The rueful shake of her head and the sympathetic pat of his arm told him all he needed to know. 

“I mean it.” Ethan said, the excessive sternness of his tone taking away the credibility of his statement.

“Dr. Sakurai is…”

A pause. 

“She’s nothing to me.” 

–––––

And he was so damn wrong.

Ethan and June boarded a flight to Kyoto two days later, and for the entire duration until the conference, Dr. Ramsey was concerned at his own indifference. 

Concerned, but desperate to believe it.

He wasn’t sure what to expect out of seeing her again, but some sick part of him wanted to have fallen out of love with her. Then that meant he wouldn’t have to care at the blatant reminder that she was with someone else. He wouldn’t have to admit that she was probably better off with someone that wasn’t him. Most of all, he wouldn’t have to pretend that the idea of them never getting a second chance didn’t absolutely shatter him.

But it wasn’t that easy. It was never that easy. 

Because there he was, standing on the outer circle of a ring of reporters and conference guests that demanded the young doctor’s attention. Like the crowd, Ethan was completely and wholly entranced by her and it was in the moment that he realized–

Haruna Sakurai still meant everything to him.

Her hair had been cut short, its length reaching her chin and dyed a shade alike to walnuts. She wore glasses now and on the bridge of her nose rested thin circular frames that accentuated her ovular face, Haruna’s features fixed in a permanent smize as she charmed the crowd with a polite smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. The woman trickled in ivory and quartz from head to toe, and Ethan’s breath caught in his throat at the memory of how much he loved her.

How much he still loves her.

Dr. Sakurai, between acknowledging her company and putting on a smile for the press, let her eyes flit away momentarily from whoever it was she was shaking hands with at that moment. Her lips were pursed in a tight smile in an attempt to keep herself collected amongst the overwhelming attention, and her eyes wandered outside of her immediate surroundings.

And he recognized it. The moment her face fell and her smile faded, he realized that Haruna’s eyes had already met his.   

Her lips parted slightly and then back shut at the sight of him, as if to stop herself just before reacquainting with the feel of Dr. Ramsey’s name on her tongue. 

“Ethan...?”

She looked at him like he was some figment of her imagination, breathing his name like saying it was an anchor to keep the man from disappearing. Dr. Ramsey could almost feel himself unravel if not for the deadwood that entered the scene.

Satoshi Date.

The boyfriend.

God, her fucking boyfriend.

He was stuck to her like glue, a hand protectively encased around her shoulder as Haruna caught herself and resumed in indulging the crowd. She smiled proudly and crossed her arms, everything but her wrists and beautifully manicured hands hiding underneath the cape of her white pantsuit. Her male company, just as charismatic and smartly dressed, entertained the representatives of Big Pharma. 

From what Ethan could see, Date was young. Bright. Approachable with an award-winning smile that was almost too friendly for his liking. Together, the doctor and scientist looked invincible and Ethan found himself for admitting that they actually complimented each other.

“What a tool.” He couldn’t help but scoff. “...Spit it out, Hirata.”

Beside him, June’s shoulders were shaking with silent laughter. She brought a hand up to her mouth and turned away, responding between giggles she tried to suppress. Ethan rolled his eyes.

“I apologize, it’s nothing. It’s nothing. Don’t let it bother you, you and Sakurai were always the better- pft.” 

Dr. Hirata failed to contain herself and released a snort, shaking her head as she walked away to scout for their seats in the lecture hall. Ethan’s irritant gaze followed her retreating form and his chest bubbled with annoyance as he remained clueless towards the reason behind his colleague’s laughter.

He looked over his shoulder one more time to where Haruna and Satoshi stood, close as ever, and the jealousy weaved knots in Dr. Ramsey’s stomach to the point that he settled in looking for his assigned seat instead. Ethan glanced at his watch; fifteen minutes before the official start of the conference, and from his peripheral vision he could see Haruna beginning to make her way backstage to prepare for her speech. 

Finding his spot beside Dr. Hirata, Ethan looked up to the stage, sat in the very front row and directly in front of the podium.

Fuck.

The lights finally began to dim at ten o’clock, and Dr. Sakurai, clad in white, appeared on stage. 

The woman’s presence commanded the attention of the room as she made her way to the centre in a powerful stride. The anticipant stillness of the crowd broke and Haruna’s entrance was greeted with a light smattering of applause as she enveloped the audience in warm welcome and a dazzling smile. Ethan watched her with bated breath, wondering when she had become this beautiful. 

“It warms my heart to see so many familiar faces.” She began. 

Her kind eyes scanned the audience and Dr. Sakurai’s gaze fell momentarily on Dr. Ramsey, conflicted, before getting to the punchline of the joke.

“Forgive me when I say I wasn’t expecting so many of you to still have a full head of hair the next time we met.”

–––––

The next 45 minutes passed that way, with Haruna completely and wholly engaging the crowd as she shared knowledge and humour, establishing a pleasant tone for the remainder of the conference. Ethan could sense the nearing end of her speech as Haruna began to smoothly transition from the central theme to her concluding words.

“A very important person to me once said that as doctors, all we do is delay the inevitable-” 

Ethan leaned back in his seat, arms crossed and with a valiant effort, careful not to let his emotions betray the nonchalance in his face. The reminder of that lesson he taught her so long ago revived something in the older doctor that he thought had died when Sakurai left for Japan. 

Then he remembered her obsidian hair dipped in red. Her long delicate fingers that he held in his when they first met, steadying the tremor before saving a life. He remembered her downcast eyes when he reprimanded her over a patient, and the embarrassment in her voice when she admitted to crying in the storage room.

Now here she stood, six years later. Confident. Unshaken. A poetic opposite of the young intern he once knew.

“—to healthcare professionals,” The sound of Haruna’s voice interrupted his thoughts, “one word immediately comes to mind when discussing the inevitable.” She said the words with air quotes.

“Death. Mortality. Demise. I always found it ironic how we, doctors who so value life, were the very crowd who imposed such negative connotations on the word.”

“We follow the paved path of the Inevitable because it’s the only one we know. It provides a definitive answer. But inevitably, we grow tired of this tedious destination. We inevitably seek more, strive for more and thus deviate from that paved path and become drawn to the unexplored dirt road; you find that it leads to so much more. My research team has offered me invaluable guidance on this road to the unknown, which is why I’m proud to officially announce that the Sakurai Medical Centre has discovered a cure for multiple sclerosis.”

And a stunned silence instilled itself into the audience. 

Ethan stared at her in silent disbelief. Hirata’s jaw hung open before she threw her head back in proud laughter and clapped. Suddenly, a frenzy ensued with the commotion of the crowd, the entire room suddenly engulfed in cameras and flashing lights and the vocal disbelief of the fellow doctors around them. Haruna held up a hand and the guests, still buzzing with excitement, toned down to audible murmurs. 

“I will answer any questions anyone might have about this medical feat throughout the day, but as I conclude this speech I’d like you all to do one thing–”

“Question yourself. Question the world. Challenge the things thought to be set in stone, and when all is said and done, ask yourself-”

Haruna looked meaningfully at the hundreds of people seated in front of her, a sharp tension emanating in the room as her cat-like gaze scrutinized the crowd. Her eyes finally fell on Dr. Ramsey, and the hold of her stare made it clear that this was no accident. She directed her query at her former lover and in a voice dripping with purpose demanded an answer.

“Is the inevitable really as dreadful as we might think?” 

And he could do nothing but applaud. 

–––––

The continuous ticking of the clock in Ethan’s hotel room was the only sound that intercepted a dead silence. Alone yet with his thoughts, he packed his luggage in preparation for his flight the next morning, pondering his weekend in Japan. 

They met at the evening reception. Purely coincidence. She stood alone at an accent table, her back to him with a flute of rosé, and he approached her in an honest mistake. 

“June.” Ethan sighed exasperatedly. “It wouldn’t have killed you to wait two minutes instead of making me scout you out in this crowded room for your damn blue dress-“

“Hey, I happen to like this damn blue dress.” 

Then he found himself met with pearls and a gown of charmeuse silk. She came to him in the shade of blue orchids, her gown pooling at the floor like a blossom at its prime and Dr. Ramsey remembered just how perfect she’d always been. 

They spoke. Briefly. Awkwardly. Watching their words like untested waters though the two were the furthest thing from strangers. 

“Hi.” 

Was what she said.

“...Hi.” 

Was how he responded. 

Then he couldn’t look at her. She was within arms reach, too easy to pull towards him and trap against his chest. Too easy to blurt out something he’d regret with her just close enough to hear it. Too easy to meet her eyes and remember that she was with someone else.

So he brushed past her, putting as much distance between himself and Dr. Sakurai before he lost himself. Before the crushing weight on Ethan’s chest pressed on until the words piggy-backed the next breath he released.

I still love you.

And he should have let it, because he hasn’t seen her since. 

Zipping up his luggage and setting it upright, the sudden sound of Ethan’s default ringtone reverberating through the room made him jolt. He snatched his phone off the bedside table, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance, only to relax as he saw Naveen’s name flash across the screen for a FaceTime call.

“You have work.” Ethan observed, unimpressed upon recognition of Naveen’s office from the background. 

“Which starts in an hour, I’m simply early! Speaking of work, administration wants you to bring back souvenirs.”

“By administration, you mean yourself.”

“Humor me a little. Dr. Tanaka tells me they have exclusive KitKat flavours and I’m absolutely beside myself with curiosity. Pick up a pack or two, your retirement gift to me.”

Ethan sighed in surrender.

“...What flavour do you want.”

“Dr. Tanaka recommends Hokkaido melon with mascarpone cheese, but I also recall June mentioning sakura matcha latte. I’ll leave it up to you.”

“What? You can’t possibly expect me to find such arbritary— hello?”

So fate let him out onto the Kyoto streets, into a grocery store, towards the snack aisle and right in Haruna Sakurai’s line of fire. She was on her way to the cash, he was still searching for those fucking KitKats, and they lightly bumped shoulders before meeting each other’s eyes for a polite apology. 

“Ah, I’m sorry-“

“My apologies-“

And they both froze.

At first, they refused to acknowledge the familiarity in each other’s voice. She spoke in Japanese, but he recognized her assertive tone. Firm but pleasant, like running your hands across a velvet seat. She had a unique accent given her history of travel, and Ethan remembered how much he used to love hearing her talk. 

It was the English for her. They weren’t too far off from the hotel where the conference was held, so Haruna immediately deduced that the stranger was one of the guests. But she knew Dr. Ramsey’s voice. All too well. His words uttered in low timbre, deep and rich like fertile soil that only further nurtured her adoration for him. The articulate nature of his speech that would substantiate the validity of his advice. Intimidating delivery of his words that grabbed her attention in fistfuls. It wasn’t until Haruna had her own intern that she became aware of how much she had begun to sound like him, and it was then that she realized she loved hearing him talk too. 

“Dr. Ramsey.” Haruna didn’t bother to mask the surprise in her voice. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” 

The collectedness in Dr. Sakurai’s voice almost irked him. She looked nothing short of amicable, pretending like Saturday evening never happened where he fled from her after a one-word exchange. And her nonchalance, amidst Ethan’s struggle to find words, rapid heartbeat and sandpaper-dry throat, was only further confirmation that she moved on from their past. 

“We’re on the same boat, Dr. Sakurai. I wasn’t expecting to be here but you know how Naveen is.” He struggled to maintain the apathy in his voice. 

“Let me guess, KitKats?”

“Right on the nail. He’s looking for–” 

Ethan stopped himself as Haruna turned to the shelf on her right, dragging a finger across the plastic wraps before swiftly plucking several packages out from under each other and tossing them into his basket. He peered into his bin of potential expenses and looked up at Dr. Sakurai as she tossed one more his way. 

“Rook- Dr. Sakurai, Naveen is going to end up with diabetes.” 

She retracted her hand from another pack and glanced at him once, then to his near-full basket in something alike to realization. Then she laughed. Like, really laughed. Her disciplined features melted into a toothy grin, replaced with something youthful. Something real. Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose to hide his own smile beginning to form. 

“Oh, I’m sorry-” Haruna gathered herself as she breathed out a chuckle. “You know how much of a sweet tooth he has.”

She tilted her gaze up to meet Ethan’s eyes, an almost distant look brewing on her face until she caught herself and her smile faded. 

“But it wasn’t all for him.” 

Ethan raised a brow, and the female doctor’s attention flickered to the pack she last threw into his basket. He looked down, and his forehead creased with inexplicable conflict. 

“That one’s for you. Didn’t you really used to like those back then?”

Yuzu flavoured KitKats. She used to love those, and he wondered if she still did. They were saved for special occasions and only shared with special people, but those “care packages” Haruna’s doting parents sent every once in a while from Japan never lasted. The original five that shared the penthouse used to come with snack sized versions, and Dr. Ramsey had to hide his in the drawer of his desk. 

She would loiter in his office sometimes during her break, sitting across from her mentor as they passed the time talking. 

“Snacking in my office? I’ve grown too lenient with you, Rookie.”

She popped a piece into her mouth and grinned with full cheeks. 

“So you have.”

“Yeah… your influence– don’t get ahead of yourself.” He rolled his eyes good-naturedly as Haruna pressed a hand to her chest in faux flattery. He failed to suppress a smile and she returned her own, the awkwardness and the tension slowly alleviating between the two of them. 

They grew silent, but it was a comfortable silence. The two doctors shifted on their feet, waiting for someone make the first statement, and Ethan racked his brain for words to say. What could he say?

“I meant to congratulate you,” He settled.

“These past five years have been good to you, Haruna. You’ve accomplished something great.”

Her smile widened at her ex-mentors praise.

“Thank you, I had an amazing team behind me.”

And as if on cue, the shrill marimba ringtone sounded in the air and made them both jump. Dr. Sakurai’s recognized it as hers and patted around her sweatpants, fishing her phone out of her pocket. Looking at Dr. Ramsey apologetically, she accepted the call and pressed her phone to her ear. 

“Toshi?”

And the bitter reality settled back in. She turned her back to him, mumbling in rapid Japanese and Ethan breathed in deeply. Starting towards the cash register, he snuck past Haruna quietly, squeezing her shoulder in goodbye. A subtle alarm weaved itself into her features, and her gaze followed his back, unable to leave the call. Ethan rushed through the payment and took long strides out of the grocery store, pulling on the collar of his sweater as his throat began to constrict. 

Get back to your damn hotel and finish packing your things. You’re going to get on that plane tomorrow morning, start work the day after and start forgetting about Haruna Sakurai. 

He exhaled in a long breath. He could do this. 

“Dr. Ramsey…?”

He could do this. 

“Didn’t you really used to like those back then?”

He could do this. 

“Is the inevitable really as dreadful as we might think?” 

He couldn’t fucking do this.

Ethan slowed to a stop, and he cursed at himself. For developing feelings towards the one person he shouldn’t have fallen for. For being the root of the cause in this mess they entangled themselves in. For loving this woman so damn much that his own medical expertise couldn’t suffice in explaining the tight feeling in his chest whenever he missed her. Whenever he saw her.

Dr. Ramsey looked up to the sky, met with a streetlight hovering above his head and despite himself, he laughed. 

He just couldn’t forget about Haruna Sakurai. 

“Christ, I’m too old for this.”

And back towards the direction he came from, he began to run.

[missjanjie]

As If We Never Said Goodbye | Jankie

Title: As If We Never Said Goodbye Summary: After their senior year of high school, a summer camp reunion is held when seven former campers return as counselors. While a lot has changed over the past six years, some haven't at all - especially for Jan and Jackie. Word Count: 1955 Relationship(s): Jankie (Jan Sport/Jackie Cox) Rating: G

read on ao3

The reunion among all the former campers was truly a heartwarming one. All of the girls were happy to see each other after six years, eager with curiosity to see how much had changed (and how much hadn’t). There was screaming and hugs all around as everyone was quick to get reacquainted, and they had a whole weekend to themselves before the campers showed up.

“Oh, well that’s just not fair,” Jan clicked her tongue and shook her head. “How did they all grow up to be models?” she asked, gesturing to Gigi, Nicky, and Jaida.

Rock nodded. “It seems like just yesterday I was fighting Nicky over pokémon cards while Jaida tried to stop her from convincing Crystal to eat glue again. Time flies.”

Jan nodded, but she’d stopped listening, instead, she was looking around, looking for something, someone.

As if she could read her mind, Rock tapped her shoulder. “Your girlfriend’s coming,” she said and cocked her head in that direction.

“Shut up,” Jan shoved her lightly. “Jackie was my summer camp bestie. I missed her,” she insisted.

Before Rock could call her bluff, Jackie ran over to them. “Jan! Rock! Hi!” She gave each of them a big hug - though Jan’s might’ve lasted a bit longer. “Oh wow, you guys look great,” she observed.

“You’re not even looking at me,” Rock retorted before she wandered off to get reacquainted with the rest of her old friends.

Not that Jackie noticed, as the world around her became nothing more than background noise when she laid eyes on Jan. It was hard to believe this was the same girl that picked her first every soccer game and sang the loudest every karaoke night. Her eyes sparkled with the same enthusiasm she seemed to get just from existing. In a way, Jackie felt like she was back home. “It’s so nice to see you again.”

Jan was grinning from ear to ear, practically bouncing on her feet. Memories of that summer never fully left her mind, it was some of the most formative months of her life, she had learned so much about herself, stuff she might have otherwise ignored for another couple years. And a lot of that was directly due to Jackie. “You too. It’s been way too long. And you, wow, you look amazing too.”

“God, we have so much to catch up on, I don’t even know where to begin,” Jackie mused.

Jan started to speak, then her eyes widened. “The time capsule!” She looked around, then began calling out for all the girls to gather back around her. “Guys! We need to dig up the time capsule,” she grinned.

The memory dawned on everyone around the same time, the group of them talking excitedly among themselves, trying to remember where it was buried, where they could get a shovel to dig it out. They settled on splitting out in two groups – Crystal, Gigi, Jackie, and Nicky would retrace their years-old steps to find the burial site while Jan, Jaida, and Rock went to find shovels.

“I know we’re close,” Crystal remarked. “I can feel it.”

“This must be it,” Gigi pointed to a spot where there was dirt piled up, standing out amidst the grass, with a border of rocks around it. “I remember Nicky and I spent ages looking for enough pretty rocks.”

Nicky chuckled softly. “We had very discerning tastes.”

Jackie was only vaguely paying attention, mostly waiting for the other group to return. “Do you guys remember what you put in?”

“I know Jaida and I both put our paper mache projects in there, so I hope they didn’t disintegrate,” Gigi mused. “What did you put in?”

“I remember what she put in,” Crystal announced, elbowing Jackie’s side and grinning far too broadly. She had watched Jackie work on her item for hours on end, she didn’t know it could take someone that long, and Jackie didn’t even let her see the final result.

Jackie blushed. “And you need to be quiet. I don’t want to ruin it,” she said pointedly.

Crystal just giggled. “Relax, she’s not even here.”

“Who’s not here?” Jan asked as her group returned with shovels.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it,” Gigi cut in, much to Jackie’s relief. “So, who’s doing the digging? Because I call ‘not it’.”

Jan chuckled and ushered her out of the way. “Rock and I got it, don’t worry,” she assured as the two of them started digging. “This shit is heavy though, no wonder Brooke and Kameron wouldn’t let us do it,” she recalled with a laugh.

“Aw, I miss them,” Rock hummed. “We should look them up on Instagram or something later.”

“I bet they’re still hot,” Nicky mused, causing some of the group to look at her oddly. “What? I couldn’t have been the only one thinking it,” she insisted, to which the girls reluctantly conceded to.

“Okay, we hit it!” Jan called out, she and Rock hoisting it out of the ground and setting it on the grass. “Oh, I’m so excited!” she said as if her whole body wasn’t nearly vibrating with enthusiasm.

Rock was the one to actually open the capsule (which was actually a toolbox they had all decorated), taking out the letter they had collectively written first, then squinted as she tried to read. “I’m gonna be honest, you guys, I can’t decipher any of this. We’ll have to go around and read our own entries later.”

Jan went to look through the capsule while Rock set the letter aside. “Let’s see… I recognize this little guy,” she cooed, holding up Nicky’s stuffed sheep.

“Meryl Sheep!” Nicky’s eyes lit up as she grabbed the toy. “Aw, my collection hasn’t been the same without you.” She looked back to Jan, gesturing for her to continue.

“We have Gigi and Jaida’s paper mache projects,” Jan continued, holding up the two crafts, one of a helmet that could fit the average baby doll, and the other of an apple with a comically angry face painted on. “And Rock’s Pokémon card,” she continued.

“Wait, gimme that!” Rock grabbed the sealed plastic pouch it was in. “D’you guys know how much this is worth?” She got blank stares in response, save for Nicky who shared her excitement.

“Smart move preserving it,” Jan hummed. “My mixtape!” she grinned, holding up a CD. “Miss Vanjie helped me burn a CD, and I put a song that made me think of everyone, like Burning Up for Crystal, Lady Marmalade for Nicky…” she continued looking down the list, her cheeks suddenly reddening. She didn't want to announce that she'd picked Alone by Heart for Jackie. “Well, you get the idea,” she summed up, reaching into the box and grabbing the next item, only to drop it. “Jesus Christ! Why is that there?”

Crystal picked the furby off the ground. The fur was partially singed on one side and had a bald spot on the other. “Oh yeah, I forgot I put Arson in there.”

Gigi pinched the bridge of her nose. “Tell me you didn’t actually name it ‘Arson’.”

“It survived being tossed into a campfire, Gigi,” she retorted as if the name choice should have obviously made sense. “There should still be another thing in there, right?”

Jan nodded, picking an envelope up from the bottom of the box. “Jackie, this must be yours, right?” she asked, holding it up and displaying the heart drawn in the center.

Even though it had been six years, Jackie’s heart started racing as soon as she saw that letter. Her throat tightened and her face flushed red. “I… Yeah… That’s mine,” she swallowed thickly, forcing herself to add, “read it.”

Jan looked at Jackie with a flash of concern in her expression, but obliged nonetheless, peeling off the Star Trek sticker the envelope had been sealed with and taking the note out.

“Dear Jan, I know we’re supposed to put something in the capsule that makes us think of our whole camp experience, but that’s actually why I’m doing this. My favorite part of the summer is you. I love how you pick me first every time we play soccer or kickball even though you know I can’t play. I love the way you spent your free hour helping clean all the paint and glitter off of me after Crystal’s project exploded (she’s watching me while I write this, I think she’s mad I told her she can’t copy my idea, and she’s probably watching you now, standing with Gigi anyway),” Jan looked up, noting that Crystal was standing with her arm around Gigi’s waist - all of them giggling at that before she continued.

“I love that you spent all week talking about how much you love horror movies, but wouldn’t go outside during Halloween night. I also love what happened that night, though I don’t know if it meant anything to you, or if you were just caught up in the moment. What I’m trying to say is, I don’t know where we’ll be when you read this, if we have girlfriends or pretend to have boyfriends, but right now, I love you. I love you a lot. Sincerely, Jackie.” Jan hadn’t realized tears were forming in her eyes until she finished reading and had to blink them away. The wave of emotion that hit her was hard to describe - twelve-year-old Jackie had poured her soul into this letter, and it made her heart swell.

It was clear that neither Jan nor Jackie were ready to say anything yet. “That was beautiful, Jackie,” Jaida offered, trying to ease the tension that had built up around them.

“Wow… I didn’t realize you felt that way,” Jan finally said.

“Really? Not even a little?” Nicky chimed in before Jaida elbowed her to get her to shut up.

Jackie let out a breath that vaguely resembled a laugh. “No, it’s okay,” she said to Nicky and Jaida before turning back to Jan. “It was one of those things that everyone else just knew.”

Jan chewed on her lip. “Everyone except me. I wish I’d known, though. Because I felt the same way - don’t say it, Nicky - the whole time.”

“I think you guys need some privacy,” Gigi said gently. “Why don’t you take a walk or something?”

Jackie nodded and already turned to start walking away. “Good idea,” she said, heading down the hiking trail with Jan doing a quick jog to catch up with her.

“So, um…” Jan cleared her throat. “Are you dating anyone?”

For the first time since the envelope came out, Jackie smiled and let herself look at Jan. “No, I’m not, are you?”

Jan shook her head. “I’m not either,” she said, then suddenly stopped walking. “Wait…”

Jackie stopped, turning back to look at her. “What?”

Wordlessly, Jan cupped Jackie’s face and kissed her deeply. It was nothing like the chaste peck they’d shared during the Halloween party six years ago. It was heated and fervent, both of them holding onto each other for dear life until their lungs begged for air. “Yeah,” she smiled as she stood upright, “the spark’s still there.”

“Did we just sign up for a summer romance, then?” Jackie asked with a light laugh.

“At least… Where are you going to college?”

“Columbia, finally moving out to the big city.”

“I’m not surprised in the slightest,” Jan chuckled. “I’m going to The American Academy of Dramatic Arts which…” her eyes went wide, “is also in Manhattan.”

Jackie’s face broke into a broad grin as she pulled Jan into a hug. “Isn’t that amazing?”

“Yeah,” Jan agreed as she melted into Jackie’s arms. “It’ll be nice to not have to say goodbye this time.”

[sleekervae]

Suck It And See [0.1]

Masterlist

"Attention all passengers, next stop is:"

"Sheffied Station,"

There was a notable shiver that ran through the air as the soft, feminine introduction was cut short by the blunt, robotic voice that muffled out the train's next destination. The pit of jitterbugging nerves in Jade's stomach reached a new boiling point as she felt the mobile car gradually begin to slow. She pulled her earbuds out and grabbed her luggage case, yanking it through the tight aisle with all the might she had in her tiny body. The conductor was kind enough to hold the sliding door open for her as she came into the pass and hopped out of the side door. The smell of burning coal and engine oil wafted into her nose and made her shiver in disgust.

The station was teaming with people, all of them buzzing back and forth in order to catch their departing train or eager to head home for the day. Jade reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper; it was a portrait of the family that was supposed to be taking care of her. Her mum's sister, Aunt Joy, as well as her Uncle Cosmo, and her cousins, Oliver, Noah, Charlie, Alfie, and Flora; relatives whom she hardly knew growing up as they lived roughly three hours away by train.

They're faces in the photo were off to her, perhaps it was the fact that nobody was smiling? Perhaps it was that the photo was about five years old and the faces were younger? Regardless, Jade's eyes scanned the crowd until she was able to just make out the familiar face of an older, but gorgeous, well-dressed woman standing by the turnstiles; looking absolutely appalled to be standing so close to the mechanisms. Meanwhile, her teenage daughter was sitting on a bench as she flipped through some random fashion magazine.

Pulling her luggage behind her, Jade tentatively approached the older woman. Once her eyes landed on the teenage brunette, her face lit up.

"Oh, my stars! Jade!?" she exclaimed, seemingly enthusiastic to see her. Jade nodded slowly and cracked a shy smile.

"A-Aunty Joy?" she stammered back.

The older woman wrapped Jade into a tight hug, engulfing her in her pungent, suffocating rose-scented perfume. The teenager -- Flora, she presumed -- was reluctant to put away her magazine and stand up, but she did anyhow and forced a smile onto her face. Flora was wearing tight, ripped jeans and velvet sweater with a black tank top underneath. Her long, honey blonde hair was tied into a tight ponytail atop her head with pom-pom elastics keeping it in place. She had shimmery, silver eyeshadow dusting her eyelids and shiny pink lipgloss smeared over her lips. To Jade, she looked like a washed up circus performer.

Aunt Joy meanwhile held herself with pride. She was dressed in a fine black pantsuit and three-inch pumps. Her voluminous, mousy brown hair was loose and curly, brushing over her shoulders, and every inch of her face was covered in fine, sophisticated makeup. Needless to say, this woman stood out like an onion in a bean dip within the station.

Aunt Joy released Jade from her bone-crushing hug and held her face in her hands, seemingly studying her. Her semi-wrinkled hands were surprisingly soft against Jade's skin, "Aw, you look just like your mother," she gushed, but the soft, kind expression in her eyes suddenly shifted to something more... indifferent, "We'll have that fixed before you leave, dear,"

Jade wasn't sure how to respond to that, besides an awkward "okay,". She turned and looked at Flora, who still had her nose buried in the magazine. Aunt Joy snapped at her.

"Flora!" her posh accent boomed at her, "Put that trashy thing away and say hi to your cousin," she requested -- no, demanded.

Flora rolled her eyes and stood, then she wrapped her weak little bird arms around Jade. Flora wasn't much younger than Jade, only by a few months. Regardless, she was short enough to be confused for a twelve-year-old.

"You've grown up," Jade forced herself to say, hoping that Flora might take her as genuine. Instead, she quickly dropped her arms from the hug and stood back. She glared down at Jade's chunky, dirt stained, white converse sneakers and snared at her.

"Why are your eyebrows so big?" she asked.

Jade, once again, wasn't sure how to respond. She subconsciously ran her fingers over her right eyebrow, feeling at the little hairs that brushed against her skin. They were only a bit longer than  Flora's smaller, nearly bleached blonde eyebrows.

"Whatcha' mean?" she could only reply.

Aunt Joy glared at her daughter before she turned on her heels, "Flora, there is nothing wrong with Jade's eyebrows. If wants bushy eyebrows, that's her prerogative,"

Jade wasn't sure whether she should thank her Aunt for standing up for her, or shudder at the sly insult.

Nevertheless, Aunt Joy lead the two girls out of the station and into the parkade. There they all walked towards a silver, classy Mercedes Benz. Aunt Joy popped the trunk and rounded to the driver's side door, while Flora went for the shotgun. Neither of them helped Jade as she struggled to pick up her luggage and put it into the car's small trunk. Once she slammed the door shut, she jumped into the backseat just as the engine roared to life.

The car ride was mostly silent, the only exception being when Joy would asked Jade about her mother. Ruth Carswell was sick, too sick for a few doctor's visits here and there and drug store prescriptions for a quick-fix. Jade didn't like to talk about it much; hence why she chose to come to Sheffield to continue her school. With the medical bills piling up, as well as some bills left over from her parents' divorce, Aunt Joy and Uncle Cosmo were kind enough to take Jade into their home and pay for her school, right up until she would graduate.

"She needs a stable home environment!" Uncle Cosmo would say over the phone. Ruth Carswell was gracious to her sister for taking in her only daughter, while Jade's father, Peter, wasn't as ecstatic to have his fifteen-year-old daughter living three hours away from home.

Jade continued to stare out the window, glaring at the passing dull brick buildings and wet streets. Few people were out; cycling, smoking, sitting on benches and not doing much of anything for entertainment. At least in Newcastle, there was some life that was always breathing its way into the city; this town seemed half-dead.

As they passed a large sign that read Rotherham in white, cursive lettering, the dark, boring brick buildings soon emerged into flatter plains and larger townhouses. They were regal, conservative, and clean, as though just built and painted in a fresh coat. But just as before, nobody was on the streets. It was eery to Jade.

Aunt Joy turned into a cul-de-sac and pulled into a driveway just as the end of the ring. Before them was a beautiful, victorian-style dark green and red house. Its colours matched in tandem with the bushy coniferous trees and bustling flower gardens. The curtains were all drawn open and the grass was a gorgeous, rich green, still damp. On the porch was a darling little bench swing built in rustic, varnished wood. It appeared as a happy home, to Jade and the rest of the world, at least.

Aunt Joy marched up the small staircase while Flora hopped behind her; again, neither of them bothering to help Jade. Luckily for her, Uncle Cosmo opened the door, puffing on his pipe with a big, joyous smile on his face.

"There she is!" he awed. He swept passed his wife and daughter and went right up to Jade, wrapping her in a bear hug. Unlike Aunt Joy, Uncle Cosmo's hug was comfortable, familiar to Jade. His expensive, subtle cologne mixed with his pipe smoke, delicious and bubbly as the scent wafted up Jade's nose. Despite how little she did get to see Uncle Cosmo, she enjoyed spending time with him. He was a kind man with a heart of gold and a hand that was constantly open.

It made Jade wonder why on Earth he would've married Aunt Joy.

"Yeh're growing faster than a weed, darlin'!" he exclaimed, "Last I saw yeh, yeh was just knee-'igh to a grass'opper,"

Jade finally felt herself relax in Uncle Cosmo's embrace, "It's been a while, hasn't it?" she replied.

Uncle Cosmo took the luggage from her and hauled it up the stairs with ease with Jade following. Flora had long disappeared inside her home with Aunt Joy stood off to the side of the door, watching her husband with a derivative of adoration. Her gaze followed them inside before she slammed the door shut, making Jade wince at the sudden cacophonous calamity. Aunty Joy and Uncle Cosmo gave Jade a brief tour of the large house, the sitting room, the kitchen, the basement, rooms she could and could not enter due to 'privacy reasons'.

Her uncle excused himself to his office soon after, his pager had gone off. That left Jade alone with her Aunt. She struggled to pull her luggage up the two flights of stairs Aunt Joy was leading her. They descended down a brightly lit hallway with gorgeous, crisp white panelled doors. One of them was covered in Hot Wheel and Transformers stickers, no doubt that room belonged to her youngest cousin, Alfie.

"The boys are just out at their lacrosse practice, dear. They should be back by dinner time and you can all get reacquainted," Aunt Joy said to her. The older woman turned the corner in the hallway and came to another white door, seemingly decayed and left abandoned by the the passing of time. She wrenched the knob and turned it with a loud creak and pushed it open.

"And here we are. Home, sweet home," Aunt Joy seemingly sang. Jade followed her in, and she found herself standing in a small bedroom. It was perched in the back roost of the house, with dull, beige walls, stained and scratched floorboards, and a single window that overlooked the backyard. The bed was turned down with plump, freshly cleaned sheets and linens, and in the corner was a small desk, chair, and lamp. In the opposing corner was a four-foot long clothing rack. To put bluntly, the room lacked any personality whatsoever.

Jade looked around the room, finding disturbing patterns on the floor. They were boxy in shape and a few shades lighter than the rest of the floorboards. The room smelled of mothballs and lemon pledge, as well as something stuffy. Perhaps it would have been better once she had opened a window?

Jade didn't dare ask her aunt, but she had a creeping suspicion that she had placed her in what was once the attic.

"Now then," Aunt Joy stood by the door as Jade looked around, "House rules: no running down the halls, no loud noises, and if you're going to have friends over, you must approve with myself first. Oh, and no smoking in the house,"

Jade felt her nerves fizzle as she turned around, seemingly dumbfounded, "I'm sorry?" she quipped.

The older woman simply giggled as though she had told a silly joke, "Oh please, dear. I know nicotine when I smell it. You get that awful habit from your mum," she said, "Nevertheless, I'll let you get yourself settled. Dinner's at seven-thirty, I expect you to be downstairs by seven-fifteen. You need to use the bathroom, it's just down the hall. Just be sure you knock first; Flora likes to experiment with her makeup in there," she said.

"Alright," Jade replied tentatively, "Erm -- is there somewhere for me to plug in me phone?" she asked, noting that there were no outlets in the walls. Perhaps, since this was really the attic, the family figured they wouldn't need any electrical outlets.

"Oh," Aunt Joy brought a hand to her face as she looked around in thought, "Well -- I'm sure Cosmo has one in the office you can use. He shouldn't mind too much," she said.

Jade only nodded in reply. Aunt Joy left the shut the door behind her, giving her time to get herself settled. Jade looked tirelessly around the joyless room, figuring out ways in which she could liven it up. Perhaps with some old movie posters or art pieces? Jade placed her luggage at the foot of the rickety-looking clothing rack, pulled off her jacket and let it fall to the floor, and she took a seat on the bed. Despite the plush linens, the bed was hard, creaky, and uncomfortable. Cold and uncomfortable -- just like the rest of the house.

She let out a heavy sigh and laid back on the bed, immediately her eyes landed on a crack in the angled ceiling. Maybe by luck, a poisonous spider would come down from said crack, bite her, and take her out of this wretched situation? Because the Lord only knew how badly she wanted to be at home, with her own loving, but broken family.

[the-scent-corner]

YSL Opium:

What can i say about ‘Opium’ by ‘YSL’ that hasn’t already been said? I don’t rightly know. I do know that this scent does not receive as much credit as it deserves nowadays and i wanted to share my take on it. ’Opium’ is a lost gem. They do not make perfumes like this anymore which is a damn shame. In my ‘Chanel no 5’ review i mention the following:

I love perfumes that are ‘pretty’ but for me to relate to it, it needs this ‘kick’ this ‘punch in the face’. When people smell me, i want them to be like: wow she smells so warm and fun, so pretty yet also, she smells like she has seen some shit.

This remains true. Therefore i feel drawn to the more ‘animalic’ and ‘skanky’ perfumes. I love fragrances that will make me smell like i have been hiding in a tent all day smoking weed en huffing patchouli incense. I’m still a lady and all, but i am brought up in the Netherlands and i have always been surrounded by crusty hippies so i might as well smell like one.

‘YSL’s Opium’ does exactly that for me. It’s so mature and it oozes sophistication, yet it’s so opulent and insency it is not for someone who does not like to draw attention to oneself. This smells like the real deal ya’ll. This is not a mere ghost of what has been like a lot of modern perfumes, this is the actual event. It is not very animalic. It’s more medicinal then anything else. It smells of insence and spices. I would say i sense clove but that’s a lie. The EDP used to contain clove but not since the 2009 reformulations if i recall correctly. When i fist purchased a bottle, which is but two months ago, the lack of clove was the first thing i noticed since i am very familiar with the vintage formulations. Because of this it initially seemed to lack the much needed spiced kick in the gut this used to give me. I had to get reacquainted with this scent for a couple of days, yet soon figured that this scent, though tweaked a little, is still as beautiful as ever and one of my forever favorites.

It reminds me of nag-champa, patchouli, Coca Cola even and cough syrup in the best possible way. It’s a little sticky but i love sticky scents. It smells like this fragrance should have this syrupy texture. Somewhere in the dry down i can sense this cooling sensation peeking through the dense sticky, syrupy clouds of herbs and spices witch lightens up the overall mood of this scent. Maybe that’s the tuberose’s doing, i’m not really sure.

I do know that this fragrance has been labeled as a ‘grandma scent’. way too often. It’s cruel words like these that should never be spoken! This is not granny-esque. Not in the slightest. This to me smells like the period between the ending of suffrage and the freedom of Woodstock. This smells like an aristocrat by day, crusty dried up hippie by night. In short. Perfection.

[alitheamateur]

The Grind-Chapter 18

The next specific Wednesday session seemed to be no different than the last, other than the building progress we were making. Tia and I had slowly, and very carefully started sparring a couple of weeks earlier, and my skill was greatly improving according to her, and the rest of the team. I had even very unintentionally paid Tia back for the purple shiner she gave me during the early stages of my training, by locking a very happen stance successful arm bar, making her tap. I’m still not sure between the two of us who was more baffled at the turn of events. The instant growl of defeat from her chest quickly erased when she’d squeezed my head in her hands and smashed a hard pressed kiss to my forehead saying, she had “created a fucking monster.” 

That evening I was huddled alone in the quiet corner of the gym, left to tend to the speed bag so Tia could focus on her own training with Willow. She had booked a match with a very talked about newcomer here in town, so she needed to buckle down, and plant more of her focus on her own drills. It only made sense that I slide to the backburner, this was her career after all. I was still the desk jockey turned wannabe martial artist, after all.

 The glass, arched ceilings at the temple perfectly displayed the peach sky summer sunsets at night when I came in to work out after leaving the office, and tonight was exceptionally spellbinding. The mellow, fading clouds painted a haze amongst the hot pinks of the setting sun, tearing my focus from the current task at hand. I knelt to the floor grasping the already sweat damped towel, to dry the trickling perspiration from my weary eyes, when a distinctly gruff accent paralyzed my further movements.

 “Liv?....” the man hesitated meekly. There could’ve been 3,000 people in one room calling my name out in harmony, and that particular voice would’ve rang out to me like church bells, silencing all the rest.

 I dropped the ratty cloth from my white knuckles, my breaths hitched terrified as I rolled on my heels to face the approaching footsteps. That face, now more matured in all the best ways. Had it been that long? The very noticeable changes suited him in tremendous manner, paired with his still very exceptional fighters physique. Thick gray track shorts situated low on his hips, topped with a “Mac’s Gym” t-shirt now turned tank top courtesy of his kitchen scissors. A frayed duffle slung easily over his shoulder, and a weathered Pirates hat laid rear facing on his head. I noticed the longer hair that now winged out beneath the confines of that ball cap, and a beard had sprouted around his pretty, pink lips.

There were a few new inky additions that I couldn’t make out from the distance, but his skin was now slightly more drawn on than before. He was Webster’s pictorial definition of female arousal. I’m not sure how many seconds, or maybe even minutes passed before I was able to piece together a choppy response, but before I could speak, he did again.

“Wha-what are you doing here?”

“I uh, I’m just here with a friend. She’s in the ring there, the little brunette one.” I gestured to Tia across the room, who was too preoccupied to notice who had joined us in the room. “She’s just, um, getting me back into shape a little.” I wasn’t quite ready to explain fully to him what I was truthfully doing there. I wasn’t even convinced yet I wanted to even speak period.

 I tensely angled my head to the floor to escape his festering gazes, when I caught a horrified glimpse of the shirt over my torso. It was his. The shabby, heather gray Pitt t-shirt of his that I had never given back, now cut to graze just above my exposed, taut bellybutton. I screwed my eyes shut in ruthless mortification, knowing there was no way the cloth hadn’t stuck out to him like a very familiar sore thumb.

Of all days to choose this shirt, Liv. OF ALL DAYS.

 He began to saunter very gently closer to me, proceeding with necessary caution, his bottom lip bitten between his teeth, now hidden behind the lengthy whiskers.

“Whatever she’s got you doing, it uh, it suits you.“ He pointed out with what he had already said with his gazes.

 A ravish of red heated my cheeks. “Wait. What are you doing here?” I attempted to dodge his compliment, but was honestly confused at why the man was here, at the Temple. Mac’s was his place, why had he entered mine?

“There’s a long story behind that, actually. But Mac, he uh, he lost the gym last week. Like officially. They closed the doors, bank ceased it.” He shook his head in saddened disgust. Poor Mac. That was his sacred ground, the sweat and blood of his livelihood. “I’m tryin’ out a couple other spots close by in the city. The weight bench, and half shredded bag in my apartment ain’t gonna cut it forever.”  I noticed my back was now grazing the cool wall behind me, apparently his presence had sent my mindlessly cowering away from his heated form.

 Before I could extend my apologies for the news he’d given about Mac’s, I heard Tia’s not so satisfied interruption break the silence of the room.

 “Hey!” she jogged closer, very much aware of who I was now conversing with, “you okay, Liv?”

Although Colt wouldn’t imagine laying his hands in anger at a female to begin with, he still should’ve very much intimidated my petite, very ruthlessly protective friend. Tia however, stabbed through him with her blue daggers, not letting up.

“What the hell do you want, Ritter? Why are you here?” I had to diffuse her before the already escalating situation got completely out of hand.

“It’s fine, Tia. We’re fine. I’M fine. Colton is just here to… try the place out. His trainer recently had to sell his place, so he’s out of a spot to work out right now,” I said patting her arm.

 The two had never met, regardless of how seemingly familiar she was of Colt just from the countless stories she’d heard from me over the course of our friendship, so I figured I maybe best to formally introduce them.

“Colton, this is Tia. The friend I was telling you had me down here in the first place,” he extended a hand in a reserved extension to offer a hand shake. I could see from his tightened jaw he was far from pleased with the audacious way she had spoken at him, his temper wanting to burst and show his displeasure. However deep down, I think he  knew he’d probably indeed deserved it, assuming all the things that I had told my friend about how he’d treated me.

Tia on the other hand, the sassy girl she was, wasn’t even considering the fake smiles and forced “nice to meet you’s”.

 “And T, this is Colton. Which clearly, you already knew.” She gawked at his still waiting hand, denying it, instead lifting to cross her arms across her heavily breathing chest.

 “Want me to get rid of him, LC? I can have Cal lead him very abruptly to the door,” she snarled like an insulted animal.

 Colton shifted his puppy, questioning eyes to me, searching for an answer. The stormy irises were spinning through the wheel of every emotion. Sadness, regret, admiration, confusion, arousal, anger. And love. His eyes kept changing back to love. It seemed to be the dominating feeling calling to him as he continued to gaze.

 “No worries, Tia. He was just about to start his own work out. Right, Colton? I was just taking a little break, okay?” I explained, trying to hint to the man that I had reached my conversational limit with him for the day, and unless he wanted Tia to jump in an assault of violent fists, he should excuse himself for now. “You better get back to Willow there before she makes you pay.”

As badly as she hated it, she galloped back to the ring, pounding her gloved fists together after reinserting her mouth guard, still making sure Colt knew she had her eye on him, no matter what. My head was thumping, the overexertion of passion beating my brain to mush, leaving a growing veil of heaviness hanging over my head as I looked at him. My left hand longing to do nothing more than reach for his oversized hand, and squeeze it, reacquainting the feel of his sweltering skin to my own. But, my right hand. My right hand wanted to unleash every ounce of newly acquired physical strength on his face. Beat the handsome flesh from his bones. Attack him with the pain he caused me. I let my self-control avail and decided against either action at the moment.

“I better get back to my work out before she decides to come back,” a hesitated smile turned up. “But I guess I uh, I might see you around then?” He tapped his toes, and pursed his lips at the dismissal, but obliged, nonetheless.

“Yeah, ya’ just might, Livvy. You just might.”

  The next night was a break from the physical exertion for me. I had to fulfil my journalistic duties for The Pilot at a local fight in the city, a night away from the mats, and bags, and gloves, and sit-ups seemed long overdue. My relentless aching muscles thought so, anyway. It as a gorgeous evening to be out and about, it had been a calm, yet progressive day at the office, and I was eager to observe the fight now as an educated audience member. Before, the interest in fighting had been merely for entertainment sake, and of course a certain handsome competitor. But now, however substandard, and undeveloped, I had the eye of a fighter. The past months at Temple Fitness had opened my tunnel vision to an entirely new perspective. I found myself diving into the internet, researching basic takedown moves, and breaking down the techniques of female fighters all over the MMA circuit all for non-work related intent. I even shamefully pondered on a list of potential ring nicknames to suit me…

Tia declining my invite to tag along, left me attending stag as usual, as she needed the extra hours of training for her latest happenings.  I marched through the threshold of the main entrance, searching all directions for the small arena floor, the location being one I hadn’t yet visited. The echoing click of my heeled feet drew the attention of an event staff member who observantly took notice of my media tag, kindly ushered me in the correct direction, sending me on my way with a compliment on my nude, cross strapped stilettos. I had succumbed to the desire of exposing my bold, cobalt blue skirt and matching blazer to the world. The Pittsburgh air had been abnormally humid that week, and my skin had nearly clammed upon seconds of stepping outside the apartment, so I thought a risky, electric shade of blue was acceptable to suit the bold temperatures. The hem tickled a little higher on the thigh than I preferred, but I wanted to display the quite obvious cut of muscle down my lower extremities. A girl deserves to parade herself around on occasion, and tonight was my appointed hour. I had worked my ass of for these legs. Matter of fact, I worked my ass off for this ass, too.

I moseyed through the span of filling seats, responding to some unattended text messages from the drive over, and counted down the rows till I reached the third. I crumpled the foil of a gum wrapper reaching into my crossbody for my credit card, so I could find the closest vending machine for some water before the excitement ensued. My eyes searched downward to the bag, when a  firm, abnormally large hand clasped over my blue cloth covered shoulder.

“Well, damn. Two nights in a row, huh?”

That east coast lilt that I seemed to even hear in my dreams. My head dropped backwards in a stupid, heavy motion to face the known culprit.

NO! NO! That leather jacket. He just HAS TO BE WEARING THAT LEATHER JACKET.

He crouched beside my seat in the open aisle to lean in closer, the volume of the background music flooding the room, and his scent drifted into my area. A concoction of motorcycle exhaust fumes, woodsy hints of lingering shower gel, and a slight whiff of male perspiration resulting from the scorching night air. My suspicions of a grown out hairstyle confirmed now with the absence of a hat, and the tamed shaggy locks scattered loosely in dispersed directions, no doubt due to the helmet he’d probably just strapped to the back of his bike.

“Luck must be in your favor, Ritter.” I chided through a cheeky smile. I fought tooth and nail to bury the feeling of warmth between my legs at the very sight of him. It was imperative he didn’t catch a glimpse of weakness in me.

“Whatever’s in my favor, I’m fuckin’ grateful for it right now.” His once lowered gaze searched upward to link up with my green eyes.

Purposefully disregarding his intended romantic comments, I readily changed the subject “What are you doin’ here?”

“You seem t’ be askin’ me that a lot in the last two days, Livvy,” he said referring to my questioning at the gym on the previous evening. “But, I’m here to scope these bastards out. Never know if I may have to dance with one of ‘em in the cage. Did you change your hair, by the way?”

I wrestled internally with offering him to take the empty seat to my right, but settled with the idea he wouldn’t be permitted without a media lanyard.

 And who’s the say he even wants to sit next to you, Elliott. Get over yourself.

The repetitive twisting of my nearly dead ends over my index finger a familiar nervous habit he’d learned, led him to reservedly smile quietly as he spoke.

 “I guess you’re here for work? You and that damn little suit of yours, kid…. You look, well,” he cleared his throat,” you look amazing. I’ll just leave it at that before I get myself into too much trouble.”

He sure wasn’t trying to mask where his mind was wondering. However flattering, his suggestive remarks may have felt on one hand, I couldn’t help but grow frustratingly perturbed by his blatantly sexual tones with me.

Back the hell off, Colton. I’m not yours to flatter anymore!

 “Damn you, Colton! That’s enough, alright. God,” the radiant, cheery blue shade of my clothing likely clashed alongside my angry, gnashing teeth and wrinkled nose as I shut down his advances. “You can be on your way now, the fight is about to start.”

Colton parted his lips, hesitating to form a sentence of objection, but only muffled groans, and choppy letters were audible. I focused my attention now towards the cell in my lap, I didn’t bother seeing him off. I knew he would walk away, not wanting to upset me any farther, and the mean lines across my forehead reiterated that I wasn’t playing his game. Once the thumping, heavy steps of his work boots become more and more faint, I searched under hooded eyes. Of course. His seat wasn’t more than 50 yards across the way from me, giving him a clear shot to ogle me for the possible 5 round fight, an judging by his settled eyes on me, that’s exactly what he intended to do.

  The fighters had been so obviously mismatched. It barely reached the second round before the chosen favorite attained victory by a TKO. I combed through my falling curls and scooped up my bag, standing to weave through the exiting crowd. Next on the usual checklist: get the post-fight statement from the two competitors, and be on my way. The cheery, easy-going sense I felt upon arrival had pungently soured with aggravation. My steps seemed to be doubly echoing throughout the arena. Just as I convinced myself the roaring chatter of all the people was only playing tricks on my ears, I felt a grasping hand pull at my fingers, “Liv, hey.“ He spoke sounding winded, probably in the pursuit of locating me amongst the mass. I shook his squeezing clutches off sternly, yanking my arm free from my ex. “Liv, c’mon.. hey, hey, hey. Just gimme a second, ok? Please. Just one second,” his begging yielded a faint ounce of pity from me, so I paused my escape from him.

With arms tucked snuggly across my chest just over the palpitating heartbeats, I made sure to give him the clear impression that I was well over the line of absolutely fed up with him for the evening. My face may have read blank and cold to anyone else’s assumptions, but Colt read the emotion almost professionally. He knew his “second” was snappishly ticking away.

“Look, I’m sorry. I really am, okay? All those shitty, snide comments I was makin’, I didn’t mean to come off so damn, well, I didn’t mean to sound like such a fuckin’ douchebag, Liv.”

 You gotta do better than that, my friend, I thought to myself. “I don’t know how to break the ice here, Livvy.”

I sensed my gritting jaw relax as the tension melted away, not related to the rare elevated humidity for the city. He never was a man of eloquent speaking, or reading the ways to ease an edgy situation. He could definitely create the conflict, but solving it wasn’t his forte.

“Well, just a word of advice, Colton, staring straight into my chest and commenting about my legs sure isn’t the way to break the ice, buddy,” I advised him sneeringly.

He stared downwardly at his swaying feet in shame, openly welcoming my grave warnings. “I know, honestly. I fuckin’ know. I don’t know what I was thinkin’. But… maybe we, we could grab a drink and just talk a little? When you’re done at the post conference, I mean.” He untucked the sweaty hands from his tight jean pockets to lift his watch into view. “If it’s too late, I get it. I’m sure you have work tomorrow.”

The moment of truth. The decision far from one I took lightly, however I didn’t want to overthink too much. I didn’t want to beat it to death with  unceasing reservation and fear. It could be dangerous to my very fragile mental state. Well, fragile when it came to him, to be fair. Yet, it could also be my very agonizingly long overdue opportunity to spill out what shit storm he’d rained over my life. Now or never, you coward. “Fine, Colton. Yeah, I guess we can have a drink or somethin’. Just uh, head across the street to the left when you walk out the main entrance. I think I saw a place when I was coming in earlier. I should be there in a half hour or so.” I was determined to call the shots now, knowing he wouldn’t protest.

“You sure you don’t want me to wait up for ya’? It’s late, Liv. Prolly ain’t a good idea for you to be out walkin’ by yourself. Especially with the slobs from this crowd hangin’ out,” the chivalrous man spoke up.

“I’ll be fine. I’ve been walking alone in the city at night for the last year and a half now, Colton. I can handle it.” I retorted, reminding him purposely that he’d left me to fin for myself when he’d walked away. And I was doing just fine. I didn’t think of giving him a moment to speak again before pushing a shoulder passed his in the thick crowd of fans in the hallway, disappearing to leave him bleeding from his wounded ego.   

tags: @torialeysha @eap1935 @miidailyinspiration

[tommyoboe]

PARIS - PART FOUR.

Happy Halloween!

My only real contribution to the festivity today has been a suitably black, white and orange outfit. Not gonna lie, I look pretty fabulous. Just need some eyeliner and I would be ready to hit the clubs.

Nah, I'll be staying in to watch brand new Doctor Who and Strictly instead, with a soft sugary brioche I bought earlier at the patisserie. Parfait.

It's been quite the two weeks. Lots has gone on, primarily visits from my dad, Rachel and Cameron, which have all been wonderful. I shall get into the details of our antics later on, but first some musical updates.

My last couple of oboe lessons have been extremely different from each other. One left me feeling euphoric, having done some excellent work on my concerto piece and my overall sound being one I was impressed with. This week, I just sounded crap. No exaggeration, but I soon realised why. All this time, I had been finishing my reeds incorrectly, hacking away at the wrong parts and making my life a lot more difficult. With this my teacher and I spent some time the next morning perfecting a whole new box of reeds for me, ahead of recording for an orchestra audition next week. I really couldn't have been more grateful for the extra time my teacher gave me, as well as three reeds he had made for me there and then at no cost. It was better than Christmas and now I owe it to him at least to make them work and future reeds and playing work much better.

Despite all the lovely things I have experienced recently, motivation has been particularly low. Having to reacquaint myself with the Mozart Oboe Concerto was challenging to start with, results including me wanting to throw my oboe at the wall and even at one point coming to the conclusion that the oboe is no longer for me and I have to think seriously about doing something else.

But then I was like, what else is there? Even if I no longer really want to do this and am losing the passion I have had before, it's the thing I'm least bad at, so perhaps it really is what I'm supposed to do. Who knows.

It does suck though, feeling these rehearsals and practice sessions go by with a lack of real engagement and energy and excitement to get the most out of them. I suppose I'm in the room but the lights in my mind are off. That is when I'm most melancholy, when I can no longer truly be a part of what it is that I want to be, whether as a player or a conversationalist or just as myself, by myself.

The stress that week was affecting my sleeping patterns considerably, meaning I was pretty cranky and more direct with people, which is not really my personality trait. I think of myself as a friendly and open person, who is passionate but willing to listen and work with others, but during one particular rehearsal I had with piano, I took control out of stress and fatigue, bringing the whole event to an abrupt close. "That's it for today".

I say all this with a tint of sadness, but it is also necessary to experience all of this so more reflection can be done. With reflection complete, I have come out feeling better, free from the majority of my stress and open to doing everything with commitment again. I know now what's working and what's not. Doing things the wrong way seems to be a bit of a theme and cramming too much into one small space of time. It's not healthy and I'm constantly drawn back into that way of living, but I shall resist right now.

Being forgiving on myself is another reflection I have made. In the last few years I have found not having success plays a key role in later breakthroughs, so now that's how I see any lack of results I have in coming weeks, months and even years, as I audition for orchestras and set up the life I want to lead long-term.

Right, now that I've dragged you into that both depressing and uplifting rut, shall we get on to the fun French stuff?

Last week I discovered the joy of true French crêpes and galettes, which are essentially also crêpes but with buckwheat. My dad, Rachel and I enjoyed savoury and sweet versions on my first meeting with them since August, which was delightful. Then, when Cameron came on Saturday, we reunited with them for more crêpes and galettes, with countless combinations to choose from.

Unsurprisingly, more French food and drink followed, including fresh baguettes, pastries wine and charcuterie. This was intertwined with wonderful Italian pasta and pizza and an enormous quiche in Montmartre. We also visited the Musée de Luxembourg and Jardin du Luxembourg, as well as the famous Shakespeare and Company bookstore and café (well, actually just the café), where I spoke French to a fellow Englishman on a gap year who didn't understand my French. It was probably the one and only time I would actually give someone a lesson in French, but we had a lovely conversation about the joys of music and travel generally.

There was the Eiffel Tower, of course, lit up in its majesty on a chilly Thursday night, but perhaps preferable the following week on a warm Wednesday afternoon with life changing Boneshaker Doughnuts and iced coffee.

I was beyond excited to welcome Cameron last Saturday with chocolate and a hug. We then enjoyed a cute lunch and stumbling upon my favourite boulangerie I have found so far during my time in Paris.

On the Sunday we enjoyed sensational brunch, including warming pecan pie and filter coffee, then a stroll down the Canal Saint-Martin and pumpkin beignets back at the apartment.

We headed to the top of the Sacre-Cœur on Monday for a view of the entire city, then took on busy Bastille on Tuesday, followed by numerous pastries and a one off trip to a French restaurant for a delicious meal. Overpriced for the portions quite frankly, but it is France, so...

I said happy birthday to my mum and nephew Frankie on Wednesday (a whole year since he came to us!), then Cameron and I said hello to the iconic Louvre Museum, with its impressive exhibits. What was perhaps most interesting but also bizarre was how small the Mona Lisa was, and how gargantuan the queue was to see it. The whole scene was something I don't think I'll ever see anywhere else. We picnicked in the Tuilleries, then gazed upon the Pantheon and Notre Dame, before relaxing back at the apartment with treats and quiz shows.

After a final traditional baguette and cookie each in the park, I bid my boy farewell and it was on with the rest of my week. I felt pretty lost that day and the last couple of days as well, but today I certainly feel better after the shock of 'normal' life again. And tomorrow's November, so it really isn't long before Christmas!

So on that merry note, I am going to settle down with my leftover gnocchi and relax for the evening, as I have to do ace recordings tomorrow and Tuesday. Even if the end result is an unsuccessful audition, it has to be something I am proud of. So, on with it.

[gamerszone2019-blog]

Ancestors: The Humankind Odyssey Review - Fall Of The Planet Of The Apes

New Post has been published on https://gamerszone.tn/ancestors-the-humankind-odyssey-review-fall-of-the-planet-of-the-apes/

Ancestors: The Humankind Odyssey Review - Fall Of The Planet Of The Apes

Ancestors: The Humankind Odyssey sure isn’t afraid of throwing you into the deep end. My first foray into Panache Digital’s survival game began as a young ape alone in a dark forest, the imagined laughs of hyenas and snarls of tigers echoing in the trees in a confusing cacophony. Before I could finish reading the message detailing my very first objective, a warning popped up and demanded I dodge out of the way–of what, I couldn’t be sure. Not knowing what to do, I couldn’t respond in time, and my ape was left alone, scared, hallucinating, bleeding, and poisoned, my screen a milky display of dark green and shifting shadows. I had absolutely no idea what I was supposed to do or where I should go. I began to wander and, thankfully, about 30 minutes later I found the rest of my clan.

At first, I believed the entire ordeal was simply a poor start. As it turns out, that first journey through the confusion of a dangerous jungle, blindly limping in different directions in hopes of finding someone to help me, is a fairly accurate depiction of what your journey in Ancestors will regularly entail. My time with the game saw me suffer similarly disorienting fates over and over, testing me to figure out what I’d done wrong and then do my best to adapt. Ancestors prides itself on giving you as little information as it can and daring you to rely on your ingenuity and resourcefulness to survive. Though the game fulfills its promise to do the former, it fails to deliver a compelling reason as to why you’d even want to rise up to the challenge of the latter.

You play as a member of an ape clan in 10 million BC Africa, and you try to ensure your lineage continues through to two million BC–the time period archaeologists say our ancestors’ evolution finally transitioned us from ape-like beings into a new, more human species. To survive that long, you need to manage how much you eat, drink, and sleep while also steering clear of predators and taking care of injuries. As your life continues, and you interact with more aspects of the world, you grow smarter and acquire new skills, which you can then pass on to your descendants. Upon death, you take control of another ape within your clan and continue the process, striving to evolve into a brand-new, more human-like species before your entire clan completely dies out.

Every second of real-world time translates into a minute in-game–except during sleep, which speeds this equation up. Your in-game progress produces opportunities for further clan evolution to then jump ahead in time by months, decades, or millennia. If you or one of your clanmates becomes pregnant, for example, giving birth to a baby will cause you to leap forward 15 months. For significantly larger jumps in time, exploring as an adult with a baby on your back will allow you to accrue energy to further improve your neurological network and unlock new abilities, which then allows you to advance a whole generation and move time forward a full 15 years. A jump in generation can be followed by an evolution, which moves you to a new, calculated placement on the timeline that’s dependent on which advancements you make. Adapting your metabolism to new plants doesn’t give you as huge a boost, for instance, as learning to use rocks as tools. Evolutions push you ahead tens of thousands of years, providing the most efficient way of getting from 10 million BC to two million BC.

It’s definitely not easy, though, especially since your clan needs to sustain itself throughout those eight million years in a single lineage. Though your clanmates learn what you do in real time, losing an entire clan means you have to restart from a brand-new lineage and relearn everything you’ve previously discovered. If your clan dies after you’ve adapted to eating fish, for example, you’ll not only need to go through the entire process of reacquainting your diet, but you’ll have to teach your new lineage how to make fishing spears all over again. When it’s a few minutes of knowledge lost, it’s not that big of a deal. But when you’re losing hours of progress, it can be quite disheartening.

Instead of saving your skills and knowledge between runs, Ancestors records your progress by keeping track of how far you travel. Initially, you can only begin a new lineage on a cliff within a jungle. However, you can discover and unlock other starting points in the jungle, and even reach other biomes, such as a lake-filled swamp and arid savanna. Unlocking these new start points provides welcome variety–as each environment contains its own unique ecosystem of creatures and plants as well as its own set of weather-based challenges–but your primates always begin in the same clueless state. Even if you already know what to do, you’ll have to retrace your steps and go through the same motions over again to recreate the same conditions that pushed your ape’s neurological network to evolve to where you were in the game before your clan was wiped out–ideally with more of your clan intact this time so you can go further.

This gameplay loop can be immensely frustrating, and it’s one that gets more drawn-out the more you play. By my fourth lineage, it was taking close to two hours to retrace my steps and redo everything I had already had to relearn a few times already. There’s nothing in the game that allows you to recover from a failure and quickly rebuild what’s been lost, either, which is demoralizing when your downfall is your own fault and downright frustrating when it’s just bad luck. I’ve lost entire clans because of my own hubris, sure, but I’ve also lost a clan because, after going through an evolution, the game randomly spawned my clan next to a tiger’s den and there were no materials nearby to make weapons. I spent the final 15 minutes of that eight-hour run helplessly watching my entire clan be slowly devoured before needing to start over.

I couldn’t go back and try a different approach to escaping the massacre of that unfortunate run because there’s no manual save feature in Ancestors. The game saves automatically when you discover a new location or go to sleep, with each lineage tied to one save file. You can manually back up your save to your PC, but there’s no easy or straightforward in-game solution to help you avoid a punishing death.

What small satisfaction the game does provide is consistently ruined by violent predators, though the threat does lessen once you make it far enough into the neurological network’s expansive skill and perk tree.

Having to redo everything you’ve already done also keeps you from discovering new things–which is paramount to surviving and one of the few good parts of Ancestors. With practically zero tutorials, Ancestors forces you to be experimental in order to succeed. There’s joy to be had in bashing different items together to see what happens and then compiling and testing hypotheses. As much as I was frustrated by needing to redo the entire process of creating the aforementioned fishing spear in repeated playthroughs, I felt genuine accomplishment in figuring it out the first time. Most of Ancestors’ puzzles can be solved with logical sense, so the challenge comes in figuring out where to find the materials you think you need. Granted, this being a game, there are occasionally arbitrary hurdles you need to jump through to build certain tools, but you’ll typically only find these associated with more advanced, late-game tasks.

You don’t get to enjoy much of the satisfaction in discovering new things and regularly evolving, though. Predators repeatedly sneak up on you and interrupt your efforts, which typically causes you to drop whatever you were messing with. It’s disheartening to want to explore and forge new tools, only to then have to put your odyssey on hold to limp back to your clan and deal with your injuries–and then be attacked again almost immediately upon heading back out. Yes, the jungle is a dangerous place. But when a tiger leaps out of the reeds to aid a crocodile that’s trying to eat me, it’s a stark reminder of how Ancestors upholds the need to rise to the challenge of survival above the experience of evolution. Historically, it makes sense, as our ape ancestors undoubtedly lived many more years as prey than predator. But in the context of a video game, the constant barrage of spawning enemies gets in the way of the gameplay loop of learning, responding, and evolving–a roadblock that’s only chipped away at and eventually toppled once you acquire the skills and tools so that your entire clan can work together and put up an adequate defense against the creatures that hunt you. Much has to be done to get to that point, though, so contending with larger predators–especially the collection of deadly wildcats that stalk and pounce on you at seemingly every quiet moment–feels unfair early on, especially in areas where there are no trees to escape up into. Dealing with their near-constant attacks or the wounds they inflict can make it discouragingly difficult to actually experiment and evolve.

The closest you come to feeling safe while playing Ancestors is when you’re up in the trees. You spend a lot of time in the branches as a result, but unfortunately there’s no easy way to travel between them. You can climb practically anything in Ancestors provided you have the stamina, so scrambling up into a tree is a quick, painless process. However, with no way to easily course correct yourself–and since trees are rarely positioned in a straight line–you typically only get to enjoy a few seconds of fast-paced, energetic movement before you run out of branch, plummet to earth, and possibly break your legs if you were too high up. And that’s a shame, because it’s actually pretty fun to leap from branch to branch once you’ve got the swing of things. There just aren’t many opportunities to use what you’ve learned once you’ve got the mechanics down. Upon leaving the forest, your chances slim down even more, as the follow-up areas are sparse on the first environment’s signature large trees.

Ancestors: The Humankind Odyssey lingers for far too long on its most toilsome aspects. The game does reward initial experimentation, but then asks you to repeat processes over and over again without any means of securing your legacy. It’s an absolute grind to reach the closest that Ancestors has to an endgame goal–survive for eight million years–and one costly mistake, whether the game’s or your own, can erase everything you’ve accomplished. What small satisfaction the game does provide is consistently ruined by violent predators, though the threat does lessen once you make it far enough into the neurological network’s expansive skill and perk tree. But as it stands, investing in Ancestors’ journey demands too much effort for too little reward.

Source : Gamesport

[lady-divine-writes]

Klaine fic - “All the Beautiful Pieces” (Rated NC17)

Blaine Anderson is spending the summer after graduation flipping houses with his brother for Cooper's total home renovation show. The show features the worst houses Cooper can buy, with Blaine playing the role of lackey so that Cooper can torture him in front of his viewers. The last house Blaine has to renovate is an original Victorian House in San Diego, CA, which is in terrible condition. But this house turns out to be more than just another job. It was once owned by a famous Vaudeville ventriloquist by the name of Andrew Smythe. It houses a very interesting collection of items - among them, two life-sized puppets. Blaine isn't sure exactly why, but he's drawn to them - especially to the one with the beautiful blue eyes. He convinces Cooper to give him the puppets, and Blaine starts to restore them. In the course of the restoration, Blaine finds out that neither puppet is simply a run-of-the-mill puppet, and Andrew Smythe was hiding a secret that will be the key to saving two lives.

Okay, so, as many of you people know, this was my Reverse Bang story from way too long ago. I had it completed, but as I was uploading it, my computer crashed and obliterated this plus a ton of my other stories, which I have been writing back from memory these many years. I had this one almost down except for the last three chapters, which have been lost in the void of my brain. So, what I’ve done is start over from the beginning. I haven’t been changing the story, just freshening the language, and then I will add those last three chapters. But I’m posting it here one chapter per week so those of you who would like to can get reacquainted with the story. Of course, you could jump ahead to AO3, and cheat, re-read all 17 original chapters at once, but you’ll still have to wait for the ending, and only chapters 1-7 have been redone. Anyway, this story wouldn’t even exist without @freakingpotter who is an amazing artist and an even more amazing friend <3 Give her lots of love <333

(Warning for character death that happens in the past, hoarding, and anxiety.)

Chapter 1 (6515 words)

Blaine stares out the windshield of his rented Honda Odyssey, his jaw dropping open, stunned out of his senses at the sight of the disastrous house in front of him. His hands grip the steering wheel for support. His knees knock together, completely out of his control. A low, pitiful whining noise rattles around in the back of his throat. The house to his right, nestled incongruously behind a manicured lawn, carefully pruned rose bushes, and a well-established Mulberry tree, is so incredibly awful that he can’t stop looking at it. It’s like a horrendous traffic accident – lots of blood and twisted metal, but try as you might, you can’t make yourself look away.

“What’s wrong, squirt?” Cooper, Blaine’s older brother, asks. “Is something wrong with my new investment?”

“Uh, I’m looking at your new investment right now,” Blaine groans, sounding strangled and pathetic, but he couldn’t care less.

“And…” Cooper asks, his voice an annoying, disembodied presence in Blaine’s Bluetooth since there is no way that Cooper Anderson would actually deign to come out to a new project house himself.

He leaves that kind of grunt work to his baby brother, Blaine.

Cooper Anderson’s Complete Home Renovation started as a way for Blaine’s brother to translate his B-list (to put it kindly) celebrity status into a steady paycheck. At first, Blaine thought this show would turn into another fad - a superficial hobby that Coop would get really excited about for a few months and then become bored with when the hard work began. Cooper had a reputation for those – Catamaran racing, model plane building, volunteering at the Greyhound rescue. But this time, Blaine had to give Coop some credit. When he started the show a year or so back, he did research, found a reputable contractor, and learned the ins and outs of foreclosed property auctions. It was the most responsible Cooper had been about something in a long while. He flipped a few houses, got a desirable time slot on a basic cable network, and made a decent amount of money doing it. But the show was dull as dishwater and the ratings tanked. That was until Cooper decided to do things his usual way, which basically meant firing every capable person involved with the production of the show, managing everything himself…and soliciting the help of his younger brother.

Cooper purchased the properties, usually through a third party company, and then turned Blaine loose on whatever disaster he had bought. Blaine would perform a preliminary walkthrough of the various houses, with Cooper accompanying him through the aid of a wireless webcam, while back at command central (Cooper’s fancy name for his breakfast nook), Cooper and his contractor, who remained silent through the walkthrough to make Cooper look like the knowledgeable one, made plans for the renovation. In no time flat, Cooper ended up with a sensational cult following, as well as a membership-only website. Members to the website got the privilege of watching the live webcam feed and witnessing all the hilarious - and embarrassing - pitfalls that Blaine suffered. Later on, the feed would be edited for television. The show became a bigger hit than Blaine could have ever imagined - which was one of the many reasons why Blaine wanted nothing to do with it.

Blaine had a strict policy not to participate in any of Cooper’s harebrained ideas. This one, being a television show, pretty much screamed, “No! Don’t! Turn back!” Blaine had dreams of being on Broadway one day, and he didn’t need his brother destroying his reputation before he even had one. But Cooper never took no for an answer, and in this case, he knew his brother’s Achilles’ heel.

College.

But not just any college.

NYADA.

The premier college for musical theater, located in none other than Blaine’s dream city – New York.

Blaine was desperate to get there, especially now that their parents decided last minute not to pay for it. It was all right for Blaine to say he wanted to go to NYADA, but in the end, his parents were counting on a more practical college choice, like Stanford or Princeton. They would even bend as far as accepting NYU, as long as Blaine majored in business or medicine, but not NYADA. No. They didn’t want another foolish child with dreams of making it big as a performer making a mockery of the Anderson family name.

Not like Cooper.

Sure, Cooper had managed some bit parts in a few movies, and a one-line speaking role on a television series, but before his renovation show took off, his claim to fame as a thespian had been one FreeCreditRatingToday.com commercial.

His parents were less than impressed.

Cooper knew Blaine was trying to find a way to save up for college, and truth be told, he felt guilty. He realized that, in a way, he had caused all these problems for Blaine, but it wasn’t in Cooper’s nature to simply come out and apologize…especially when his idea to have Blaine as a lackey on his show was so much better.

Blaine caved when he realized that Cooper’s offer, no matter how destructive it might be to his future career, was his only real hope, especially considering what Cooper was offering to pay him in comparison to working part time at the Lima Bean, which only paid minimum wage plus the occasional tip. So, Blaine spent most of his free time and all of his school breaks helping Cooper flip houses.

That included his summer vacation.

This summer would be Blaine’s final hoorah on the show until his next big school break, which prompted the idea to bring Blaine out to the West Coast to do a Fun in the Sun edition of Cooper Anderson’s Complete Home Renovation.

Blaine was initially thrilled by the idea. A couple of months at their family’s old beach house (God, they hadn’t been there in years), spending some time lying out on the sand, relaxing, rescuing his upper arms from an unsightly farmer’s tan, and escaping his mom and dad’s constant looks of disapproval every time he entered a room.

The first three vile houses he renovated in San Diego, however, almost made any fun and relaxation Blaine had planned for this trip completely immaterial.

But this house – his last house – takes the cake for sure.

“Blai-ney?” Cooper sings through the earpiece, cutting through Blaine’s thoughts and the dead air.

“Do you ever see these houses before you buy them, Coop?” Blaine asks. He tilts his head from side to side and cranes his neck to peer out the windshield, refusing to move from his seat until he absolutely has to.

“Why? Is it the wrong house?” Cooper asks in a panic. “It’s the Victorian, right? Please tell me it’s the Victorian!”

“It’s the Victorian, all right,” Blaine confirms with a long, heavy sigh. Or it will be a decent Victorian house once they get rid of the hodge-podge of vomit-worthy paint that had been slapped on for God knows how long. The house looks like the whole color scheme was chosen by a drunk toddler. The main body of the house is a bright, fire engine red; the scrolled pillars and the sconces look to be hazard orange; and everything else is either bright blue or deep purple. If the house hadn’t been declared a historical landmark, Blaine is sure that the neighbors would have torn it apart panel by panel.

“Then what’s the problem?” Cooper sounds worried at the reluctance in his brother’s voice, not that Blaine isn’t always reluctant. That’s part of the shtick. Cooper makes it a point to buy the worst houses he’s heard of, sight unseen, because Blaine’s initial reaction is a big part of his TV show’s draw.

Besides, torturing his younger brother has always been one of Cooper Anderson’s favorite past times.

“So, are you inside yet, squirt?” Cooper pipes up over Blaine’s Bluetooth. “Because I’m seeing a serious lack of anything interesting on my computer screen. Of course, I’m not all that tech savvy. Check the feed on your end.”

“I’m not in the house yet, Coop,” Blaine moans.

“Wha--- well, why not?” Cooper sputters. “Time’s a-wasting here, kiddo. We have a show to put on. Chippity-chop-chop, Blaine!”

Blaine sighs and switches on the portable webcam, focusing the lens on his own face so that Cooper can check the feed.

“There’s my handsome little man,” Cooper coos, thrilled to tease his baby brother in front of his slew of dedicated viewers. “Now go and show me the house that’s destined to become my newest masterpiece.”

Blaine’s shoulders slump, weighed down by the inevitable. He opens the minivan door, ready to step out and get the full effect of how awful it truly is, when he is hit with a smell so powerful it forces him back into his seat.

“Ugh! Blech!” He locks the doors and turns on the air conditioner to flush the evil smell out, but that doesn’t work the way he hopes. The conditioned air circulates the smell throughout the car. Immediately, the stench sticks to the upholstery and his clothes.

Blaine doesn’t want to breathe it in any more than he has to, but there’s something curious about the smell. Yes, it’s disgusting to think that the house stinks so badly he can smell it all the way from his minivan with the windows rolled up, but now that time has passed, he realizes it isn’t altogether a bad smell. It’s more odd than bad. Against his better judgment, Blaine takes a deep breath in through his nostrils and holds it, shutting his eyes to get a better idea of what the smell reminds him of.

Melancholy.

Bittersweet.

Like a musty old funeral home parlor, where each grain of wood, each fiber of carpet seems to be infused with the sorrow, pain, and tears of mourners grieving for loved ones lost.

To put it simply, the house smells sad.

Regardless, whatever is causing that smell can’t be healthy.

Even more than the smell, which is disturbing to say the least, it’s the silence that unnerves him.

Blaine had gotten lost on his way here. He had parked in the cul-de-sac on the opposite side of the street and sat for a good twenty minutes checking his GPS before he realized his mistake. Harbor Drive cuts in half with a strip of neighborhood right down its middle. He had ended up on the other side. The side he originally parked in is a lively, typical suburban neighborhood, with kids riding their bikes and people in their yards gardening, watering their lawns, talking and laughing, enjoying this beautiful Southern California afternoon.

The cul-de-sac this Victorian house sits in is much the same – the same identical houses, the same green lawns, the same suburban atmosphere - only there are no children playing here, and no busy neighbors tending to their gardens. Blaine looks up at the sky. For two whole minutes, not a single bird passes overhead, and there isn’t an insect to be seen.

Life seems to avoid this neighborhood, and probably for good reason.

Blaine can’t shake the ominous feeling that he’s being watched…and he probably isn’t the first person who’s felt that way. Blaine had heard that this house got no foot traffic. Even when it was put up for auction, few people came by to take a look at it, which is strange considering how popular real Victorian houses are in this area of the country.

But something as trivial as the possibility of a supernatural threat to his life will not deter Cooper Anderson from ratings and equity. Blaine will eventually have to get out of the Odyssey and go into the house. He reaches into his glove box and pulls out a dust mask, which Cooper must see since he starts yelling into the earpiece.

“No! Blaine! What are you doing?”

“Coop, I can smell your house all the way from the van,” Blaine explains, giving himself permission to be haughty. “I’m protecting myself from whatever lives in the air around this place.”

“No, you can’t cover your face!” Cooper complains. Blaine might find Cooper’s desperation amusing if he wasn’t trying to talk him out of keeping himself safe. “You know my viewers tune in to see my dapper brother’s handsome face. Your face is my money maker!”

“So, you’re going to risk my health, and my future as a singer, for ratings?” Blaine argues, annoyed at his brother’s overwhelming lack of concern. When he doesn’t receive a response, he decides to appeal to one of Cooper’s real loves – money. “You know, one stray mold spore gets into my lungs and your insurance premiums take a hit.”

“Hey,” Cooper says in a sly voice, “it’s a risk I’m willing to take.

But Blaine knows better than to let his brother dictate matters of life and death, and squirrels the mask into his back pocket. He won’t be on camera the whole time, and it’s an easy enough thing to slip on and off without Cooper noticing.

He had to do it for those last three houses.

Blaine grabs the webcam and climbs out of the minivan. He takes extra time to make sure the doors are locked and the windows rolled up, deliberately stalling. Finally, he gives in and walks up to the cartoon-esque fun house that smells like heartbreak and woe.

Blaine stands for a moment to take it all in. Then he trains the webcam on the house, and Cooper laughs like a hyena through Blaine’s Bluetooth.

“Holy crap!” he roars. “Stop, Blainers. Just…just give our audience a moment to appreciate the monstrosity before us.”

Blaine scans the scene, starting from the far left and moving to the right.

“What the hell colors are those?” Cooper chokes the words out between the most unattractive chortles Blaine has ever heard. “It looks like a carnival funhouse.”

“Yeah, well, you sure know how to pick ‘em, Coop,” Blaine recites in a practiced flat and sour tone. It’s one of his many catch phrases that he is required to say through the course of filming. Unoriginal, but it seems to make the viewers happy. Twice in the last six months the phrase ‘Pick a Winner, Coop’ has trended on Twitter.

And Blaine has been a huge part of that.

Yippee.

“You know, this house has a really well-kept lawn to go with that crap paint job.”

“The realtor told me that the ladies from the historical society were taking care of the landscaping,” Blaine remarks as he trots up the walk, not that Cooper actually cares, but because Blaine does his best to fill in the silences with informative little tidbits. If anything, maybe he can use it as a way to showcase his professionalism and dedication to the craft - his ability to improvise.

Blaine Anderson – Master of Finding the Silver Lining.

Blaine takes the keys out of his pocket. He had to pick them up directly from the realtor’s office. For some reason, the severe, dowdy, and unnaturally petite woman wouldn’t meet him at the house.

She said specifically that she never went down there.

That, in itself, is not a reassuring testimonial.

Blaine works to unlock the deadbolt, balancing the webcam beneath his chin and pulling the door toward him when the lock won’t turn.

“Anyone want to take a bet on what it looks like inside?” Cooper asks, filling up the empty air space while Blaine fumbles with the uncooperative lock. Blaine feels his phone buzz in his pocket which means that Cooper also tweeted that question to his viewers. “Op! Blaine’s struggling with the lock! Nobody must have gone in this house in years! This is going to be horrible! I can feel it!”

Cooper chuckles wickedly and Blaine rolls his eyes. He isn’t sure that he likes the strange, sadistic pleasure Cooper gets from tormenting him like this.

Blaine jiggles the doorknob while turning the key, cranking it left and right, but it isn’t just that the lock itself is stuck. It feels like the door is being held closed from the inside. All of Blaine’s inner alarms start going off – in his head where his ears ring with Cooper’s inane laughter, in his chest where his heart races so hard that his ribs hurt, in his feet where he shifts weight from one to the other, as eager to be in the house and done with this as he is to get into his minivan and leave.

At the thought of leaving, the door finally opens, shoving in about a foot and then stopping dead. Blaine pushes and pushes, but the door won’t budge any farther.

“Uh…Blaine?” Cooper’s voice calls through the Bluetooth. “I like your shoes and that lovely sweater vest you’re wearing as much as the next guy, but do you think you could hold the webcam up so we can see what’s going on? All this bouncing around is making me want to hurl. It’s like a scene from Cloverfield or something.”

Blaine pulls the webcam out from beneath his chin and sticks it around the corner of the door. If he can’t make his way into the house, at least Cooper and his audience can see what he’s up against.

“Well…that’s a…dark room you’re showing us there, Blainers,” Cooper teases in a straight voice. “In fact, that’s an incredible shade of grey we’re seeing at the moment. Do you think you could open up a curtain or turn on a light there, squirt?”

“I’m…hmpf…I’m trying…” Blaine grumbles, struggling to keep the webcam aloft while fighting to open the door. After a few backbreaking heaves, he gives up and shimmies through the narrow crack he’s already made, sucking in his stomach to keep from snagging his sweater vest on the edge of the door. He slips through the opening, having to stop a second to maneuver his leg around the bend, and stumbles inside. His right foot comes in contact with the floor, his left foot raised behind him, and the front door slams shut.

The room he’s standing in goes from grey to black, and everything becomes eerily silent.

Even Cooper’s chuckle dies to muffled breaths over Blaine’s Bluetooth.

Blaine stands completely still, praying that nothing runs at him from out of the shadows.

Of course, it doesn’t help in the slightest that he had stayed up late last night streaming Stephen King’s mini-series Rose Red. Whatever possessed him to watch a show about a haunted house hours before coming here, he will never know.

His eyes adjust to the lack of light. They water excessively, clouded by thick layers of dust that he can smell and taste with every breath he takes. He holds his breath, sure that any monsters hiding in the dark will hear even the slightest inhale.

“Blaine?” Cooper whispers harshly. “Do…something…”

“I’m…trying…” Blaine whispers back with an added huff of annoyance.

Blaine finally dares to turn his head, sweeping the webcam around the room. He reaches out his free hand, his arm shaking as he tries to stay balanced on one foot, and feels for a light switch on the wall by the door. His fingers come in contact with one; he flips it up and down madly, but with no results.

“Coop…I thought you called SDG&E and had the power switched on,” Blaine says, continuing to flip the switch rapidly in hopes that a loose wire somewhere will spark after enough tries and the lights will flick on.

“I did,” Cooper responds in an unnecessarily low voice. “Maybe there’s a blown fuse or a busted circuit.”

Blaine whimpers. He’s not looking forward to negotiating this mess without any light. He attempts to put his elevated foot down, his knee sore from tensing to keep it bent up, but everywhere he steps he feels bulky items in his way, disinclined to be pushed aside. He finds a loose…something…and shoves at it, sliding it across the floor about a foot and making a space to take a step.

“Okay…” Blaine says, both triumphant and anxious as he creeps across the room in this manner. He can’t see anything but shapes and silhouettes that change when he relocates some blurry mystery object. He ignores the sounds of shuffling that echo through the room in response to his movements, keeping his eyes fixed on a single ray of light streaming in through a crack in the curtains. Blaine counts his steps, trying to estimate how big the room is by his strides across the floor.

“Can you see anything?” Cooper asks conversationally, keeping the show moving along while Blaine picks his way at a snail’s pace through the unseen clutter.

“Not yet,” Blaine replies, only a hair louder than a whisper because he’s still wary of talking too loudly - a hidden childhood fear of the dark rearing its ugly head. “I’m trying to make it to the curtains on the windows, but this room is large and packed with stuff.” Blaine looks down at his feet, aiming the webcam at the floor. “Do you see anything, Coop?”

“Naah, not yet, squirt…” Blaine smiles when he hears Cooper sound mildly concerned on his behalf, “just a really, really dark blur.”

“Congratulations, Coop,” Blaine chirps, tripping over something that clangs metallically when it comes in contact with his foot. “You purchased a void.”

Nervous laughter follows Blaine’s comment and he smiles wider. It’s nice to know that every so often his big brother actually cares.

“If you come across any television sets, don’t turn them on,” Cooper warns. “I wouldn’t want you getting sucked in and crossing over to the other side.”

Blaine shakes his head.

“Poltergeist? Really?” Blaine groans, hopping a few steps and finally making his way to the window. “You do know you just aged yourself, don’t yo--”

“I see some light there, squirt,” Cooper cuts in, smoothly evading the mention of his age. “Did you finally make it to the window, or do you feel like walking around in the dark for another ten minutes?”

Blaine doesn’t answer, having deftly slipped the dust mask over his mouth and nose, preparing to open the curtain, which he is sure has to be caked with dust.

He’s right.

With his free hand, he pulls open the heavy fabric of the first curtain, watching as dust motes swirl in front of his eyes, dimming the sun’s light as it pierces the grime on the windows. He moves aside the second curtain, stepping over what he can see in this new light are various metal and wooden objects, peculiar faces peering up at him, staring with chipped and empty eyes.

Dirty light is better than no light at all, but Blaine has a hard time making sense of what he’s seeing. He has been in houses before that had rooms piled high with all sorts of trash – food containers, two-liter bottles, dirty plates, newspapers and magazines with yellowing and cracked pages, even one house with rooms stuffed from floor to ceiling with filthy used diapers, but what he is currently looking at is downright bizarre. Everywhere underfoot there are twisted limbs, contorted bodies, orphaned heads, and a mass of brightly colored clothing and costumes. They’re small – child sized. He makes his way to the next set of windows and opens those curtains. Light floods the room, defused through the layer of dried gunge on the glass, giving it a sepia hue, but with better illumination, Blaine can see the room clearly.

Toys. Piles and piles of toys - dolls, puppets, trains, cars, stuffed animals by the pound. Some are stacked along the walls, mint in their boxes, but the majority lay in heaps, overflowing mountains and dunes, filling the room from corner to corner.

“Holy...”

Cooper’s voice cuts off when Blaine turns and focuses the camera on a long hallway, as foreboding as the living room but inconceivably darker. Blaine swallows hard, knowing that’s the next place Cooper will tell him to go.

“Whoa, Blaine…look at that…”

Yeah, yeah, Blaine thinks, taking a step in that direction. I’m going.

“Hold up,” Cooper says. “Go back to the toys on the floor.”

Blaine breathes a sigh of relief at his temporary reprieve. He aims the camera down, trying to get the best view he can in the low light of the toys scattered over the floor.

“Are those made of metal?” Cooper asks.

“Yup,” Blaine says, moving the mask away from his mouth so he can speak. “Well, some of them. Some of them appear to be wood.”

“Get a closer shot, Blaine. I want to look at those.”

Blaine moves from toy to toy, holding the webcam still for a few seconds so his brother can get some decent screenshots. He hears Cooper typing frantically, researching something on his computer.

“Are you seeing this, Blaine?” Cooper asks excitedly over the earpiece. “Those tin banks? That’s some early 1900s shit. And there’re loads of them! The stuff in that room alone could be worth a fortune! Imagine what we might find in the rest of the house?”

We, Blaine thinks, shaking his head. Right.

Blaine hears more frantic typing, quiet cheering, some scribbling and muttering as Cooper takes down notes on his end of the line. “Okay, Blaine,” Cooper continues, not revealing any of the information he uncovered on his web search, “why don’t you head down that hallway and see what else we’re dealing with?”

Blaine lifts the webcam to show the view of the hallway, partially blocked by a mound of what looks like original Care Bears, and columns of stacked board games. Blaine catches sight of a familiar yellow box with the word OPERATION written across the side in red block letters. It immediately brings to mind all those days he spent kneeling at the coffee table in his living room, playing the game over and over…even if he played mostly by himself.

Good times, he thinks. Good times.

At least he has that happy memory to carry with him into the afterlife, because he is fairly certain that he is going to be murdered in this house.

Blaine has never been in a house before that has so much emotion attached to it. In his property searches, Cooper gravitates toward houses previously owned by hoarders since they have the potential to be the most horrendous, but the one thing Blaine has learned by visiting these houses is that hoarders have a tendency to attach importance to the most off-the-wall things.

It’s not the item, of course, but what or who it represents – and the inability to let go.

Maybe he doesn’t always understand the reason behind the hoard, but it breaks his heart to see it every time.

Hoarding toys, though - this he can understand. It’s holding tight to the best part of a person’s life – their childhood.

Blaine makes his way to the hall, opening the last two sets of curtains along the way until the room is nearly, but not quite, cheerful.

Something still troubles him. Something the immense dark wasn’t hiding after all. The feeling of being watched lingers, but it’s joined by a feeling of being called. As insane as it sounds, Blaine feels there’s something in this house that wants him to find it.

When he gets closer to the hallway, he can see that the extreme darkness of this narrow pathway is an illusion. The mountain of toys blocks the living room light head on, and throws shadows along the floor, but as soon as he turns into it, it becomes a tunnel of light. Behind him, the sunlight in the living room extends its way to the hallway. Blaine sees square windows lining the walls, as grimy as the living room windows, but letting in more light as the sun moves across the sky. This space is littered with toys on the floor just like in the living room, but less so because here they also hang from the walls.

“Blaine, is that a puppet?” Cooper asks.

Blaine takes a step back. “I think so.”

“Blaine, turn to the puppet on the wall - the one with the red hair.”

Blaine turns toward the wall, where a row of puppets hang from wires by thumbtacks embedded in the plaster.

“That…that looks like an original Howdy Doody puppet. That’s got to be worth some money. What do you say, Blainers?”

“I imagine so,” Blaine agrees, taking off his mask and stuffing it in his pocket for the time being since the air here doesn’t seem as dusty. He’s getting sweaty with that thing on anyway.

“Don’t you know?” Cooper sounds distracted, and Blaine hears Cooper typing again. “Aren’t you all puppet savvy and whatnot?”

“I make puppets,” Blaine corrects his brother, moving on to the next puppet down the line. “I don’t collect them.”

“Same diff,” Cooper comments. “It’s still creepy as hell. Let’s see the next one.”

The next puppet is an animal puppet, but what kind of animal, Blaine can’t really tell. It might be a horse…or a dog…or a bear. It’s a scruff of brown fur with eyes and a pointy snout. He vaguely recognizes it as being from an old kids’ TV show that he saw mentioned in a documentary about Vaudeville performers on PBS. Blaine looks down the length of the wall ahead of him to where it dips back into the semi-darkness and sees additional animal puppets, most of them from the same show.

The hallway leads straight to the dining room. From where Blaine stands, he sees only two pieces of furniture - a round, wooden table sitting right at the entrance, its top covered in newspapers and photo albums; and a matching China cabinet standing up against a far wall. This room, too, is full of toys, stacked on the floor and along the walls, but the boxes of these toys look better cared for, the colors crisper. These toys are newer, Barbie dolls and G. I. Joes from the last thirty or forty years perhaps. There are so many that Blaine can’t pick out one specific doll or action figure from the lot. But this room has one interesting feature that the living room and hallway don’t have.

There are posters all over the walls, framed beneath glass.

“Jesus H...we can open our own toy store with this much crap,” Cooper mumbles, but Blaine ignores him. He points the webcam at the boxes, but his own focus drifts to the posters. They’re hard to see through the inches of dust obscuring his view, but they look like antique theater posters. He leans in close, careful not to breathe and disturb the micro-organisms snoozing away amidst the crud. He narrows his eyelids and tries to make out the words or the pictures, but the sunlight reflects off the glass and into his eyes. He starts thinking of a way to clean the dust off and examine the poster properly, but a chuckle in his earpiece tips him off that his brother has made a new discovery, and Blaine is going to have to investigate.

“Blaine, I’m looking at the floor plan that the realtor emailed me, and there should be two doors in this room – one with a staircase that goes to the upper level, and one with a staircase that goes down to…” A strain of sinister music plays and Blaine puts a hand to his head, squeezing his eyes shut to banish the headache that’s starting to grow – “the basement.”

Blaine opens his eyes and finds the doors quickly, situated between the China cabinet and a shuttered window. He walks to the window and pulls at the clasp on the shutter. The metal hook has rusted completely into the looped eye it’s been buried in for decades, but Blaine shakes the hook back and forth until it slides free. He pulls open the shutters and smiles. This window isn’t as coated in dirt as the others, and now the room is brightly lit.

“So here’s the question,” Coopers rambles on. “Do we send Blaine upstairs to take a look at the bedrooms, or do we send him downstairs to the basement?”

Blaine hears more tinny, old tyme horror music, with dramatic organ notes playing in a minor chord. He can’t help but laugh. This whole thing is ridiculous, but at least Cooper has found his niche in the world.

Blaine opens the doors one at a time. He knows he’s going to be sent to the basement eventually, so he decides to hurry things along. The staircases are pitch black, but the longer he spends in the house, the less perturbing it seems. He feels like he’s being led along, like a hand is guiding him, and when he opens the door revealing a staircase leading down, he wastes no time.

“Hey, wait!” Cooper objects. “We didn’t finish voting!”

“Too late,” Blaine quips, his feet scuttling down the concrete steps. “You took too long.” He jumps off the last step and is encompassed by another sea of pure inky nothingness, but this time he doesn’t hesitate. He feels around the walls, looking for a fuse box as he makes his way deeper into the room. The air down in the basement is colder, less inviting, and the walls are damp, but that sensation of being called is stronger down here.

It feels urgent, and he actually becomes excited by what he might find down here.

Blaine’s hand crawls across the wall until he hits a covered metal box.

“I think I found the fuse box,” Blaine grunts, pulling at the box, trying to find a way to open it. He tugs it left and right with no success. He considers hitting it with his fist, but the cover suddenly pops off and falls to the floor. Inside the box is a single, long-handled switch. Blaine grabs it and pushes it in an attempt to flip it up. It takes a little shimmying before it flies upward with a loud clack.

Blaine leaps back and waits for the lights to come on.

Nothing happens.

He hears a buzz…then a pop.

A bulb blinks overhead – off…on, off……on – its rhythm punctuated by an unnerving spit. The buzzing gets louder. The popping increases in tempo and becomes a hum. The blinking bulb clicks on and starts crackling. Then it burns. The yellow light from that single bulb lights the entire room. When Blaine can finally see without spots dancing in front of his eyes – a side effect of jumping the terminus between dark and bright – his jaw drops.

Down in this dreary basement is a fully-equipped workshop, with several sturdy work benches lined up in rows, each one running the width of the room and covered in tools – newer shop saws, drills, and lathes sitting alongside older, antique picks and files, along with some handmade metal implements. On a final bench pushed up against the far wall are wooden blanks in all shapes and sizes, and bolts of cloth printed in dated patterns. Above it, more puppets hang from pegs on the wall – bare wooden skeletons, some with porcelain heads, unpainted and unfinished.

“Come on, Blaine,” Cooper says, reminding Blaine that he’s not alone, “pan around and let us get a good look. What’s with all the tools?”

Blaine walks toward a saw that has the partial remains of an unfinished cut piece (an arm, maybe a leg) beneath its blade. The saw looks almost brand new, and the wooden appendage appears freshly cut, with a mound of sawdust collected nearby, as though some craftsman might have been working on it yesterday.

“I think” - Blaine moves down the workbench to examine a lathe - “this is a workshop for making puppets.”

“Geesh. This guy must have had a serious puppet fetish.”

“I don’t usually like to agree with you, Coop,” Blaine says with more fascination than disgust, “but you might be right.”

Blaine’s webcam trails over the many benches, holding saws stopped likewise in the middle of unfinished projects. In the corner sits a squat, oblong kiln, about the size of an average nightstand. He runs his fingers over its surface as he passes by. He stops to peruse the contents of cardboard boxes with their tops hanging open. There are more tools, more wood pieces, more body parts and heads than Blaine has ever seen in his lifetime, definitely more than he had to work with in the arts and crafts class he took at McKinley. Blaine lifts the lens to take in the view of the puppets on the walls, the bolts, and then another door. He comes to a full stop and stares at it. He’s drawn to it, but he doesn’t know why. As Blaine walks toward it, he can hear the rustle of papers and the clattering of computer keys on Cooper’s end of the line.

“Uh, Blaine?”

“Yeah? What is it?” Blaine approaches the door as he speaks. He has a strong feeling that what he’s searching for, what’s calling to him, is somewhere behind this door. He reaches out his hand for the knob when Cooper talks again.

“Be careful when you open that door, Blainers.”

There’s a tone in Cooper’s voice that sends a chill down Blaine’s spine.

“Why is that?” Blaine asks, his fingers resting on the doorknob while he waits for an answer.

“Umm…because that door isn’t on the blueprints.”

Blaine’s brow furrows, but he doesn’t remove his hand.

“What do you mean it’s not on the blueprints?”

“That means there isn’t supposed to be a door there, Blaine. No room, no closet, no staircase. It’s not listed, so just…be careful.”

Blaine breathes in sharply and nods. He understands his brother’s trepidation. Homeowners sometimes do unpermitted renovations on their houses, and a lot of them are unsafe, but Blaine feels very sure that he needs to open the door in front of him.

He grabs the doorknob and holds tight, turning slowly.

The action of the tumblers feels smooth, not sticky or rusted like the other fixtures he’s encountered. He turns the knob till he hears everything unwind, and the door gives. It creaks open, swinging outward easily. The light from the basement breaches the opening, and a shaft of it falls on the floor, filling the room to the left and right of it with shadows. Carpet in a deep crimson color covers the ground. Blaine follows the path of the light with his webcam up from the floor and looks further into the room.

Cooper sees it before Blaine does, and lets out a scream of terror.

“H-holy f-fucking shit, Blaine!” he hears Cooper yell into the earpiece. “Oh my God! Are you seeing this? Go back! Go back down!”

Blaine pans down, following the webcam with his eyes, and his heart leaps into his throat.

Lying on the floor at his feet he sees a partially dismembered body, and a smashed in human head.

[gillywulf]

do not stand at my grave and cry; i am not there. i did not die.

AO3

Summary: Lexa learns what “death is not the end” really means.

~~~

As it comes with thinking of death as often as she did, Lexa liked to imagine the afterlife. That, and it was inescapable.

She thought it might be a place where she would be forced to endure punishment from the lives she’d taken during her own, both as a warrior and a leader. She pictured the scores of fighters and innocent civilians caught in her crossfire and what they might say and do to her. There wasn’t much they could have done in life, but in death, there was nothing to stop them. 

Her surprise was clearly warranted when that was not what awaited her.

When Lexa opened her eyes after closing them for the last time, it was to the clearest skies she’d ever seen and tall swaying grass that proved there was a breeze before her skin ever felt it. It was literally impossible. Her hands patted frantically at her stomach only to feel nothing. It was almost a full minute before her situation sunk in.

This was death. Decent weather and a pretty view.

She walked until she found a matching picturesque forest where light filtered through the canopy and lit up the forest floor in patches. The way it fell on to her skin warmed her more than she thought it ought to. Then, after walking for hours, she came upon a small network of huts. Wary as she was, she took a chance. 

“Hello?” she called out. She positioned herself to be ready for anything, to fight, to flee, to talk. The nearest door opened and she didn’t know which of those options was more appropriate.

“Lexa,” Costia gasped, marching across the distance with urgency, “what are you doing here?” Lexa could barely breathe.

“What?” Costia threw her arms around Lexa’s next and squeezed for the years they had and lost together. Instinctively, Lexa reciprocated. Costia was her first everything and to hold her again was...incredible.

“You shouldn’t be here, not yet” Costia murmured into her neck. Her warm breath tickled Lexa’s skin and it felt too real. Her arms tightened again.

“I swear to fucking- are you kidding me?!” A new voice broke them apart just in time for Lexa to catch a fist to her jaw. She stumbled to the ground, and with a hand to the wound, she gaped up at her attacker. Anya’s eyes had uncharacteristic tears flowing from them. “Why the fuck are you dead?” Oh. Yes. That was why they were upset to see her. “You ungrateful-” Her mentor heaved her off of her ass, “completely stupid-” pulled her into another forceful hug, “idiotic goufa”

“It wasn’t intentional” Lexa argued lightly, allowing herself to feel the relief of seeing her mentor again. Soon enough, Gustus, her parents, and two other Natblidas from her conclave - Oten and Lyt - came out of their huts to admonish her and hold her tightly. It was overwhelming.

She’d been only a few years old when her natblida status had removed her from her parents custody. She’d attempted to find them again once she’d been made Heda only to discover they’d been killed in a bandit raid five years prior. It made her unsure of how to act around them, as with the other natblidas and Gustus, seeing as she had been the one to kill them. All of them assured her as they sat in her parents hut catching up that they harbored no ill will against her. But Lexa still cried and apologized. Only in her death could she have all of the people she loved in one place.

“How did you die?” her mother asked in the contented silence after dinner. All of them watched Lexa expectantly. She was suddenly aware that they must all have been expecting some glorious death fit for Heda of the twelve clans, founder of the Coalition.

“I was shot in the stomach by Fleimkepa Titus. It was an accident,” she admitted softly, “I was not the intended target”

“Who was?” Gustus’s fury was evident in his sharp tone and incensed expression.

Even softer than before; “Clarke” The word was met with silence until Gustus slammed his fists on the table and rose to his feet, quickly turning away. “She is not to blame. Titus is the one who held the weapon and made the decision to shoot-”

“Because of her!” Gustus snapped. “I told you she would kill you!”

Anya tried to step in. “Gus, she may be-”

“No! I will not have this rationalized! Who is Heda now?! A child?!”

“Enough!” Lexa let her authority bleed into the room, causing her most trusted body guard to freeze. “Clarke was leaving Polis at great personal cost. Titus prevented her from leaving and no doubt caused a larger mess than if she were to have left. She was never, and will never be to blame for what happened to me” Her gaze bore into Gustus’s, challenging him.

“You sound awfully sure of this girl” Oten raised a suspicious eyebrow. Hyper-aware of Costia’s presence at the end of the table, Lexa nodded.

“I am”

~

Months passed and Lexa slowly relearned her loved ones, not as Heda or as a potential Heda, but as Lexa the girl. She let herself smile and joke and to feel their love. It was fantastic.

Her father did the same sword twirl that she did, her mother made them same face of annoyance. Oten and Lyt’s maturity had grown beyond their outward appearances to match the man and woman they would have become. Gustus showed her his whittling hobby and the many small animals he spent his day making. Anya demanded to spar with her at every opportunity and still corrected her even when Lexa won most of them. Costia spoke with her about the event that ended her life and let Lexa cry until she was certain she felt no grief for it.

She settled in her own hut just out of eyesight from the others and found another small cluster of huts on the opposite side of hers with a nice eyed middle aged man who called himself Jake and a boy who called himself Wells. Lexa knew instantly who they were and began having regular lunches with them, trying her best not to reveal who she was.

It was the happiest she’d ever been in her life and the irony didn’t escape her.

On almost a year to the day she’d arrived, Lexa wandered over to Jake and Wells’s huts for a lunch. Like usual, it was a perfectly sunny day with a perfectly balanced breeze. After the healing she felt getting reacquainted with her family, Lexa found the days that much more beautiful and relished each breath she took (though she was well aware there was no expiration date this time, which made her feel all the more ridiculous for not wanting to take it all for granted).

Something was different the moment she stepped from the tree line. Usually, one of her two new friends would be there to greet her, eager to catch up with her, but there was no one there. With a frown, she pushed on. Their huts weren’t a far distance from the tree line so it wasn’t long before Lexa pressed her back to the side of Jake’s hut. Cautiously, she peered around the corner. 

In the center of the small cluster was what seemed to be a group hug. She could see Wells, Jake, the woman who had been introduced to Lexa as Wells’s mother, and another couple she’d met. All of them were huddled around someone with blonde hair.

Her heart stopped. Of course Jake chose that moment to turn around.

“Lexa! I’m so sorry neither of us met you,” he wiped tears from his eyes and she finally got a good view of the blonde in his arms.

Clarke. Clarke.

“Lexa” the love of her life mumbled in disbelief. She disentangled herself from her friends and family and sprinted towards Lexa. She looked good was the first thing that came to Lexa’s mind. In all fairness, she never thought anything less of Clarke, but to see her in person, there was no way she could think anything else.

She caught Clarke around the waist and tugged her close, her hands stroking at her hair and back like she’d never done it before. She smelled like the most fragrant flower, the ocean in the morning, a fruit after the first bite. If Lexa had nothing but this for the rest of eternity, she would be okay with that. Clarke pulled back enough to look her square in the eyes and oh that ocean analogy was certainly apt. Clarke’s eyes seemed brighter by the perfect sunlight and the tears shining in them.

“So we met again” she couldn’t help but say. Though Clarke’s laugh was garbled by the sob, she still leaned forward to kiss her. It was desperate and rough, but Lexa kept it in mind that they would have eternity for softness and gentleness. She brushed her thumb over Clarke’s skin just to feel her. When they felt that pesky need to breathe, they pulled apart and Clarke dropped her forehead to Lexa’s collarbone.

“I watched you die” It was barely above a whisper, but it rattled Lexa’s very bones. She could see how much it destroyed Clarke as it happened - the tears and screaming and frantic hands trying fruitlessly to save her - and she had already endured the deaths of people she cared about. Lexa never wanted to be among them.

“And now we get to live” she promised.

~

Lexa and Clarke woke up to each other every morning. They made breakfast and prepared for the day before splitting their time between their families, Lexa’s mother doted and Clarke and Jake nearly burst into tears when the pair of them told him their story. Anya seemed less than excited to see Clarke, but she was happy to realize that she hadn’t been shot in the back for nothing (Lexa, learning of the fact for the first time was alarmed, but they both assured her they hadn’t known it was coming).

Some days they would spend only in the comfort of one another. Lexa may have spent the day teaching Clarke to fight, or Clarke may have drawn as Lexa napped in her lap. but the most amazing thing was that it all happened without the burden of others. Neither were worrying about the impact of their choices or the choices of others.

This was death; in love and at peace.

[mysidewriting]

Through the Storm

From the start --> Previous Chapter

Chapter Three

The morning sun glinted through Lillie's bedroom window, a sun catcher fracturing the light into rainbows across the far wall of the room. She had insisted on me staying at her house after I'd explained my father's horrible choice.

Lillie, asleep in her large bed at the moment, had suggested I send either Hau or Kukui to my mother before breaking the news to her. She wouldn't be alone when her heart was shattered, at least. I'd sent Hau a message before going to sleep the night before - instructing him to call me when time permitted.

Kukui was already busy covering my position as champion and I'd hate to push more duties on him... if it weren't for that I would have sent him instead of Hau. The professor was clearly a better option for comforting my mother as he was a bit closer to her age and more experienced with emotions than the twenty year old guy.

Maybe I should just ask Kukui if he could, maybe it's not busy out there...

It was just before nine am and the house was completely silent. I shifted my position on the couch so I could see more of Lillie's bedroom, one of the few rooms that was very thoroughly decorated.

She had hung up all the pictures Hau, Gladion, and I had sent her over the years around the perimeter of her room. A collage of what I imagined were her favorites were pinned up on a tack board near her door. I could see various faces and Pokémon and places in Alola. One photo in the center had been surrounded by little curly hearts, hand drawn by Lillie. The photo held both my and Hau's grinning faces and a sightly less somber expression across Gladion's face.

A smirk tugged at the corner of my lips, the picture on that board reminding me that there was still plenty of reason to be happy about moving to Alola. I had never once had a friend group like the one I had now. I'd had one or two decent friends while in Kanto, but I'd never gotten close enough with them to even bother keeping in touch after I'd moved. Hau and the two siblings were amazing friends and I didn't even want to imagine life without any of them. Even if things had gone a little rotten with my parents... I'd made some of the best friends of my life, became the champion of a region, was able to support my mother and myself financially, my mother's health and general happiness had increased exponentially, and I now had a full team of loving Pokémon on my side.

My mother and I would get through this. Everything would be okay in the end. If I just focused on the positives of everything, I'd be fine and I could make sure my mother was as well.

Muffled vibrations dragged my attention down to my phone. I scooped it up and quickly answered Hau's call.

"Hello" I said in the quietest voice I could manage, not wanting to wake Lillie.

"Hey, Moon! Good morning!" He paused, "It is morning by you, right?"

"Yes, just turned 9 here." I looked up to Lillie as she shifted around in her bed, muttering unintelligible words in her sleep.

"Whoa, that's a big time difference!" Hau crowed over the line in amazement. "That's six hours!"

I bit back a laugh, "yeah, it took a long time to get here. Only time I have to take a plane though."

Hau was silent for a moment, the sound of rolling waves echoing through the speaker on his end. "We're pretty bummed you're gone, Moon." His voice had turned melancholic so quickly. "Six months is a long time."

I sighed, "I know. I'm sorry but I really wanted to go, I get to see the world basically. For free!"

"I know but like... Now I can't see or battle my best friend for half a year and man was Gladion torn up when he found out." He complained.

I stayed silent for a moment this time, baffled by his words. "Gladion was upset?"

"Yeah! Like super bummed, dude. He was going to actually hangout with me last night and he just never showed up after that."

I let out a short burst of a laugh before I managed to stop myself, Lillie stirred and stretched and I inwardly swore at myself repeatedly, "I don't think that's weird, Hau. That sounds normal for him."

"Good morning." Lillie crooned in a groggy voice and a small smile on her lips.

I passed her a silent wave in response.

"No! I called him when he didn't show up and he was totally upset." Hau defended, a Pokémon called out at him and he squeaked in surprise before laughing it off. "Is Lillie up? I heard her voice!"

I refuse to believe Gladion was actually upset over me being gone. He was so stoic and unemotional in response to so many things, why would my departure bum him out like this? He hadn't even been that upset when his whole family left for Kanto for years, sure that was a totally different situation... but the sister he had just reacquainted with and his healing mother were just gone.

There had to be something else... I'll just call him later, make sure he's okay and nothing happened.

Shaking my head from the thoughts I responded to Hau finally, telling him Lillie had only just woken up and wasn't fully conscious or responsive yet.

He giggled, excited to hear anything about her in general. "How cute." His voice was a jokingly high pitched noise.

"Anyway, Hau. I did actually need to ask you something." I said, trying to rope this conversation back to its purpose.

"Yeah, what's going on?"

Taking in a deep breath I managed to quickly sputter out what had happened, "My dad is cheating on my mom, I found out yesterday. Obviously, I need to tell her about it but I know she's going to be really upset and I don't want her to be alone when I do. So I was just going to ask you if you could hang out with my poor mother for today."

He didn't say anything for a moment before sucking in his own breath, "Holy Miltank, Moon. I'm sorry that happened... I can go see your Mom."

"Thank you, Hau. I'd really appreciate if you could keep her company for me. I'm going to talk to Kukui about it too, I'm sure he could help somehow."

"Your mom is a great lady, she's like an Aunt to me. So I'll do anything to help both of you out." He said, his voice wavering a tone over sounding upset.

"Thank you. Send me a text when your there so I can call her." I mumbled, noticing that Lillie had just sat upright and was moving out of her bed.

"Will do! I'll finish up with my training and head over to Aunties house." He laughed, "Talk later, Moon."

The call cut and I set my phone back on the ground, swinging my full attention around to the sleepy blonde seated on the bed. She had a soft smile on her mouth and seemed curious of what I was up too.

"Was that Hau?" She asked.

I nodded, "He's going to go to my mom’s house later on, to keep her company."

"Oh that's good!" She replied cheerfully.

Lillie and I grabbed breakfast and chatted for a few hours before going out to explore the areas around Cerulean. She wanted to show off her new Pokémon battling skills, and her small but growing team.

She had an ivysaur, butterfree, horsea, and pidgeot currently. The small team was already rather well acquainted and seemed to cooperate well, surprisingly. Lillie didn't struggle against the trainers who challenged her around the neighborhood.

Once we got a bit out of town I let Null out to walk and Lillie jumped away out of surprise. Apparently Gladion had never told her about a second experiment or that he had given me the Pokémon to train. I had her stroke the beast's feathered mane to help her relax and realize it wasn't dangerous. While she was doing that I attempted to clear my mind of worried thoughts of her brother by having her pidgeot catch berries tossed into the air.

While wandering near the river we happened upon this cave in the side of a large cliff. There was a small opening that seemed to open up to a large walled in area and our curiosity peaked. There was a man standing outside the cave that would not let us in unless we proved we were champions. He apparently worked for the Kanto league but was not a part of the elite four and clearly not the champion.

I showed him my passport that had been stamped in each time I defeated a trial and when I had become champion. All he saw was my name on the first page and he agreed to let me in only after leaving a strict warning about dangerous Pokémon. He nearly turned Lillie away but I threatened him with Null and he left the entrance of the cave without another word.

It was nearly pitch black inside, the only light source coming from our phones built in flashlights. We wandered for a bit, being careful to step over large cracks and holding hands near gorges. I hadn't expected the terrain to be the dangerous part of the cave. Lillie nearly slipped down a ravine we were walking past and both Null and I caught her before she could tumble down. She was much more hesitant about where she stepped after that.

We did find a few golbat and gravelers that were far too strong for Lillie's Pokémon to handle. I warded them off with a few attacks from my dragonair, Tsunami, and eventually they stopped appearing from the shadows.

We went as deep as we could before the paths got so tight and small that we no longer felt comfortable walking around. It was disappointing to turn around as I could have sworn I saw a slightly lit room beyond the tight passage, some sort of podium in the center. I would have loved to search deeper but Lillie was getting claustrophobic and I was afraid to go alone or leave her alone. I vowed to come back again sometime, with more Pokémon or someone else who wanted to explore a deep mysterious cave. Maybe either Green or Red would be willing.

Apparently Hau had talked to Kukui for me, so both of them were at my mother's house when I called her. Her voice was barely audible over the loud laughter of the two men as they played some goofy board game together.

My mom sounded happy, clearly having fun with the guys as I expected she would even if it had just been Hau. We talked calmly for a while, discussing my time in Kanto and avoiding speaking of my father. I told her about the new Pokémon I had caught and how I'd surprised Lillie the day before.

It wasn't until our little catching up died down that I took in a long breath and let it out slowly, saying I had to tell her something important.

"What's that?" She asked.

"While I was at Dad's house... I saw him with some other lady. Not just hanging out, they were kissing." I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

My mom was silent.

"I'm so sorry, Mom. I had to tell you right away, but I feel so bad that I can't be there with you." I said, my voice wobbled with tears that were filling my eyes.

"It's okay, Moon. Thank you for telling me." She said, her voice eerily quiet and controlled.

"I want to help you through this if I can." I sniffled. Lillie reached across the couch to hold and squeeze my hand in reassurance.

"I will let you know if I need anything. I'm going to take some time to calm down and try to think straight before I call him and discuss the issue." She stated in a very businesslike tone.

It was relieving to hear her so calm, but I worried for heart and thoughts. At least she could control her emotions. "That's a good idea, Mom. Please remember that all of us are here for you, Kukui, Hau, and me."

"I will, hon. Thank you."

An hour after I had gotten off the phone with Mom I got a text from Hau, saying that she was planning on calling Dad tomorrow since it was already so late in Alola. I thanked him for helping out and told him to thank Kukui as well. I relayed this news to Lillie and she sighed, a lost look on her face. Her eyes staring a thousand miles beyond what could be seen out the window.

"I can't believe a man could be so piggish." She said in a small voice, her words uncharacteristically harsh. Her distant eyes suddenly flicked to meet mine, wide and worried of what I'd think of saying something so negative of my father.

"You would think they'd grow out of it at some point!" I retorted, hoping the harsh tone in my own voice would reassure her that I did not mind at all. My father was more than deserving of harsh words. "Especially a married man."

She nodded, gaze traveling back out the window. "I just need to believe they aren't all like that."

"They aren't!" I said quickly, "there's just a lot of muk mixed in with the good. Obviously Hau and Gladion aren't total douches."

I watched as her cheeks turned slightly pink and her eyes shifted to look at her lap, twirling her fingers around. A small smirk spread across my lips and I jumped at the chance of having a lighter conversation, so I prodded her... "You're blushing. You really do like Hau, don't you?"

She seemed shocked, the color of her skin going from pink to white to pure red, then she nodded somewhat reluctantly. "He's just so sweet."

My small smirk turned into a full on grin to see her admit to these feelings she'd been denying for so long. "He is sweet, he's a great guy and I think you two would be more than perfect together."

"Thanks, Moon." She giggled, "I doubt anything will happen though."

"Why not." I chided.

Her head shook, "I'm in Kanto, and he’s in Alola."

"That's not reason enough." I crossed my arms across my chest defiantly.

"I don't want to start anything over the phone or text or even video chat. If we did start dating, I'd want to start in person at least." She said with a pout.

My face fell and I nodded, "yeah that makes sense." It would be hellish for them to try to date when they were so far apart. It wouldn't be as fulfilling. I still hoped it would work somehow though. Since I was the in between friend I knew that Hau felt the same for her.

She smiled kindly, "maybe I'll go see him soon." She paused, holding a single finger over her bottom lip as she thought. "Well not soon though since it'd be a waste to go if you’re not there too."

Something in my chest panged, what felt like a void opened up in the pit of my stomach and I tried to ignore the guilt seeping in over my six month trip. I couldn't consider the delay in the two of them dating my fault, I knew I couldn't... shouldn't. But I still felt bad.

She suddenly changed the subject, "what about you, Moon? Any secret crushes I don't know about?" Her head tilted to the side, her long blonde hair sliding off her shoulder and brushing against my arm.

"I don't think so." I laughed.

Her eyebrows dropped low, quizzical. "What do you mean you don't think so?" She laughed at that too, "you can't answer that question like that."

I frowned, my stomach twisted in nerves and my heart seemed to pick up pace... like I was responding the wrong way. Like there was someone I had a crush on, but I just couldn't say that I did. There wasn't someone on my mind more than others... "I don't know." I shrugged, "honestly, I really don't know."

She didn't like the answer whatsoever but she dropped the subject anyway, asking if I wanted to stay over for the night again to which I agreed. We settled into her room and threw on some movie she'd been dying to watch lately. I made her text Hau while watching it, even if she didn't have anything to say... they ended up texting the rest of the night.

Around ten, I had laid down on the couch for the night when my phone vibrated. I'd just plugged it in as the day of constantly being either on call or texting had completely sapped the battery. Lillie, who was still invested in whatever it was her and Hau were talking about, hadn't even noticed it.

G//watt tiem aer u

I stared at the text, trying to make sense of the scattered words and why the hell they'd be coming from Gladion's phone.

M//sorry, what?

G//tiem //ito //fuc //f u c k ! //t I m e

Laughter burst out of my mouth, "Lillie, your brother texted me."

"Okay? Why are you laughing at that?" She asked, looking confused.

I held my phone out to her so she could see the messy crap he had sent me. "Look at his messages."

She scoffed, "is he drunk?!" Her voice came out in nearly a shout, her desk light turning on.

I sat upright and pulled my phone back over to see the mess. "Is he?" He doesn't drink.

"I don't know why else he'd be sending stuff like that this late at night! It's nearly four in the morning there!" She shouted, "but my brother doesn't drink?"

M//Gladion, are you drunk?

G//no //myb //watt t I m e is you

I showed Lillie the garbled words he'd sent and she shook her head, obviously very annoyed. "I don't know why he's doing this." She laid back down in bed, clutching her phone close to her face. "I don't want to know why."

After the things I'd heard from Hau, I was worried to see him like this. So instead of continuing with this messy form of communication I called him. I'd totally forgotten I was planning on doing so tonight anyway.

"You're calling him?" Lillie asked, "why?"

"Because I'm worried." I muttered, listening to the tones ring out until finally it picked up, loud static coming from the other end momentarily before I heard him swear and it stopped.

"Oy." His voice was far too loud on my speaker and I flinched.

"Gladion?" I asked, hoping he would unknowingly follow the volume of my voice and quiet down so I didn't have to hold my phone so far from my ear.

"Ya... what?" He snapped, sounding tired.

"Are you okay? Are you drinking?"

He let out a short, loud laugh. "Drinkin' what? Jus’ taking the edge off." He slurred, confirming my thoughts.

"What?" I snapped, "Gladion, isn't it almost four?"

"Who is this?"

"It's Moon!" I looked to Lillie who was shocked, she rolled her eyes. I can't believe this is happening!

"Shit..." He dragged the word out for a long time, ending it with a chuckle. "The moon can't talk, what you sayin'?"

Ouch...? He couldn't even remember who I was right now? "No! Moon! The person, you know? Your friend who is very worried about you right now!"

"Why worried? Why would anyone be worried?" His laughter was much more chilling this time. "Moon... yah, no reason to worry."

I felt a little sick hearing his words but I brushed it off. He's drunk. Nothing he says means anything at all. "Well I am worried, and I think you should stop drinking and go to bed."

"Moon?" He slurred my name and I shuddered. "Where are you?"

"I'm in your sister's room... we were just about to go to bed! Since it's so late!" I retorted.

"Oh" he dragged that noise out as well, "right." I heard a loud 'thud' noise and my heart stopped for a moment, waiting for his voice again. "It is late... too late."

"Yes it's time for bed. Please stop drinking."

"Yes yes yes... no. No! I still have two drink." He snapped.

"You don't need to finish everything! Arceus, how much did you drink?" I didn't want to call the Alola police at this time...

"No no. Two sip." He chuckled.

I sighed, rubbing at my face. Lillie shut off the light. "Please make sure my brother doesn't kill himself. I'm going to try to sleep." She said, muffled by the fluff of the pillow.

"Gladion, go lay down. Please?" I pleaded with him.

"Fine fine fine." He grumbled, I heard bottles clinking on his end then the sound of a chair sliding out. "Goodbye, Moon."

The call ended and I flopped backwards onto the couch, my phone flying out of my hand. My chest still ached with worry that he could hurt himself like this... why did he drink so much?

My eyes shut and I attempted to let the thoughts and worries drift away with my sleep. I didn't have the time to be worrying over a drunk friend when my mother was having issues. A short burst of stress and anxiety gripped me, there's so much to worry about right now though. So much guilt, so much sadness, so much worry.

G//Hey

M//Hey! How's your head?

G//I've never had this bad of a headache //I haven't even left bed. //I'm sorry for texting you while drunk

M//it's okay haha //you know I talked to you over the phone too, right?

G//Shit, really? //Did I say anything stupid?

M//nothing worth mentioning

G//Arceus. I'm sorry, Moon.

M//Don't worry about it //why'd you drink so much though...? It's not like you. //I'm kinda worried...

Gladion stopped replying in a timely matter after I'd sent those messages and I sighed in frustration. It was just my luck for him to get distracted the minute I asked the question I wanted answered. Lillie criticized me when I expressed my concerns for her brother. Calling him a drunkard. I was surprised to hear something so negative out of her, the two of them were not in good standing at the moment. I wonder if that's what he's bummed about?

Professor Oak had left me a voice message, reminding me of the time and location of our meeting the next day. Pallet Town wasn't far from Cerulean and as such I was able to spend most of the day with Lillie again.

We spent a lot of time outside of town again, battling trainers and Pokémon so Lillie's team could get stronger. I eventually agreed to have a battle with her after explaining that I would go easy on her. Even though the Pokémon I had befriended in Kanto were far less trained and experienced than my normal team, they were still stronger than hers. Her ivysaur managed to take out my clefairy with a few poison hits but everything else on her team was far too easily swept by my dragonair. I felt bad that she hadn't been able to put up more of a fight but she was just excited to get the experience in general.

My mother called later in the day while Lillie and I were getting a late lunch. She had called my father and discussed the issue and I wasn't even surprised to hear the word divorce. Her voice wavered as she said it, the only expression of pain I heard from her. She claimed that she was spending a lot of her time today with friends in Iki Village and Kukui had agreed to take her to dinner. I told her I would try to go back to Alola if I had the chance, even if it was just a few days. She claimed it was not necessary though, she wanted me to get the most out of this trip as I could.

"I'll be fine alone, Moon. I promise." She had said sweetly. "It's not like this is all that surprising, my heart was more ready for it than I thought."

After finishing the call with her I had to sit for a few minutes and digest the fact that my parents were separating. Being twenty years old, I thoroughly believe I would never be one of the kids who had to go through a parental divorce. My parents had been happy, they'd been happy even after my mother was diagnosed and she wasn't able to do as much. I had never even considered that the two of them would decide to divorce.

My chest ached with the heavy thoughts and my eyes watered. Lillie attempted to cheer me up just by changing the subject - talking about her conversations with Hau the previous night. I listened and grinned as she let her excitement show through, but my chest still felt heavy and I had to wipe tears from my eyes repeatedly.

G//I don't know... I wasn't thinking.

M//why would you suddenly decide to just get drunk? I thought you hated alcohol??

G// I do

M//then what's going on?

The sun set and I said my goodbyes to Lillie and her mother. She offered to have me stay at her house again after my week with the professor was over, I needed a place to stay now anyway - considering I had no interest in seeing my father any time soon - so I accepted the offer. Our goodbyes were only momentary, making my leave much less depressing than it would have been otherwise.

The moonlight lit my way as I walked with Null towards Pallet Town. It was a long walk but I appreciated the quiet time and chance to be alone with my Pokémon. My mind was plagued with thoughts of my parents, my childhood, and the stubborn guy who couldn't focus on his phone long enough to finish a conversation.

I stroked Type: Null's side, remembering the first time I had met it. The way it'd growled at me until I offered it a berry and a loving pat on its chest... the way Gladion watched the two of us with this smug look of approval on his face.

Null leaned into my hand with a grumble of satisfaction and I chuckled. It had grown fond of me in the last few months and I hoped that meant it would evolve soon.

Red and Green lived in Pallet Town, so once I arrived in the little residential village I was immediately welcomed by the ladder of the two. Green's cocky grin was refreshing to see after walking for a good couple hours in near darkness. He directed me towards his house, where his sister also lived currently and I plopped onto his couch with a heavy thud. Null, who had refused to go back into its pokeball, took a seat at my feet and sighed.

It was only nine pm according to my half dead phone, yet my body was tired enough for it to be one am. Green let me sleep in one of his guest bedrooms without even asking if I needed a place to stay.

"It's like you knew I needed a bed for the night." I said as he opened the door to the made up guest room for me.

"Of course I did, kid. You’re homeless right now." He laughed.

I shot him a joking glare, "I wouldn't say homeless... but maybe something like that"

He waved me off, and exited the room. "Whatever. Get some good rest, my gramps has a lot planned for ya tomorrow."

I thanked Green before he shut the door and I fell backwards onto the big bed. Null flopped onto the floor beside it and purred momentarily, making me giggle. I savored the feeling of the soft blankets against my skin and the soft bed supporting my stiff back. After a few nights of sleeping on a couch, it was heavenly.

G//what are you so concerned about, Moon? //I can drink if I want too.

M//am I not allowed to be worried about you?

G//I just don't get why...?

M//because I care about you.

G//...

M//just please don't hurt yourself doing stupid stuff, Gladion.

G//only if you do the same.

M//I'm not doing anything dangerous?

G//I don't trust you to keep it that way.

M//and whys that huh??!

G//You made stupid decisions in Alola, why would you make better choices in Kanto?

M//What stupid choices did I make?!

G//running into a dangerous desert alone //walking through mt.lanikala in the middle of the night alone //chasing the damn ultra beats alone //going to ULTRA SPACE alone... because, and I quote, "why not?"

M//hey I didn't get hurt though~

G//Half the times it was because I found you and made you stop. //I can't do that if you're in Kanto.

M//all you did those times was yell at me! Hahaha

G//It made you stop! //Just be safe, Moon.

Apparently it was my turn to stay up late talking to someone. I passed out typing out another text to Gladion, remarking about how he had turned the whole point of the conversation around on me and it was actually impressive. I forced myself to not calculate what time he had been up too.

He gave me shit for keeping him up once he'd woken up, which I did figure out - 2 in the afternoon. I made sure to make it obvious that he could have gone to bed whenever he wanted too.

Note:I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I think I'll be posting new chapters every Wednesday and Sunday as long as conditions stay the same and my writing stays consistent. I'm actually like five chapters ahead so everything should keep going well c: I'd love to hear what you guys think of this, if you feel like saying anything about it! Thanks again~