#i wonder what they would call it.. would it even be just brasil? i guess not. it would probably be a mix of latam

[couriwaytown]

they should make a sonic unleashed 2 and have the have new countries to visit and they should make one based on brazil. sonic come to brasil!!!!!! please!!!!!!!!!!!

[materialogy]

It’s December 31, 2021. I’m sitting in the parking lot of the only business that will be open until midnight in a tiny ghost town outside of Big Bend National park. I saw a balloon trellis with “2022” decorating it earlier so I figured I might find some people to Hollar in the new year with here.

My service is full bars, 3G – much better than I thought it would be! So no data transfer. I have tried video chatting, posting, and sending people pictures but alas, the service only works for text and phone calls. I figured I would sit here and think about my year, where has it gone? We say that every year, as if we blink and memories of the past revolution around the sun flash before our eyes. I feel compelled to share how my year has gone. Call it loneliness? The lack of human beings I have seen that I care about, that care about me? That’s not to discredit the 100s of strangers I’ve had lovely (and not so lovely lol) interactions with in the past month and a half.

I started my year in Massachusetts, my home town, in my childhood yard with my oldest friend and my family, burning Christmas trees as is tradition on New Year’s Eve – but at a much smaller scale due to a certain pandemic. I got some ski runs in at the slopes of Loon mountain the next day, in another state that I absolutely adore (♥️New Hampshire♥️)

I drove back to my actual home of 5 years, Lima Ohio, to go back to work and begin construction of the $5,000 PC my employer trusted me to build (how did I get here lol, if you asked me what I thought my future career would be before college, I would have said “as far away from the IT field as possible”)

I took and passed a test to become a certified drone pilot by the FAA. Since passing, I have flown my drone over various scenery and cities in 14 states and counting.

I spun fire for the first time in a rock garden that is like nothing you’ve ever seen before with a dear friend. What a wonderful, powerful experience! This garden is in the back yard of a sweet, eccentric man in the hometown of Neil Armstrong, Wapakoneta. My Ohio people know 😏 I went on to spend every Thursday evening this summer jamming out vocally and on my mandolin with a group of 10-20 older musicians who I might categorize as the original hippies? Lol

I danced with great friends in the back room of a vape shop that I met from a video gig I had at the beginning of the pandemic. I picked up the bass guitar, an instrument that literally makes me feel like the most badass lady on the planet even though I am at a below beginner level haha.

I took pictures with my first film camera, and had a friend come over and teach me how to develop it myself in my dark bathroom. Definitely gave me an admiration for the blind! The film strip hung to dry on my shower curtain rod until I was able to invert the negative and see my extreme inexperience with the original medium of photography LOL.

I flew to Florida in March with two people, I now consider family after years of friendship in Ohio. We had a great time sitting by the pool and laying on the beach until we got back to the car to see the $120 ticket because we were so excited to run to the beach that we forgot to pay for parking! That was fun. NOT

Later in the year, I went on to participate in the marriage of these too amazing people shortly after buying their first home in the poppin’ town of Columbus, Ohio. Love you guys big time.

I got inked for the first time since I was 18! One cute and impulsive tattoo of a little bee, and one tattoo I’ve been talking about getting since I was 17 with my non blood sister ♥️. I’m blessed by the people in my life! And guess who the artist was? Another stunning soul I have gotten to know in the past two years, who has just finished building her schoolie to live and travel in!

That same artist friend of mine went on to give me the honor of tattooing her! A little brasil philodendron now resides on her shin by my hand. Love you Caroline ♥️

This year I bought new rollerblades and have traveled the country putting 100s of miles on them in various cities: San Francisco, Boston, Charlotte, Savannah, Tampa, New Orleans etc etc.

I took an exhilarating pre-travel flight to San Francisco with my covid raincheck ticket and visited with my aunt and uncle for nearly 2 weeks. Exploring the city, hiking the Bay Area elevation, singing in karaoke bars in Japantown, painting in an iconic art studio, flying the drone over their neighborhood. The memories are warm in my heart.

This year I parted ways with my partner of 5 years.

This year I packed up my entire life and the home I had spent 4 years in. (That’s a long time for a 23 year old!) I sold many earthly possessions, I packed my cats, I packed my piano, I packed my memories.

I moved my things to my parents house. &&& let me just take a moment to thank them for how wonderful and understanding they’ve been.

When I told them, hey, I know this sounds crazy, but I NEED to blow my savings traveling the country living in my car, they were not totally on board lol. But they ultimately understood that this was what I needed before the next job, and there’s no words that I could say to thank them enough for supporting me and for watching my cats and my greenhouse volume of plants while I go through my existential crisis that has lead me over 5,000 miles around the American continent.

I have been on the road for nearly a month and a half. I have hiked mountains, danced with strangers, kayaked with manatees, flown in a 2-person plane that is triple my age, explored museums and walked through historical locations. I have been sun kissed and sunburnt. I have spent all night changing the alternator in my car in the Walmart parking lot of a small Louisiana town. I have made coffee under many skies and on many beaches. I have superglued homemade window covers to the glass of my car because I’m tired of them falling on me in my sleep. I have cooked Mac and cheese in the top level of a parking garage at 2am cause what else am I gonna do when I’m hungry on bourbon street?

And now here I am, in a rural (understatement) town about a rocks throw from the Mexico border. I’m about halfway through my trip and if I was looking for answers to what I should do next or what my purpose is, I don’t think I’m gonna find that on the road.

What I have found is one hell of a life changing experience.

Reader, if you’re still there, here are a few excerpts from my travel journal entries:

“Slept in my first Walmart parking lot last night among a fleet of RVs, felt safer that way. Minutes from Folly Beach, SC, but I will drive inland soon to see an old friend. I’ll come back here tonight”

“Skated 4 miles on the Tampa riverwalk today and got a nice shower.”

“I am drawing some mutant palms among the yellow umbrellas & blue chairs on Treasure island. The Cabana boy told me yesterday that if I came back today, I could have a free cabana for the day.

& so I sit on the blue chairs under the yellow cabana, wondering how I found myself in such a beautiful moment.

Another day at the beach on Treasure island.”

“My skin is burnt from Florida’s hot rays. I thought it was kissed but my northern complexion was unprepared for the beating sun.

My eyes are crusted from dried tears.

A vagabond life I live.”

“Parked on the wharf, 2:00am, my eyes open to the sound of cooing owls. I decide to head out

To the beach I go, away from the little key that has a population of 700.

Tires screech to a stop on the bridge over the water leaving the town. The sky is stunning.

I have lost track of the amount of shooting stars my eyes have absorbed. It’s 3:20 am.”

“Overcast commanded the sky when I arrived in Panama City this morning. It seemed to swallow the high that was brought on by the clear night sky. I had a frustrating time with my stove as I lugged it through the sand. Complete with coffee supplies and complications, but I was determined to make my morning cup of Joe by the water.”

“Shards from massive sand dollars cover the white sand that is clustered into drifts like that of snow. It’s funny how I’m down where the weather is temperate, yet my mind goes to the cruel and icy landscape that is New England.”

“Skated around and fell with my coffee. I smell like coffee”

“I stayed in a parking garage and it was terrible. People were honking at every corner of the windy, multilevel structure. The sounds bounced off the concrete walls all night.”

“Hah my Friday night did not go as planned. I ended up staying up all night replacing the alternator in my car in a town I drove to to DoorDash. I woke up in that town and now I hit the road. Houston here I come.”

“Fire twirls before my eyes on the rooftop of a warehouse littered by art and junk at every level. Who knew this could be found on Houston’s Main Street.”

“Today I left the ground.

Today I soared the skies.

Today I coasted above the land that I have spent most of my life walking, driving, skating, swimming, climbing on.

It took me sideways.

It took my breath away.”

“The crumbly trail twists and turns as I follow it. I twist and turn like the water once did.”

[biandanxious18]

When I was a kid, I had really long, hip-long hair, I remember. Then when I was 6 I decided I wanted it cut really short - boy-short -, not for any specific reason other than I thought it was pretty, I think I had seen it on women at the time, on TV too, and I thought it looked cute. It wasn’t about being rebellious or gender-non-conforming. I was 6. I thought it was cute. The length that in english you’d call pixie-cut, I guess, but in Brasil we call it “joãozinho”, which means “little john”.

My parents got me and all of my friends together on my birthday, we took a trip to my grandparents’ at the beach. My mom tied my hair in a braid and cut it for me. I went to the mirror and said I wanted it shorter. She cut it shorter. My mom always cut my hair when I was a kid. She cut and dyed her own hair too.

Anyways, in retrospect I think that was pretty badass of me. Little 6yo going “shorter”. I liked pink. I liked princesses. I had a phase where I refused to wear anything that wasn’t a dress. I just thought it’d be cute, I think. Or no, actually I just wanted to do it. I have no idea how my dad felt about it. He didn’t like to let my brother do overly feminine things, but I think he was mostly scared he’d be bullied for it. I don’t know. My dad is a feminist. He cries. He’s a bit sexist and a bit homophobic at times but he doesn’t want to be. He’s trying.

My mom is also a feminist, even though she says she enjoyed the attention of being cat-called by creepy, old men in the street. “It’s a compliment”. She says she misses it, made her feel young, pretty and thin, I guess. My mom is beautiful. I don’t know why I felt the need to say that.

She always cut my hair when I was a kid, but around my pre-teens I started to go to hairdressers. I’d always go through a somewhat yearly cycle of letting my hair grow, wanting it long, getting tired of it, wanting it short, getting it cut, loving it, wanting it long. Except when I didn’t love it, of course. I remember back in 2018 I got a haircut and it looked awful. I went home, crawled in bed with my mom and cried, I hated it so much. In retrospect, I don’t know why I didn’t do anything about it, didn’t re-cut it or something, I just grew it out.

I started dying my hair red in 2016. First time I did it at the hairdresser too. Expensive as shit. I didn’t like it. I said I did. To the lady, and whoever asked, and even myself. But I didn’t, it didn’t look how I wanted it to. Next time I did it at home. My mom dyed it for me because she knew how to. To get the roots and the back and all. I really liked it. I loved it. I never dyed my hair at the hairdresser again.

After that terrible 2018 cut I grew it out. Didn’t feel the urge to cut it the following year - or fought it off, I don’t know. When 2020 came around, my hair was the longest and most beautiful it had been in I don’t even know how long. The red really suited me too. People - my friends - couldn’t even imagine me without it, and when I would think of shaving the side of my head, for instance, I actually imagined it growing back red. It was part of me, even though it was fake.

Anyways, a month into the pandemic I shaved it all off. Clean zero, no mercy, didn’t spare a centimetre. Shaved it off. To be fair, it felt like it had been way more than a month by that point. It felt like it had been forever. I think I wanted something fresh, something new, something different and bold and radical and mine. And if it looked awful nobody would see it anyways. Once in a lifetime opportunity - hopefully.

I loved shaving my head. I had my friends on a video call. My mom helped with the back that time too. I have the whole thing recorded, took about 10 minutes. I loved it. It was cold in my scalp though. It was fun.

I wonder what my grandma thought of it. Or my grandpa. My dad liked it. Said I looked like an orthodox jewish woman a bit. I could see that.

But I remember this one time. Not too many months later, a couple maybe, we went to visit my grandparents at the beach. And by that point I wasn’t going outside much, but the beach was such a wide, open space, we could social distance to a safe measure. So I went. And at some point I decided to take a walk along the shore and I just remember having the oddest feeling. Just feeling like… Feeling the absence of the male gaze on me, really. And I had never realised it was there before in the first place. But now it was gone. Like without my long, beautiful hair I wasn’t as attractive - as desirable - as before. And it felt… bad.

And it was weird, but I had never realised the validation I felt from being gazed at. How affirming it was. I guess this is what my mom was talking about. Maybe she was just more honest about it than me.

And don’t get me wrong because I don’t want to submit to gender conformity and whatever that feeling was about. And I had so many different hairs during the pandemic, just having shaved it really gave me some freedom to do whatever, because if all went to shit and it looked terrible I’d just shave it again. And I explored gender and gender-non-conformity and I look at the pictures from when I had really short hair a couple years ago and I think it looks so... I miss it.

I’m kind of growing it out now, though. I don’t know, I just wasn’t really doing anything about it and it was just growing, then last year I cut it but I didn’t really love how it turned out. Made me think longer hair suits me more. I look prettier, I guess. I hate how gender conforming I am nowadays. I don’t know if it’s because I moved countries and it made me feel more secure. Sometimes I’m not, though. [Gender conforming, I mean]. I’ve been thinking about it. I feel like when I was an antisocial kid I cared much less about how others perceive me. I remember once working on a group scene where everyone was sharing hurdles they went through to try and achieve beauty standards. I didn’t really have much to share. I didn’t diet, I didn’t put myself through things that hurt. It’s different now. I often think the more social I became along the years, the more I fell into that.

I liked a boy in my class when I was 6. A few years later - and I had changed schools at this point - one of my friends from that class told me he had liked me too, but not anymore after I cut my hair. I don’t know if that’s true.

[imomomi]

Meeting the MSBY Black Jackals

AN: This is a repost of an old story I wrote as requested by @ericaelind​. Also, this story actually inspired FIO, so it’s super sweet someone remembered it. 🥺🥺🥺

         Y/N leaned against the wall outside the locker rooms, pulling her phone out to flick through Instagram. She wasn’t one to post much on her public account, but her private one was filled with photos dating back to high-school. Huffing lightly in amusement at a video of a baby babbling gibberish to his father, she jumped at the sudden onset of noise coming out of the locker room. A blonde popped up beside her, resting one arm on the wall as he leaned over her. Miya Atsumu. The bane of Kiyoomi’s existence, but secretly his favorite teammate.

          “Who are ya?” he asked.

          “L/N Y/N,” she answered. When he didn’t say anything, she looked back down at her phone, sending a quick message to her mother. Atsumu lingered, looking at her curiously. Shooting him a look—what did he want—she sighed loudly.

          “Look, fangirls aren’t really allowed around the locker-room. Just head down the hall. If security sees ya, you’ll be in trouble.”

          “There’s a bit of a misunderstanding, Miya-san.”

          “Seriously sweetheart, beat it,” he said, smiling broadly. Y/N could feel her annoyance grow. Kiyoomi was lingering on purpose—was he really going to let her deal with this on her own. Normally, he’d take a few minutes to change, but he had already been gone 15 minuets.

          “I’m not here for you.”

          “That’s nice but you still don’t have the right to hang ‘round our locker room. Think about how uncomfortable the other boys will be.”  His mocking grin had her flushing at the implication.

          “Yoomi told me to wait here. He said he would only be a minuet,” shuffling slightly to get away from his towering form, she bowed lowly, “I apologize if I cause any discomfort.”

          “Yoomi? Who the hell is that?”

          “Sakusa Kiyoomi?”

          “Omi-omi told ya to wait here? What drugs are you on?”

          “I wish I knew,” she muttered to herself. Another person appeared over his shoulder and Y/N shifted farther away. Perhaps, this was a bad idea, she thought. Staring up at Bokuto Koutarou’s grinning face, she decided it was probably for the best that she didn’t know any of Kiyoomi’s teammates. There were only two of them so far and the air around her already felt chaotic.

          “Who’s this?” Bokuto asked, eagerly.

          “Some fangirl. Said Omi-omi told her to wait here.”

          “A fan!” Bokuto shouted, shoving Atsumu out of the way, “Do you wanna a picture? Though, you know you’re not supposed to sneak around here.”

          “Umm, I really think that there’s a mis-“

          “Who is that?” Hinata asked. Y/N ‘s face was an impossible shade of red at this point as she was jostled by Bokuto into a photo she didn’t even want. Hinata bounded up to her excitedly, ignoring Atsumu’s warnings that they should call security and pulled out a marker asking if she wanted an autograph. She didn’t even know what he would sign. She was dressed in all black, nothing but her phone and car keys in her pocket.

          Hinata reached for her hand, pen hovering over her skin before he shrugged and signed his name.

          “This is my first game you know,” Hinata said bouncing on his heels, “I didn’t think we’d be meeting fans already.”

          “I’m not a fan,” she muttered. The stark kanji of his name smeared across her skin. She rubbed at it, shuddering as it remained without a smudge on her hand. A hand grabbed hers, turning it over to inspect the new mark. Kiyoomi.

          “You really are all idiots,” he hissed, turning to glower at his teammates. “Can’t keep your hands to yourself at all, can you?”

          “It’ll wash out,” she said, softly. He eyed the kanji with a heavy glare as if it personally offended him. Knowing Kiyoomi, some aspect of it probably did. That or he wished it had been him to sign his name instead.

          “With bleach, maybe,” he mused. She tugged her hand from his grip, reaching over to a frozen Hinata and snatching the marker from his hand. She scribbled over the mark, crossing out Hinata’s name with a grimace.

          “Don’t you have alcohol wipes or something?”

          “In my locker,” he answered.

          “Go get them.”

          “I was serious about the bleach. You’re already contaminated. I can’t have you coming home like this.”

          “I swear to god, Kiyoomi, I’ll sneeze on you,” she jeered.

          “What the hell is going on?” Atsumu asked, looking between them in near horror. Y/N scowled, crossing her arms over her chest. Maybe she wasn’t making the best first impression, but she had already been accused of being a fangirl, harassed into a picture, and forcibly given an autograph she didn’t even want. No wonder Kiyoomi had been hesitant to introduce her to his new teammates. In college, they’d known each for years before they actually got together and she’d known the players on his team when they had been just friends.

          “Nothing, I’m going to the bathroom to wash this off. Good luck with the game.”

          “She’s my fiancée,” Kiyoomi said, blocking her path of escape. “She wanted to meet you all, but she was overseas for business and then Hinata came, so the timing was never right.”

          There’s a collective choking from his teammates that are gathered in the hallway. She could feel the amusement radiating from Kiyoomi. Most likely he had kept it hidden just to enjoy this moment. His sense of humor often involved sharp wit and upending people’s expectations. This mess served him perfectly, a carefully guarded fact about his life, his unwitting fiancée making it worse, and the general stupidity of his teammates. There was a desperate need to laugh bubbling up in his chest.

          “Bullshit,” Atsumu called out.

          “Woah, Omi-san, she’s really pretty,” Hinata gushed over Atsumu’s disbelief. Y/N flushed under the sudden attention thrown her way, waving awkwardly at Hinata and Bokuto.

          “Nice to meet you, Bokuto-san, Hinata-san,” she muttered, bowing shallowly.

          “Bullshit, ya must’ve hired her or something,” Atsumu cut in, pointing an accusing finger in her direction. There wasn’t any real heat behind the words.

          “Gross,” she and Kiyoomi said in unison, cringing at the idea. Y/N raised her left hand, holding it out so Atsumu could inspect the diamond ring. Atsumu jerked her hand forward, inspecting it with a level of detail she didn’t think he was capable of. He shot Kiyoomi and impressed look. Y/N didn’t have the heart to tell him that the ring was her grandmother’s. The first time Kiyoomi had proposed she said no—not because she didn’t want to marry him, but the question was asked so suddenly, she though that he was joking. His proposal had been delivered with a straight face in the midst of them watching some American crime drama.

          “Couldn’t wait until after the game to spring this on us?”

          “Don’t think too hard, Miya,” Kiyoomi said.

          “You’ve been hiding a secret girlfriend for the last two months,” Atsumu said.

          “In his defense, it’s not really a secret. Everyone in college knew we were together,” Y/N interjected. If they looked through Kiyoomi’s social media pages, she was somewhere there in the background of his photos caught doing something stupid or just generally ugly. According to Kiyoomi those were the best kinds of photos.

          “I didn’t even go to college,” Atsumu protested.

          “I can tell,” Y/N said. Kiyoomi snorted behind her, turning the sound into a cough as soon as everyone turned to look at him.

          “Wait, Omi-kun is getting married. We’re going to the wedding, right?” Bokuto shouted, bouncing on his heels.

         “I wanna be Best Man,” Hinata said, matching the excitement. Hinata was the newest addition to the Black Jackals. Fresh off the plane from a two-year stint as a beach volleyball player in Brasil, he’d impressed everyone at tryouts. From what Kiyoomi had said, he was a beast on the court.

         “No. I don’t even know you,” Kiyoomi shot down immediately. “I met you a month ago.”

         “I’m the obvious choice,” Atsumu muttered, eyes still narrowed in her direction, “He’s known me longest.”

         “I don’t think beating you at nationals in high school counts,” Y/N said, laughing lightly.

         “I guess, I should say sorry to ya,” he muttered, “Didn’t know that Omi-omi had a girl at home. I’ve been messing with him since he joined the team.”

         “I’ve been messing with him since I met him, so I’m sure he likes you better than me at this point.”

         “I hate both of you,” Kiyoomi muttered, wrapping his arms around her shoulders.  His chin rested on top of her head. The weight of him was a familiar and pleasant sensation. Today was the first game of the season. Kiyoomi had spent the last two days watching videos of his opponents, trying to figure out their playing styles and ticks. He was nervous, she could feel it in the slight tremor to his body, but the hug told her something else too. Normally, Kiyoomi shied away from public affection. Crowds made him anxious, interviews were something he avoided, and he was laughingly awkward when it came to interacting with fans. The fact that he felt comfortable enough around his teammates to show the softer side of himself, that craved touch as any person did, filled her with warmth.

         Seeing his teammates teasing him loosened the knot of worry she normally carried with her. They’d take care of him when she couldn’t.

[disney-rapunzel-merida-vanellope]

- never seen this one either. Ok I haven’t seen any war time movie so imma stop repeating myself in these reviews

- Donald having friends all around the world warms my heart so much 😭

- i have a disney Christmas movie thats basically a compilation of disney scenes where Christmas or snow are a theme. It features the ice skating scene from Bambi, the song from beauty and the beast enchanted Christmas where belle decorates a room and the scene where Arthur lifts the sword. And other scenes that i didnt know which movies they were from aka this penguin scene I’m watching right now in the three caballeros. There’s also a scene in that compilation movie where lovers go ice skating but then argue but then the ice breaks and shes in danger, her skirt might be getting destroyed idk but that scene is probably from melody time idk I’ll find out

- i always liked this penguin story 😭 the cute little city, their houses and fun activities. Poor Pablo 😭

- did the narrator just say “making love”? SIR THIS IS DISNEY 😳 kkkkkk i know Disney’s done worst but i didnt know they did it in the classics u know? 😂 but I’m joking, it’s a literally harmless scene, i just wasn’t expecting

- loving the creative gags like when Pablo literally cut through fog, when the obnoxious red bird got out of the projection and started walking on the light projected, when the flamingos appeared 1 chunk at a time, the kid on top of a rock but then a tree but then a rock, the race scene when burrito starts flying 😭

- the visual gags are so good omg i love them

- loving the burrito, kid narrator and old narrator story a lot

- disney was in love with brasil in this era

- “ a very estúpido fellow” 😂

- i just realized that they’ve been speaking English, spanish and portuguese through out the whole movie but since I understand all 3 I’m just noticing how lucky i am now 😭 cause theres no subtitles on this stream

- leva-me à baía, Zé

- this is the same book from beauty and the beast 2017 😂 i want a travel book too

- OH LIVE ACTION

- WAIT. HOLD ON. Donald’s love rival seems to be singing in EU portuguese…… 😳 (after finishing i went to hear it again on youtube and i am positive that’s eu portuguese omg TUGAS TEMOS REPRESENTAÇÃO NO FILME DISNEY 😍 O homem também so canta de tangerinas por isso se eu estiver errada nao me matem 😬)

- THE BIRDS TURNED INTO DANCERS

- Why dont movies mix animation with live action like this anymore? Even if they dont wanna do 2d, they can always do 3D. But i guess people would just call it bad cgi even if the intent was for it to look like a cartoon, right’ sigh

-“ IM A MIDGET” IM SCREAMING

- Kinda feeling betrayed by the disney community. Why did no one tell me the three caballeros was this fun?

- did he sing “we are three gay caballeros”? Starting to think i dont actually understand these languages 😂 (i went to the wiki after finishing the movie AND OMG HE DOES SAY “GAY” 😭 But then the trivia said “The word "gay" was removed in later versions of the song, due to the modern popular meaning of the word.” So i went to google to discover that gay used to mean “happy” 😳 the more you know)

- wondering what latinos think of this movie. If it portrays the cultures respectfully. I’m enjoying this movie a lot but cant really speak on the culture part

- they chasing women and one literally fell to the floor omg 😭

- their bikinis and swimsuits are so lovely 🥺

- Donald acting up 🤨 where’s daisy?

- the neon scene is pretty dope

- THE WOMAN IS A FLOWER LMAO and then come the other two shooting guns omg its getting trippy

- the birds with women legs kkkkkkk

- let the woman finish the ballad 😂

- cactus dance scene is pretty cute

- this movie was such a wild ride 😂 i loved it a lot more than i thought i would. Pretty great. It’s just fun and creative

Edit:

- why isn’t this on Disney+? 🤨 we know y’all love money so why you making me watch it on 123movies?

[assim-eu-sou]

Bia 2:35-36

2:35

- Aw, some smiles… it’s been a while

- Give the boy a hug, dammit

- PLEASE not him trying to make her jealous and then making that silly face HAHA

- PAULA!!!! She’s driving the HECK out of that Carmilex ship

- Chiaraaaaaaaa

- I appreciate the honesty here at least

- HAHA I’m dead at the way Ana is just sleeping on the piano smiling

- Lmaoooo I love when the subs say Helena and someone has just said Ana

- Ana like I AM LOOKING AWAY

- Saudade….

- Aw them singing in Portuguese because they miss Brasil :’)

- Come onnnnn Pietro… Ana??? Thiago??? It’s obviously Zeta

- Uh oh…. How could Antonio forget about the grandmother

- Smh…. Marcos needs to chill

- Every once in a while I remember these people had to learn a whole other language for this show and ahhh… so talented….

- Portuguese Jazz! I love that style.

- Ayyyy esas miradas….

- Ana I am in LOVe with you bye no reason

- Ugh sometimes the subs just do not express the sentiment as deeply as they are meant to

- Like ik the phrase would sound a little odd in English but still

- Victor! Playing!

- Aw Alex is excited to see the guitar :’)

- I almost feel a nice feeling in his direction

- Is this… a nice moment?

- Wow… a nice moment with no BUT.

- YESSSS Bia the truth. At least.

- Awwwww Bia’s drawing of Chiara and Guillermo

- He is once again whipped

- Waiter!Manuel

- Oh Bia…. I see that look…

- And so does everyone else

- My babies stay in love

- Nah music styles from Brazil are so good

- The degrees in that room just shot up by like 100

- Knowing the context behind Ana and seeing this scene. boy….

- HELLO??????

- Nah I don’t wanna watch this. I’m just gonna sleep now actually. Because I don’t want to. Peace out.

- The way Ana’s face dropped. I need to take a walk.

- Flustered!Jandino

- Sigh….. leave Guillermo ALONE

- Omg Victor! Playing again!

- The guitar sounds kinda out of tune tho

- I love how he named the guitar Janice

- I love when Victor and Manuel gang up on Antonio

- Bilena my beloved

- I’m sure Ana is going through some shock rn hearing what Bia has to say about the tapes

- GUILLERMO COBRA? Well that complicates things

2:36

- Awwww I love Bia’s reaction to Ana telling her about Thiago <3

- Manuel is gonna feel like trash because Antonio has been fighting so hard to make sure no one knows they’re father and son. Poor baby.

- I wanna see some fraternal twin representation in TV.

- TwinMelody like…. these people are a little much

- HAHA Victor’s got him

- Odio ver la residencia y Thiago así :’(

- Thiago just looks on the verge of tears…

- Obligatory Alana is evil moment. How could she think to take moments like that away.

- Awwwww the way Manuel just spun Pixie

- La Residencia ——> el Fundom

- The way Thiago and Ana can still act married even after fighting… idk, couldn’t be me

- Chiara is very impressed with Bia’s mystery board

- The blame goes to Victor. Close, Bia, just keep going.

- Don’t tell me Aillén is onto Guillermo

- The trio and Grita :)

- Ah right, I didn’t think about Ana and being at the fundom

- Big cringe moment

- Hey Thiago, maybe let Ana speak? Perhaps? PLEASE? You’re being unreasonable.

- Mi Binuel <3

- Ayyyyyy Manuel…… ever the romantic

- Bia. What was your idea??!!

- Is Aillén calling Celeste??? What is she gonna say???

- Organizer Pixie

- Ok but tbh I would give anything to have a sleepover at the Fundom with the BeU kids.

- OH BOY not Bia saying she’s gonna invite ANA to stay at her house

- Guillermo….. come on…. You don’t need the cobra anymore.

- Kick him out kick him out, Antonio is useless to you, Paula.

- Dang this set of circumstances has really made me a Paula sympathizer… yikes

- Oooooooh so that’s what all the voice memos were for

- I wonder what Aillén has to gain from telling her this

- René….. music is NOT a waste of time :’(

- OMGGGGGG SHE REALLY JUST SAID THAT OMG I can’t wait to see what happens next

- Guillermo stays being whipped

- Chiara sounded great though

- Is he really gonna tell her???? Better now than later I guess. Well. We’ll see.

- No, this is too saddddd the empty residence, without all its charm…

- Someone please hug this man

- There we go, I knew I could count on Ana

- Something in my eye….. SOMETHING IN MY EYE

- OOP. Danger!

[wistfulcynic]

Their Way By Moonlight: The Plan (Chapter 9)

In which there is a sweet and smutty dream and Killian and Regina take action.

a/n: Sorry to drop this late on a Friday but my dad is visiting starting tomorrow and we’re going on a little mini-holiday to Cornwall, so it’s today or in like a week and a half. Plot! is finally starting to happen now, I reckon we must be halfway-ish through this story.

As always thanks to everyone who is reading, commenting, kudosing, reblogging, I appreciate the heck out of you.  

Summary: A new curse has fallen on Storybrooke and this time the Saviour is trapped inside it, deliberately separated from her son and anyone else who might help her break it. But what no one knows –including her own cursed self– is that she and Hook are soulmates, working together within their shared dreams to find a way to break the curse and free everyone from the clutches of evil yet again. (Alternate 3B, set in the What Dreams May Come universe)

Rating: A hard M

Tagging: @teamhook @kmomof4 @resident-of-storybrooke @thejollyroger-writer @jennjenn615 @tiganasummertree @bonbonpirate @lfh1962@laschatzi @katie-dub @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @winterbaby89

Anyone wishing to be added to or dropped from this tag list, please do say so.

Read it on AO3

The Plan: 

Killian calls Emma to the dream that night and when she appears he all but grabs her, pulling her to him and holding her tightly. “Are you all right, love?” he asks worriedly, stroking her hair. “Cursed you, I mean. Is she all right?”

Emma nods against his neck, but she burrows into him for comfort all the same.  “She —I— will be fine,” she says. “It’s scary at first, learning you have magic. I wish I didn’t have to do it twice.” 

“Aye, me too.” He breathes in the scent of her hair, always so soothing to him, though he is still agitated, even in the dream. “Gods, Emma, it was so hard to watch that this afternoon. I wanted so badly to hold you, it almost killed me to let you leave the shop.” 

“I wanted you to hold me too,” she replies. “Even cursed me can’t resist you.” 

He laughs, though his arms tighten around her. “Do you think you, uh, she is starting to remember?”

“She’s so close. I’ve managed to plant a strong enough suggestion in my head that every time she has a thought influenced by the curse I challenge it. It’s terribly confusing for her but I think she’s starting to break through.” 

“It’s so odd to be talking about your cursed self like she’s a different person.” 

“Yeah. Though she kind of is.” 

“Do you really feel that way?”

“Yeah, a little? I mean she’s clearly still me but it’s like the curse has magnified all my old insecurities and made her, I don’t know, timid. Which is something I have never been.” 

“No, indeed.” Killian shakes his head at the image. He has noticed that cursed Emma seems less confident than the real one but the idea of his fierce and fearsome wife being timid is so foreign he struggles to grasp it. “What do you mean by it magnifying your old insecurities?” 

“Oh, you know,” she tries to make her voice light and careless but he hears the hurt that still exists beneath it, “How I used to think I was unlovable.”

“Aye.” She’s spoken of this before, of how her experiences in foster homes and then with Bae— Neal’s abandonment she feared she would never know love. It twists his heart to think of her falling back into that place again, after how hard they’ve both worked to build the trust and love at the core of their marriage. “My darling, I wish—”

Emma pulls back from their embrace, just enough to look up at him. “Don’t go all mushy on me, pirate,” she says. “It just the curse. I know you love me, and Henry does, and my parents. Cursed me knows that too, she just can’t remember it.”

He nods, and leans his forehead against hers, stroking his thumb across her cheekbone, making her sigh as she runs her hands up his back, curling them around his shoulders and pulling him close for a kiss. He leans into it, into her, as close as he can get, wrapping his arm around her waist as tightly as he can. He wishes he never had to let her go. 

He will hold her like this again —really hold her, not just in their dreams— and soon. He vows it to both of them. 

“Let’s go someplace,” she murmurs against his lips. 

“Hmmm?” Killian is lost in her, and it takes him a moment to grasp what she is saying. 

“I love it here but I— I can’t explain it but I just feel restless and I want to go someplace else.”

“Where?” The dream allows them to go anywhere they can hold in their minds, though real places work best. 

“I don’t know,” she laughs. “Just someplace. Someplace peaceful.” 

He hasn’t known many peaceful places in his life, but there is one, one long gone corner of a crumbling realm that had once been a haven for him. He concentrates on it, reforming the dream around them, rebuilding it with stray pieces of his ancient memories.

They are standing in a wide valley with softly undulating grassy hills on every side and a lake in the centre that shimmers in a shade of blue Killian has seen only here, despite the breadth of his travels. Dawn is just breaking over the hilltops in streaks of pastel peach and lilac and a delicate mist is rising from the surface of the lake, over the ripples formed by leaping fish and the birds that seek them. Emma looks around, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape. “This is beautiful,” she whispers. “Where is it?”

He smirks. “Neverland.” 

“What? But— how? Why the hell did we go to that awful jungle when this place existed?”

“Because by the time you arrived this and many other places were long gone, and that awful jungle was all that was left.”

She frowns. “I know you said Neverland changed a lot while you were there, but… well I guess I didn’t realise how much.” 

“Aye, almost beyond recognition. When I first landed there Neverland was vast, a sprawling archipelago with a great diversity of islands and inhabitants. Fairies, pixies, people who called themselves Red Indians, Oisín and his Fae, gnomes and imps, centaurs and unicorns. The seas were sailed by other ships than my own, and teemed with merpeople, kelpies, and kraken while the skies were filled with manticore, griffins, hippogriffs—” 

“Hippogriffs are real?”

“Oh, aye. Unpleasant creatures on the whole, although if you can win their trust they are unfailingly loyal.” 

“Huh.”

“Pan’s island lay at the very centre of all of this, and as the magic drained from the land the outlying islands began to disappear until only that one remained, eventually fading to that darkened and grim version that you experienced.”

“No wonder he wanted to restart magic there.” 

“Indeed.” 

“So which island are we on?” 

“This is Brasil—”

“Brazil?”

He looks at her, surprised. “You’ve heard of it?”

She gives a small shrug. “Um, actually probably not. I’m guessing we’re not talking about the country in South America.” 

“No, indeed.” Killian calls up a mental image of the maps of her realm he has studied intensively, and smiles to himself. “Brasil was part of Oisín’s realm, an island shrouded in mist, visible for only one day every seven years. I used to make a point of paying a visit on that day, both to help mark the passage of time in a timeless land and also because as you remark it is beautiful. Peaceful as no other place I’ve known.”

“What creatures lived there?”

“Not a one, aside from the birds and fish you see here. Brasil was all but inaccessible, many ships tried to approach it but none succeeded.”

“So how did you get there?”

“Well, the Jolly Roger, as you know love, is no ordinary ship. She can navigate shoals where other ships would run aground, and she found us a place to land.” His voice is wistful and she squeezes him in sympathy; she will never be over how much he has sacrificed for her.  

“That must have been wonderful,” she says softly. 

“Yes it was. When Neverland’s magic began to fade, Brasil was one of the last islands to remain, protected as it was by its mist, and once it was lost for good, that was when I knew I had to leave as well.”

“So it doesn’t exist anymore?”

“No, at least not in the place where I knew it to be. But magic, as you know, is tricky, and who’s to say that it has gone forever and not simply moved to a more congenial location? Stranger things have happened.” 

“I hope so, I’d hate to think of this being gone forever.” 

He leads her to the side of the lake, drawing her down to lie with him on the soft beach there. The dream ensures that no sand clings to their skin as they caress, leisurely tracing the well-known contours of each other’s bodies, each finding all the spots that make the other moan, desire simmering hot between them but not boiling over. Emma lets her fingertips trail up and down Killian’s back, her other hand buried in his hair as she presses kisses along his jaw. “I love your jaw,” she murmurs between them. 

“Do you?” His own hand skims down her thigh.

“Yeah, it’s like ridiculously cut.” She hums as he tickles behind her knee. 

“Is that good?” 

“It’s really hot,” she gasps. 

“And is that good?” He breathes the words against her skin as he scrapes his teeth down her throat.

“C’mon, Killian, you’ve been —ah, mmmmm— in this realm long enough to know that hot is good.”

“Aye, love,” he growls as she licks the tender spot behind his right ear, “But I like to hear you say it.” 

“It’s good.” She purrs the words into his ear. “Hot is good and your jawline is hot.” 

“Well, darling,” he says, pulling back to look at her as his hand strokes over her hip and the dip of her waist to her breast, tracing the perimeter of her nipple, feather-light. “May I say then that I find your chin exceptionally hot.”

“My chin? Really?”

“Oh, yes. It has this little dimple that used to torment me.” 

“Torment you?”

“With the desire to kiss it.” He does so, making her giggle. 

“That’s a weird thing to be attracted to.” 

“Weirder than my jaw?”

“All right, you’ve got me there.” 

His fingers continue to toy with her breast. “Would it make you feel better to know that the chin dimple was merely one of many features of yours that tormented me?”

“I don’t really like to think about you being tormented at all, to be honest,” she says with a small frown. “Especially not because of me.” 

Warmth spreads through his chest and he kisses her, slightly harder than he intends. “It was nothing you did, love, just that I wanted so badly to touch you but I doubted I’d ever be granted the privilege.”

“I know,” she whispers, stroking his face, “I understand that, and honestly yeah there was a time when if you tried anything I’d’ve kicked you so hard your nuts would’ve come out your ears—”

“Eloquent as ever, my love.” 

“—but now I just hate to think about you feeling that way, especially when we’re back in a situation where you want to touch me but can’t.” 

His hand leaves her breast to tangle in her hair as he kisses her again, wishing there were more he could do to ease her concerns. “I won’t pretend that things aren’t difficult at the moment, Swan, but it’s not difficult in the way that it was before. Now I know that the situation is merely temporary.” 

“And you didn’t know that back then?” she says with a small smile. “Not even after I kissed you?”

“Indeed not. ‘A one-time thing,’ I believe you called it?”

“You had to have known I didn’t mean that. Even I knew it, though I’d’ve died before admitting it.” 

“I hoped you didn’t, of course,” he replies, his hand on her breast again, just a brief caress before it slides lower. “But even then I knew what a stubborn lass you can be, and that whatever you might feel for me you wouldn’t accept it easily.” 

“You always could read me,” she gasps as his fingers find her slick heat, his thumb pressing against her clit as the head of his cock teases her entrance.  

“Open book, love.” 

She lifts her hips and he slides into her and they both sigh at the sensation. They rock in unison, bodies pressed tightly together and kissing softly, their pace unhurried, letting their pleasure build in layers like falling snow until they come with soft cries and panting breaths.

This time the dream allows them to cuddle; though they can sense that their time is nearly over there is none of the usual pressing urgency. Killian kisses Emma’s cheeks and her forehead and her chin and she cards her fingers through his hair.   

The dream begins to tug at them and he leans their foreheads together, abruptly recalling that he still has more to communicate. “I forgot to tell you before that the note you delivered did the trick,” he says. “I met with Regina last night and she’s coming back tonight. She told me that the curse caster is Zelena.”

“Zelena the mayor?”

“Do you know any other Zelenas? I thought it might be wise of you to warn your cursed self not to trust her. We don’t know exactly what she’s after with this curse, but I suspect that keeping you under control is a major part of it. Don’t do anything that looks suspicious, but at the same time be suspicious of everything she says and does.” 

“Okay, I think I can manage that.” 

He kisses her one last time, soft and sweet and yearning then the dream was gone, and his phone was beeping on his bedside table, reminding him that Regina would soon be making her no doubt needlessly dramatic appearance and he needed to be prepared. 

---

Regina rose from her bed the moment she felt Zelena’s watchful eye leave her. It was a few minutes earlier than usual, and she smiled to herself at the prospect of appearing earlier than Hook expected, perhaps catching him off guard, unbalancing him. She was just raising her hand to call her magic when she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the small mirror on the wall and froze in horror. 

She knew of course that her appearance had changed over the past year, that worry and sleeplessness had ravaged her face, abetted by her own lack of interest in anything beyond basic hygiene. Her hair was lank, her skin sallow and dry with webs of fine lines spreading from her eyes and deeper ones slashing across her forehead. Consumed by anxiety for Henry she hadn’t cared or even noticed, but now…

She couldn’t allow Hook to see her like this. Not again. Not when the flash of pity in his eyes the night before was still fresh in her memory. Not when he actually looked better than he ever had, at least in her estimation. Out from under the layers of leather and eyeliner he seemed almost normal, like he actually belonged in this realm. And just how the hell he had managed that was something she would dearly love to know. She’d always suspected he was cleverer than he let on, and it annoyed her that he always seemed to land on his feet no matter what was thrown at him, or where he himself was thrown. 

She would not be pitied by the pirate, she thought grimly. She would not cede him the upper hand. Not without playing every card she had. With a flick of her wrist she brought a swirling cloud of purple smoke up from the ground to engulf her. It quickly dissipated to reveal her looking very much her old self, her hair styled to perfection and her makeup flawless on her smooth skin, standing in the middle of Hook’s apartment… where he was waiting for her, lounging on a kitchen stool in that careless way of his that had always set her teeth on edge, examining his fingernails.  

He looked up and smirked at her, that damned eyebrow quirking, and her fingers itched to summon a fireball. So much for catching him off guard. 

“I do hope you’ve come prepared to live up to your moniker, my Evil Queen,” he drawled. “Because I have a plan.” 

Regina forced her magic back down. You can’t incinerate him, he’s your ally, she reminded herself firmly. As distasteful as the idea was she needed him, for the moment at least, to help her keep Henry safe and break this damned curse. Once that was done she could turn him back over to Emma and wash her hands of the pair of them. “Oh, really?” she snarked, relieving her irritation with sarcasm. “And what exactly does this plan entail?”

He indicated for her to sit on the stool next to his, with a sweeping, flourishing gesture… of his left arm. Regina blinked and her jaw dropped, for once startled out of her composure. The long sleeve of his grey henley was pushed back, revealing his bare forearm, unadorned by his hook or even the brace that held it. His arm simply ended at the wrist in a gnarled mass of scar tissue, still rough and red even after centuries. But why would he… Confused, she dragged her gaze from his wrist to his face. What she saw in his expression floored her, flooded her with a mess of emotions as unfamiliar as they were uncomfortable: comprehension, guilt, empathy. 

He hadn’t simply forgotten to cover his wrist, of that she had no doubt. Everything he had done in all the years she’d known him had been deliberate and calculated achieve some end. He wanted her to see him like this, and she had a dreadful suspicion that she understood why.  

He was levelling the playing field, giving up his advantage from the night before by letting her see him at his most vulnerable, as he had seen her at hers. He was letting her know that he wouldn’t use her suffering against her. He was asking her to trust him, and showing her she could. 

It wasn’t just the lack of hook, either. Without the eyeliner and pirate leather he appeared softer, younger —an odd adjective to apply to him— and though his henley was completely unbuttoned because some things at least never changed, he looked a far cry from the dangerous man she knew him to be. His pirate identity, his armour, was gone. 

He looked like he belonged in this world, she thought again, this time without rancour but instead with something approaching sympathy. Without the curse download she’d given to the Storybrooke residents, he’d have had to adapt on his own, a steep learning curve even for a man who didn’t also have to adjust to life with one hand and without the hook he’d used in its place for centuries. How had he done it? 

“I had Emma to help me,” he said quietly. “And Henry.” 

“What?” 

“You were wondering how I learned to function in this realm.”

“How the hell did you guess that?” she snapped, lashing out automatically against his irritating perception and this very unwelcome sense of kinship she suddenly felt. 

His eyebrow quirked again, but there was no provocation behind it. “I’m rather good at reading people,” he replied evenly. “And you and I, my Queen, whether we like it or not, are different sides of the same doubloon. We understand each other, always have. Things will go more smoothly if you can accept that and stop imagining incinerating me with one of your fireballs.” 

Her breath hissed through her teeth at this further obnoxiously accurate observation, though it occurred to her, a stray thought flitting across her mind, that he really didn’t appear to be trying to provoke her. His expression wasn’t mocking or sneering just tired, with lines of strain around his mouth and dark smudges beneath his eyes. This last year likely hadn’t been easy for him either, she realised in another uncomfortable flash of affinity. Emma gone, left to fend for himself and for Henry in a land that would still have been strange to him. She had suffered it because she’d had no choice. But why had he?

“Do you remember on the boat in Neverland—”  

“On my ship, yes.” 

“On your ship,” she conceded, thinking with an inner smirk that perhaps the pirate wasn’t wholly gone, “Do you remember what we discussed? About villains not getting happy endings?”

“Aye.” 

“You said if we didn’t get what we had fought so hard for we would have wasted our lives. Do you still think that’s true?”

He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. “I’m not sure,” he replied, and there was a stark, naked sort of honesty in his voice. “These past few years have led me to question many things I thought were absolute, and I no longer believe that anything can be as black and white as heroes and villains. Those labels are simply too reductive to paste on anything as complex as a human being. Any human being.” He met her eyes with a steady gaze, leaving her in no doubt that he was speaking of both of them. “And as for happy endings,” he continued, “whatever the bloody hell that might actually mean, frankly I’m not certain I want one. All I want is my wife back, for my son to have his mothers and grandparents in his life, and for all of us to have some bloody peace. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make that happen, not as a villain or a hero but just as a man who wants his family whole and safe again.” 

Regina stared at him, and as she did she realised that she saw him, fully and truly for the first time. This wasn’t Captain Hook she was dealing with, not anymore. This was Killian Jones, the real man underneath the pirate’s many layers of distraction and subterfuge. This must be what Emma saw in him, what she had fallen in love with and apparently married. Regina had always just assumed she had a leather fetish. 

He really had changed, it seemed, and so had she. Neither of them were truly villains anymore, though they were certainly not heroes, and perhaps he was right that such a stark and unforgiving dichotomy wasn’t a useful way to frame the world. Perhaps they were both just people who had made bad choices in the past and were now trying to make better ones, similar people on similar paths to redemption who were now fighting for the same goal. What he claimed he wanted she did too: Henry’s happiness and a bit of peace. To accomplish that they needed to trust each other. 

She took a deep breath and let her glamour spell melt away, removing her armour as he had his. She couldn’t help smirking slightly when it was gone, still needing to disguise how exposed she felt without it, still half-waiting for a cutting remark from him, for him to laugh and reveal it had all been a ruse to get her to show her weakness.  

Instead his eyes warmed and he smiled, and she felt her smirk soften until she was smiling in return, sealing their deal in a shared openness that stood in stark contrast to the toxic distrust and acrimony that had defined their associations in the past. 

“So,” she said, “Hook. What—”

“Perhaps you’d call me Killian,” he interrupted. “Hook is a name only my enemies use these days.” 

Trust, she reminded herself. “All right. Killian.Tell me about this plan of yours.” 

He gestured again at the stool beside him. “Have a seat Your Ma— Regina,” he amended when she gave him a Look. “And tell me what you make of this.” 

As she moved to sit next to him he withdrew a clear plastic bag from his pocket and handed it to her. She took it and glanced at the contents, drawing in her breath sharply when she realised what they were. “Where did you get this?” she hissed. 

“Emma brought it to me. Apparently her cursed husband has been using it on her, to manipulate her memory, or control her somehow.”

Regina held the bag up, frowning as the powder inside it sparkled  menacingly, catching the light as broken glass does, or a freshly honed blade. “Yes, that would make sense,” she said. “I’ve read about powders like this but I’ve never seen any. They are usually some sort of enchanted dust or sand. I believe that this must be soil from the sleeping poppy fields in Oz.”

Killian rubbed his forehead, an odd expression on his face. “So you’re saying it’s sparkly dirt,” he said. 

“Well, yes, basically.” 

“Wonderful. What is it doing to Emma?”

  “Different powders have different powers, but as this is the soil that produces the poppies that represent forgetfulness and mind control, I would expect it to have a concentrated version of those same traits. It would allow the person who wields it to control the memories of whomever they administer it to. You say Emma’s… husband has been using this?”

A muscle danced in Killian’s jaw. “Her husband under the curse, aye,” he replied gruffly, looking away but not before she caught the flash of pain and anger in his eyes.

She could relate very strongly to both of those things. Damn it. 

“But…” Her thoughts kept circling back to the one thing she couldn’t understand. “If Emma is not only cursed but also under the influence of this powder, then how did she know to bring some of it to you? Or to take it from her hus— her cursed husband in the first place? How do you know about any of this?”

Killian appeared to be choosing his words very carefully. “The answer to those questions is complicated and involves details that are personal and private between myself and my wife,” he said. “Ones that I am not comfortable discussing without her full consent. What I can tell you is that there is a part of her consciousness that remains uncursed and that part is able both to influence her cursed self and to communicate with me.” 

“That’s not much to go on, Ho— Killian.” 

“Yet it’s all you’re going to get, Regina. At least for now. Once Emma is free of any mind control she can decide how much she’s comfortable sharing with you.” 

His tone was unequivocal, and she knew she’d get no more out of him on the subject. “Well, all right, then let’s discuss practicalities. If you’re able to communicate with this uncursed part of Emma’s consciousness, and it can influence her cursed self, does that mean you can influence her thoughts or actions?”

“Within reason, aye, though it’s not a simple matter. Even cursed and mind-controlled Emma doesn’t take orders easily.” There was a tinge of pride in his voice. 

“No, I don’t imagine she does. Still, that connection could be useful.” 

“Perhaps. But I was thinking more along the lines of making use of this powder.” 

“What, on Emma?”

“Of course not on Emma,” Killian snarled. “She’s had more than enough of people trying to control her.” 

Regina had never imagined sympathising with the Saviour, but then she’d sympathised with the pirate earlier so why the hell not? “Well, who then?” she asked.

Killian quirked an eyebrow and his lips curled, and for the first time that night he looked like the Captain Hook of old. “You said that this Zelena is always watching you?” he said.

“Yes, pretty much always.” 

“Mmmm. And how do you imagine she would react if you… deviated from your normal routine?”

Regina began to have an inkling of where he was going with this, and her lips curled as well. “She would probably want to know why.” 

“Would she follow you? Confront you?”

“She might.” 

“Excellent. Here’s my plan…”

---

Regina’s alarm shrilled at 5 am sharp as it did every morning. She rose immediately from her feigned sleep, as she did every morning, showering quickly and dressing in the hated maid’s uniform —such a cliché— then heading downstairs to prepare breakfast for Mary Margaret. Egg white scramble with veggies, gluten-free toast, green tea. Every morning was the same.

Mary Margaret appeared at half past six, impeccably dressed in one of her cliché outfits, seated herself at the kitchen table and picked up the newspaper without a glance at Regina. Ten minutes later David stumbled in, poured himself a cup of black coffee, drank it in two swallows, and left. Not a word to either woman. 

Just like every morning. 

As Mary Margaret ate Regina packed her a kale salad for lunch then cleaned the kitchen. At precisely 7.15 Mary Margaret left for the mayor’s office. Regina cleared away her dishes and loaded the dishwasher, then went upstairs to make the beds and clean the bathrooms, and it wasn’t until everything was pristine and sparkling that she finally collected her shopping bags and headed for the market. 

Her face was impassive, the perfect mask of downtrodden submission she had perfected over the past year, though if she was honest with herself as the year progressed it had become less a mask and more simply what her face did now. This morning however it was unquestionably a mask, concealing the effects of her thrumming heartbeat and eager anticipation.  

As she walked Regina attempted to calm her nerves by looking around her with eyes for the first time intent on observation, taking in details about Storybrooke that had failed to register with her before, when she had seen the world dimly through the haze of her misery and fear. Henry and Hook —Killian— believed something was not quite right about the town, and observing it now Regina could see what they meant. This was not the Storybrooke of her curse, though she’d admit it was close. The layout of the streets was identical, most of the buildings and shop fronts were the same, but the feel of the place was wrong. The trees and plants were wrong, the sounds of the birds were wrong. The colours of the houses and of the shops’ signs were wrong, both darker and more faded than they should have been. The whole effect was like… seeing the town through a poorly judged photo filter, she thought, with the birdsong played on a synthesiser in the wrong key. 

An idea began to unfurl in her mind, just a tiny seed sprouting, pushing through the dirt and opening its delicate leaves to the nourishing light of the sun. Zelena came from Oz, she thought. Her magic dirt came from there. It stood to reason that the curse had also been cast from that land. Perhaps…

Then she saw him, and the seedling idea along with everything else flew from her mind.  

He was coming out of Granny’s with his coffee cup, as he always did. 8.45 every morning, as regular as clockwork, dressed for work in a grey pinstripe suit and white shirt with a pale blue tie. He looked good in it —she doubted he’d look bad in anything— but it was wrong on him. The pristine elegance was wrong, the neatly combed hair so wrong. There was a time when she could never have imagined missing the twigs and leaves that had seemed always to be falling off of him or the way he’d smelled of pine, but after a year of pinstripes she sometimes felt she’d give nearly anything to see him leaf laden and windblown again, bow slung over his shoulder, his eyes filled with a kindness no one else had ever shown her. She held her breath as he came down the path, watching him through lowered lashes, compelled by force of habit not to look directly at him. Then she remembered the plan. 

Standing up straight and squaring her shoulders she subtly but noticeably glamoured herself, smoothing away the bags under her eyes and brightening her cheeks and lips with a faint blush, arranging her hair in the style she knew he liked. She thought about Henry, and about him, and imagined the satisfaction of taking her life back from Zelena, then strode forward with her old confident step and walked straight into him. He gasped as hot coffee sloshed over the rim of his cup, burning his hand and splashing a series of brown stains across his starched shirtfront. 

So this probably wasn’t precisely what Killian meant by “Do something to get Zelena’s attention,” but Regina figured such vague instructions were open to interpretation and she’d missed his eyes. Even narrowed in annoyance as they were now, she’d missed them. 

“Oh,” she said, grateful her voice came out strong and sure, “I’m so sorry.” 

Those eyes looked at her for the first time since before the curse and widened just enough to be flattering. 

“I wasn’t looking where I was going,” said Regina, forcing herself to breathe normally. 

“Oh, it’s, um it’s fine,” he said, but he winced as he shook the droplets from his hand.

“No, it isn’t,” she said firmly, taking his hand and holding his gaze as she healed his burn, keeping him distracted with a small, coy smile so he wouldn’t notice as her magic soothed away the pain. “You must let me buy you another coffee,” she purred.  

He blinked, clearly unsettled. “That’s quite all right, um…” 

“Regina. Mills.” 

“Right, Miss Mills—” 

“Please, just Regina.” 

“Regina.” He smiled at that, such a familiar smile that her hand tightened involuntarily on his. “It’s all right, you don’t have to—” 

“I insist.” She let her hand slide his arm to the crook of his elbow, tightening her grip just slightly as she turned him back towards the diner. “You shouldn’t have to go without caffeine just because I’m clumsy.” 

“Well, all right,” he agreed, and allowed her to lead him back to Granny’s door. She paused just before entering. 

“And what can I call you?” she asked, with another smile that threw him off balance again.  

“Ah.” He swallowed and blinked rapidly, trying to collect his wits. “My name’s John Wood.” 

Of course it is,  thought Regina in disgust, that woman has no imagination. 

“Well, John,” she said. “How do you take your coffee?”

---

As Killian stepped off the road and into the woods that surrounded Storybrooke  he had to forcibly suppress a shiver. If these woodlands had appeared menacing as he and Henry had driven through them less than a week ago, they were far more so outside the relative safety of the truck. Moss hung from gnarled and twisting branches that caught his clothing on their twigs, clinging like skeletal fingers as he passed. Cold mist swirled up from the ground and shrouded his legs to the knees, creeping into every gap in his clothing, making the hair on his legs stand up as goosebumps chased across his skin. Killian was prepared to swear that the force Henry had described trying to hold him back from approaching his old house was here as well. The further he advanced into the forest the more the trees seemed to close around him, threatening to swallow him up even as they made it clear his intrusion was unwelcome. More than once he caught a glimpse of a face in a tree trunk, just from the corner of his eye, but he strongly suspected that if he looked directly at it the face would not be there. The whole effect was utterly, creepily terrifying but Killian simply refused to allow himself to be cowed by plants, however menacing their aspect. He set his jaw and continued walking, not looking behind him, giving no sign that he noticed anything amiss. He was just a man on a lovely morning stroll through some picturesque scenery and he dared anyone to prove otherwise. 

He followed no particular path —there wasn’t really one to follow— but allowed his instincts to guide him. As a man who had passed nearly all of his 200-odd years on the sea he was not adept at travelling over land even in the best of circumstances, which these were decidedly not, and the simple act of putting one foot securely in front of the other without catching it in brambles or undergrowth or stepping into an unexpected rabbit hole or some such required so much of his concentration that little remained for navigation. 

As he stumbled on and the woods deepened, doubts began to creep into his mind. What the hell am I even trying to accomplish with this? he grumbled to himself as yet another thorny vine snagged the arm of his sweater. He’d come here on a whim, unable to shake the feeling that the forest held a crucial clue, that it simply couldn’t be so blatantly ominous for no reason. Centuries of survival had taught him to trust those unshakeable feelings, and Killian did trust this one, but there was quite a lot of forest and only one of him and he was beginning to think he may be wasting the opportunity provided by Regina’s diversion. If he could find nothing today they may not have another chance to distract Zelena. I don’t even know for certain what I’m looking for, he thought, as he stumbled over a large tree root and into a clearing. 

…he stands in the yard of a farmhouse, icy wind swirling snow around him, chilling him to his bones. He looks for Emma, but she is not there… 

The farmhouse stood just at the edge of the clearing, a plain wooden structure painted white, exactly as it had appeared in their dream. The dream that had shown them the flying monkeys, and Walsh, the one that had driven Killian to cross realms to warn Emma of the danger it portended.

This was what he had been looking for, what his time-honed instincts had known was here. He headed across the clearing, feeling oddly exposed after the claustrophobic trek through the woods, observing as much of his surroundings as he could without obviously surveilling them. From the corner of his eye he glimpsed a wooden door on the ground as he passed, secured with a sturdy-looking padlock, apparently some species of storage unit —this seemed to confirm what Regina had said about being held in a sort of cellar— but Killian continued walking. Venturing alone into a small space with only one door struck him as an excellent way to get killed or at the very least imprisoned, and neither of those options appealed to him in the slightest. And besides, his instincts told him the house was more important. 

He strode up to the wraparound porch, not troubling to make any attempt at stealth, and peered in the window. Killian was admittedly no great expert on land dwellings of any realm, but to his eye the inside of the house seemed in keeping with the outside; unadorned and practical, well suited to the simple life of hardworking farmers. 

In the middle of these bloody menacing woods it seemed very out of place. 

As did the large crystal ball that sat in the very centre of its kitchen table. 

“Definitely the right place then,” Killian muttered to himself as he moved over to the door. 

It was unlocked.  

---

Regina left Granny’s with a genuine smile on her face and a cup of coffee that “John” had insisted on buying for her, though he had given in to her insistence on paying for the cup to replace his spilled one. When they reached the gate he thanked her again for his coffee, she thanked him again for hers, she apologised once more for ruining his shirt, and he waved it away yet again, insisting that he had many more just like it and one stained one would make no difference. They grinned stupidly at each other until John recalled that he was about to be late to work and hastily excused himself, hurrying off towards the bank. Regina watched him go with a bittersweet ache in her chest, then turned and nearly walked into her sister. 

She had, of course, been expecting this. “Morning, Sis,” she said with a wide smile. 

“Regina,” hissed Zelena, baring her teeth as her eyes sparked with a fury that was second cousin to madness. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Just having some coffee,” said Regina, casually sipping said beverage. “Why do you ask?”

“Having some coffee?” Zelena’s eyes bugged as she repeated the words. “When your precious son is in danger? Have you forgotten our deal, sister?”

“Is he in danger though?” Regina retorted. “Or did you exaggerate the threat to him in order to keep me under your thumb?”

Zelena looked ready to burst with impotent fury and something clicked in Regina’s head. “You didn’t know!” she exclaimed. “You didn’t know that Henry has been safe all this time!”

“No,” Zelena spat, “I didn’t know that the pirate was in New York. My agent there failed me. He became too focused on the Saviour and failed to notice her lover.”  

Regina’s mind raced. Zelena was clearly unaware of Hook and Emma’s marriage, and almost certainly had no idea that they could still communicate. That was good to know. “And what did you think happened to Henry, when Emma came to Storybrooke without him?” she demanded, icy fury in her voice. “That he was what, just left alone to fend for himself in New York? How could you?” 

“How could I? Have you met me? There is nothing I wouldn’t do to punish you, Regina, to make you suffer. I would have left your brat to starve and far, far more, and I would have enjoyed it. And now, I am going to enjoy finishing you.”

Regina called on her magic, let it flow through her, amplifying her glamour spell and giving Zelena a good look at the full glory of the Evil Queen. She leaned in, matching her sister sneer for sneer. “Oh yeah?” she taunted. “You’ll have to find me first.” 

Purple smoke engulfed her, right there in the middle of Main Street, in front of morning commuters and dog walkers and a Granny’s that was still packed with morning customers. Let Mayor Zelena explain that. 

Re-materialising in the forest near where her vault had been, she closed her hand tightly around something in her pocket, sipped her coffee, and waited. 

Zelena appeared in a cloud of green several minutes later, hair wild and eyes sparking with fury. “How dare you…” she began, but Regina didn’t wait to hear the rest. She pulled her hand from her pocket and flung its contents at her sister’s eyes. The glittering particles she’d been holding flew towards Zelena’s eyes, where they exploded harmlessly into a green cloud much like the one that had brought her here. 

What!” cried Regina, and Zelena cackled in glee.

“Did you really think I could be defeated by the magic of my own land, sister? I may not have been born in Oz, but I have mastered it. And did you really think I wasn’t aware of you using the magic here? I control this town and everything in it, including its store of magic. I brought it here and it is tied to me,  and any time you dip into the reserves, I can sense it. I sensed you transporting two nights ago, and again last night. To steal my poppy soil, presumably. What else have you taken?”

Regina thought frantically. Zelena knew she had transported, but not where. She might not know about Regina’s alliance with Killian, and despite her boast she clearly hadn’t sensed Emma using magic the day before. Regina had to be careful not to give too much away. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she taunted, buying time. 

Zelena laughed again, manic and still edged with fury. “Oh, I’ll find out eventually. I have spies everywhere, traps and alarms in every nook and cranny of this place. No one can do anything in Storybrooke without my knowledge, including,” her eyes lit with delight, “A certain pirate captain who is even now breaking into my farmhouse.” 

Damn it, thought Regina. 

“So if you’ll excuse me sister, I have a pest to exterminate. So lovely to catch up, we really must do this again soon. Ta ta.” Green smoke swirled and she was gone. 

---

Killian pushed open the farmhouse door and stepped inside, his every sense on full alert. The starkly furnished room was silent in an oddly dusty and neglected way considering that Zelena had clearly been there recently, evidenced not only by the crystal ball but also the jars of herbs and potions scattered across the countertops and the squat black cauldron on the stove.

“Subtle,” snorted Killian, and turned his attention back to the table. As he approached it the clear crystal ball became opaque then resolved into the image of Emma’s face. 

He started back in surprise. “Bloody hell,” he muttered, then leaned in for a closer look. Emma was sitting in what he recognised after some struggle as her office at the Sheriff’s station. Her brow was furrowed and she was tapping furiously on the keyboard of her computer, but every few seconds her eyes darted to the car keys sitting next to a coffee cup on the desk. Killian had no time to wonder how or why the ball would show him that or what it could mean or if it was even real, because there were footsteps on the porch approaching the open door. 

He looked up and immediately snarled, clenching both fist and jaw. 

Walsh stood in the doorway, a supercilious smirk on his face.

“Hello, Hook,” he said. 

[artificialqueens]

Primary Care (a.k.a the Poundcake ficlet collection) 5/13 [Katya/Alaska] - Spoky

A/N: This interlude is pure genius. Why? It is so out of place and weird that it’s all right! It also leads the way very well to the next song no Poundcake and I hope this chapter does the same. So, it’s not exactly a filler chapter, but without this chapter the next one would make no sense.

Beta: apatheticskeleton. She’s so amazing she made it possible for me to post Ch4&5 close to each other as I they kinda link. Thank you. <3

Primary care   (a.k.a. the Poundcake ficlet collection)

Chapter 5/13 - ‘O, Brasil’

Instagram Theonlyalaska5000

A selfie of Justin. The photo has been taken on the backseat of a car. He is wearing a black Alaska T-shirt and smiling widely. He has red lipstick all over his lips and chin. The caption reads: ‘Nothing’s private.’

*

Snapchat Private chat between Justin and Brian.

Brian sends four different dickpics to Justin.

‘Which one is me?’ ‘None. They all taste like my phone.’

*

Twitter Alaska Thunderfuck @ Alaska5000

Are you coming to #DragCon ?! I’ll be appearing there. Get tickets here: #RupaulsDragCon @RuPaulsDragCon.

katya_zamo: You’ll be there?! I’m cancelling.

*

Twitter Katya @ katya_zamo

Just in! Happiness often comes in the form of a warm butt. #news #nothingsprivate

*

Private chat

Justin: Twitter, “Just in!” as in Justin? Brian: You’re smarter than you look! Justin: http://www.nytimes.com/2013/11/19/science/coldblooded-does-not-mean-stupid.html

*

Instagram Theonlyalaska5000

A photo of Alaska and Sharon on stage. They look beautiful. There is no caption.

*

Realistically speaking, Brian knows that Aaron is engaged to Chad, and that Justin has been flirting with him for the past week or so on social media. But it still makes him uncomfortable, and he doesn’t really know how serious Justin’s flirting is. Brian clicks the picture open and hashtags it ‘freakshow’. He doesn’t post it. Trixie is right. If he wants to get involved with Alaska, Needles will be present in the dynamic, if not literally and in person, then through media. It is actually one of the best reasons not to start anything with Alaska. Their every move would be under scrutiny by media, producers, employers, fans and worst of all, other queens. Brian can already hear Del Rio’s read on the topic: ‘Thunderfuck cannot get himself a real man, so she keeps sucking the souls out of her sisters until she’s the only one left standing.’

He really shouldn’t be starting anything with Alaska, because it’s just fucking crazy and it’ll hurt both of their careers, and lives, and hearts - if snakes even have hearts? Brian googles it.

* * *

It was 3am and Justin had just arrived to the hotel. He was absolutely exhausted. His phone made the  sound of a received SMS, which surprised him. Had it been a WhatsApp, a Snapchat or any other type of application message he would’ve ignored it, but he rarely got text messages from anyone anymore, except his mom, and so he made the effort to read it before going to sleep. The sender was his favourite Russian Hooker: ‘Did you know that snakes have hearts?’

Justin was confused. He wasn’t entirely sure whether he had accidentally done something sweet and Brian had figured it out - or if the weirdo was actually talking about actual snake anatomy. He took a seat at the sofa and started to type a reply. After two attempts of typing, when the autocorrects were not even funny, he got annoyed and pushed the call button instead - it was just easier.

Brian’s phone rang while he was reading about snake hearts and so he picked up without looking at the caller ID.

‘Yup?’

‘Who answers their phone with a ‘yup’?’

Brian froze for a second, but chuckled then. ‘Oh hi!’

‘Of course I know, I can feel it beating.’ Justin drawled in a voice that tried to reach Alaska, but didn’t quite make it. He really was beat.

Brian frowned. ‘What?’

‘… And I thought I was tired. Snakes. Hearts. Ring a bell?’

A lamp lit in Brian’s head. ‘Ah! You got my message?’

‘No, I just randomly called to discuss snake hearts.’

Brian smiled.

‘Well, you’re in luck! Because I have just learned that snakes have both renal and hepatic portal circulations and that the position of snake’s heart varies among species and, as there is no diaphragm, it is mobile within the ribcage. Snake’s heart’s position varies slightly with its ecological niche and phylogenetic position, and its mobility may facilitate the passage of relatively large prey. Snake hearts have three chambers: right and left atria and one ventricle. The right atrium receives deoxygenated blood from the systemic circulation and the left receives oxy-’

‘Are you actually reading some snake encyclopedia out loud for me?’

Brian was quiet for a moment. ‘I guess that depends on your position whether Wikipedia counts as a snake encyclopedia?’

Justin couldn’t believe it. He had to really make an effort to not to laugh out loud.

‘So you’re telling me I’m paying sky high phone minutes to hear a wikipedia entry I could’ve looked up free online?’

‘It’s not my fault you’re not smart enough to call me on WhatsApp.’

Justin had to admit Brian had a point. He promptly hanged up, opened the app and called back.

‘Yup!’

‘Now you’re doing that just to annoy me.’

‘Possibly.’  

They shared a short comfortable silence.

‘I’m in Rio,’ Justin said then and took a more comfortable position on the sofa.

‘Oh yeah? I’ve never been in Rio, but if I ever had the chance I would be certain to use a condom and enjoy the ride.’

Justin got the double meaning and rolled his eyes. He then realised Brian couldn’t see him.

‘Do you ever take anything seriously?’

‘Yes, absolutely. But it worsens my anxiety, so I try not make a habit out of it.’

Justin shook his head in amusement. He liked talking to Brian. It made him feel somehow comfortable - safe and secure. The memories and feelings from the dressing room when he had fallen apart and Katya had put him back together popped to his mind, as did the kiss they had shared the last time they had actually seen each other. The memories left an empty feeling inside him, which was amplified by Brian’s voice at the other end of the call.

He should’ve texted, Justin realised too late.

‘Hello? Did I lose you?’

‘No no, I’m here,’ Justin said quietly.

‘You alright?’ Brian asked and Justin could hear worry in his voice.

Justin squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. There were so many feelings that it was hard to make sense of them. He was so tired and he really should’ve texted. Nothing made any sense. He couldn’t even remember when was the last time he had felt like this; like a complete mess; like nothing made sense and something was missing.

‘Justin?’

‘I’m sorry,’ Justin whispered. He could feel the tears coming and cursed. ‘Shit. Look, I need to go.’

‘Oh. Ok.’

‘Night.’ Justin waited no reply before hanging up.

It hurt. It fucking hurt. He just couldn’t do it, couldn’t give in. It would be the exact same story. He would build dream castles and talk about soulmates, love, and it would all come crumbling down. There was a tight feeling in Justin’s chest and tears rose to his eyes. It was hard to breathe.

He’d never been as afraid as with Aaron. Their relationship had been wonderful and beautiful, but he had also been so petrified with fear that he couldn’t breathe. He had started to suffocate and treated it with alcohol, drugs and then with sex - with a stranger. The handsome guy from Florida popped to his thoughts and Justin screamed inside. How could he have done that? To the person he had loved most in the world. Through his own actions his greatest fears had become a reality. The dream castles had shattered to pieces. It was hard to breathe.

He had once told Rupaul that he feared death, which was bullshit. He had been terrified of living, because he knew he would fuck it up, and he had, and he would again. He wouldn’t do it again. No, it would be easier to live alone than fear the time it would be over. He needed to consciously to think about breathing to do it, it hurt.

Justin didn’t know how long he had been crying when he heard the voice and the banging of the door.

‘I know you’re in there and if you don’t open this door, I’m going to wake up the entire hallway or the entire hotel if I have to!’

Aaron. Exactly the person he wanted to, and equally as much did not want to see.

‘I’m serious!’

Justin tiptoed to the door and opened it to see Aaron standing there, barefooted.

Aaron took one look at him and sighed. ‘Oh honey.’ He pushed the door open and collected the fragile boy into his arms. Justin was bigger than Aaron remembered, or maybe he remembered wrong? Whichever the case, he didn’t seem to fit into Aaron’s embrace as well as he used to.

‘Chad, close the door,’ Aaron said quietly. The name shook Justin’s foundation. It caused him to lose sight of every single string he had held onto to keep himself together and so he crumbled to the floor, sobbing. He was so tired.

‘Come on honey, get up, the bed’s right there,’ Aaron whispered and massaged small circles onto Justin’s back. ‘Come on, up you go.’

Aaron got the sobbing man onto the bed and started stroking his hair gently. ‘You’re just tired. You just need to sleep and everything will come together.’

It took only minutes for Justin to calm down in Aaron’s embrace and fall asleep.

Chad was sitting on the sofa, watching the two men on the bed.

‘Love?’ Aaron whispered gently. ‘Could you give me my phone?’

Chad nodded and handed the phone he had been fiddling with to it’s rightful owner.

Aaron re-opened the message he had received 22 minutes ago from an unknown number: ‘Hi Aaron, got your number from Detox. You’re in Rio with Justin, no? I think he needs help, he sounded exhausted. I think you know what I mean. Brian (Katya)’

‘All well,’ Aaron typed and thought for a moment. ‘Thank you.’ He thought again, erased the thank you and added ‘How did you know?’ before pressing send.

‘I’ve seen it before. It just sounded like that on the phone,’ came Brian’s immediate reply.  

Aaron raised his eyebrows in surprise. Someone really cared. He sighed and typed a ‘Thank you.’ before walking to Chad, who had returned to the sofa.

‘Come on, he’s fine now,’ Aaron whispered and offered a hand to his handsome fiancé.  

Chad glanced to the sleeping man on the bed, nodded and accepted Aaron’s hand.

They walked to their room and Chad closed the door in silence.

‘You ok?’ he then asked Aaron.

‘Yeah, why?’

‘You’re awfully quiet.’

‘Mm,’ Aaron nodded. He didn’t know why but it bothered him.

‘How long do you think Justin has known Brian?’

Chad shrugged. ‘I don’t know, little over a year?’

‘Yeah, that’s what I thought,’ Aaron said and walked to their bed. The couple snuggled up together and Chad kissed Aaron’s shoulder.

‘It took me over two years to see it coming, to recognise the signs. I didn’t even know you could hear it from his voice… And we were dating, we lived together,’ Aaron explained.

‘See what coming?’

‘Those exhaustion and stress induced panic attacks Justin works himself into.’

‘Mm,’ Chad nodded. He was silent for a moment and then asked uncertainly: ‘You’re jealous?’

‘No!’ Aaron exclaimed, but could see that Chad wasn’t convinced. ‘I guess a little. He’s thousands of miles away and could hear from Justin’s bare voice that he needed help. I spent seven hours today with him, on- and off-stage, and I didn’t notice a thing.’

Chad smiled gently, happily. ‘Yeah, because you’re not in love with him.’

Aaron nodded, surprised that Chad’s comment didn’t hurt. He really was not in love with Justin. Hadn’t been for a long time. He loved him, dearly, but was not in love with him. Did that mean that Brian was?

‘You know what I think?’

‘What?’

‘I think we should sleep.’

Aaron nodded and turned off the lights. He listened to Chad’s breathing, but couldn’t fall asleep. His thoughts kept going in circles and coming back to Justin. He knew had to do something or the feeling wouldn’t leave him alone. He checked that Chad was asleep and sneaked into the toilet. He was fiddling with his phone while trying to decide whether or not to make the call. Truthfully, it wasn’t fair on either of them - not on Justin, not on Brian. But he had to do something and at 4.30 am this was the only thing he could think of.

* * *

6295.08 miles away Brian McCook was just getting into a shower when his phone rang in the living room. He turned on his heels and took three long stride to reach his phone. He had just  swiped the screen to answer when he hit his big toe to a coffee table corner.

‘Дерьмо́! Fuckingshitmotherfucker!’

‘I’ll just assume you don’t answer all of you calls like that?’ came a rather surprised voice of Aaron Coady and Brian swore again under his breath.

‘No, I… Sorry. I hit my toe. Jesus. I think I’m bleeding. It hurts like shit!’

‘Yes, shit can be very painful,’ Sharon noted, amused.

‘Sorry,’ Brian said again. ‘You called?’

‘Yes. I have a favour to ask, and I’m sure you have work, or are busy, or something. But like… Look, I know about Texas.’

Brian rolled his eyes. Who didn’t know about Texas? Fucking gossipy Drag Cunts - there was nothing majestic about that bunch.

‘We’ve been in Rio for a week and we have another one to go and, let’s just cut to the chase - how would you feel about coming to Brazil?’

  —–

A/N2: Who can guess what Poundcake song chapter 6 is based on? ^O^

[environmentandrenewables-blog]

One year to dream a dream, one year to pursue a dream, one year to fulfil that dream. It has been an absolute rollercoaster and its finally all converged to a point, not the final point but most certainly a point, where I can pause to reflect and collect my thoughts. I always had a feeling that 25 would be a good time in my life and also for a lot of people around me.

One year ago I found myself as a graduate having had a phenomenal summer in Brighton and en route to a hippy commune/eco-village/internship (choose whichever is suited best to your interests!) in the south of Spain where I learnt about community living, embarked on practical investigation into renewable energy technologies and was introduced to the world of permaculture (theory around sustainable agriculture and living). I met some amazing people one of which was a man called David Dean, a man who many might call crazy, eccentric, interesting or just plain out of his mind. I’d say that a culmination of these combine to make the man I know and which happens to be a trait in many of the people I call my friends!

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During my stay in the eco-village he called on me to help with a presentation he was giving in the coming months. It just so happened he was doing this in Geneva at the United Nations, I was slightly taken aback, but not enough to pass up the opportunity to ask him if I could tag along, he obliged!

So I found myself in Geneva (December, 2016), at the UN, a childhood dream of mine, standing where the humanitarian heroes have once stood before me. Where the pinnacle of bureaucracy attempts to meet the worlds desperate cry for help. Some would say a paradox and others, our best attempt at global aid, I guess it depends on what perspective you have of the glass, no judgement from me, my perspective is continually changing!

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I met an old friend, Katie Hayes, who at the time was working at the World Health Organisation, who graciously introduced me to her friends and helped accommodate me considering my default budget travelling mode! She introduced me to her boyfriend who, as luck would have it, worked at the Large Hadron Collider (CERN). For those who don’t know what this is, it is basically the pinnacle of particle physics in the modern age, something I have been aware of since my early interest in physics as a young boy and due to my mathematically inclined father. He gave me a personal tour of his work including a brief look inside the largest cryogenic facility in the world, as his work involved lowering the temperature of the magnets to control the path of the colliding particles, I was awestruck!

  I then took it upon myself, considering I was in the Alps, to find somewhere to go snowboarding. I got in contact with a few friends I knew might be around and embarked on some epic fun. An old housemate named Lieke showed me the ropes in Nendaz, which was a beautiful ski resort in the southern Swiss Alps and then made my way to meet my old friend Katherine in another outrageously “bougie” resort called Val d’Isere. Both places as beautiful as each other, I was able to get all the snowboarding I had out of my system, and this time without injury!

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I then made my way by bus and train across France to spend the first Christmas in ten years with my parents, a truly fantastic occasion (for those that don’t know, it’s not that I’ve been shunned, we merely celebrate before the actual season and spend said day apart from each other!).

  From there I made my way back to London to spend the all my time with my marvellous girlfriend who’d just secured an internship with the UN’s World Food Program (WFP) in Rome. We were about to embark on our own adventures, pursuing our aims and goals, they just so happened to be on other sides of the world for now! With the knowledge of spending a year apart from each other, we prepared for her departure. Conversation, tears and laughter comprised our time during those days and then she was off. I was off. A small piece of each other travelling in our hearts, we’d each begun our adventure separately but more entwined and in love than ever.

My next step was Nicaragua for a four month development project using solar power, not before a swift and disturbing stop off in Florida where my flight had been redirected due to the domestic terrorist shooting at Fort Lauderdale Airport, welcome to Trumpland ( I say sitting here in the USA). I learnt a lot in Nicaragua from how to a small organisation like Grupo Fenix functioned and contributed to a local community through to really getting to grips with my Spanish. I met weird and wonderful people, some of whom I remain in contact with and shared the same moral principals as myself.

  Next began my trip through America, something I had been meaning to do for years. Skepticism and angst were present in my state of mind but I was keen to keep an open mind and finally travel a country where I spoke the language and would be able to understand everything around me. What I was really excited to do was explore the majestic nature that the country had to offer. One of the other aims of the trips was to talk with professionals from the renewable and sustainability industries to explore and learn about certain companies and organisations, looking for a place to sit for a moment.

I started in New York, revisiting my childhood, potentially making last memories with my Auntie as she suffered from a flurry of devastating cancers (she’s clear of a few now, still kicking and won’t go without a fight, lots of love Priscilla). It was an emotionally taxing three weeks considering that I just emerged from a small mountain village in Nicaragua to the Big Apple. But I got see my mother and also spend some quality time with her which was fantastic. I got shown around the Google offices, the TED offices, talked with the Rockefellar Foundation and interviewed with the UNEP in Brasil.

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I continued on to Washington D.C. to have a chat with someone from the UN Foundation which I also combined with visiting a couple I had met in Geneva. They made sure I saw the capital correctly and it was lovely to get to know them better before they embarked on their own adventure across the States.

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I had caught wind of an old friend working for the Wall Street Journal in Chicago and I just had to go and pay him a visit! I got my first AMTRAK (cross country trains) from D.C. to Chicago and Benjamin Parkin took me in with open arms as I delivered him my backpack in the lobby of Corporate America, it was quite a funny scene. We had dinner that evening and then I was off to Colorado in the morning.

This was a much longer AMTRAK train but I was able to experience part of the Great Plains of America, where wild horses and buffalo once roamed, a true expanse of flat or undulating low hills stretched to the horizon. A place now dedicated to corn and cattle. An unsettling feeling of a dystopian twist on nature crept over me as I watched the sun rise on this oddly beautiful and monotonous landscape, illuminating the land before me.

Denver, Colorado was what waited for me. A city in the sky, the mile high city, sitting at 1609m above sea level at the foot hills of the Rock Mountains, there was something that called me there. Writing this I am reminded of my time in Kathmandu, another epic journey of mine. The stark contrast of these two cities but with very similar geographies, located at the foot of epic mountain ranges, to be honest, they couldn’t be any more different but the magic of the mountains resounded in both. I stayed with the parents of a my friend Meg who I’d met in Nicaragua, they were absolutely magnificent and took me in for a week or so as they showed me the city and bits around it, I cannot thank them enough for their kindness and the time we had together.

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I then met with a friend of my girlfriend Abbi called Caroline. We’d met before in London and when she heard I was coming to town she was keen to get on the road and see some things she’d been meaning to do for a while. She was a nature freak and that’s just what we did. From Hanging Lakes to Aspen (where we visited the Rocky Mountain Institute) continuing on to Utah to the breathtaking Arches National Park and Dead Horse Point. It was an immense amount of beauty that I was not expecting, especially from Utah, but there you go, the desert sculpts beauty.

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From here I made my way to California to see friends both old and new and also some family. My friend Jacqueline was coming out to combine work with leisure so we embarked on a 3 weeks road trip beginning with the legendary Six Flags amusement park after having an informal interview with one of the SolarCity offices. We continued on to Flagstaff, Arizona where she had a conference and I explored the immensely beautiful volcanic-desert-pine-forest nature that was there. We saw the Grand Canyon and then moved onward to Yosemite National Park and Lake Tahoe. Reno, Nevada ensued where we shot guns and gambled with cowboys to then go and visit my old friend Michael in San Francisco and stay at his LGBTQ cooperative, quite the contrast! We continued on and discovered the underwhelming California coast (nothing compares to the ruggedness and beauty of the Welsh and Cornish/Kernow coastline!) back down to Los Angeles. My old friend Barney took me out to an unsuspecting night filled with hipsters in shorts at a warehouse in Chinatown of an art exhibition put on by AllSaints (the clothing company not the band). It seemed so quintessential of my perspective of LA that I relished in the moment of it and had an amazing night (helped by an open bar!

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I then returned to San Francisco for two weeks to pursue job prospects and continue talking with organisations like the Sierra Club, SunRun and Grid Alternatives. I snuck into one of the biggest Solar conventions and also, for both Sundays that I was in town, went to the weekly outside roller disco in golden gate park, truly amazing! I interviewed with another SolarCity office up there but the role was not right and it turns out I much preferred the climate down in LA.

I then moved onto Vancouver by train waking up to the sunrise over Mount Shasta which was so raw and beautiful, almost moving. I was off to Vancouver to catch up with an old friend by the name of Alex Herron. I’d been so inspired by his passion and commitment to becoming a chef that he’d up and relocated here in Canada. We had a marvellous time. Vancouver is a beautiful city with snow-capped mountains for the backdrop as well as the sea lapping at your toes. The summer there means a consistently great temperature and plenty of cycling through the city. Alex had found a very niche Japanese restaurant where he had learnt mass amounts about Japanese cuisine and language as well. I sat at the bar on several nights being fed special made dishes from him and his very warm and welcoming team. We then scarpered off to Whistler which is the centre of the Canadian Rockies, juts of mountain sticking out everywhere, where we dabbled with some white-water rafting, spa lounging and best hikes I have ever done. I had not read that much about the hike (being the nature freak and geographer that I am), and hence I was astounded and flabbergasted to see my first glaciers, coupled with a glacial lake that they fed which were colours you’d only normally see in movies or certain filters one might put on a picture!

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The next stop was to be Montreal, Canada where Abbi and I would finally see each other after 6 months. I was nervous as I always am before seeing her after these lengths of time we do, and as always there was no reason to be. We had an amazing time visiting Quebec and it was a time where I got to know and meet some bits of her family I’d never met before. We then did a small road trip through Vermont and Upstate New York where we visited a second cousin of hers who owned the dream home equipped with natural springs, fully sustaining vegetable gardening, swimming ponds and yoga yurt! From there we canoed around the Thousand Islands and then further explored the beautiful city of Montreal. We then parted ways for the second bout of 6 months. Which at this point, I must shout out to her as she had now secured a job at the UN as an international consultant. My dream woman just became even more dreamy. When people ask if it hard making our relationship work I can honestly say, that to make it work, absolutely not. We follow our heart and dreams which overlap and which in turn inspire one another, she is one of the biggest inspirations of my life. Sure we miss each other though, that’s the hard bit, not trying to keep it together.

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I then made my way to Toronto where I was very excited to catch up and spend the week with my good pal Cal and also have Herron back with us. It was a week of pure debauchery 100% accredited to Cal which is not something I tend to indulge in, but when you’re feeling slightly blue about constant rejection from jobs and your partner leaving for a while, an assault on the senses with food and drink can sometimes be a good remedy! As he always does, Cal had established a solid network of people so that we could enjoy, and that’s just what we did, a truly wonderful time.

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Then back to the reality of quickly diminishing financial situation where I weighed up moving on to New Zealand to work and continue travelling or spend the rest of my money pursuing a job in southern California. I sacrificed one dream for another and went for the latter. Barney put me up in his place for a week while I applied for jobs and followed up on leads. Following a week there, I decided to WWOOF (World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms) to bide my time while waiting for responses for free room and board. So I began two weeks on a small date farm in the middle of the Colorado Desert (in California) where days reached 48°C/118°F with 15% humidity and on others 35°C/95°F with 75% humidity. I stumbled on and caught rattlesnakes, mitigated against racoons stealing dates, coyotes, kangaroo rats, beautiful birds, luminescent scorpions and bats coming out of the chocolate mountains at dusk as we bathed in natural hot springs on the property. I truly discovered the fragility, diversity and beauty of the thriving desert ecosystem. Due to the nature of the climate, work hours were few and very early in the morning which meant I had a lot of free time in the day to read, and research. But as with the general etiquette of job search I had little response which is quite disheartening, until one afternoon where I had three inquests from SolarCity/Tesla offices on recommendation from a manager I had previously spoken to as well as an interview request from SunRun, finally, things were looking up!

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I then came back to LA where I began living on an urban farm/Kibbutz in Silver Lake, which is pretty central and residential. We had 10 sheep, 5 chickens, 4 dogs, 7 puppies and 1 goat. It was really quite impressive! So while I worked for my keep at the house/farm I was able to interview and secure a job with one of the Tesla offices on the grounds that I acquire my driving license which the matriarch at the farm helped me by lending me her car. With the car in hand I completed my test and the papers were sent over my way to sign for the job!

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And to top things off, I’d planned for ten days in September to road trip with my boy from University, Tom Creed. With the Ford Expedition (not something, as an environmentalist, I am proud to say, but then some of the most fun things are also the worst!) Tom and I set out to the southern Sierra Nevada’s. We spent a week sleeping in the truck with 5 of those days deep in Sequoia National Park and King’s Canyon National Park. Walking, driving, talking and camping. A beautiful end to an amazing trip. My trip that is, Tom was about to embark on his own open return trip to Bangkok which I is going to be amazing.

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And there you have it. One year, one wonderful year. Filled with adventure, but more importantly for me, I was pursuing the next step in my life and I finally acquired it. After a year and a half, 36 applications JUST with Tesla and a whole lot of perseverance I got to where I wanted.

  Am I content? No.

Why? Because this is only just the beginning.

A huge thank you to my wonderful parents, my marvellous grandma and my amazing partner in crime, Abbi. I’m a lucky human being and for that, I am thankful and grateful. Due to my position in life, I aim to give back to our world and society in the greatest possible way. I’m always trying to figure that one out, so if you ever have an idea on how, let’s talk.

(PS shout out to Tania for helping me with this website, long live sunseed!)

            One Year One year to dream a dream, one year to pursue a dream, one year to fulfil that dream.

[onelongdrive]

THE DRAMA QUEEN is LUA SANTOS (fc: camila mendes) AND THEY WILL BE PLAYED BY MALINE!

please send in your page link within the next 24 hours.  welcome to the road trip!

learn more about lua below.

ooc information

name and pronouns: hello!!! my name’s maline and i go by she/her!

age: i’m eighteen years old ( and actually turning nineteen in a few days so woohoo for that!! )

timezone: i see what you did there!!!  although i’m not carmen, i, too, am from the great latin america ( brasil, more especifically ) which means i’m in the gmt-3 timezone.

ic information

character requested: the drama queen.

character name: although named luana, she mostly goes by and introduces herself as lua ( a, it’s cute. b, she’s very opened so she really doesn’t mind people calling her by her nickname. c, no one ever pronounces her full name right anyway ). so, it’s lua coutinho santos.

face claim: camila mendes.

age: twenty five years old.

gender/pronouns: cisgender female. she/her pronouns.

sexual orientation: bisexual

meet your character

The entertainer. The title could easily summarize Lua, her little performances at the living room, the fabulous parties she threw and the incredible way she mastered of making you feel more than comfortable while talking to her. Loud, original, observant and quite practical, her loyal and artistic ways could sometimes be overshadowed by the defensive, conflict-averse and easily-bored aspects of her personality. Social to the last bone of her body, the girl is a mix of blunt truths and an immense amount of wit that made high school ( and pretty much everywhere she goes ) her kingdom, collecting friends, fans and fuss. Raised in a very expressive and democratic household, she grew up used to having her voice heard and honestly wouldn’t accept it any other way. She learned how to make her point and stand by it, taking as an advice from her parents that gut is definitely something you always follow. 

Daughter of immigrants, she knew her family’s money was the only reason she didn’t get introduced to that rough side of the land of the free and, an equality activist herself, she used her status to make a difference whenever necessary, going as far as winning an award for creating an anti-bullying project. The once prom queen is always up to stepping out of her comfort zone ( and that was also how she learned her bisexuality at the age of thirteen ) yet, can be perceived as impulsive due her usual lack of planning or focus. If you asked her, that’s the characteristic she would change if she could– her father always made very clear that she couldn’t rely on her habit of depending on her friends to analyse the consequences of her actions. And ever since Olive, she was somehow forced to depend less and less– especially because she was the person who Lua went to talk to about what to do or how to do it.        

And we get to the Olive topic. ( Co-captain cheerleader, championship winner, daughter of the CEO of Santos Corp.– and the list goes on ) Lua has always been the face that came into everybody’s head when thinking about the highs chool at Shallow Creek. And she shamelessly loved it, wearing the crowd proudly. That, of course, until the articles about the crash became all you could find when googling the town’s name;;; saying that was a blow on the stomach wasn’t sufficient. Olive Graff was that one girl who welcomed Lua at kindergarten, even when the latina didn’t know how to exactly thank her for being nice due her broken English. For as long as she can remember, Olive was there– to listen, to laugh, to talk and most importantly, to get her. As the years went by, Lua never seemed to get bored of the consistency between the two girls. As a matter of fact, it was one of the things that brought her comfort whenever she needed– she knew that Olive would always be there to get her wit, to pick up on her sarcasm and to banter with. Until she wasn’t anymore. And that was not something she managed to unfocus of so easily. 

It was her party, on the night of her eighteenth birthday. She remembers being slightly mad at Olive when a text came in, letting her know that her parents were fussing and that she might not make it. The thought of celebrating without a friend annoyed her but it all felt very trivial after the news. She did end up coming after all and they had fun– until something happened with Bryson and Aug got too shit-faced to drive. Olive, carrying an almost unconscious August, found Lua in midst of the dancing bodies and let her know that she’d be dropping him off. And with a joke aimed at the boy’s state, a hug and a kiss on their cheeks, she said goodbye, thanking them for coming. It wasn’t until an hour of sleep ( after everyone left the party by 5am ) that her mother shook her awake, letting her know that her friends were at the hospital– all three of them. She didn’t believe it. It could only be a mean joke. And nobody could tell her otherwise, until she saw that coffin being covered by the dirt.        

It was like this for two or three weeks. She’d leave Sydney voicemails, visit Olive’s grave and her friends at the hospital. She would send them flowers just to hide the questions and the guilt from herself. What if she asked them to stay over that night? Why didn’t she offered any of the guest beds to August and maybe Olive wouldn’t even leave? Why did she even throw that party anyway? That way, neither of her friends would’ve been drunk and this whole situation would’ve never happened. She searched for someone to blame. And til this day, there’s parts of herself that, no matter how hard she tries, wants to shout at the two for drinking that much. Wants to hit them and ask how come Olive was the only one who didn't survive. Wants to scream at her for checking the message and even question Teddy why did she text at all. Lua never did. She couldn’t bring herself to cause any more trouble and confrontation was never something she was keen of. 

It was hard looking at everyone and, at the same time, acknowledging the realization that she was not there anymore. Easily the hardest thing Luana’s had gone through, she had a hard time dealing with the tsunami of feelings and thoughts that she battled against within herself– it hurt too much. Pissed that it happened. Pissed that it happened that night. She knew how she left people talking about how much of a bitch she was for thinking that when one of her best friends totally just fucking died. Well, yeah. She’s never celebrated her birthday on the day ever since and misses how her friends would put candles on a damn cupcake for her to blow and make a wish. Misses getting ( happy birthday )  hugs from Olive– and not cry at the anniversary of her death. Perhaps, for that, she really was a bitch.        

Even more when things were beginning to slowly go back to how it was, yet, she could never see things going back to ( normal ) since it seemed like they were slowly growing apart. They would take longer to reply to her messages, the ones she hesitated for minutes before sending. She would feel her heart hurt whenever she crossed one of them on the streets. It wasn’t long before Lua realized there was no way she would stay in Georgia any longer. She would not be there to watch time go by when Olive wasn’t there. 

After graduation, the brunette had more than one college to pick from and it was then that she chose to go as far as possible– London, to study Fashion Journalism at Central Saint Martins. Go somewhere where she’d start off fresh. And she kept her personality, for the most part. But grief took the ingenuity out of her and she learned how things can disappear in a matter of seconds. 

Her friend inspired Luana to be the determined woman she turned into– the one who gave up her father’s capital, graduated top of her class and paid for her tuition with her own salary she got from working at a local atelier. The one who made her own fortune and name in NYC and the world, becoming one of the most famous fashion journalists/bloggers and critics. Creating a Youtube channel where she shares clips of her life, fashion related news and tips, talk vlogs which actually earned her a large fanbase that she’s very fond of;;; it’s hard for her to deal with the criticism but who guessed first Luana would become a famous influencer? And since she left, she hasn’t come back. Not even once, not even to visit Olive’s grave one more time. She still spends important dates with her family ( with the exception of her birthday ) when they all fly back home to Brasil, but she hasn’t found the courage to be there yet. Which is worrying Luana every day a little bit more– especially after the last letter. She misses everyone so much and remembers every little word that came out of the other girl’s mouth when they were talking about this damn roadtrip… It’s just too messy. And it hurts. 

Lua knows she’s supposed to face it and honor Olive’s life, she just wonders if there’s an easier way to do it– a way where she wouldn’t be face to face with that old part of her. Her personality, her friends, her love.

[environmentandrenewables-blog]

One year to dream a dream, one year to pursue a dream, one year to fulfil that dream. It has been an absolute rollercoaster and its finally all converged to a point, not the final point but most certainly a point, where I can pause to reflect and collect my thoughts. I always had a feeling that 25 would be a good time in my life and also for a lot of people around me.

One year ago I found myself as a graduate having had a phenomenal summer in Brighton and en route to a hippy commune/eco-village/internship (choose whichever is suited best to your interests!) in the south of Spain where I learnt about community living, embarked on practical investigation into renewable energy technologies and was introduced to the world of permaculture (theory around sustainable agriculture and living). I met some amazing people one of which was a man called David Dean, a man who many might call crazy, eccentric, interesting or just plain out of his mind. I’d say that a culmination of these combine to make the man I know and which happens to be a trait in many of the people I call my friends!

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During my stay in the eco-village he called on me to help with a presentation he was giving in the coming months. It just so happened he was doing this in Geneva at the United Nations, I was slightly taken aback, but not enough to pass up the opportunity to ask him if I could tag along, he obliged!

So I found myself in Geneva (December, 2016), at the UN, a childhood dream of mine, standing where the humanitarian heroes have once stood before me. Where the pinnacle of bureaucracy attempts to meet the worlds desperate cry for help. Some would say a paradox and others, our best attempt at global aid, I guess it depends on what perspective you have of the glass, no judgement from me, my perspective is continually changing!

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I met an old friend, Katie Hayes, who at the time was working at the World Health Organisation, who graciously introduced me to her friends and helped accommodate me considering my default budget travelling mode! She introduced me to her boyfriend who, as luck would have it, worked at the Large Hadron Collider (CERN). For those who don’t know what this is, it is basically the pinnacle of particle physics in the modern age, something I have been aware of since my early interest in physics as a young boy and due to my mathematically inclined father. He gave me a personal tour of his work including a brief look inside the largest cryogenic facility in the world, as his work involved lowering the temperature of the magnets to control the path of the colliding particles, I was awestruck!

  I then took it upon myself, considering I was in the Alps, to find somewhere to go snowboarding. I got in contact with a few friends I knew might be around and embarked on some epic fun. An old housemate named Lieke showed me the ropes in Nendaz, which was a beautiful ski resort in the southern Swiss Alps and then made my way to meet my old friend Katherine in another outrageously “bougie” resort called Val d’Isere. Both places as beautiful as each other, I was able to get all the snowboarding I had out of my system, and this time without injury!

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I then made my way by bus and train across France to spend the first Christmas in ten years with my parents, a truly fantastic occasion (for those that don’t know, it’s not that I’ve been shunned, we merely celebrate before the actual season and spend said day apart from each other!).

  From there I made my way back to London to spend the all my time with my marvellous girlfriend who’d just secured an internship with the UN’s World Food Program (WFP) in Rome. We were about to embark on our own adventures, pursuing our aims and goals, they just so happened to be on other sides of the world for now! With the knowledge of spending a year apart from each other, we prepared for her departure. Conversation, tears and laughter comprised our time during those days and then she was off. I was off. A small piece of each other travelling in our hearts, we’d each begun our adventure separately but more entwined and in love than ever.

My next step was Nicaragua for a four month development project using solar power, not before a swift and disturbing stop off in Florida where my flight had been redirected due to the domestic terrorist shooting at Fort Lauderdale Airport, welcome to Trumpland ( I say sitting here in the USA). I learnt a lot in Nicaragua from how to a small organisation like Grupo Fenix functioned and contributed to a local community through to really getting to grips with my Spanish. I met weird and wonderful people, some of whom I remain in contact with and shared the same moral principals as myself.

  Next began my trip through America, something I had been meaning to do for years. Skepticism and angst were present in my state of mind but I was keen to keep an open mind and finally travel a country where I spoke the language and would be able to understand everything around me. What I was really excited to do was explore the majestic nature that the country had to offer. One of the other aims of the trips was to talk with professionals from the renewable and sustainability industries to explore and learn about certain companies and organisations, looking for a place to sit for a moment.

I started in New York, revisiting my childhood, potentially making last memories with my Auntie as she suffered from a flurry of devastating cancers (she’s clear of a few now, still kicking and won’t go without a fight, lots of love Priscilla). It was an emotionally taxing three weeks considering that I just emerged from a small mountain village in Nicaragua to the Big Apple. But I got see my mother and also spend some quality time with her which was fantastic. I got shown around the Google offices, the TED offices, talked with the Rockefellar Foundation and interviewed with the UNEP in Brasil.

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I continued on to Washington D.C. to have a chat with someone from the UN Foundation which I also combined with visiting a couple I had met in Geneva. They made sure I saw the capital correctly and it was lovely to get to know them better before they embarked on their own adventure across the States.

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I had caught wind of an old friend working for the Wall Street Journal in Chicago and I just had to go and pay him a visit! I got my first AMTRAK (cross country trains) from D.C. to Chicago and Benjamin Parkin took me in with open arms as I delivered him my backpack in the lobby of Corporate America, it was quite a funny scene. We had dinner that evening and then I was off to Colorado in the morning.

This was a much longer AMTRAK train but I was able to experience part of the Great Plains of America, where wild horses and buffalo once roamed, a true expanse of flat or undulating low hills stretched to the horizon. A place now dedicated to corn and cattle. An unsettling feeling of a dystopian twist on nature crept over me as I watched the sun rise on this oddly beautiful and monotonous landscape, illuminating the land before me.

Denver, Colorado was what waited for me. A city in the sky, the mile high city, sitting at 1609m above sea level at the foot hills of the Rock Mountains, there was something that called me there. Writing this I am reminded of my time in Kathmandu, another epic journey of mine. The stark contrast of these two cities but with very similar geographies, located at the foot of epic mountain ranges, to be honest, they couldn’t be any more different but the magic of the mountains resounded in both. I stayed with the parents of a my friend Meg who I’d met in Nicaragua, they were absolutely magnificent and took me in for a week or so as they showed me the city and bits around it, I cannot thank them enough for their kindness and the time we had together.

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I then met with a friend of my girlfriend Abbi called Caroline. We’d met before in London and when she heard I was coming to town she was keen to get on the road and see some things she’d been meaning to do for a while. She was a nature freak and that’s just what we did. From Hanging Lakes to Aspen (where we visited the Rocky Mountain Institute) continuing on to Utah to the breathtaking Arches National Park and Dead Horse Point. It was an immense amount of beauty that I was not expecting, especially from Utah, but there you go, the desert sculpts beauty.

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From here I made my way to California to see friends both old and new and also some family. My friend Jacqueline was coming out to combine work with leisure so we embarked on a 3 weeks road trip beginning with the legendary Six Flags amusement park after having an informal interview with one of the SolarCity offices. We continued on to Flagstaff, Arizona where she had a conference and I explored the immensely beautiful volcanic-desert-pine-forest nature that was there. We saw the Grand Canyon and then moved onward to Yosemite National Park and Lake Tahoe. Reno, Nevada ensued where we shot guns and gambled with cowboys to then go and visit my old friend Michael in San Francisco and stay at his LGBTQ cooperative, quite the contrast! We continued on and discovered the underwhelming California coast (nothing compares to the ruggedness and beauty of the Welsh and Cornish/Kernow coastline!) back down to Los Angeles. My old friend Barney took me out to an unsuspecting night filled with hipsters in shorts at a warehouse in Chinatown of an art exhibition put on by AllSaints (the clothing company not the band). It seemed so quintessential of my perspective of LA that I relished in the moment of it and had an amazing night (helped by an open bar!

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I then returned to San Francisco for two weeks to pursue job prospects and continue talking with organisations like the Sierra Club, SunRun and Grid Alternatives. I snuck into one of the biggest Solar conventions and also, for both Sundays that I was in town, went to the weekly outside roller disco in golden gate park, truly amazing! I interviewed with another SolarCity office up there but the role was not right and it turns out I much preferred the climate down in LA.

I then moved onto Vancouver by train waking up to the sunrise over Mount Shasta which was so raw and beautiful, almost moving. I was off to Vancouver to catch up with an old friend by the name of Alex Herron. I’d been so inspired by his passion and commitment to becoming a chef that he’d up and relocated here in Canada. We had a marvellous time. Vancouver is a beautiful city with snow-capped mountains for the backdrop as well as the sea lapping at your toes. The summer there means a consistently great temperature and plenty of cycling through the city. Alex had found a very niche Japanese restaurant where he had learnt mass amounts about Japanese cuisine and language as well. I sat at the bar on several nights being fed special made dishes from him and his very warm and welcoming team. We then scarpered off to Whistler which is the centre of the Canadian Rockies, juts of mountain sticking out everywhere, where we dabbled with some white-water rafting, spa lounging and best hikes I have ever done. I had not read that much about the hike (being the nature freak and geographer that I am), and hence I was astounded and flabbergasted to see my first glaciers, coupled with a glacial lake that they fed which were colours you’d only normally see in movies or certain filters one might put on a picture!

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The next stop was to be Montreal, Canada where Abbi and I would finally see each other after 6 months. I was nervous as I always am before seeing her after these lengths of time we do, and as always there was no reason to be. We had an amazing time visiting Quebec and it was a time where I got to know and meet some bits of her family I’d never met before. We then did a small road trip through Vermont and Upstate New York where we visited a second cousin of hers who owned the dream home equipped with natural springs, fully sustaining vegetable gardening, swimming ponds and yoga yurt! From there we canoed around the Thousand Islands and then further explored the beautiful city of Montreal. We then parted ways for the second bout of 6 months. Which at this point, I must shout out to her as she had now secured a job at the UN as an international consultant. My dream woman just became even more dreamy. When people ask if it hard making our relationship work I can honestly say, that to make it work, absolutely not. We follow our heart and dreams which overlap and which in turn inspire one another, she is one of the biggest inspirations of my life. Sure we miss each other though, that’s the hard bit, not trying to keep it together.

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I then made my way to Toronto where I was very excited to catch up and spend the week with my good pal Cal and also have Herron back with us. It was a week of pure debauchery 100% accredited to Cal which is not something I tend to indulge in, but when you’re feeling slightly blue about constant rejection from jobs and your partner leaving for a while, an assault on the senses with food and drink can sometimes be a good remedy! As he always does, Cal had established a solid network of people so that we could enjoy, and that’s just what we did, a truly wonderful time.

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Then back to the reality of quickly diminishing financial situation where I weighed up moving on to New Zealand to work and continue travelling or spend the rest of my money pursuing a job in southern California. I sacrificed one dream for another and went for the latter. Barney put me up in his place for a week while I applied for jobs and followed up on leads. Following a week there, I decided to WWOOF (World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms) to bide my time while waiting for responses for free room and board. So I began two weeks on a small date farm in the middle of the Colorado Desert (in California) where days reached 48°C/118°F with 15% humidity and on others 35°C/95°F with 75% humidity. I stumbled on and caught rattlesnakes, mitigated against racoons stealing dates, coyotes, kangaroo rats, beautiful birds, luminescent scorpions and bats coming out of the chocolate mountains at dusk as we bathed in natural hot springs on the property. I truly discovered the fragility, diversity and beauty of the thriving desert ecosystem. Due to the nature of the climate, work hours were few and very early in the morning which meant I had a lot of free time in the day to read, and research. But as with the general etiquette of job search I had little response which is quite disheartening, until one afternoon where I had three inquests from SolarCity/Tesla offices on recommendation from a manager I had previously spoken to as well as an interview request from SunRun, finally, things were looking up!

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I then came back to LA where I began living on an urban farm/Kibbutz in Silver Lake, which is pretty central and residential. We had 10 sheep, 5 chickens, 4 dogs, 7 puppies and 1 goat. It was really quite impressive! So while I worked for my keep at the house/farm I was able to interview and secure a job with one of the Tesla offices on the grounds that I acquire my driving license which the matriarch at the farm helped me by lending me her car. With the car in hand I completed my test and the papers were sent over my way to sign for the job!

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And to top things off, I’d planned for ten days in September to road trip with my boy from University, Tom Creed. With the Ford Expedition (not something, as an environmentalist, I am proud to say, but then some of the most fun things are also the worst!) Tom and I set out to the southern Sierra Nevada’s. We spent a week sleeping in the truck with 5 of those days deep in Sequoia National Park and King’s Canyon National Park. Walking, driving, talking and camping. A beautiful end to an amazing trip. My trip that is, Tom was about to embark on his own open return trip to Bangkok which I is going to be amazing.

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And there you have it. One year, one wonderful year. Filled with adventure, but more importantly for me, I was pursuing the next step in my life and I finally acquired it. After a year and a half, 36 applications JUST with Tesla and a whole lot of perseverance I got to where I wanted.

  Am I content? No.

Why? Because this is only just the beginning.

A huge thank you to my wonderful parents, my marvellous grandma and my amazing partner in crime, Abbi. I’m a lucky human being and for that, I am thankful and grateful. Due to my position in life, I aim to give back to our world and society in the greatest possible way. I’m always trying to figure that one out, so if you ever have an idea on how, let’s talk.

            One Year One year to dream a dream, one year to pursue a dream, one year to fulfil that dream.