#its been so hard but ive managed not to buy it yet…i need to wait until after enha’s concert bc iknow theyre abt to break my bank like srsl

[b1mbodoll]

SUGAR GUESS WHAT

my boyfriend (sweetest man) bought me the txt album on the way home from the train station today (first time I'm seeing him in like a week and a half) and I pulled LIP RING SOOBIN???? LIKE WHAT???? SCREAMING CLAWING WALLS RIPPING CARPETS??? -👻

im gna eat You… i need lipring soob so fucking bad agh im going crazy!!!!!!! but im happy for u i suppose…. /lh no but srsly thats so insane im happy for u !!!!!!!!!! biting my fist as we speak

[thrndlngs]

three times shinsou misses the opportunity to kiss you + the one time he seized the moment.

── pairing, shinsou x fem!prohero!reader ── request: x times shinsou wants to kiss fem reader??? pLZ I NEED IT ── author’s note: this was super dope & cute to write. tysm for sending this in. i hope i did this justice and it wasn’t to out of character.  also reader has a water quirk & the two of you are in your early twenties.  ♡ 

i.

     "'toshi,” you whispered, chest against his as the two of you currently hid from the group of villains. your two agencies had partnered up in attempt to take down a new gang of villains who were transporting drugs from the city to the waters, the two of you were partnered because of how the two of you excelled in your respective agencies, shinsou was sent to aid in your patrols of the waters  ──  which is why the two of you are currently hiding in a storage closet on a ship. 

  “shut up.” you don’t take it to heart, you’re sure he means it as nicely as possible - he just lacks a few pages in the ‘vocabulary’ department. 

  “we need to do something.” you tell him, trying your best to meet his gaze in the tight space (which was nearly impossible because he’s towering over you at the moment). he doesn’t reply, not at first at least, if you looked hard enough you would probably see the gears in his head turning. 

  “──stop talking, it’s distracting me.” 

  your mouth quickly shuts, fidgety hands are now at your side, you were starting to get antsy and there was practically little to no room to move around without being heard - or seen for that matter. 

  “they switch the guards every ten minutes, in the middle of the switch, we run.” the purple haired male explained, taking a peak at the time on his cellphone. the two of you had to endure this for three more minutes. just three more minutes and you would be free.

  “three minutes,” you repeated, more to confirm this for yourself. you’re sure you wouldn’t last that long, after all, this was shinsou, the male you’ve had a crush on for quite some time now. how were you expected to last that long?

  “──think of it like seven minutes of heaven.”

  “we haven’t played that since── “

  “yeah, yeah i know, but just think of it like that. don’t think about the closet, just the game.” 

  you nodded quickly, meeting his gaze as the two of you stood there in silence. you’d be lying if you said you weren’t thinking about kissing him. it seemed like the perfect moment - it was just the two of you. if it were the last day on earth, you at least wanted to go out with a bang. you know?

  “let me get comfortable, you can do the same after.” you watched as he places either hands besides your head, slouching a bit against the wall so his back could have some sort of support. he nods to you, signaling for you to do the same. 

  it takes you a moment, the position shinsou is currently in causes your heart to skip just a few beats. were you disappointed in yourself for letting your mind drift.. elsewhere during a mission? for sure. did you care right now? absolutely not.

  you cleared your throat, widening your stance and trying to balance the weight in between your legs to help ease some of the weight  ──  but there wasn’t really much you could do.

  “two minutes.” 

   this had to be the longest three minutes of your life.

   “i think i just tasted my own sweat.” he complained. it feels like he’s sweating in places he shouldn’t produce sweat in.

  “i feel like a fish out of water,” you added.

  “──gonna start passing out if i don’t throw you in the water soon?”

  “says the one whose sweating to death.” 

  “and you’re dehydrated. guess we’re both shit out of luck aren’t we?”

  “yeah, but, i think this isn’t the worst way to die.” 

  he takes another peak at his cellphone, noting that there’s a minute left before the two of you could finally get out of this damn storage closet. “you’ve got a minute to tell me anything worse than dying like this.” 

  in hindsight ── there’s a lot that could happen in a minute, that’s the only reason you said something to begin with. “alone, i could die in this closet, alone and then you know, it would be lonely.” 

 “are you serious?” 

  “oh come on! that’s pretty serious!”

  “it ── it really isn’t,” he’s trying to laugh as quietly as possible and you playfully slapped him in his shoulder. 

 “okay, well, i wouldn’t want to die alone.”

  “mhm, scaredy cat.” his smile is infectious and for a moment, he forgets that the two of you are stuck in a storage closet. maybe now would be the perfect time to kiss you, when it’s just the two of you, waiting to make your grand escape, when the two of your are just centimeters apart. 

  “now’s our chance,” he whispered, straightening himself to get out first just in case. he doesn’t want to act off of impulses. if he kisses you, he wants to make sure it’s because you want him too.

ii.

     “good to see you when you’re not acting like a goldfish who just hopped out of it’s bowl.” the familiar voice teased from behind you, hands folded behind his head. if it were anyone else, you might have tripped them.

  “──don’t you have to go buy hair dye now or something?”

  “no that was after i made sure a fisherman didn’t take you on the way home.”

  “is this what do you do on your spare time? think of jokes that revolve around my quirk?”  

  he rolls his shoulder lazily, leaning against the apartment railing across from your front door. “they come naturally, no extra thinking required.”

  “and here i thought all the hair dye went to your brain.”

   this wasn’t out of the norm for the two of you, he would make the first jab and then you would follow suit. sometimes, the bickering could go on for hours  ──  regardless of task at hand (like the time the two of you were trying to detain a villain and shinsou had told the woman you were a water sprite), it’s an old nickname of yours, he had given it to you back at the sports festival when you were kids. you had earned it when you had almost drown mineta because he wouldn’t stop making inappropriate jokes and you had brought the entire water fountain down on him. 

  as the two of you stood there in silence, you, had your back against your door, hands folded behind you while he stood parallel, arms against his chest he wonders: is this the time he kisses you goodnight? 

  “d’ya want to come inside? i have leftovers? we could pull an all nighter like we used to do back in the dorms?” there’s a hint of hopefulness in your eyes and he would feel like absolute shit if he declined the offer.

  “only because you have food.” 

  he doesn’t kiss you goodnight then. and he doesn’t kiss you goodnight when you fall asleep on his shoulder after the second horror movie either. if you were anyone else, he would’ve left without a care in the world, but it’s you and you are different. 

  so he stays and tells himself that tomorrow will be a new day and tomorrow, he can try again.

iii.

     “i don’t dance,” shinsou tells you as you so desperately tried to bring him onto the dance floor. it’s a hero’s gala, everyone from your respective classes at U.A. were here, pro heroes from all around the world and some of your old instructors as well  ──  these aren’t his thing, you know that. you remember his attitude during the first two hours of the third year’s ‘goodbye party’ - not much had changed. he’s taller, a bit more handsomer and smiles more often. 

  “you do tonight, come on.” while you had dragged him by one hand, the other desperately tried to loosen his tie because it feels like he’s suffocating. 

  “──you’ll be the death of me woman.” he’s mumbling under his breath, one hand resting in yours as the other found its place at your waist.

  “because i asked you to dance? might i say this is on your list of horrible ways to die?” you teased, offering him that infectious smile that makes him go weak in his knees. he hates to admit the pull you have on him  ──  he might even go as far as saying you might have him wrapped around that finger of yours and you don’t even know it yet.

  “if it’s by your hands i would say it’s a merciful death.”

  “a merciful death? i’ll keep that in mind.” 

  “don’t test your luck,” you know he’s only messing with you  ──  

  you’re to busy enjoying the moment to think of some witty comeback. it’s something about the way your hand seems to fit perfectly in his. or how the two of you are able to move in sync without any words spoken in between the two of you that’s driving you insane.

  if you would’ve told your past self that you would be slow dancing with the hitoshi shinsou at a hero’s gala while the world around you disappeared you would’ve laughed at the idea. it would’ve seem silly to you  ──  stupid even. shinsou and you weren’t rivals like you and bakugou were, but, you had always found yourself trying to one up him. 

  yet here you were, swaying to the slow tune as you managed to snake your arms around his midsection and rest a head against his chest. maybe this was his chance: with the little distance in between the two of you, dim lighting and dressed to the nines. surely, this would be a good memory to relive later down the road wouldn’t it? 

  but he wanted to savor the moment. so he decides it against it  ── despite the ache in his chest.

  iv.

     "we did it.” shinsou muses, an awkward hand offered in your direction for you to shake. it’s been six months but your agencies had finally shut down the smuggling operation and you could finally take the break you had so desperately needed. you weren’t sure what to do with the outstretched hand, but, you give in anyways, resting your hand in his as he gave it a firm shake.

  “pleasure doing business with you.” you tell him, lips curving into a bittersweet smile. teasing, bickering and ‘playful’ sparring aside, you were going to miss him. you were used to patrolling and doing missions on your own but this was different. 

  “try not to end up on the other side of fishing hook, yeah?” it’s his way of telling you to be careful in shinsou’s teasing nature.

  “make sure i’m the one to grant you the merciful death.” please be careful, is what you want to say. though you couldn’t bring yourself to say it aloud - if you did, it would only confirm that you care about the purple haired pro hero more than you should. 

  he shakes his head with a laugh, “you’re the only one who gets the satisfaction.” 

  “it better stay that way ‘toshi.” 

  he doesn’t know for certain if your agencies would cross paths again. your agency was closer to the waters and he was closer in the city, the chance that you would run into one another again would be slim to none. 

 he clears his throat for a moment, retreating his hand from yours and placing them at your waist instead. he’s pictured this a thousand times but now that he’s in the moment he couldn’t manage to find the right words. it’s frustrating, really.

  “──hi.” you’re holding your breath in anticipation, was this another one of his games? was he going to kiss you? tell you a secret? use his capture weapon and tell you that he’s not letting you go until you admit something embarrassing?

  he doesn’t care anymore. doesn’t care if it makes him look like a love sick idiot when he kisses you like it’s the last thing he’s about to do before he dies, he doesn’t care if anyone’s watching or for the wrinkles you’ll cause since you’ve got a fistful of his shirt in a desperate attempt to close whatever little distance the two of you had between you. 

  you pull away first causing him to pout (which was actually cute but you’d never give him the satisfaction of knowing that) but you do laugh.

  “you know,” he muses, a hand reaching up to rub at the back of his neck sheepishly, a habit you hadn’t seen in years. “──i didn’t want to let you walk away without something to remember, my little water sprite.” 

  you rolled your eyes at the choice of nickname but were flattered nonetheless, your own arms finding their way around his neck, “who said i was walking away?”

[avengerscompound]

Until the End of the World - 18

Until the End of the World: A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count:  2763

Rating:  E

Warnings: pregnancy, labor, induction without consent, forced medical proceedures, mentions of forced pregnancy, action, violence, death

Synopsis: Four years after Steve and Bucky got to the bottom of the HYDRA conspiracy that had led to you and your son being hunted for the first three years of his life, you, Bucky, and Steve have carved out a nice life together.  Things are calm and you feel like a family unit.  When Geo starts calling Bucky and Steve ‘dad’, a decision is made to try and add to your family.

Things aren’t as calm as they seem.  When your pregnancy hits the papers, HYDRA rears its head once again, and Steve and Bucky need to track you down to protect the family they had created

Chapter 18

You had sent Geo back to his bed with his instructions.  You didn’t think you could get out of here with him without getting caught.  Yes, he could open all the doors for you, but there were still guards, and you had no idea where you were.  The risk was just too high.  Not to mention, that if Viper had been telling the truth, there were other people here who were being experimented on again.  If you could get Steve, Bucky, and the rest of the Avengers here, then that was the best option for everyone. You hoped Geo could do as you asked; if you could send a message to the tower - however primitive it was - you trusted that FRIDAY could work out that it was Geo sending it.

You slept badly.  The bench was hard and uncomfortable, and they had provided no blankets or pillows.  That teamed with the stress of you and Geo being captured, and how close you were to your due date, you were uncomfortable and highly wound.  Even with the lack of sleep, a group of HYDRA guards still managed to startle you awake the following day.

They had no concern about treating you gently in your heavily pregnant state.  They didn’t even shake you awake, so much as march into the room, grab your arm, and drag you out of bed and down the hall.  You had trouble walking and you stumbled down the bright white hall as they dragged you along with them.

You were brought to a room with a hospital bed and a lot of medical equipment, as well as a sterile-looking sofa chair and a clear plastic bassinet and incubator.  It looked like a delivery room in a hospital that cared nothing for the comfort of the mother.  Viper was waiting there with a group of medical staff dressed in green scrubs.

“What’s going on?  Where’s Geo?”  You asked.

“Geo is safe,” Viper assured you.  “And we’ve decided we’re going to induce labor.  Staying in this location is risky, so within the week we’re going to move you.  We figured if we move you and your children separately, you’ll be less likely to try and draw attention to yourself when we inevitably see other people.”

“I’m not due yet,” you argued. 

“It’s not ideal, I know,” Viper said as the guards muscled you onto the bed and strapped you down.  “But it’s close enough.  We did consider just cutting that little thing out of you, but they said this way would be safest.  Don’t make me change my mind.”

One of the medical staff inserted a cannula into your arm and another began doing an internal examination as two of the guards held your legs apart.  You tried to fight them, but there were just too many of them.

“Don’t worry though, dear,” Viper said.  “We decided to help keep you calm you’re going to have an old friend here to help you with your labor.  A birthing partner.  That’s what they call them isn’t it?”

You looked at her wild-eyed, completely confused, and panicked.  You had no idea why she was doing this.  If they really wanted the baby out, a c-section would be quicker.  Though you guessed, with the surgical recovery time it would be harder to move you unnoticed.  The whole thing just felt like mind games though.  Like she was trying to show you exactly what kind of control she had over you, both your mind and your body.

There was a pop and a gush of water between your legs as the doctor broke your waters and you began to cry.  “Why are you doing this to me?”

She patted your cheek.  “Consider it your payment for evading us for so long, and destroying my whole operation,” she said.  “Or at least a down payment.  I don’t plan to make anything easy for you.”

She tapped your cheek again and strode to the door.  Just as she reached it, she turned and looked at one of the doctors.  “If she behaves, you can let her up, but if she does anything to mess with this labor, strap her down again.”

“Yes, Madame HYDRA,” he said, saluting.

She left the room and the doctors went back to fussing around you.  They put monitors on you that seemed to track both yours and the baby’s heart rate.  When they seemed to be done most left without a word.  One doctor remained.  He had a sharp face and dead eyes.  “If I let you up, will you behave?”  He asked.  “I warn you, if you take any of this off, you’re risking the life of that baby.”

You nodded.  “I’ll behave,” you agreed.

Your restraints were unfastened.  There are guards at the door, not that you can get out,” he said.  “And you are being monitored on cameras all over the room.  Behave and we’ll be in to check on you regularly.” 

As he left a woman was led in.  She looked like a wild animal that had been caught in a trap.  Her hair was lank and didn’t look like it had been brushed in weeks and her hollow eyes looked around wildly.  She was wearing a simple floral nightgown and in her arms was an infant that couldn’t have been more than a few days old.  It took you a moment to realize you knew her.  She had been in the medical trials back when you were in college.  “Azi?”  You said.

She turned to look at you startled, furrowing her brow as she assessed you.  “Oh my god,” she said and rushed to your side.  “Oh my god!  What are you doing here? I didn’t know they had you too.”

“How long have you been here, Azi?”  You asked.

She shook her head.  “I don’t know.  A long time. I don’t know.  They came right after the trial ended.  I wasn’t pregnant then.  Now I have a baby.  They move us.”

“Oh my god,” you said, wrapping your arm around her.  “Come, sit down.”

You led her to the sofa chair and she sat, cradling the baby.  It fussed a little but fell back to sleep as its mother held it close.  “Azi, what did they do to you?”

“They took me… and some of the others in the test,” she said.  “They’re all dead now…” her eyes snapped up to you.

“They’ve been chasing me.  This is all my fault,” you said.  A dull pain throbbed out from your back and sides, and you winced and gripped the IV stand.  Azi looked up at you alarmed.

“Are you in labor?”  She asked.

You nodded.  “They just induced me.”

“Did they… did they …?”  She asked.

You shook your head.  “No.  No… I think they were waiting.  I’ve been living with someone.  Some men.  I think they were waiting to see if we’d just end up having kids.  What… how… did they force someone on you?”

She shook her head.  “It was a medical procedure.  I know whose it was… I think… do you remember Gal?”

You nodded.  Gal was short and funny and you remembered during the tests he always got telekinesis.  He thought it was funny to tap people on the shoulder while he was standing on the other side of the room.  “You think he’s dead?”

She nodded and then shook her head.  “I think… I don’t know.  They were injecting us with things, to make our powers come back, but it wasn’t working.  Katrina died.  And Shae.  And … and…”

“It’s okay,” you soothed, rubbing her back.  “It’s okay.”

She looked up at you with wide brown eyes.  “If I die, will you take care of my baby? You were always stronger than the rest of us. You’ll look after him.  Get him out of here.”

“Shh…” You whispered, crouching down.  “We’re gonna both get out of here.  Okay?  And your baby.  What’s his name?”

“I called him Gal.  I think… I think that’s only fair,” she said.  “Promise me you’ll take care of him.”

“I promise.  But you’re going to do that yourself, okay?”  You assured her, hoping that Steve and Bucky would come for you soon.

Whether it was the drugs they were using or the fact it was your second child, you couldn’t be sure, but your labor seemed to progress very quickly.  Once Azi got used to being in the room with you, she became a little more of a comfort to you.  She put baby Gal into the bassinet and would rub your back and soothe you through the contractions.  Not that there was much she could do.  Having someone on your side was better than being alone with HYDRA scientists, but all you could think was how much you needed Bucky and Steve.  Even if they did find you now, they were going to miss the birth of their daughter, and the longer your labor progressed, the harder it was to hang on to hope they’d find you at all.

Azi rubbed your back through a long contraction as you bent over the bed.  You’d been left alone again, but you knew it wouldn’t be long until the urge to push hit you.  You were in that period of serious pain where everything felt helpless and all you wanted to do was be with your boyfriends and curse them out for doing this to you.  Instead, you were in pain and terrified and with a woman who was even more scared than you.  Gal slept in the bassinet and part of you was even concerned that if you made too much noise would wake him and take Azi’s attention off you.

“You’re doing great,” she soothed.  “I think it won’t be long.”

“I don’t want them to deliver her,” you whined.  “I don’t want to do this here.”

“I know,” she said.  “I know.  I’m here.”

A siren started sounding, waking Gal so the baby's cries blended in with the harsh screeching of the alarms.  Azi looked around and hurried over to the infant.  “Hey, mommy’s here… I’ve got you,” she said, lifting him and holding him so one ear was pressed to her chest and the other was covered by her hand.  “What is that?”

Hope began to creep in again.  They’d found you.  You knew it.  It was only a matter of time before you’d be safe again.  You might even get to have this baby with them there with you.

Another contraction hit and you felt the need to push.  With Azi distracted with Gal and the sirens sounding, you weren’t sure what to do.  “Oh god,” you groaned, gritting your teeth and resisting the urge.

The sirens stopped and you heard footsteps run down the hall.  You couldn’t be sure, but you had a feeling they’d left you unguarded.  Another contraction hit and as it was ending the doors opened.  “Mommy,” Geo cried as he ran over to you.  “I don’t wanna be here.”

“I know,” you said, rubbing his back.  You looked around unsure what to do.  If you stayed here, then you were somewhere set up to deliver a baby, and hopefully, it wouldn’t take too long for Steve or Bucky to find you.  The problem was if you stayed here all of HYDRA knew where you were too, and if they were going to try and take you out of here before Steve or Bucky could get to you, then staying here let them do that.

You gritted your teeth.  “Geo,” you said.  “Do you think you can get the building to take us to a safer room?”

He nodded and took your hand.  “Azi, let’s go.”

She didn’t move and you doubled over in pain as another contraction hit.  “Mommy?”  Geo said, looking at you in fear.

“It’s okay, Geo,” you assured him.  “Your sister is coming.”  You looked back to Azi.  “Azi!  We have to go!”

She jumped and followed after you.  Geo led you out into the hall, clinging to your hand and pulling you along.  There were the sounds of shouting and gunfire, but while none sounded close yet, it was rapidly getting closer.  It was coming from several different sides and you began to worry that there wasn’t going to be anywhere safe to go.

Another contraction hit as you turned a corner and you almost collapsed to your knees.  The urge to push was intense and you had to consciously clench.  You were worried she might already be crowning.

“Mom, please,” Geo said, a look of pure panic.  “They’re coming.”

You tried to move, but all you could manage was a few staggered steps.

“Stop them!”

Azi jumped and you flinched at the sound of Viper’s voice as she came around the corner.  You pushed Geo behind you and tried to get him to move him forward.  Azi squared up, holding her baby so he was slightly protected.  “Get away from us!”  She screamed.

“There’s no use running, you idiots,” Viper snarled as the guards moved forward.  “Where do you think you’re going to go.”

Azi pushed Gal into your arms and charged at the guards, a look of wild rage on her face.

“Azi! No!”  You screamed.

Everything happened in slow motion.  Azi charged at them hands up like she was going to claw their eyes out and lept at the guard closest.  He stumbled back, and the gun went off.  Azi’s face froze as blood erupted out of her back.  You pulled Geo close as he began to wail and hid his face in your side.  For a second you weren’t even aware of the alarms going off again, as both Geo and Gal were screaming.

“Geo, run, go,” you said, pushing him forward.  He wouldn’t let go of your hand and you were worried that you weren’t going to be able to convince him to move.

“You idiots!  We needed her!”  Viper screeched.  “Get out of my way!”

She ran at you and you pushed Geo forward in an attempt to get away, knowing full well in your state you weren’t getting anywhere.  You managed to waddle forward a few steps as loud blasts erupted behind you.  Viper grabbed your shoulder and yanked you back.  You held Gal closer to you, sure she was about to make you drop him and a gunshot ran out behind you.

Viper’s grip relaxed and she slumped to the ground behind you.

“Daddy!”  Geo shouted as he looked around your legs.

You spun around.  Behind you, the hall was complete chaos.  The lights were flashing red and white and there were some of Iron Legion rounding up the few guards that Viper had with her.  Ari’s body was on the ground and one of the Legion seemed to be assessing it, while Viper's body lay at your feet. 

Bucky hurried down the hall, shouldering his rifle. “I’m here,” Bucky said, scooping the boy up.  “I’ve got you.”

Geo buried his face in Bucky’s neck and gradually the alarms calmed down and the lights settled.  Bucky put his arm around you.   “I’ve got you, darlin’,” he said.

“Oh god, Bucky,” you said, the emotions breaking as you started to tremble in his arms.  “Take the baby.”

He took the infant from you and you held his elbow as another contraction hit.  “Is this her?”  He asked.

You shook your head.  “No…” you said through gritted teeth.  “But she’s coming.”

“Shit,” he cursed.  “Come on.  Let's get you somewhere safe.” 

Geo pointed to a door and Bucky helped walk you to it, even as your body fought you moving at all.  “I need one of you to guard,” Bucky barked at the Legion.  One flew into place, standing at the door with its hands up and repulsors at the ready.

Bucky moved you inside and your knees buckled - like you’d been holding out until you had even one fragment of safety.  Bucky kneeled down beside you, still juggling Geo on the baby.  Geo was clinging to him like a koala and he hadn’t lifted his head from the spot in Bucky’s neck since he’d lifted the boy into place.

“Let me see,” Bucky said.

You got on your hands and knees and lifted the gown they’d put you in, spreading your legs until you were as comfortable as you could be.  Bucky sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.  “Steve, you read me?” He said.  “I’ve found them.  And I’d suggest getting to us as quickly as you can if you wanna see your daughter born.”

// NEXT

[mandelene]

✿: feeling so out of it, they need constant attention

You’ve got it! 💕  Thanks for the ask!

Someone asked me to write asthmatic Matthew in the ER a while ago, and I didn’t do it, but here it is now. 😂 I hope it's not total trash.

Sweet Normalcy

Word Count: 1555

Chest pain, the dull aching kind that flares up every time he inhales, that’s all he feels. Keeping his eyes open takes a great deal of effort, but the constant hissing flow of nebulized albuterol being delivered through the mask on his face makes it hard to get any sleep. Maintaining a train of thought for longer than fifteen seconds is also a sudden challenge. When he rolls his head to the right and looks up at the monitor behind him, he sees his heart rate is in the 140s and his oxygen saturation is at ninety-five percent on albuterol and oxygen. That’s not normal for him. None of this is normal. He can’t remember the last time things got this out of control.

“Matthew? Any better, love?” Dad asks him from the chair to his left. He’s been sitting there for hours now, continuously keeping vigilant watch.

It’s a busy night in the emergency department, and it feels a bit like he’s in a bad fever dream. The doctor checking in on him introduced herself earlier, but he can’t recall her name. An alarm goes off every few minutes from someone’s monitor, and it takes him longer than it should to recognize that it’s his monitor making that noise and alerting his nurse to keep coming over to assess him due to his seesawing oxygen saturation and heart rate.

Matthew’s not even sure what time it is anymore. He barely remembers anything. Every hour or so, he will doze off into a fitful half-sleep for twenty minutes or so before waking again and feeling disoriented. A nurse could tell him he’s been here for a week, and he’d believe them.

“Matthew? I asked if you’re feeling any better?” Dad asks again, leaning forward in his seat to grab his clammy left hand and squeeze it gently.

“A little,” Matthew lies, for his father’s sake. He wonders where Alfred and Papa are. They were here earlier, he’s pretty sure.

“I can tell when you’re not being truthful,” Dad sighs, squeezing his hand harder. “You’re not improving. You need to be admitted. This is ridiculous. You should have been admitted hours ago.”

Matthew hates seeing him stressed like this, but he also knows there’s nothing he can do about it at the moment. He feels himself slipping into momentary sleep again, and his eyes flutter shut. He wants to go home. Wants to be in his bed…Is it morning yet?

“Sixteen-year-old with a history of asthma…Patient accompanied by his father. Patient began oral corticosteroid treatment two days ago at home after experiencing wheezing, chest tightness, and coughing that was not fully improving with usual rescue medications…”

They’re talking about him—Matthew realizes that much, at least. He opens his glazed eyes and sees a new doctor approaching him. His ID badge says he’s a critical care doctor. Matthew’s not sure what the difference is between him and the other doctor he saw earlier, but he honestly can’t be bothered to care. He wants to sleep. Desperately. And he wants the chest pain to stop.

“Matthew, buddy?” the doctor says, putting a hand on his shoulder.

He doesn’t want to breathe anymore. His chest hurts too much, and speaking would require taking another agonizing breath.

"Mmmrgh" is all he can manage.

“He’s been less and less responsive,” Dad supplies from the other side of the room, and Matthew can hear the nervousness in his voice, which is unsettling. Dad rarely ever shows how anxious he is when someone’s sick. “I can’t get him to talk to me in full sentences anymore—just phrases.”

The doctor carefully sits him up, and Matthew feels his whole body shake. He rests his elbows against the stretcher to brace himself. A cold stethoscope touches his back, and he shivers.

“He’s still not moving air. He needs to be brought upstairs to intensive care to be monitored. We’ll continue IV steroid treatment and continuous albuterol. If he’s still like this, we can consider non-invasive ventilation and take it from there. Our main priority is to protect his airway.” 

Dad says something, but Matthew doesn’t hear it over the noise of the nebulizer. He just knows he’s going to be moved soon and the treatment is going to become more serious now. If he weren’t so tired, he might be scared.

The doctor leaves, and Dad goes back to holding Matthew’s hand. “It’s going to be all right, love. You’ll receive better care soon and hopefully, you’ll start to feel better,” Dad tells him before using his other hand to pet his head. “Try to rest. I’ll be right here, and I won’t let anything happen to you, understand?” 

Matthew nods. His eyes do close again, and he does get some brief rest. The next time he’s aware of his surroundings and wakes up, he’s already in the ICU, which means he slept through his transport. The respiratory therapist is setting him up on a BiPAP machine, and once it’s on, it makes his chest hurt even more, which he didn’t think was possible. He grits his teeth against the pain and tries not to make a fuss about it—it would just make Dad worry even more. The air being forced into his lungs is welcome yet excruciating at the same time.

But he doesn’t have to say anything for Dad to know he’s suffering. It’s written all over his face. “I know, poppet. It’s just temporary. It should help.” 

It’s so exhausting that he falls asleep again without even needing to think about it. Again, he has no idea how much time passes until he sees the sun shining through the windows of the hospital, indicating that it’s finally morning. The BiPAP mask squeezing his face gets replaced with a regular oxygen mask again, and it occurs to him that his chest feels much lighter and his head is clearer. The worst is over. The air in his lungs feels crisp and refreshing...Almost sweet, even. 

“How are you feeling?” Dad asks for the millionth time, still perched next to him. 

“Better…For real this time.” 

Dad hasn’t slept, of course. He never sleeps in such situations. He was likely watching him all night and conversing with his care team. “Good. You gave us all quite a scare.” 

“Sorry.”

“Oh, no, it’s not your fault, love. Not at all…Do you think you’re feeling well enough to have some breakfast?” 

“Yeah.” 

Dad gives him a relieved smile and then goes off to request a breakfast tray for him. It gets brought up within half an hour, and even though Matthew feels a bit nauseous from the steroids in his system, he knows he needs to eat to gain some energy back.

He’s given some pancakes, a fruit cup, and orange juice. He decides to make a move for the orange juice first because his mouth feels incredibly dry and gross. He picks up the carton and that’s when he notices just how shaky he still is. His hands are trembling violently from all of the bronchodilators in his system.

Dad quickly takes the carton from him, sticks a straw into it, and then brings it back up to Matthew’s lips. “Here, poppet, I’ll hold it for you.” 

“…I can do it.” 

“You’ll spill it. Don’t be stubborn.”

It doesn’t feel great to have poorer motor skills than a toddler, but Matthew sips some juice through the straw anyway, allowing himself to be fed because he doesn’t have a choice. He finishes the entire carton, one pancake, and half of the fruit cup before his stomach protests. Dad doesn’t seem too happy about him not finishing the meal, but he doesn’t push it either. 

And just as he’s finishing up, he finds out Alfred and Papa are outside of the unit, waiting to be allowed in. He’s only permitted to have two visitors at a time, so Dad leaves to take a quick trip home to eat and shower while Alfred and Papa take watch next. 

“Dude, you’re alive! Thank God, man. No offense, but you were looking really rough and out-of-it yesterday,” Alfred exclaims upon arrival, bright-eyed and full of pep as always. “It’s good to see you’re looking more like yourself now.”

“We’re so relieved, mon chou. Your father said you may be able to come home as soon as the day after tomorrow.” 

“I hope so…Sorry for making everyone worry.” 

Alfred throws his hands up in the air and shakes his head dramatically. “I have to teach you everything, don’t I, Mattie? You’re not supposed to apologize for being sick. You’re supposed to milk it for all its worth and make everyone feel bad for you and buy you get well soon gifts. Tell Dad when he comes back that you wanna play the new Pokemon Snap on the Switch.” 

“That’s what you want to play, Alfred.” 

“Yeah, but we can share it, right?” 

“Alfred, your brother is seriously ill, and all you’re thinking about are video games again! Where did your father and I go wrong? You could show some sympathy!” Papa scolds, pinching the bridge of his nose in aggravation.

“It was a joke! Kinda…Obviously, I love ya, Matt! I was really worried, too!” 

And he has never craved normalcy as much as he does now. 

Yup. Things are already going back to normal.

[pipedream-parrish]

Happy 34th birthday, Twinyards

read on AO3

i

It is Aaron’s 14th birthday and he has just found out that he has a brother - a twin brother, an identical twin brother, who looks exactly like him and might just understand him, too. His mom didn’t do anything for his birthday - she hasn’t since he was little, or maybe those long-forgotten memories were really just dreams that have managed to worm their way so deep into his psyche that he’s accepted them as truth. The kids at school sang to him, which was fine, but Aaron can’t help but think maybe now it will be different. Maybe once he meets this brother of his, then they can celebrate their birthdays together. Maybe they can give each other presents, and eat cake, and blow out the candles using the combined forces of their breath. Maybe, maybe, maybe. 

(Andrew spends this birthday choking down cake that Cas got him, trying to hide the fresh marks on his arm, and thinking about the best way to keep his mysterious brother as far away from him as possible)

((one month later, Aaron receives a letter in the mail. He couldn’t tell you everything it said - he just knows that all of these maybes have just been thrown into the middle of a busy highway to be crushed under uncaring tires.))

ii

Its Aaron’s 15th birthday and his mother has celebrated by beating the shit out of him and then throwing a random assortment of pills from the bottom of her purse in his direction as an apology, and Aaron cannot help but think that maybe it won’t have to be like this anymore. He thinks about what Andrew said (Andrew, who really does look just like him, and who seemed so angry about Tilda, and seemed to believe that Aaron didn’t deserve, that he deserved good things--) had said to him, thinks about how maybe when Andrew moves his mom will stop it, maybe it’ll be alright, maybe nothing will hurt anymore and everything will be okay and he’ll have a brother. It’ll be the two of them against the world, and Aaron may not know this other boy all that well, but he promised to protect him, so that must mean something, right? Even if before that he said he didn’t want anything to do with Aaron, he changed his mind, and thats what matters, right? Right? And so when Aaron blows out the birthday candles that he bought for himself at eh convenience store the night before, he wishes for his brother to come home soon, and for them to be a family like they were supposed to be. Like he deserves.

((Six months later, Tilda is dead and Aaron has stopped believing in family.))

iii

It is Andrews’s 16th birthday and he has not spoken more than two words to his brother for most of the year, but Nicky tries to force them to do something, to celebrate, to be normal teenagers for once. Andrew leaves halfway through the elaborate dinner that Nicky has prepared, and pretends not to see the sad look he aims at his retreating back. Pretends that he doesn’t care what Nicky thinks of him, what Aarons thinks of him. Pretends that he stopped caring about Cass, that actually he didn’t care about that, either. Pretends and pretends and pretends, and convinces everyone but himself. 

((He’s not so great at lying to himself yet. He’ll get better with age.)) 

Late that night, after he’s heard everyone else going to bed, he sneaks downstairs and steals a slice of the double-chocolate cake that Nicky got them. There are already a couple of slices out from where Nicky and Aaron had some, so hopefully, this moment of weakness will go unnoticed. 

(Aaron spends his 16th birthday sad and mourning, refusing to look his brother in the eye. When he blows out the birthday candles with no help from a magical brother, he wishes that he never met Andrew in the first place. Not that he believes in magic or wishes or anything good at all, anymore. He barely has a bite of his cake before leaving the table. He, too, pretends not to see Nicky’s teary eyes as he leaves him standing alone in the kitchen, the remnants of a wasted attempt at love scattered all around him)

((he, too, is not so great at lying to himself yet. He, too, will get better with age))

(Nevertheless, when he hears Andrew come downstairs in the dead of night, he creeps into the hallway to watch his petty theft)

((He never mentions it.))

iv

It is Andrew’s 17th birthday and he is so high off the ground that he never even realizes the date.

Or maybe he does and just forgets.

The meds are still new, and he’s not used to them yet. Not used to the loudness, and brightness, and plastered on a smile. His cheeks hurt all the time now - he is constantly working muscles that have not had much use, the last couple of years 

(the last couple of lifetimes)

Needless to say, it is Andrew’s 17th birthday and he does not even realize it, and instead, he spends it in his room, his precious room that has a lock that works, coming apart at all his frying edges. Boys like him were never meant to grow old. Boys like him were never meant to last. And so he lays there and shakes uncontrollably, and laughs, too, tells himself this is fine, he’s fine it’s all fine and knows better than to believes it. Perhaps it is a mercy, that he eventually gets used to the meds. 

Perhaps it is not.

(Aaron doesn’t celebrate his birthday, either. Instead, he picks up extra shifts at Edens and goes to bed early. 

He cannot wait to leave this fucking house)

v

It is Aaron’s 18th birthday, meaning that he is a legal adult. He finds this funny. He has always been an adult; he was an adult when he was four and creeping across the house on silent feet to steal crackers from the pantry because mom forgot to feed him; he was an adult when he was 10 and forging his mothers signature on school papers, and making excuses for why she couldn’t come into parent-teacher conference night; he was an adult when he was sitting across from his reflection in a juvenile detention facility, and promised protection. One more birthday doesn’t mean shit.

(Andrew agrees. He, too, has been an adult for as long as he can remember.)

((Still, when Nicky slips cards under each of their doors wishing them a happy birthday and telling them he’s proud of them, and that he hopes that adulthood treats them right, well. If Aaron squeezes his eyes shut as hard as he can to prevent the tears from escaping, and if Andrew tares it up into a million pieces because it almost makes him feel something, then no one needs to know))

vi

It is November 4th, and the newly-coined monsters are in Columbia, just like they are most weekends. They make the same stops as always, go to the same club, the same restaurant. 

Never once is the word birthday mentioned.

vii

It is Andrew’s 20th birthday and he is about to make one of the worst mistakes of his life. For now, he sits against the windowsill, watching his smoke dissipate into the afternoon air, absently listening to the sounds of Nicky and Aaron’s video game wash over him. He’s grinning, as is usually is these days, and if he was capable of having a long-lasting coherent thought, he would want to carve that grin off his face.

Alas, he is not capable of long-lasting coherent thought. Oh well. Perhaps it’s for the best.

Renee got him a gift. Silly Renee. Always so nice, so kind, even to monsters like him. Hasn’t she learned better than that by now? It seems not.

When Nicky receives a phone call that leaves him in a panic, it is almost enough to garner Andrew’s attention. 

Almost.

When he leaves the room in a rush only to come beach with Neil, the enigma, the hallucination, the rabbit, in tow behind him, Andrew actually does start to pay attention. Only a little though. 

When Neil pulls him aside, and asks for the unimaginable, and then manages to make it seem like a good idea, well. Andrew’s interest has been peaked, and he agrees. Why not? It might be fun. Might be, might be, might be.

(It’s not. It’s not fun at all, and if nothing else then Andrew is finally allowed to leave that smile behind for good. Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday dear Andrew, happy birthday to me!)

((Aaron spends his birthday playing video games and wondering why the new kid holds such sway over his brother. When he looks back on that day, he will not remember any of that. He will only remember that that was the day everything went wrong, and he was unable to fix it.))

viii

It is Andrew’s 21st birthday, and it might just be a good one. No alarm wakes him up in the morning, even though he’s sure he set it last night, meaning he gets to sleep in. When he wakes up it’s to Neil bustling about the dorm room, clearly searching for something.

“Practice?” Andrew asks and is told in no uncertain terms that they will be blowing it off for the day. Yes, today is shaping up to be a good one.

Instead, they go out driving, blazing down empty roads as fast as the mas will take them, eating up millage and gas money and caring at all. Neil rolls down the window and lets out victorious whoops into the still afternoon, the wind flushing his cheeks and tousling his hair. Andrew almost thinks something disgustingly sappy about that but is able to rain in his own brain just in time. 

They got greasy diner food for lunch, and Andrew orders a massive ice cream Sunday that Neil doesn’t comment on. They go back to Fox Tower and lounge around their dorm, kissing and smoking and playing video games. They have pancakes for dinner, and Kevin doesn’t bother them once about going to tonight’s practice. Andrew goes to bed full and sated, and almost, almost, happy. It’s a good birthday.

((the next day at therapy, Aaron complains that he didn’t get to skip practice yesterday. Andrew shrugs and says that he should take notes for next year. It’s almost an invitation. Almost, but not quite.))

ix

It is Aarons’s 22nd birthday, and he takes a leaf out of Andrew’s book and skips practice. He and Katelyn drive into town, and walk up and down the streets, popping into stores at random and picking out delightfully ugly things for the other to buy. In one shop, Katelyn shows Aaron a shirt made from a disgusting green fabric with the gaudiest floral pattern he’s ever seen. In another, Aaron finds shimmering, sparkle filled pink and purple shoes with a six-inch heel. They both nearly get sick from laughing. That night, they go out to the fanciest restaurant they can afford and get wine drunk. Aaron tells Katelyn that he loves her, which is something that he’s told her a million times before, but that doesn’t stop it from mattering. This will always matter. She will always matter. He looks at her, just looks at her, and thinks about how lucky he is to have this. And he thinks about Andrew, just for a second, curses him for keeping her from Aaron. But then, for an even shorter second, the thought occurs to him. I hope he’s as happy right now with Neil as I am with her. 

((Andrew may not show it the same way, but he is. He is.))

x

It is their 25 birthday now (which it longer than either of them thought they would live), and after years of therapy and working through their issues, Aaron has decided once again that he wants a brother. And so he books a flight to Boston, and buys a ticket to Andrews game, and watches his brother play exy on their birthday. Their birthday. Sometimes he still forgets that they are a “they” now. He'll still say my birthday, my mom, my cousin, my family. But it's not just his, and so he meets Andrew at the player’s exit after the game and forces him to go to dinner with him. And they spend their birthday together, just the two of them, for the first time since they were born. And its-

Well, it’s not bad. It's kind of nice, actually. Stilted, at first, and undoubtedly awkward, but. 

But they’re still brothers, even after everything. They share family and history and most of their DNA, so it seems right that they also share a dinner. And they talk, about Andrew’s pro team and Aarons residency, and about halfway through Aaron realizes that even though he was the one who forced this, Andrew isn’t trying to stop it. He came with him to dinner, and he’s talked more in the last hour then Aaron thinks he ever has before, and Aaron realizes that he wants this too. Andrew wants a brother too. They part ways outside - Andrew doesn’t offer to drive him back to his hotel or to let him stay at his apartment, but that’s ok.

Because Andrew wants this too. 

Andrew wants this too.

epilogue 

It is the Minyard twins’ 34th birthday, and as has become a tradition they are each awoken by a phone call from Nicky. Aaron only grumbles for a moment before Katelyn is handing his phone to him and he’s picking up. Andrew takes longer, turning over and burying his face in Neil’s neck for a second or a minute or a year, before finally grabbing his phone. To be fair, it’s about 2 hours earlier for him than for his brother. When he was younger he would hang up, and Nicky would call back, and he’d hang up again, until around the third call when he would finally give in and answer and phone. He doesn’t hang up anymore. He supposes that he’s grown. It’s a facetime call, so he’s greeted with Nicky’s over-enthusiastic smile and Aarons bedhead that looks so much like his own. He props himself up on some pillows so that he’s nearly in a sitting position, and gives a halfhearted wave. Beside him, Neil stays lying down, curling himself into Andrew’s side. Andrew absently starts carding his fingers through his hair. Nicky starts to talk, telling them about the business, and the adoption process, and the cute thing that his and Erik’s dog did. King jumps up onto Andrew’s chest, and then there’s a lot of cooing over how cute she is. She starts to lick at Andrew’s temple, which makes everyone laugh and Andrew rolls his eyes. It’s ok. He doesn’t really mind. Aaron talks about the hospital, and then his toddler (who is really more of a kid now, she’s getting so big holy shit) bursts into the room, climbing up onto the bed. She says hi to her Uncle Andy (Neil taught her to say that when she was a baby, and it tuck. Again, Andrew doesn’t really mind) and Uncle Neil, and her cousins Nicky and Erik. they talk more, Andrew waking up and partaking in the conversion, occasionally mouthing things to Neil in Russian to make him laugh. He loves it when Neil laughs (he’s not so concerned with not thinking sappy things anymore).

It’s a good start to a good day. They order take out and eat it on the floor, just like they do every year. Neil gets him a cake, and he sings happy birthday, just like they do every year. 

A plane ride away, Aaron and Katelyn hire a babysitter and go out to dinner, just like they do every year. Katelyn gets him a loudly collared tie, just like she does every year.

It’s a good day for both boys (who are now much closer to men), but more than that, it is a good day for both brothers. For that is undoubtedly what they are now. Brothers. 

That night, they both get a text from Betsy. It says Happy birthday, my lovely boys. I hope this year treats you well. 

And then it does.

It does.

thanks for reading! if you reblog i’ll love you forever :)

[satoruvt]

for now; forever -- teaser

pairing → kwon soonyoung x reader

word count → 1316 (full fic is ~9k!!)

genre → mostly fluff? a solid amount of angst ↳ tags: ooh boy. firewatch au, banter, like a little bit (a lot) of pining, strangers to friends to... something, FLIRTING, reader’s kinda fucked up but its ok, hoshi’s weird and endearing (as always), a tiny bit of hurt/comfort, minghao best boy, soonyoung is very sweet it makes me want to cry

synopsis → after an unfortunate burnout that lands you in every critic’s negative and all-seeing eye, you decide to take a break from the one thing you know. you’re not sure if you’ll find what you’re looking for out in the middle of the woods - if you’re looking for anything at all - but at the very least, soonyoung will make the hunt a little less lonely. 

warnings → there’s eventually a forest fire that leads to an evacuation but it’s not super detailed, mentions and descriptions of creative burnout/breakdown

a/n → AHHHH!!!! so excited to finally tell yall abt this ive been working on it for about a month now <33 the teaser is just like an honestly solid section of the fic itself, so. idk yeah!!!! i’m very excited i loved working on this i still have some editing to go but the full thing will be out soon <333 hope you enjoy!! let me know what u thought!!!!

DAY ONE.

So. You’re… out here, now.

Save for the bugs you have to swat at every fifteen seconds, the outdoors don’t seem that bad. The weather isn’t too hot (yet, your mind reminds you) and there’s something about the color of the sky that makes your heart constrict in your chest. You can’t tell if it’s good or bad, but given your luck recently, you’re hoping it’s not a warning for the coming months - God knows you need a break. The weight of the journal in your bag feels heavier than any of the camping gear you brought with you.

You debate texting Minghao that you’ve made it to the park safely, but when you check your phone after deciding yes, you see the words no service instead of the familiar lines of a signal. It’s not that big of a deal - you’d told him when you left that you probably wouldn’t have service at all - but a little part of you feels the tender shake of anxiety at the thought of not being able to contact your best friend. 

He was the most worried out of everyone when you told him you were leaving for the summer. You can’t really blame him - it was abrupt, you saw the flyer at the grocery store and took it - but after what happened… doing something felt, feels, better than sitting around and waiting for nothing to happen. Waiting for a healing you aren’t sure will ever come, at least not completely.

“Is this really…” Minghao had started upon first entering your apartment after getting your text. Clothes were thrown all over your bedroom floor in an attempt to pack. “Do you need to do this?”

The tone of his voice told you he wasn’t going to try to stop you, that he just wanted to make sure this was what you needed, what was best for you. You had only nodded, sitting down on the edge of your bed to fold clothes and pack them into your suitcase.

“I just don’t want you to run away from it all,” Minghao said softly, sitting next to you. “You’ll need to face it eventually.”

“Is escaping really such a bad thing?” You asked, looking at Minghao. He gave you the look he did when you said something stupid, and if you weren’t still so wired from everything, you might have laughed. Instead, you sighed, placing a pair of pants into your suitcase. “I just need some time.”

Before you can face it, before you can come back, before you can write again… you still don’t know. Minghao had placed a kind hand on your shoulder to tell you there was no rush.

It’d taken no more than two days for you to get everything ready - including buying some apparently necessary survival equipment from Target. In a matter of a few hours you had gathered everything up, texted some other friends and your family that you might not be available the next few months and then… you left. 

(Your manager was pretty pissed off that you left so suddenly, but she was also pissed off at you when you told her you needed a break for at least a few weeks, so you’re not really offended.)

You take one last longing look at your car before locking it, pocketing the keys, and starting on your hike.

The hike takes almost the whole day. 

You think you almost cry when you finally see the watch tower you’re supposed to be staying in, your legs barely able to hold the rest of your body up. The hike wasn’t hard, really - long, though, and for someone who usually spends a work day sitting at a desk, you’re surprised you’re still alive. You find the little lock that holds the keys to the tower at the bottom of the stairs, fastened onto the railing. It takes a few seconds for you to enter the code you’d been given earlier, relishing in the soft breeze the cools the sweat on your face and neck. The sun is just barely starting to set beyond the mountains, a beautiful sight that you can’t properly focus on because all you want to do is pass out. You’re pretty sure you almost do on your way up the stairs.

The cabin at the top of the tower is pretty scarcely furnished, save for a few basic necessities (a gas stove rests on one wall, a small desk opposite to it by the door, a mini-fridge, and a bed in the corner plus what looks like a map table in the center of the room). It’s a little weird, a feeling caught between the nostalgia of moving into a new place and something you can’t quite name, but you figure you have a few months to make it all a little more comfortable.

For now, though, you feel like you’re on the last leg of your energy. Your mind is saying eat, sleep, eat, sleep on repeat and you have to agree with it, so you change the sheets on the bed, take down the boards over the windows while you wait for the macaroni from the Kraft box to cook. You end up eating a few forkfuls of poorly-made mac and cheese before crashing.

When you wake up, it’s to gentle static and a semi-clear, unfamiliar voice. It takes you a minute to remember where you are and what you’re doing, too disoriented to even think about the voice, but then - oh. Forest. Watch tower. Escape. Okay.

“Yo, Cottonwood! Am I coming through okay? Pick up your radio!”

Right. The voice. Radio?

“Come on, I saw you get in yesterday, I know you’re there. Unless,” a gasp, “you died! Oh my God, this is like a horror movie… and I’m next!”

You manage to wake up enough to locate your radio (a walkie-talkie resting on a charger on the desk) and, after a few seconds of gentle struggle, work it. “Not dead,” you say, then clear your throat because your voice does not sound good right after waking up. “I mean… almost. But not dead.”

There’s barely a moment of hesitation before the person on the other end hoots, apparently excited. “Arisen from the dead! Brought back to life by none other than the legendary Hoshi!”

A brief thought crosses your mind about having to listen to this guy all summer, but you quickly shoo it away. You won’t have to deal with it for the whole three months, right? “Who… who is Hoshi?”

“Me!” The voice answers, sounding a little too smug. “But it’s really just an alias. You can call me Soonyoung. I’m at Twin Peaks tower, west of yours!”

You spin around your cabin, looking through the windows cluelessly - how long have you been asleep, it’s practically afternoon - until you see a very small silhouette of another tower in the distance. You nod, then realize Soonyoung can’t see you. “Oh. Cool.”

“Aren’t you gonna tell me your name?” Soonyoung asks, but his tone is light, breezy. You blink, reciting your name to him in a daze. “Pretty! So, what brings you out here?”

You weren’t expecting that question. “What?”

Soonyoung giggles into the radio. “Everyone comes out here for some reason. Like… Jihoon says it’s ‘cause it helps him write music. And Joshua loves the outdoors, so… what’s your reason?”

“You…” you start, not exactly wanting to tell a stranger the reason you ran away from everything you know. “Do you normally ask this many questions?”

“Yeah!”

You feel yourself sigh, already tired again.

“I… just wanted to get away for a while,” you end up saying. A half-truth. “I live in the city.”

“No way,” Soonyoung gasps excitedly. “Me too! I wonder if both of us have ever been walking and, like, passed each other without knowing…”

This isn’t exactly what you had in mind when you thought of escaping.

[blarrghe]

Hi! I'm going to go for a dramatic one for the cliché prompts: "You’re in a coma and I confess all my feelings only for you to wake up" for Fenders (or whoever you prefer) if that works for you <3

I’m on a bit of a Dorianders kick and can’t seem to stop, so thank you very much for the prompt but I went a bit off book with it... hope that’s alright w you.

I altered this a little to “Dorian’s father is asleep on his deathbed and he confesses all his pent up feelings only for Anders to walk in”

So that’s um, how modern au Resident!Anders and Politician!Dorian met. It got a bit long and is very very angsty.

Summary: Anders is a resident working rough hours at a hospital (in Tevinter?? look this is just going to be a series of ficlets I have not worked out the details yet), struggling with his medical debts and work-related sleep deprivation. Dorian is an idealistic politician working his way out of his recently deceased father's shadow. They meet when Anders is attending to his father on his death bed, and things go from there, I guess.

--

Anders took a deep breath. With it, the something hissing over his heart settled down to a whisper. The hospital always beset him with inner whispers; not a good feeling, but one that compelled him on, nevertheless. Pediatrics hit the hardest, the injustice of it all, but being there also kept his mind steady. Doing something. Critical Care was different. There wasn't usually a lot he could do, in the Critical Care wing. And his rounds today had him facing that patient, the one for whom there was nothing to be done, and who set his obsessively helpful spirit into split ends, because he was also an absolute asshole. When Anders was in a room with him, under steely eyes and the cracking whip of his tongue, the disease in him felt deserved, and some part of Anders burned like blue fire, so hot it took biting his cheek bloody to restrain his bedside manner from bad attitudes. The disease is never deserved, he reminded himself and the licks of flame that still remembered the patient's rude barkings from last time. Even in rich men who in life had been given much more than they ever did deserve, a death like this one was still a hard death, and people who are dying are allowed to die angry. So he took another deep breath, because dealing with some patients just needed that much more breathing, but he could still do his job. And that was the job; to be there, at the end, for anyone.

He was getting worse, sleeping more. It wouldn't be long now, and Anders tried not to be relieved. He checked his charts, his monitors, the IVs still barely holding him up. Increased the morphine, for his pain, and finished without saying a word. For a moment, he almost missed it; at least when the man was swearing at him and ranting in indecipherably bigoted tirades, he was lively. He sighed, staying the extra moment to offer the man's sallow cheeks a sympathetic glance. Death was a natural part of life, and he was old, and an asshole, and maybe he didn't deserve it but... soon the bed would be free again, and that would be alright.

When he turned to leave, there was a dark figure sitting on the bench in the hall outside. He was reading a magazine but not flipping the pages, one leg crossed over the other in the stiff posture of someone who is uncomfortably waiting for uncomfortable news. One of the family. Anders took another deep breath. He hadn't had dealings with the wife, but he'd overheard them well enough. An unpleasant woman for an unpleasant man, trying to buy off death and then trying to kick the whole hospital down with her complaining when she couldn't. If the man waiting outside now took after either of them, his shift was about to get a whole lot worse.

He stepped out into the hall, and the man looked up from his magazine. His features were striking, sculpted. Skin the deep, radiant bronze that Anders was sure his father's would have been, back in his youth before misery and disease stole its colour. And he was, unmistakably now, his asshole patient's son; same steely grey eyes, right down to the faint creases beside them, and just as unfeeling.

"Are you his doctor?"

Usually, that question, asked at this point in the process of losing someone, was croaked out. But the son didn't croak, he asked his question with a continued lack of feeling, and a bit of impatience.

"Not his attending, only a resident. I can page the doctor, if you'd like,"

"No, that's fine. Can you just tell me how long?" The man stood up, tall. Much taller than the way people usually stood in hospital corridors; poised and proud in his posture — not actually taller than Anders, but he felt it. Still a little stiff maybe, but anything uncomfortable was covered up by how well he fit into his suit; smooth and black and clinging to his body like it was made to hold him. Anders blinked, "how long he has," the son clarified unnecessarily, still coolly impatient, "I have places to be, you see."

His eyes wandered past Anders, hesitating over the window to the room where his father lay dying, then snapping back again. Not entirely unfeeling after all, but the sadness in them was troubled by something else, still indecipherable. Anders wondered what kind of relationship a son could have with a father — a father like that — for so many secrets to be buried in that glance.

Anders swallowed. No he didn't, he decided, but the thing that whispered care into his heart was wondering, catching onto the well-hidden glimpse of feeling in the man, craving already to comfort the rest.

"A few days, maybe." He answered, gentle with the news. The son nodded once. "You should say your goodbyes."

The son was looking past him again, back through the window at the sleeping form of his father, more unhappy secrets set into his jaw. Anders watched the jaw tense, and stay there.

"In a few days, maybe." Replied the man, though he barely moved his tense jaw to say it. "He's awake."

Anders turned to follow the man's eyes, landing his own gaze on a twitching hand and barely moving bedsheets. He didnt look back again before darting into the room to offer his patient care.

"Dorian?" Croaked the patient, steely grey eyes opening to scan his face, and then closing in apparent disappointment.

"Your son? He's right outside, I'll —" but he wasn't. The tall, statuesque man was gone, the magazine left lying open on the bench outside in an empty white hallway. "I'm sure he'll be back soon." Anders amended, attempting to offer a bright spot of hope. His patient grunted.

Anders took a step away from the bedside, but as he did a thin, wrinkled hand shot out, and grabbed him by the wrist. The cold, unfeeling eyes opened, except now they were sad. "A word of advice, if you don’t want to be disappointed in life, don't have children." Even breathy and hoarse, he managed to give his voice bite. Then his asshole patient's gaze fell on the little gold earring hanging from Anders’ ear, and he coughed. Anders took a deep breath in preparation for another insult, and to help him recover from the bit of unfriendly advice. "You're lucky they don't let you people have them."

Anders tried not to sigh. The dying are allowed to die angry. "I'm sure he'll be back." He said again.

----

Dorian. The name stuck to him almost as well as his tight black trousers, and Anders couldn't help but turn it over a few times in his mouth after he left the room. He made the rest of his rounds, and checked back in on father-of-the-year Pavus a few more times, lying to himself about what he was hoping to find. Dorian. He never did come back though, not during visiting hours of that day, nor the day after. On the third day things weren't looking well, and Bride of Asshole Pavus had alerted everyone on staff to the fact that it was their fault, even the poor janitors. The bed would probably be free again by the end of his shift.

He made his rounds, thinking as little about that particular patient and his particularly unpleasant wife as he could, trying to tell his inner whisperings that it wasn't worth being sad over, even if the son never said goodbye. Maybe he didn't deserve one, how could Anders judge? (Everyone deserves one). Under his breath, Anders told himself to shush. (If not for the father's sake, then for his own). Again, shush. Then, through the too-thin walls and slightly ajar door as he made his way down the glaringly white hallway, Anders heard muttering. Sad, broken, angry muttering. He stopped.

" —I don't want it." the phrase was repeated a few times, some utterings angry, others sad, all of them broken. "I don't want your life. I don't want to be you. I don't —" Dorian. Dorian choking on a sob. Anders took a step back, careful about the squeak of his shoes. "I don't even know why I —" he tried not to listen in (no you didn't), but the door was ajar. "Everything. I could become everything you ever asked of me and it would still never be enough, so I don't know why I— I —" there was another heartwrenching choke to a stop, then a gutteral sound of frustration that Anders could feel in his own gut. "Just once. You couldn't say it just once?" It sounded like the kind of question he wouldn't be getting an answer to even if the man were conscious. "I'm sorry." Anders felt that in his gut too, and the thing he was trying to keep quiet inside him wondered if the words were from Dorian to his father, or the ones Dorian was begging his unconscious body for, or both.

In hospital rooms, the sound of beeping monitors disappeared into the fray. Wheels on stretchers trundling down the halls, squeaking shoes on linoleum, ventilators whirring and monitors beeping. They only sounded like anything when they stopped, and let out that one long note to signify the end. Dorian choked out his apology several more times, once sad, once angry, always desperate, and then the monitor stopped beeping, drowning out his gasps for air with its ending, and Anders had to do his job. He walked in.

Dorian shot up. Hands swiping at his red eyes and posture somehow rising without even a hint of hunch, and Anders pretended poorly not to see any of it. The attending came, procedures were followed, and Dorian disappeared into the waiting room like he was supposed to, without a look back.

The wife was gone by the time Anders poked his head into the waiting room. It wasn't his job to tell the family, and the news had long been shared, but something told him to peek in anyway. He took another deep breath when he saw him — this family really seemed bent on messing with his breathing — sitting, one long leg crossed over the other, staring down a terrible cup of coffee, not drinking it. He sat straight, his skin shone, his suit fit him like a glove and not a hair on his head was out of place, but he looked tired. Dorian. Anders approached cautiously. It would be a while before the family could take the body, and he should go home, rest. He told him as much, to a response of slow nods. Then Dorian looked up from his coffee, eyes emotionless except for the fact that they were lined in watery red.

"I'm just waiting for my mother to finish hounding her lawyers," he said, and despite himself Anders looked about nervously, "she's not here, don't worry. She left for home an hour ago. If I wait another, she'll have tired herself out and passed out under a bottle of wine." He sighed heavily, "could use one myself, but to be honest with you I don't quite feel like going home." His eyes flicked up into Anders' with a dim light of mischief, and Anders wondered what his looks could do for him on a good day. Things Anders could never hope to achieve, no doubt.

Anders offered him the carefully crafted soft smile he reserved for these kinds of things, and said “sorry for your loss” with just a touch more feeling than most patients’ families received, since the man looked like he needed it. 

“Can’t say the same to you I suppose,” Dorian replied, shaking his head, “though I am sorry.”

Anders opened his mouth, struggled to find anything to do with it, and then closed it again. 

“For my mother,” Dorian explained as he put the coffee cup he was still holding down on the low table in front of the chair he was decorating, apparently giving up any semblance of drinking it, “I’m sure his care was better than he deserved, but she doesn’t do well in situations she can’t control. It won’t come to anything.” 

Anders nodded slowly. Better than he deserved? A phrase Anders might have thought himself, over the past few weeks of dealing with the irate patient as he approached death’s door, but now that he’d gone through it, something about the sentiment irked him.

“Everyone deserves compassionate care,” he corrected with another careful smile, “the best chance we can give, and comfort when that’s spent. No less.” 

The response did something odd to Dorian’s face; first a sigh, then it transmuted itself into a strangled sort of laugh, while he shook his head and regarded Anders with still-dull eyes. “Well, it can’t have been easy,” he muttered, eyes landing on Anders’ soft smile, which he hoped was still there. “Thank you.” 

Anders left him then, offering one more nod and smile before turning away to finish the rest of his shift. Two hours later, changed out of his scrubs and into his tattered old jacket over his tattered old t-shirt and jeans, he walked by the waiting room again, on his way out. Dorian was still there, still staring down that same cup of undrunk coffee. 

“Mr. Pavus, ser?” 

Dorian started at the sound, and looked up from the coffee with an almost angry light in his icy eyes. “Please, Maker, call me anything but that.” 

Anders swallowed. “It’s — it’s Dorian, isn’t it?” Dorian nodded, “Dorian,” saying his name to his face felt wrong, somehow, “it’s getting rather late, is there someone I should call for you?” 

Dorian shook his head. “No,” he sighed. “Are there any bars nearby? A really terrible one, preferably.” 

Anders frowned, but there was a pretty terrible bar just across the street, stuck into a hole in the wall of an alley, with grimy old barstools and floors littered in peanut shells, so he told him so. Dorian stood, always so tall. 

“Thank you, Doctor…” 

“Anders,” he attempted a smile, but there was a good deal too much worry in it, he was sure, “just Anders; I’m off duty.” 

Dorian turned from him, then suddenly turned back. “Would you care for a drink, Anders?” 

Anders blinked. “I uh —” 

“You’ve seen the last of what was undoubtedly your worst patient today, haven’t you? Don’t tell me you didn’t plan to celebrate.” 

His brows creased unhappily, all on their own, and something inside him whispered back the memory of that broken bedside apology. “I wouldn’t —” 

“You should. I aim to. On me?” There was that light of mischief again, a little brighter, coupled with what could almost be a smirk. Maker, was he flirting? 

“I don’t drink.” 

Dorian frowned, and Anders almost wished he did. “A bowl of peanuts on me, then.” Dorian amended his offer with a shrug. And for some unknown reason, Anders nodded. 

“Alright.” 

[snoewolf]

Im not good at blogging.

I always assume its not worth posting and just dont do it.

Ive been pretty depressed lately. Bae has been amazing and trying to help me through it.. but sometimes.. theres nothing even he can do to make me feel better.

My birthday came and went, its always hard for me the week of my birthday ever since my exhusband served me divorce and child custody papers on said birthday. Its been a couple years, and nothing bad has happened since then.. but it still haunts me.. like im waiting on the next shoe to drop or something.

I keep catching myself treating Bae really bad even when he doesnt do anything to deserve it. He is amazing to me, and does everything for me literally treating me like a Queen. He loves my children like his own and actually interacts with them.. what more could i ask for? But when i get into these depths.. i feel myself treating him unfairly based on what happened to me in my previous relationship. He handles it well, but i know hes just as tired of it as I am.

Still no further on getting my child support from my ex.. which really sucks. I ended up having to drop out of school. They offered for me to go back in a few months.. but theres no way im going to be able to afford it. Im already working double to try to make up for how behind on my bills its made me since i started the program. This saddens me, but im trying to think of it positively.. i wasnt really happy once i was in the program and saw how hospital employees are treated... and treat each other.

My current job is amazing and works with my schedule when possible and i am so thankful for the opportunity. But. It doesnt pay very well for the amount of time im away from my kids to do said work. (How does america expect a single parent to live on $9/hr without any kind of help?!) I cant even afford rent, let along car/phone/electricity/gas/ whatever else comes with renting. My credit isnt good enough to buy anything not to mention wouldnt be approved simply for how many cobwebs are in my bank account.

SO ive been looking for a second job, or a better paying job. I found a second job that pays better.. and offers health insurance! Ive been looking for months and finally got a call for an interview. It happened to be on my day off. How great is that?! So of course i went, theyre paying amazingly! I got there and along with 4 other people, they start showing us around. I thought that was weird.. ive had interviews with this company before and never was shown around the whole place.. but i just accepted it because ive never had an interview with this specific location. We go to the back and im ready for the interview! They start handing us company vests and work tools... im a little confused until they had out schedules. I got the job! Wait... this isnt an interview.. this is orientation! Oh snap! What am i suppose to tell my current job?! Luckily my current job hadnt put out the next weeks schedule yet so i was able to alert my manager as soon as i got out of the building.

Unfortunately, she was not happy. Granted, had it been up to me.. i would have much rathered given a heafty warning.. i dont like to leave any job on bad terms (and so far havent 🤞🏻) so i let my manager know im being trained for this second job for the next two weeks and i cant mess with those days but it doesnt effect my current job at all this week.. which is all i have a schedule for.. she doesnt think she should have to work around another jobs schedule when i worked here first.. i agree.. but.. in my shoes.. this other job is a better opportunity for -me-, for -my- bills for -my- family. So she told me she fixed it for the next two weeks but wasnt happy about it.

Sooooo.

Im now working the next 14 days straight and even at two jobs in the same day.. 🤦🏻‍♀️ im gonna hate myself for sure. But! My daughters birthday is next week and i need to buy her more than the only gift i currently have for her. And Christmas is right around the corner! I need to catch up my car payment and keep my phone bill current and not late... not to mention gymnastics/dance/and boyscouts that i dont want to take away from my kids because its not their fault im poor.

So luckily today hasnt been too awkward at my job but i did tell Bae that depending on how petty they decide to be over the next two weeks depends on if i keep 2 jobs or focus solely on the new one that pays so much better. So. We'll see. Id like to have both at least until Christmas so i can get some presents under my tree.

I guess thats as good of an update as i got currently. Whoopwhoop.

[fxkthatdairy]

PANIC ROOM CHAPTER EIGHT: HERE WITHOUT YOU~ Grayson Dolan

Overview: In the year 2020, to solve the problem of overpopulation. Selected few are thrown into the PANIC ROOM simulation. If the person finds their soulmate in the simulator and manages to survive, they are able to rejoin the rest of the population. If they fail they will become a victim of the PANIC ROOM. What happens when (Y/N) gets thrown in the PANIC ROOM? Will she survive? Or will she fall victim to the simulation?

Warnings: Mentions of death, depression, mentions of suicide, ANGST

The doors opened leading into a large dark room. (Y/N) took Grayson’s hand as he led them into the room. As soon as they got in the room the doors slammed shut, trapping them within the room. The floor started to shift beneath them causing them to drop each other’s hands and then a bright white light filled the room as the two stared at each other. A wall comes up from the floor and began to separate the two.

“Gray, what’s happening?” (Y/N) said as she tried using her strength to pull herself over the wall but as soon as she touches the wall it shocked her sending her flying back on the floor wincing in pain.

“I don’t know babe, I will find you though, I swear to god I will find you,” he yelled as the wall connected at the top, officially separating the two.

Grayson’s POV

My knees gave out beneath me as the wall separated me from the love of my life. I punched the floor beneath me cursing underneath my breath. My lungs felt as if they were going to collapse and my heart broke into a million pieces. How the hell did I let this happen?

“Grayson Bailey Dolan,” A voice rang out through the empty white room.

“What the fuck,” I muttered under my breath as I stood up, “Who the fuck said that?”

“Welcome to the second part of the Panic Room simulation that tests the individual strengthens against troubling times. You will be put through some of your biggest fears and saddest memories to see if you can overcome them. If you pass this test, you will be released into a waiting room to see if your partner can make it through as well, if they do you shall be released back to the public but if you shall fail, you will be murdered or you shall become part of the simulation. Outside this room, your darkest fears and follies will push you to your limits. Good luck and God bless America,” the voice echoed off and a door opens to the side of the room.

So this wasn’t the end. I stood up and grabbed my bag and took a deep breath. I will make it through this for (Y/N). We will see each other on the other side, we will get out of here, I’ll fucking propose to her and we’ll get married and have a family. I just have to make it out of here.

“Let’s do this,” I say to myself and walk down the black empty hall.

The hallway seemed to lead to somewhere so I just kept following the hallway, the end seemed to get farther and farther away as I walked closer to it. I didn’t realize that the hallway began to close in on me. My heart rate began to race and I began to run now to try and reach the end of the hallway. My lungs felt like they were going to collapse and my knees were going to give out on me but I kept running. I pushed down the feeling that I was dying down and I just kept thinking about (Y/N). I thought about the way her (e/c) eyes look when she looks in my eyes, how her (h/l) (h/c) hair flows in the wind, how her smile makes anything better, how when she laughs so hard she snorts, how she will snuggle up to me any time because she says she’s always cold, how with a single word she can make all my anxieties and worries disappear, and how her voice sounds when she just wakes up or when she’s going to sleep and the first and last thing she says is “I Love you.”

I didn’t realize at this point I was out of the hallway and I seemed to be standing in a familiar room. I placed my hands on my knees as I tried to regain my breath. I finally stood up and caught my breath. The white paint of the room, the smell of sterilization, the sense of helplessness all rushed back to me. A single hospital bed sat in the middle of the room and a whiteboard was hung on the wall next to the solid brown wooden door with the silver push handle. I took a deep breath and walked closer to the whiteboard. It read

Name: Sean Dolan                  Date: November 1st, 2016 Pain Level: 8                      Doctor: Dr. Jones Things to know about me: I love my family with my whole heart and they do not know yet so give me a chance to tell them, please.

On the bottom of the whiteboard read the dreaded place that has been stuck in my head for the past four years: New Jersey Cancer Research Center. I closed my eyes and placed my hand on the wall to regain my balance. I heard the bathroom door open and I snapped my head around and there stood him. The man that taught me everything I know, the man I looked up to my whole life, the man I try to make proud of everything I do, the man who I lost last year that left me in such an array of emotions that I didn’t know how to fell. My father walked back to the hospital bed and sat down. He wore a pair of black sweatpants and a plain white shirt, he had an IV catheter in his hand and a white hospital band around his wrist. My heart dropped to my stomach.

“Dad?” my voice cracked as I walked over to him. He didn’t seem to notice me so I placed my hand on his shoulder and he just shivered.

“Dad, I’m right here,” I said waving my hand in front of my face but he didn’t seem to notice. I sighed and sat down in the chair beside his bed taking in all of his features that I missed every day.

His cell phone began to ring so he reached over and picked it up. “Hey honey, yeah I’m good, you can bring the boys and Cam up here, I think it’s time they know,” My dad said through the phone presumably talking to my mother.

He hung up and ran his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath. That’s when the memory of this day came back, a day that would be etched in my mind forever, the day where I’ve never been so helpless in my life, the day I started shutting my emotions in. My thoughts were interrupted by a light knocking on the door.

“Hey honey, It’s me,” my mothers’ voice rang through the room. I saw her face and I ran to her and hugged her. I haven’t seen her in a month and I missed her so much. Her whole body shivered and she brought her jacket closer to her body.

“I’m going to get a nurse to turn up the thermostat in your room. It’s really chilly in here.” My mom said as she walked in.

Following behind her came in my sister who I also ran up and hugged and Ethan who I think I hugged the longest. I knew at this point that they couldn’t see me and the only thing that they felt was a cold rush of air as if I were a ghost but I didn’t care. I’ve missed them so much this past month, especially Ethan, it was like our twin bond grew stronger and the separation anxiety hit harder. Then I saw myself, the 16-year old version of myself stood in front of me with a look of confusion and innocence. I remember my first thoughts from when I walked in: Why are we in this hospital? What’s going on?.

“Hey, kiddos’, “ my dads’ voice rang through the room as the younger versions of myself and my siblings gave my dad a hug. I stood off to the side watching the scene unfold in front of me.

“We need to have a talk,” My mom said softly but her tone cracked lightly as she spoke.

“Something serious has come up, I’m not going to be as energetic as I once was because I’m sick, the doctors say its cancer. They say I only have a year left but fuck that, I decide when I go. But I don’t want that to get to you guys. I’m still the same dad I was last week and will continue to be that way. This cancer might take my body but it’ll never take my personality and my soul.” My dad said and took a deep breath and look to watch our reactions. Small tears fell down Cameron’s face and I could see the tears and feel them well up in my own eyes as well as Ethans. My dad got up and hugged them and my mom wrapped herself around them.

My head and emotions began to spin back into this moment and the next two and a half years that would follow that. My head spun as all of the negative thoughts began pouring back in my head. I closed my eyes and placed my hands on the side of my head to try and center myself. When I opened my eyes, I was no longer in the hospital room. I was in a darkly lit room staring straight into a mirror but my reflection was off. My eyes were almost completely solid black. A knife sat on the counter of the bathroom sink that was attached to the mirror. The dark thoughts flooded my head.

“Come on, Just do it, you’ll be able to see him again, you won’t have the constant pain around anymore, you’ll finally be at peace. All you have to do is pick up the knife,” The dark voice inside my head spoke as subconsciously my hand started to reach for the knife.

“No, that’s not an option. I’ve got people who care. I am happy, fuck off,” I told the dark parts of my thoughts, pushing the knife away from me.

“Like who? Your brother, your friends, (Y/N), they don’t care. It would just be easier if you ended it. Then you could talk with your dad again.” The voice spoke getting more angrier as I fought against it. This time I fully grabbed the knife and brought it close to my wrists.

I started to think about a conversation that (Y/N) and I had night while we were laying under the stars.

“Sometimes, our inner demons come out and try to convince us that we have nobody and It would be better if we just gave in and end it all but their liers. We all have people that love us and that we love. Like I love you and you love me. My mom loves me and I love her as well. Your family loves you and you love them. We have people who care even if we can’t see it in physical ways. Even those who have passed, look down on us and leave little reminders that they care. Sometimes I find spare change in the most random places and I know it’s my dad because I remember he would always collect change and give it to me so that I could buy things at the dollar tree. So when I feel like my demons are beginning to win, I think back to my happiest moment and the people I love the most and I remember that I belong here for a reason.” she said as she played with my fingers

Her voice repeated over and over in my head, and I remember all the people who love me in my life and who I love. I remembered my promise to (Y/N), I remembered my promise to my mom and to Ethan, and I remembered my dad who I knew was watching over me and I took back control over my body, throwing the knife at the mirror, completely shattering it. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes and when I opened them, I was in a similar room as when I started. A door opened revealing a room full of chairs and a door on the opposite side of that room.

“Congratulations, Grayson Bailey Dolan, you have survived the Panic Room Simulation, shortly you will find out if (Y/F/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N) has also survived the Panic Room Simulation,” The voice echoed through the room and I sat down in one of the waiting room chairs and interlocked my fingers and rested my forehead against my thumbs and began to pray to whoever would listen, my angels, God, or my dad.

Please let her make it out of this, I need her to live. Give her all the strength plus more just please let her make it.

———————————————————————

Chapter eight is done! I hope you guys enjoy this series as much as I enjoy writing it. Feel free to let me know your thoughts on how the series is going so far. As always let me know if you have any requests, concepts, or blurbs. Chapter nine will probably be up in the next few days. Part nine of The Principals Office should be up within the next couple of days as well. Love you guys 🥺😊💛

Tags: @dolanshellyes @graysavant @graydolan12 @flowery-dolan @dolan-bliss @justordinaryjen @dickdowndolan @dolans4lyfe @lanelessdolan @pineappledols @reblogserpent @frickin-bats @cautiouscalum @grays-laugh @youtuberimagines12 @minecraftgamerr @wrcn9fvlcver @buildermangray @highoffdolan @beautorigin

[foxyotomelady]

It wasn’t supposed to be, S2, Chapter III (JuminxOC/Reader)

Autor’s notes:

How’s your quarantine’s going, guys?

I feel like I’m losing my mind, even if I love working from home.

Writing is the only thing that saves me now. I can transfer my madness into text. So be aware of what’s coming next. Not quite yet in this chapter, but still...

It wasn’t supposed to be S1

Chapter I | Chapter II | Chapter III (You are here) | Chapter IV | Chapter V | Chapter VI | Chapter VII | Chapter VIII | Chapter IX | Chapter X | Chapter XI | Buy Me A Ko-Fi Have a nice reading!

It was evening when Riyu was done with bathing and brushing Elizabeth's fur. Elizabeth was meowing and purring, curled up at Riyu's laps. Little Hige was sitting near the chair, squealing jealously.

"You have been brushed already, Hige," She said to a little dog. "Now it's Elizabeth's turn, I'm sorry."

Great... She was talking with animals - not like she hasn't been doing it before, but day after day, alone in this big apartment... She had only them to talk to. Of course, she was visiting chat rooms quite often and calling Zen or Jaehee, but they had their own lives, their own work, and matters to attempt to. So it's not like she could taking all their time. And that was yet another reason to consider Jumin's offer about her studies...

Moreover, RFA did not plan another party yet, so she hasn't had anything to do... She was suffocating in this apartment, and she was feeling lonely lately. But she couldn't tell that to Jumin - he would think she blames him and that was not true, and he would probably decide to stay at home for some long time to make her happy - what means more work for Jaehee.

When Riyu suddenly heard the door opening, she pushed Elizabeth aside, ignoring her irritated meowing. She went to the main room quickly, Hige toddling after her.

"Jumin," She smiled at him, watching him removing his jacket, "I missed you."

He smiled lovingly, "I missed you too, my love."

Riyu noticed recently that he was giving her this cute names more and more often. It felt nice... She moved closer to him and embraced him tightly.

"Oh, you really missed me," Jumin concluded and kissed the top of her head.

"Yes... How was your day at work?" Riyu asked as they both headed to the bedroom.

Jumin was taking his time to answer this simple question. He scratched Elizabeth behind the ear and then patted Hige on its small head. "Father visited me at the office," He said, then sat heavily on the bed.

"Oh," Riyu was standing before him, not sure what to say to that. "How... How his been doing?"

The steely look that Jumin gave her made her shiver a little.

"He proposed dinner with us."

Riyu couldn't tell whether Jumin was mad or not. His voice was inscrutable as always. "And what do you think?" She asked.

"I told him it's a bad idea, but... I had a whole day to think about it and I don't know anymore... I wish to hear your opinion on this."

"Hm," Riyu sat next to him, wondering. "Maybe we should give him a chance, Jumin..."

"Maybe you're right. I just can't tell what's in his mind."

"I'm almost sure he's just trying to fix this weird situation between the three of us." Jumin just nodded, so after a moment, she continued, "Jumin, I've been thinking about my studies... I might consider your offer."

"That's good," His voice sounded much more livingly now. "Let me just take a shower and we'll talk about this."

So after a minute, she was waiting for Jumin at the bed, already in her nightgown, in the company of Elizabeth and Hige. There was so much going on in her head right now, that she almost missed the fact her phone was vibrating.

The caller's ID said 'Mr. Chairman"...

Riyu bit her lower lip. Should she ignore it? She couldn't avoid him forever, but... She was, in fact, still awkward around him. But if she'd be avoiding him again and again, it will never be normal...

She took a deep breath and picked up the phone, "Yes?"

"Riyu, I'm glad you picked up. Good evening."

"Yes, good evening, Mr. Han. Is something the matter?"

The old man sighed, "I'm worried about Jumin, so I decided to call you. Maybe you'll able to talk some senses into him. He's a little paranoid lately... It's not like I don't understand him, but-"

"You mean the dinner? We already talked about this. He's reconsidering it. I personally think it's a good idea. Also, Mr. Han... I know that he might be cold for you now, but I assure you, he still values you very much. He just needs time."

"It's the same for me, my ange- I mean Riyu. My apologies. "

She refrained from catching her breath loudly. Because of Mr. Han's verbal stumbling, she was beginning to admit that maybe Jumin's fears were correct.

"Actually," The old man continues, "I shouldn't even call you by your name - according to Jumin."

Riyu blinked, "What? That's a little bit-"

"Too much? Paranoid? That is why I'm worried about him."

"Thank you for telling me all of this, Mr. Han. I must be going now. Oh, and also, I don't have anything against you calling me by my name. Have a nice evening," She told all of this in one breath and when she hung up, she breathed in relief. This conversation tired her. She put the phone on the night shelf and then she saw that Jumin was standing in the entrance to the bedroom.

His eyes gleamed like a predator's. Riyu immediately understood that he had heard at least part of her conversation with Mr. Chairman and that he didn't like what he heard. But she wasn't going to hide it like she was doing something wrong! Because she wasn’t!

"You were talking to my father?" Jumin asked in a low voice, approaching the bed.

"Yes," She said, staring at him bravely. "He's worried about you."

He sat at his side of the bed, his back to her face, "Why is he even calling you? What is he thinking? And, more importantly, why are you still keeping his number?"

Riyu frowned, "Jumin, would you please look at me?"

"I can't."

"And why is that?"

"I'm so mad right now I can't control my expressions. I don't want to frighten you."

She wasn't expecting to hear that... After a moment of silence, she moved on the bed so as to be closer to him, then clung to his back. He stiffened immediately.

"Jumin, I understand your concerns, but I also think that you are a little bit paranoid. I mean... Isn't it normal that I keep your father's number? Do you really think I should get rid of it? And what is wrong by him calling me by name? I'm a bit unsure about his intentions as well but on the other hand... I don't want to believe he's this sly. He was always nice and kind to me."

After these last words, Jumin tensed even more. He turned around to face her and Riyu had to admit... his angry cold expression, at this closeness, was quite scary. She shuddered when he slowly reached her neck with his hand. Even if this gesture was tender, it was so powerful and domineering at the same time. She gulped quietly.

"And I don't like you being so nice to him," He said, caressing her skin with cold fingers.

Riyu felt hypnotized again. Her breath fastened, "Jumin... You can't be... jealous of him forever..."

"But I can keep reminding you to whom you belong."

Before she managed to say something, he cupped her face with delicate grip and kiss her - on the contrary - strongly, forcefully even. Riyu was almost angry at herself of the fact that she was so weak against his possessive acts... She was melting in his arms, whenever he was holding her as if she was his whole world... And maybe she really was.

Days were passing quite peacefully. Jumin was trying really hard to not worry about his father's goals and to believe that Riyu was right about him. It was his father and he missed the time when they were at good terms. So he was strongly considering agreeing to this stupid dinner idea...

Riyu was sleeping next to him, little Hige in her embrace. At first, he wasn't convinced of letting the pup on their bed, the more so because Hige was still struggling with his abilities to take care of its needs in the right place... But he loved to watch Riyu sleeping so peacefully. And just as he said one day - she did look angelic while hugging little pup like that.

Jumin, on the other hand, couldn't sleep. He felt a strong need to decide what to do with his father's invitation. He knew Riyu's opinion on that matter... But she was just trying to be nice. He needed an opinion from someone who can be objective on this subject.

He logged in to the chat room.

Zen: 

Zen: Why are you here so late at night?

Jumin Han: ???

Jumin Han: You're here as well?

Zen: Why couldn't you wait till I left? -_-

Jumin Han: I can't be here while you're here?

707: lolololol

707: Zen's so grumpy today

Zen: 

Zen: I'm tired, okay?

Zen: Unlike the two of you, I WORK HARD.

707: lololol

707: I haven't slept in a few days.

Zen: That's not working hard ;;;

Zen: That's just being insane ;;;

707: nah~

[Jaehee Kang has entered the chat room]

Jumin Han: Assistant Kang.

Jumin Han: Glad you're here.

Jumin Han: I need your opinion.

Jaehee Kang: Why mine?

707: You can ask God Seven, Juju!

Jumin Han: I certainly don't intend to.

Jumin Han: My father invited me and Riyu for dinner.

Zen: 

707: 

707:

Zen: 

Jumin Han: And that's exactly why I'm not asking you two.

Jaehee Kang: Hmm.

Jumin Han: ??

Jaehee Kang: I'm not sure why are you asking me this, Mr. Han.

Jumin Han: Really?

Jaehee Kang: Isn't it natural for him to invite you two for dinner?

Jumin Han: You think so? You really think so?

Jaehee Kang: Yes. I mean... It's been a while since...

Zen: That's fishy... ;;

Jumin Han: I didn't ask you.

707: ohohohohoho~

707:

707: The love drama continues.

Jumin Han: 

Jaehee Kang: Sigh ;;Stop fooling around, Seven. It's a serious matter.

707: I'm serious!

Jaehee Kang: I can understand Zen's concerns, but there is no such thing as a love drama here. At least, I don't see it that way.

Zen: I don't know, Jaehee ;;;

Zen: Firstly, Mr. Chairman offered to pay for her studies.

Zen: And now this?

Jaehee Kang: I'm sorry, but

Jaehee Kang: I think you all are just a little bit paranoid.

Jumin Han: That's what Riyu keeps saying...

Zen: Maybe you girls are right.

Zen: I hope so ;;

[V has entered the chat room]

707: V!

V: Yes, hello everyone ^^

Jaehee Kang: Hello, V.

Zen: Hi.

V: I was not expecting to see you all here, so late at night.

Jumin Han: I was about to go, actually.

V: Oh... I see.

Jumin Han: Don't take it personally, V.

Jumin Han: I don't want to wake Riyu up.

Jumin Han: So if you'll excuse me.

V: Wait!

Jumin Han: What is it?

V: Well, I read your conversation.

V: Can I offer you my opinion?

Jumin Han: I'm sorry, V.

Jumin Han: I don't trust you enough... yet.

V: I see... That's okay ^^

V: I'm here to tell you guys that I took care of most of the cult members.

V: And as for Rika's mental health...

Jumin Han: I'm not in the mood to listening about her right now.

Jumin Han: Now excuse me.

[Jumin Han has left the chat room]

V's unexpected appearance disturbed him badly. At least he managed to ask Jaehee for her opinion. She was sensible and responsible. Maybe he'll agree to this damn dinner. Even if his father had no good intentions, he should trust Riyu...

[bastardsonofday]

The Wilting Rose Job

Chapter Three: Down the Rabbit Hole

sooooo im finishing up chapter four of this fic and just now realizing that I never updated chapter three onto here so here it is :)

this chapter was styled in the way of a leverage episode bc of course this whole story is based off of leverage. 

warning: drugs

ao3  masterlist

________________________________________________

Alfred Hybern liked galas and money. He liked doing what and who he wished, and he wasn’t lacking in either of those things. Alfred loved going to galas, not that he liked the charity aspect—he was required to pay a little for these things—however, this was where he met new investors and more investors meant more money, and more money made him happy.

So Alfred sat through the charity dinner, schmoozing with potential clients. The woman he was seated next to was gorgeous enough that he wasn’t offended to stay near her for six hours. Blonde hair that was tied up artfully around her head, a long red dress that clung in all the right places. Expensive and shiny jewelry.

“I’m Andromache Nyxton, Mr…?” The woman introduced herself, holding out a perfectly manicured hand.

“Mr. Alfred Hybern.” He said, taking it. He gave the back of her hand a gentle kiss. He saw the smile that flickered on her carefully aloof face. He resisted raising an eyebrow. Poker face was what would win him clients. Never show how intrigued you were. The smile meant that she was either charmed or liked him or both. Good, he could pluck her like the chicken she was. Or peacock—pretty enough, he guessed.

“So,” Andromache Nyxton said, “what are you in?”

“Stocks. You?”

Andromache shrugged. “Imports and exports. You know.”

“Import/exports? At a charity?”

Andromache laughed. “What can I say? The big boss wants some good press. I’m the Prythian associate.”

Ah, imports and exports, of course it was international. Foreign investors… different laws… tricky business. “Ah. I see.”

“And you? Here for the grilled chicken?”

“I chose the steak myself.”

“Wise choice.” Andromache said, smiling kindly. She leaned over and bumped his shoulder with hers, as if sharing a secret. “So did I.”

Hybern was beginning to like her.

~~~

Alfred Hybern liked Andromache even more when she managed to secure the head of the Subburg hospital for IV bags, a man Alfred knew from experience who could not be convinced by just a pretty face. Alfred had sent his best, and Amarantha had been turned away. Points were to be awarded to Andromache. She slid smoothly in the minefield of galas. She effortlessly navigated through the intricacies of who sat next to whom and who owed money and favors to whom.

It was like she was made for this. Born from it and wrapped in red and glittering negotiations. It was slightly stunning. Alfred narrowed his eyes. Almost too stunning. Something about her was just… too perfect. Too by the book.

And she said she’d chosen steak over grilled chicken. What woman with her figure did that?

Andromache, flushed from dazzling the crowd and getting far too many business cards for any normal charity gala, leaned over to Hybern. She pressed a crystal glass to her blood colored lips. “You know,” she said, “as fun as these pigeons were to pluck, I’m interested in some bigger game. What about you?”

“Leave a gala early? It’s for charity.”

“What can I say?” Andromache grinned wickedly. “I’m just bad like that.” Then she took a sip of her water without looking at him. As if she hadn’t mentioned anything at all.

“Plus, I’ve already paid my good Samaritan points, and we’ve been here a good four and a half hours. So, what do you say? Up for a midnight snack that doesn’t come in a tiny portion?” She gave him a conspiratorial wink.

“Why me?”

“Huh?”

“You’ve had more successful men than me fawn over you all night. And I’m pretty successful. So why me?”

“Because you’re not boring and you’ve been my gossip buddy all night long.” She said, toying at her napkin. She shrugged. “Plus, you’re the only person here who hasn’t handed me a business card. For some reason I like that.”

Alfred snorted into his wine. A silence greeted him and he looked up at her entreating expression. She was serious about going. Huh.

Why not?

“So, what were you thinking?”

“Here’s how it works.” Rhysand explained. “A holdings company does one thing and one thing only, it buys stock. Once a holdings company buys stock it can do one of three things, either it can take the money it makes from dividends, it can use its dividends to buy more stock, or it can make money by selling its shares and buying new stock. Almost all holding companies use their dividends to buy more stock, but they don’t technically have to. This leave a lot of disposable money for them, and hopefully, for us.

“We’re going to base the con off of one assumption: that we will be able to convince the CEO of Hybern Holdings to use a portion of his dividends in interstate or foreign criminal activities. Which shouldn’t be hard if he is so greedy that he skims money from a holdings company of all places.”

Feyre looked confused.

“CEOs of holding companies can get very rich, very easily by doing things legally.” Lucien explained quietly. Feyre nodded.

“Now, to be charged with RICO one must be guilty of at least two of the thirty-five possible charges.” Mor said.

Feyre’s eyes went wide. “Thirty-five?” She mouthed to Lucien.

Lucien shrugged. Lucien was aware of the RICO act, but wasn’t an expert. He knew a basis of the laws, as he needed to as CFO. He had to admit though, the Inner Circle did seem to know what they were talking about. He’d never assumed that Tamlin would ever be arrested on gangster charges.

“We’ve decided on these two to set the CEO of Hybern—Alfred Hybern—on. But if he wants to commit some other RICO charges,” Mor smiled, “we won’t object.”

Azriel pulled up some pictures of Alfred Hybern. “We’ll be focusing on money-laundering, and drug-running and smuggling.”

“How will you get him to do that?” Lucien asked. “I assume you can’t just walk up to him and offer him cocaine and ask him to send it across state-lines.”

These ‘midnight snack’ dates, as Mor had come to refer to them in her head, had started to take a toll on her shoes. The first night Mor had brought him to a club and they’d drunk and danced (with a bit of convincing on Mor’s part, but she could tell he liked how she flirted with him and pushed him). Then a week later, they’d happened to have been at another function together. Then another, and then, thanks to Azriel, yet another. Every night, Mor convinced Hybern to come out with her and party. Slowly, she amped it up. First it was alcohol, then a slightly more sleazy club. Slowly, slowly, she pulled Hybern to the edge.

Then it was time.

The night started out with them meeting up at a mixer for the opening of some law firm or another and Hybern was making subtle eyes at her all evening. Then, midnight came, and Mor excused herself and subsequently, like a lamb to the slaughter, Hybern did as well.

And when she met him by his car, she smiled at him because sometimes, it was just too easy.

Cassian was waiting for them when they made it to the club. “There’s someone I want you to meet.” Mor whispered to him, pulling off Hybern’s tie.

Hybern’s eyebrow quirked. His carefully maintained poker face he used for business beginning to slip. Mor grinned, way too easy.

Mor pulled him to the bar, and sat down, watching Cassian work behind it. “Your usual Andy?” Cassian asked.

“Thanks honey.”

“That is where Mor and Cassian come in.” Az explained.

“And yes we can get him to do just that, well I can.” Mor said with a wink. “Besides, we’ll have a good backstory to sell it. And maybe I’ll cozy up to him a little.”

Cassian nodded towards the half-line of sugar on the table. Mor grinned and snorted up the fake-cocaine. Hybern’s eyebrows rose to his hairline.

“Give him a line?” Mor asked.

Cassian grinned conspiratorially and pulled out a dime bag. “It’s gonna cost.”

“Put it on my tab-”

“Nu-uh.” Hybern said. “I don’t do that shit.”

“Oh come on, Alfie. Sure you do. And this is the good stuff too-”

“Drugs are out of the question.”

“But Alfie...” Mor whined, swinging an arm around his shoulder. She pressed a pair of lips to his ear. “It’s not fun if I’m the only one doing it.”

Alfred Hybern narrowed his eyes.

“Besides, no one will see us. Devlon won’t tell anyone. Will you, Dev baby?” Mor hummed, running a finger up Cass’ forearm.

“You know me, baby. Quiet as death. Besides, what’s the point of selling you out?” Cass asked. His sleeve rid up a little which let his Nightmare Court tattoo show. Mor could tell that Hybern’s eyes went down to the tattoo. Therefore, he knew. And thus, the bait was set. Mor let the string of her dress slide off of her shoulder and expose the matching tattoo on her back.

Hybern’s eyes flickered over to it, and he frowned.

“Come on, Alfie. Have a little fun. I won’t tell.” Mor begged. “Besides, I’m paying.”

“You can’t pay for your own stuff, Andy.” Cass corrected.

Mor laughed, and threw back her head. Hybern’s eyes dragged up her front.

Cassian moved to put the dime bag back in his pocket. “Wait.” Hybern said. Mor grinned. Hook, line, and sinker. “Let’s have a little fun.”

“Okay, so how does Tamlin get involved?” Feyre asked.

“First, we need an investigation to get started, thanks to Rhys, the cop of our choosing, and… you.”

“Me?”

“I hope you don’t mind, Feyre. But we’ll require you to help us rope in the cop.”

“Okay, so what do I need to do?”

Vassa Russel frowned when she received a text from a number not in her contacts. She was about to delete it, assuming it spam, when she saw the contents.

I need protection, help me and I’ll report a crime

Vassa cocked an eyebrow. “Uh, Goldie?”

Regina Goldson looked up from her desk. “What?”

“You recognize this number?” Vassa asked. Detective Goldson walked over to Vassa, peering over her shoulder.

“No.”

You know knowledge of a crime without reporting it is a crime, itself, right?

Vassa snorted. She pulled up 411.com. This was probably some kid, cases didn’t fall into peoples laps like this. Just to make sure, Vassa added: If this is a hoax, you realize that this is also a crime. You can get jail-time.

The real question was why Vassa? How did this person get her private phone number?

The 411 search came up empty.

Vassa expected for the number to never reply, but she didn’t block it. Just in case.

Loud yelling brought her back to the moment. Vassa glanced over to the Captain's office where his latest rich guy was having a tantrum. As a side effect of the many large and rich companies having their bases in Subburg, seeing rich men in the Captain’s office having conniptions was common. Usually though, it was the Vanserra patriarch, while the son in trouble in question would smirk at Vassa from across her desk. She would inevitably be told to let him go as the charges would be dropped somehow.

Vassa hated them.

This time it wasn’t Beron Vanserra behind the Captain’s doors. Instead, it was Tamlin Rose. Vassa’s ears perked up as he stormed out. The Captain right behind him.

Tamlin Rose had only come to the police on one matter before, as far as Vassa could remember, when his girlfriend went missing a few months ago. She’d ended up being at her sister’s. Vassa hadn’t been on the case but she’s remembered it being all over the office.

Tamlin Rose, it was said, was one who liked his privacy. Rare, among these types. Last time, his girlfriend’s bout of forgetfulness (the story was that she’d been needed home quickly and forgot to tell Tamlin in the craziness) had made the papers, but only just.

This time it seemed, something he didn’t want the papers to know was happening. Tamlin Rose’s voice lowered suddenly when he stormed into the bullpen, a hand curling a paper into a ball.

“Mr. Rose,” the Captain hissed, to keep the low voice, “this is highly irregular-”

Tamlin Rose’s eyes flickered across the bullpen. Had Vassa done like her coworkers and look away—terrified of incurring the man’s wrath—she might have been spared his attention. But as it was, Vassa wasn’t one to back away. Ever.

Tamlin Rose pointed at her. “That one.” He ordered and then stormed back into the office, door slamming behind him.

The Captain made an expression of exasperation and anger, letting out a strangled groan along with it, and then gave Vassa the two finger beckon (which, for anyone keeping score, was much more dangerous than the one finger beckon).

“Ooo~” Goldie hissed behind Vassa’s back as she stood to walk to the office. “Someone’s in trouble.”

Vassa wasn’t in trouble. At least, she couldn’t think of any reason she would be. She just gave Goldie a rude gesture without breaking her stride.

The Captain’s door clicked closed behind her.

“Sit down, Detective Russel.” He sighed. He rubbed his temples, as if to abate the headache of Tamlin Rose. If Vassa was being honest she’d never want to be Captain or Commissioner here. They didn’t let these rich men flounder like the other folk. They didn’t hold them accountable for the horrors they’d helped contribute to. So what if they donate a million or so, when that is barely a full hour’s work for them. All of them were born into their money anyway, not one worked a day in their lives.

Though, Vassa supposed, if she had to pick one to support it may be Tamlin Rose. After he’d taken in that Lucien Vanserra… from what Vassa had heard Tamlin had saved the youngest Vanserra life. Though, he certainly hadn’t done anything significant for the community since then.

“Detective, the matter Mr. Rose and I have to discuss with you is one of delicacy and importance-”

Vassa stopped listening to her Captain as he continued fluffing up the situation. Instead she studied Tamlin Rose. His eyes were bloodshot. His nails bitten to the quick. He was shaking. Actually shaking, as his arms rested against the chair. His knuckles were white. Even those surrounding the thing he clutched in his fist. His long hair was tousled in the unintentional way.

“She’s gone again, isn’t she?” Vassa asked, halting her Captain.

Tamlin Rose’s wild eyes flickered to her.

“Have you called her family?”

“Of course I have.” Rose snarled. “Maybe I chose the wrong one. Get out.”

“Hey, it wasn’t that crazy a question.” Vassa argued, hands up in surrender. “You didn’t last time-” the glare she got from Rose should have silenced her. But it didn’t. Vassa’s best talent was pissing people off, and she was always up to a challenge. Vassa smiled in a way that was too close to baring her teeth. “-I mean really. Who wouldn’t have checked there first?”

“She had a bad relationship with her family.” He explained shortly. “But family emergencies bypass all discontentment. Don’t they?” He narrowed his eyes, as if he dared her to disagree.

Vassa shrugged. “Leaving twice without telling you… sounds like she wants to be gone to me.” The Captain beside her gasped in mortification that she would say something like that.

“Feyre is… flighty.”

“That doesn’t sound like someone you want in a high position in your company.” Vassa felt like this conversation was more of a battle than a simple talk. She had a feeling that Tamlin Rose felt similarly.

“She wanted a job, so I gave her a job.” Rose shrugged in a fashion that was meant to say the job itself meant nothing to him or her. But his shoulders were too tense for it to be believable. “Lucien does-” He froze, as if he’d forgotten that he wasn’t supposed to say something. Then he continued, more carefully, “Lucien did most of her work anyway.”

“Where’s Lucien?” Vassa asked, voice cold. If Lucien was gone too…

Rose shrugged again, as if his friend was unimportant. “Probably with Feyre. She kept mentioning before she left that she wanted to go on vacation, and when I checked our room, some of her clothes were gone. Same with Lucien. I checked out financials and a few plane tickets to random vacation spots were placed. But when I called the airports said the tickets were never validated. I’m worried that Feyre dragged Lucien out on one of her whims and something… happened.”

He looked entreatingly at Vassa. “Look, I just want to know where she is and that she’s safe. If so, I’ll stop bothering all of you. Promise.”

Something about the fact that he seemed to only care about Feyre Archeron rubbed Vassa the wrong way.

“I’m not missing persons. I’m financial crimes.”

“Which was why Mr. Rose here picked you. He-”

“Last time Feyre had a fit of flight, I went to the missing persons unit here. I was promised that they would keep my privacy. The tabloids got ahold of the story anyway. Now, I’m going a new way. Don’t tell anyone about the details of this case or I will ask you to be removed from it.”

Vassa didn’t like being ordered around. So why she agreed she wasn’t sure. Maybe for Feyre’s sake, although why she felt that Archeron and Vanserra needed her protection, she wasn’t quite sure either.

“I’ll send you the necessary information.” Tamlin Rose said. He stood and turned, walking out.

“Thank you for not being… yourself, Vassa.”

“What?” Vassa asked bitterly. “Were you afraid I would scare him away?”

“Vassa… just do what he says. Please.” The Captain begged.

Vassa stood and waved to the Captain on her way out. “No promises.” She had work to do.

It was only once she’d left the Captain’s office that she checked her phone, surprised to see a response from the unknown phone number.

I must keep my anonymity for my safety.  The crime I am going to report is one committed by Tamlin Rose.

Okay, Vassa thought, now I’m interested.

“Then what?”

“Then, we make up some emails, fudge some details, hack a few things...”

Lucien scrolled through Azriel’s computer files. He’d said he’d work on convincing Hybern to launder the money he received as payment for smuggling by working him. Leaving ads and other subliminal messages to control him. He said con artists used them all the time, that Mor in fact was doing it right now. That she had mentioned that her favorite season was spring and that she loved roses. The color red which she always wore. It was all part of the act.

Lucien was distinctly reminded that everything these people did was calculated. No words were out of place, no sentences unmeant.

Lucien felt wrong. He felt-

“Don’t open that file.”

Lucien jumped about a foot in the air.

“What?”

“Don’t open that file.” Azriel said. He came up from behind Lucien and pulled up a chair to the giant moniter-table. “It’s one of the ones for Hybern. It’ll try and convince you to put stock in Spring and Co. So, you know, I wouldn’t.”

A wry smile graced Lucien’s face, just before he made eye contact with Azriel and then dropped it. Lucien slid his mask back into place.

“You’re really going to send that to him.”

“Yup. Half the work in these cons is me.”

“Wow.” Lucien tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut. Half of Tamlin’s work was Lucien too. Without him, Tamlin may not be lost but he’d certainly have to recover quickly.

All those people… out of jobs.

What was Lucien doing? What was he thinking? He had to go back! If he went back now, maybe Tamlin would-Maybe Tam would forgive him. Maybe-

Azriel put a hand on Lucien’s. “Don’t even think it.”

“But-”

“He hit you Lucien. He hurt you. He abused Feyre. You’re better than him, Lucien. Trust us. We’ll deal with the repercussions. We always do. Somehow, Rhys always comes up smelling like roses—good ones—and he always brings us with him. He’ll bring you and everyone in our wake too.” Azriel squeezed Lucien’s hand. Lucien’s eyes dragged down to his fingers, which are gnarled and nail-less from some long ago burns.

And again, Lucien doesn’t feel so alone, only this time he didn’t want to go back. Lucien pulled his hand back. Azriel leaned back.

“You want to stay? You can see what I do. I have a nagging feeling you’ll like it.”

Lucien let himself smile. Azriel didn’t look at him, as if he knew that eye contact would make it worse. Instead, Azriel just began to work, and Lucien watched.

“You know, the usual,”

“And voila: we’re golden, baby.” Rhys said. He leaned back against his chair proudly, a sly grin on his face. “Our inquisitive cop will check into Tamlin’s financials, find the inconsistencies. Dig a little deeper. And finally, he’ll go to jail.”

“And what if that doesn’t work?” Lucien asked.

Az glanced at Rhys. Cassian snorted. “It always works.”

“Until it doesn’t.”

“Foxy, you worry too much.” Cass said.

“It’s a fair question, Cass.” Az said. “Would it help if I told you that this is only Plan A?”

Lucien’s eyes widened. “Only Plan A? How many ‘Plans’ do you have?”

Rhys shrugged. “Enough.” He said. And that was the end of that.

Azriel fiddled with the fake mustache he’d donned to help him attempt to stay unrecognizable. The janitor uniform Cass had found for him was too small, but it would have to do. He was halfway to the server room when he saw her—her burning red hair impossible to miss.

Azriel, as inconspicuously as possible, snapped a picture of her and sent it straight to Rhys.

What is she doing here?

The response was quick.

Hang on

Lucien says that Tamlin hates her, she shouldnt be there

Lucien knows Amarantha?

Says she’s Hybern’s chosen associate to deal with Tamlin

Azriel dropped his phone into his pocket so he could pretend to be busy with cleaning while Tamlin and Amarantha stomped by him. Of course. Of course their luck would mean that Hybern’s contact with Tamlin was the most notorious fixer alive. And a complete sociopath at that.  Tamlin was hissing like an angry cat while Amarantha seemed slightly amused.

“-none of your business-!” Tamlin snarled.

“Darling,” Amarantha flipped her hair over her shoulder, her cruel eyes narrow despite the amused curl to her lips. “Everything about this company is by business.”

They stormed down the corridor and turned, footsteps echoing.

Azriel pulled out his phone. Whatever she’s here for… it can’t be good.

Rhys’ response was quick. Agreed. There was a pause, then: okay, i’m calling everyone in. We need to regroup. We go to plan C for now

Azriel dipped his phone back in his pocket. Plan C it was.

[teaandcrowns]

i, ii, iii, iv, v, vi

@tatkresiwok

It was all very strange.

He was used to the Blue Spirit being unseen, unknown, a rumor. Just glimpsed of some dark entity in the middle of the night, gone as soon as it came. It was better if everyone thought it was an actual spirit, working for reasons of its own.

But, for Zuko, things never worked out the way he wanted.

He staked out a lone house just outside the edge of a village to the north of where the marauder’s hideout was located, intending to swipe some extra soap, if he could find it, and maybe, if he was very lucky, a handful of copper coins. Not enough to bankrupt a family, but enough for him to get by a little more easily. At least to start.

Zuko waited for cover of night, ignoring the hunger pains in his stomach, until he was sure the family was all asleep. He crept up to the wooden engawa and paused there, listening. No sounds came from within. The moon was close to half, and there were clouds in the sky; cover of darkness was not as good as it could have been, but it was decent enough. He wasn’t worried.

As he slipped along, he ran a hand along the door panels, searching for the best place to gain entry. There. His fingers found the barest crack where one of the panels hadn’t been shut quite all the way. Zuko gently worked his fingers in the opening and carefully, slowly, pushed open the panel just enough for him to slip in.

The interior was dark, but once his eyes began to adjust to the deeper shadows he felt sure enough to navigate through. It’d be easy enough for him to produce a small flame to see by, but that might alert someone. Instead, he moved cautiously, keeping one hand outstretched. He moved through the house like a shadow, picking up a few items here and there. Most people weren’t better off than him, so he long ago had taken to only stealing what he needed to get buy. Zuko didn’t have space for luxuries in his single pack, anyway.

The most important thing he found was in the small washroom: a bar of soap. It even looked unused. Zuko wasn’t sure what he’d done recently to grant him such luck (maybe his helping the waterbender was it, but he tried not to think about that much), but he wasn’t about to start questioning it. The soap went into his pack, along with a few handfuls of dried meat and fruit, and a couple of silver pieces. By the size of this house, it was clear the family was slightly better off than most others, so he didn’t feel guilty for taking more than he normally would have.

He crept back out of the washroom, pausing to make sure he didn’t hear a change in the steady breathing of the family sleeping down the corridor, then slowly made his way back toward the window he’d come in. He was nearly out when a growl cut through the quiet. Zuko froze, feeling his heart drop into his gut—which was what had made the noise.

Maybe he was far enough away from the bedrooms that no one would be alerted.

“Are you hungry?”

The voice of a little girl nearly made him drop his pack. He whirled, mind racing to try and come up with some sort of excuse that could keep her quiet and get him out as quickly as possible.

Disarmingly, she smiled up at him.

“We’ve got some extra food from dinner, if you want.” Without waiting for him to reply, she went over to the cooking pot still hanging by the embers of a fire, and spooned him out a bowl of what looked like juk with chopped vegetables in it. She came back over to him and offered it with one hand. “Here you go.”

Tentatively, guiltily, Zuko shook his head. “No, thank you,” he began. “I—”

Before he could finish, a crash came from behind him. Again, Zuko whirled to see another darkly clad person scramble to their feet, the shoji they’d just knocked down lying torn beneath them on the floor. Out of instinct, Zuko put his hand out to create a barrier between this new intruder and the little girl. The other’s face was halfway covered, with a cloth mask tied around their nose and mouth. Unlike with Zuko’s mask, it left their green eyes exposed.

“What, you some kinda house guardian?” the person snarled at him. They lifted their fists, preparing to attack. The glint of moonlight off a blade flashed like a firebug in the night.

Zuko said nothing, but surged into action. He didn’t let the new intruder get the first move, knowing that if he was fast enough he might be able to incapacitate them before they destroyed more of the house. Or, worse, hurt the little girl or someone else.

With his options limited and unwilling to resort to bending, he barreled toward them, then shot forward, knocking them back and grappling with them. The momentum sent both Zuko and the intruder back out the broken wall, tumbling down off the engawa and onto the hard earth. While he was quite a good combatant, Zuko wasn’t truly skilled at the art of grappling, and so simply did his best to try and keep the other’s limbs pinned. He didn’t want them to get up or be able to use that blade against him.

Distantly, the sound of footsteps on wood reached him, but it was unimportant next to subduing his opponent. He felt warmth rise in him, bolstering his will to win. But, while Zuko did not give in to the urge to firebend, he used its energy to gain a moment of overpowering the struggling intruder beneath him and knock them out.

Somewhere off to his left, a voice was calling to him, and growing nearer. Chest heaving from the fight, Zuko lifted his head from staring at the slowly groaning intruder on the ground to the voice. The familiar haze of a quick and unexpected fight slowly dissipated from his senses, and Zuko’s focus widened beyond that of his enemy.

The little girl was running up to him again, before an older kid caught up to her and grabbed hold of her—an older sibling by the look. Beyond them, two adults came into view, staring at Zuko with wide eyes. A quiet scrabbling just beneath him snapped his attention back down, thinking he was about to be stabbed, but the intruder was trying to scramble back away from Zuko.

“You—you fight like a demon!” they said, eyes wide and a bruise forming over one of them. They managed to get to their feet with a bit of stumbling, and Zuko let them run off into the night. It was a waste to try and stop them again.

“He saved me!” the little girl stated firmly, bringing his gaze back to the family. She tried to worm her way out of her sister’s grasp.

“Yeah, that was real lucky he was there,” her sister said, not taking her eyes off Zuko, plainly suspicious of him.

All at once, the younger girl stopped struggling, and looked up at her sister with a very serious expression. “He was just hungry. He probably smelled our tasty dinner from tonight. I heard his stomach.”

As if on cue, it growled again. Zuko was glad for the mask that hid his burning cheeks.

Their father came forward, standing just beside his children. “Listen, friend, times have been tough. We understand that, so we don’t judge you. But you saved Oriya, so…”

His wife stepped in. “We can heat up some food as thanks.”

Guilt clawed at his insides, and his cheeks burned hotter. Silently, he shook his head.

The father frowned, heavy eyebrows drawing together. “We can’t let you go without repaying your kindness. Just… we’ll make you a pack.”

Without waiting for him to reply—much like his youngest daughter had—he vanished back into the darkness of the house. Eyes cast down, Zuko slowly reached into his pack as their mother came over to join her two girls. His fingers closed around the bar of soap he’d stolen from them; his jaw tightened as he hesitated. After a moment and a sigh, he lifted it out of his pack and held it up to them. The mother’s eyes went a little wider with recognition. Then, to his surprise, her face softened.

“Keep it,” she said quietly. “It’s an easy price to pay for a life.”

The father came back out of the house with a small tied cloth. “There’s enough for a few small meals here,” he said. “Thank you again, stranger. Your mask is frightening, but it seems to have been in our favor tonight.”

Zuko left them with a series of conflicting emotions roiling in his chest. He’d stolen from them. They had to have known, or at least guessed, that he wouldn’t have taken just a bar of soap. Yet, still, they’d given him more. His pack, with the bundle of food, weighed heavily on his back as he traveled.

He didn’t stop until much later that night, when exhaustion overtook him and promised quick sleep.

_______

The involuntary good deed he committed seemed to set off a chain reaction of more.

As he traveled, he came across others he ended up helping. An old, nearly blind man’s cart was stuck in a ditch, with his ostrich horse’s leg hurt. Zuko dragged the cart out of the ditch while the man tended to his animal’s injury. As thanks, he got a small sack of rice. A young woman was shouldering far too heavy a pack for her—medical supplies, she told him breathlessly when she spotted him, for the next town. He offered to take it for her, since he was heading in that direction anyway. She nearly cried when she thanked him, and gave him a small bundle stuffed with medical herbs and a small pot of cooling salve. He also got a handful of coins upon delivering it, though he only took half. The rest he left for them to give to the young woman who would have gotten it originally.

On, and on, it went. Sometimes he helped out with the mask on, sometimes without. He started hearing rumors of a benevolent spirit helping strangers when he reached new towns, rumors of a Blue Spirit rising up from the countryside to help those ground down beneath the Fire Nation’s heel.

Of course, Zuko’s luck being what it was—namely, non-existent—those rumors came back to bite him in the ass.

He slipped out of the small town under the cover of dark one night a few weeks after the house intruder incident. There was a small gang in the area that was bullying some of the more vulnerable residents, so he’d donned his mask and given them a scare—and a beating—that would have them thinking twice about continuing. As he made his way out of town into the nearby woods, something prickled the back of his neck. He froze, listening and scanning the area immediately surrounding him. Zuko stood in a small grove of trees, their foliage now thick with summer leaves. It was probably just a passing animal, he told himself. Nothing to worry about. He started walking again when nothing presented itself as the source.

There was a single snap of a branch on the ground behind him. Before he had the chance to spin and face whatever was there, a sharp blow to the back of his head blurred his vision and sent him sprawling. He saw nothing but black after that.

________

The smell of brine and iron surrounded him, and regular undulations rocked his empty stomach into heaving. His arms ached, and his throat burned as if he’d swallowed mouthfuls of sand. This was a familiar place, the belly of a Fire Nation ship. The difference was that instead of commanding it, as he had years ago in the first few years of his exile, now he was captive.

When he tried to move, his limbs refused to respond. At first, he thought it was because he was weak, but then he realized that it was because he was restrained by shackles. The room he was in was bare, the metal walls undecorated and unforgiving. They didn’t even give him a strange sense of comfort, despite having spent nearly five years on a ship not too dissimilar to this one. Now, it just made his stomach turn.

Regularly, he heard voices around him. He was able to piecemeal together that he’d been a captive on a smaller vessel for about a week, in and out of consciousness, and was the primary talk of the ship. From that, he decided it must be a relatively low-ranked ship in the fleet. None of that explained why he was still wearing his Blue Spirit mask, however.

“I won’t be the one to do it,” one voice said, drawing Zuko out of his thoughts. “Are you crazy? I like my skin unburned and my life intact. The mask stays on until they dock. He’ll want to be the one to do the honors of unmasking before executing this peasant.”

Understanding slapped him like a bucket of icy water. There was only one Admiral he was aware of that took such personal pleasure in interrogating and disposing of people himself: Zhao. It sounded like they were anchored, waiting for Zhao to arrive and decide what to do with Zuko himself. If he waited until Zhao arrived and was discovered to be the Blue Spirit… Death would be the more welcome option, then.

He had to get out of here.

A plan began forming in his head as he scanned the room through the slits of his mask. Zuko shook his wrists a bit, gauging the weight of the metal shackles. They were the standard ones used for non-bending prisoners, which, he happened to know, were more easily softened by heat than the ones reserved for firebending prisoners. He allowed himself a small smile. Now, all he had to do was wait for the right moment. Living among Earth Kingdom citizens the past several years made him feel like he’d acquired the greater patience they could have for biding their time. A younger version of him wanted to strain against his bindings right away, but he knew that would do him no good but burn energy he wanted to reserve. So instead, he deepened his breathing and planned out what he would do once he cut through his chains.

It was probably about an hour after midnight when his chance came.

Zuko only was able to guess at the time from scraping the rust off his memory of ship guard rotations. He wasn’t heavily guarded at all. From what he’d learned from the quiet talk of the guards to one another, though the Blue Spirit was an irritating thorn in the sides of a few particularly ornery Fire Nation commanders, he wasn’t really seen as a threat now captured; they all assumed he was a non-bender. That gave him ample opportunity to take advantage of their underestimation of him.

Quietly, he focused and heated up his wrists and hands. Firebending comes from the breath. Zuko breathed flame and hot steam onto the taught chain binding his shackles together, pushing himself to make it hotter until the metal reddened and then began to soften. Not wasting any time, he tugged his arms sharply apart, snapping the chain in half. He repeated the process on the shackles binding his feet, and soon he was free.

The door wasn’t an obstacle, and he ignored it entirely, instead hauling himself up into the vent in the ceiling. Slipping off the ship and into the water was as easy as waiting for the patrol to pass and timing his movements to that. The ship itself was bigger than his old one had been, but still no fighting cruiser, so he was off it within a few minutes. After that, the tiring swim to shore was a welcome burn to his muscles. The moment he pulled himself up onto a wooden pier, he was free.

By the time the morning guard rotation would be around to give him the tasteless juk and egg bun for breakfast, he would be miles away from the port town the ship waited at. He would be out in the countryside again, and away from the ships under Zhao’s command and, with any kind of luck, any more chance of the Admiral catching him. This had been too close a call for Zuko’s liking.

________

Weeks passed, and turned into months.

He found himself across the narrow channel of water from where the marauder’s hideout had been, but, as always he made do with what he could. Once again, he began with nothing. The pack the waterbender had left behind was somewhere on the other side of the channel, and he mourned finding his uncle’s cup a second time. But, Zuko couldn’t dwell or dawdle. He had to keep moving. His flight across the channel was too close a call, even if he had eventually escaped. Zuko lifted his hand to trace the scar along his throat that a rope had left, hidden beneath the high collar of a plain tunic. In all his years of evading being caught, he never thought that particular demon of his past would come to haunt him again.

Zuko scowled and returned his focus to the task at hand.

The roughly woven dǒulì he wore shaded his face from the worst of the sun, but he still felt the heat of it against his back. Sweat rolled down his face and beneath his tunic, but he didn’t stop. A family had promised him a square meal if he helped them plough their fields, so here he was, pulling an unwilling and ornery ostrich horse row after row. He was nearly done, thankfully, though it had eaten up most of his afternoon and his energy.

When he finally went back to the farm after finishing and putting the animal back in its stall, he devoured the contents of the bowl set before him. Zuko’s stomach begged for him to ask for seconds—thirds, even—but he kept his mouth shut, instead only nodding thanks when handed a wrapped package of food to keep him going another few days.

The family offered a space in their barn for him, and he debated turning them down. But, as he stood to be on his way, exhaustion washed over him and made him waver on his feet. It wouldn’t hurt, he reasoned, to have a roof over his head and sweet hay to pillow him, for a night. It was better than the dusty ground, anyway.

Zuko thanked them again, and shouldered the pack he’d assembled over the last few months between honest work like this and stealing as the Blue Spirit. The barn wasn’t wholly dark, with plenty of holes in the rafters that birds or weather had made, letting the light of the stars and moon to trickle in. Not bothering to change out of his sweaty tunic, Zuko set his pack down on a thick pile of hay and lay down next to it.

He stared up at the gaps in the roof for a while, suddenly thinking about the waterbender. The moon was nearly full again. Zuko rested a hand over his heart. He wondered if she really was dead, or if she had somehow survived. It wasn’t impossible—he managed, despite the universe seemingly trying to do its best to end him. If anyone else he knew could survive as well, or better, than he, it would have to be her.

Wherever she was, he hoped she was doing better than he was.

[lovedeluxe92]

okay so i started working at jimmy johns in early febuary of this year. i needed a job rlly bad and money desperately, just something to keep me afloat and to afford food. what i experienced...i was not at all prepared for lmao. i was sexually harassed, verbally harassed, had my hours fucked with, had management and even the owners of the company who could give a fuck less about their employees, had to deal with my fellow coworkers AND managers being on k2 and other drugs, and the final fucking straw which was getting my tip money stolen from me OUT OF THE SAFE BY A MANAGER. i started working as a delivery driver. which was INCREDIBLY stress inducing at first bc i worked at the one right downtown. i had to deal with

i started working as a delivery driver. which was INCREDIBLY stress inducing at first bc i worked at the one right downtown. i had to deal with

traffic, pedestrians NOT LOOKING WHERE THE FUCK THEY WERE GOING DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MANY PPL I ALMOST KILLED CAUSE /THEY/ DID NOT LOOK, we have ‘parking police’ and i legit got about 15-20 tickets during my time there bc that asshole was out for blood and anytime he saw my car, even if i wasnt parked illegally (oh did i mention we had like 3 parking spots all on the street and all with a 2 hour limit (: ) or hadnt been parked in a spot for the full 2 hours. so there was that. 

see when i first started everything was fine. we had good employees who worked hard and did what they had to do. they were all stoners, but whatever i could care less about that. SO. our assistant manager, he was a mess. racist, homophobic, rude, loud. the worst. we would do dabs out in his car (yeah i know but i worked at a fucking jimmy johns) and he would just say the most questionable shit. i remember this one time he saw my phone background was a pic of me and my bf and was like ‘oh you like black guys? what’s your sex like? i bet it’s really good’ and im not gonna go into too much detail here, bc it upset me and its racist,  but he kept going and said some REALLY creepy shit i was like wtf and told him to never speak to me like that again or i would report him for sexual harassment (side note: one time he thought i did report him for sexual harassment and was like “who are you gonna buy weed from now?” LITERALLY ANYONE YOU PIECE OF SHIT.) he would always be like “DAMN THICK’ whenever i would bend over and do everything. I TOLD MY MANAGER AT THE TIME. she  didn’t do anything. AND the owners of the franchise definitely knew bc like...there’s cameras and they can hear everything we say? but no one did fucking anything. and i needed the money bad so i had to stay. of course i told him off constantly. he was white and always saying the n word. just a piece of fucking shit. 

i think the happiest day of my life was when he FINALLY got fired. my manager had to go to another city for a week and help out that jimmy johns bc i guess ALL the employees and managers did a walk out (yeah this happens at all the jimmy johns owned locally in my area i wish i was kidding) and left his inept ass in charge. it took him 5 mins to make sandwiches (FREAKY FAST hello????) he was just a poor manager. but THEN he started using k2 again. and he was a zombie. there was no point of him even being there bc like he would just go to the back of the store and just stand in front of the freezer door staring for like 10-15 mins at a time.i was a driver and didnt know how to make sandwiches yet and this bitch seriously was just standing there cracked out of his mind on k2 in FRONT of customers (and i will say our customers were SO nice at least) takking phone calls slurring his words. it was embarrassing. i rememeber i had 2 customers who had waited almost a HALF HOUR for ONE sandwich bc i was having a panic attack and losing my fucking mind trying to make their sandwiches while he was in his truck getting high and refusing to come in. one of the customers actually gave me a tip and told me i was doing great and the other one was like ‘im so sorry this is happening to you, that guy is  fucked up’. anyway, he passed out on k2 in his truck one night and got the cops called on him and got banned from the property :) i still saw him from time to time and he looked disgusting & miserable and it made me so happy. 

mostly we just had grown ass employees, fucking 30 year olds, just acting like children. always on drugs. i had one coworker pretend to slap my ass and i called him out and he was like ‘it’s a joke im not apologizing’. people would try to take deliveries from me. AND LET ME JUST SAY, not even to fucking brag even slighly but i was the best worker there my entire time there bc regardless of where im working i am giving my 100% every day and no one else there would. but ppl always tried to step over me and did not respect me. we had one coworker who had 3 felonies and one day like 4-5 cops came to our store to tell us to call the cops the next time he showed up for work (surprise surprise he fled bc they took an hour to get to the store despite the fact we were literally like not even 4 blocks from the police station) and he was always high on k2. forever late. day after day no call no show. he had his friend get hired on who would go down to subway and talk shit about subway in his uniform??? lmao and subway called us one day and was like ‘can yall not?’ he also threatened to burn down the store and then my manager (who was always on a power trip if we’re being honest) purposefully withheld his paycheck to fuck with him, because he was fucking with her, so we dealt with him WAY longer than we should have? 

then this one bitch that became manager, SOMEHOW, we were seriously always that desperate for staff and we hire anyone bc the managers are overworked af and just want to take the load off. anyway, SHE was always high on k2 as well. and she would always overshare rlly traumatic personal things from her life to me and all the customers and its like....girl we dont wanna hear that pls try and get some help. she was not currently being abused, i wanna specify. she was talking about things from her past. i sympathized with her but like im a victim of dv too lmao i dont wanna see your bruises without being asked first. and then i remember one day i left my money bag there (i kept my tips in it and had like $37 in there or something) and this bitch who was making MORE MONEY THAN ME seriously fucking went into the safe (we caught her on camera lmao) and stole that money out of my bag and left a few bills to make it seem less suspicious i guess??? lied about it to my face? then quit bc she ‘wasnt gonna sit there and be accused of something i didnt do’ like ok lmao

then to top it all off at one point my old manager just stopped giving a fuck and the store went to shit and we got complaint after complaint and she started being so rude to all of her staff, including myself (and we were like besties so i was devastated) and she cut my hours when she was submitting our work times for the checks because i would clock in early to help out....LIKE SHE ASKED? and it was just everything i said to her...her response was just the most rude and hateful voice and just....it was so rude. i cried every single day after work. she eventually got replaced and then quit 

but then this new manager, whom i loved, was very depressed and just had a lot wrong with him mentally but he was still very....drama starting and attention seeking. he would talk about suicide nonstop 24/7 and not to be callous but it just made me so uncomfortable and triggered me so much? they did overwork him and i will attest and agree to that and he had a lot on his shoulders but he couldve gone to mcdonalds literally any day and gotten a job with better hours, better pay, and better benefits. i kept telling him over and over to leave bc he had so much managerial experience he couldve been hired anywhere! all resteraunts down here are perpetually hiring, especially for managers! i would know bc i was looking for another job lmao. but he’d text me every night saying things like ‘well lets hope i drink myself to death’ ‘suicide is painless’ etc. and it was just......VERY uncomfortable for me, as someone who has attempted suicide and still struggles with ideation from time to time lmao it was just the most triggering environment ever 

like idk how i lasted that long but i worked my ass off, saved up my money, have a good paying job and im trying my best to forget this entire experience (honestly i did have some good times) but i really dont....think i can lmao 

ON A POSTIVE NOTE: we had some of the kindest and most caring customers ive ever had in my life. i was shocked. but the amount of times i had a shitty customer in my entire time there i can count on one hand lmao like....even when they were shitty they were like ‘im sorry i know yall work hard and everything’ like i miss my customers SO MUCH because we actually had relationships with them and shit and ugh god. if the customers were shitty tho i would never have kept this job lmfao 

i stayed at this job simply bc i made enough money for rent and my bills perfectly and it was one of the few jobs where i was paid an hourly wage + tips. and i wanted my next job to be a job in my field. that’s why i stuck around so long, it took some time to do that.

so yeah theres my mess i love anyone who read this and you can have my first born and be the beneficiary to my life insurance when i die

[cedarmoons]

written out of spite for @vide0-nasties​ // ive been thinking about an au where the cast switch roles...

You know Dr. Devorak had left for the palace early in the morning, and that he wouldn’t be back until dark at least—his work at the palace frequently drains him, exhausts him, drives him to drink more often than not. He’d jokingly offered to buy you a round of drinks at the Rowdy Raven when he got back, and now you think you might actually take him up on it.

The Count’s visit had shaken you to your core. You’d never met him, only heard rumors that he’d been cured of the plague the same night the rogue magician Asra had killed the Countess, that he was terrifying and intelligent and cruel. The rumors had been right.

You sit at Dr. Devorak’s desk at the back of his clinic-slash-house, staring at the various herbal ingredients you need to start mixing together. There’s no cure for the plague, yet, but in the year since Countess Nadia’s death, Dr. Devorak had managed to find some herbal cures that held off the symptoms and prolonged life by the years rather than the months. It was the only reason Vesuvia wasn’t an empty wasteland yet.

At the front of the clinic, the bell rings. You frown. It’s past dark, almost time for the clinic to close. Who would need to visit so late at night?

“Ilya?” an unfamiliar voice calls out. “Ilya, we need to talk. Please.”

Ilya? Your frown deepens. Only Portia called Dr. Devorak by that name, as far as you know. You rise from the desk, alchemical and herbal ingredients abandoned, and wander into the front of the store.

“I’m sorry,” you say, “but Dr. Devorak isn’t in right now. I can help you, though. What do you need?”

The customer that stands before you is slim, dressed in blacks and charcoal greys, a contrast to the rich golden-brown of his skin. His face is covered by a half-mask, and his hair is hidden under a hood, but you can see purple eyes widen to the size of saucers as he catches sight of you.

“You...” he breathes, taking a step back. “You’re—are you really...?”

He trails off, watching you with shock naked in his eyes. You stare at him, uncertain, and his clothing shifts. A purple snake, as vibrant as his eyes, pokes its head out from under the collar of his black shirt. Its tongue flickers at you, and you realize who is standing before you. Not anyone you have met, but someone you know only by fearsome reputation.

Asra. The fugitive magician. The Countess’s murderer. A violent criminal, the reason Lucio had outlawed any and all magic within Vesuvia’s borders.

You gasp, taking a step back, holding your hands up in front of you—as if that will keep his attacks at bay, as if that will keep him from using whatever dark magic had destroyed the Countess’s very life force. He steps forward, lifting a hand out, and you nearly trip over yourself as you turn and sprint to the back door that goes out into the herbal garden. Once you’re out, you can escape, call the guards for help—

“Wait!”

A shimmering wall of purple, magical energy solidifies in the doorway. You whip around, searching for something to defend yourself with. You grab a bottle of petrified leeches and level it at him, arm shaking.

“No closer,” you warn. “I—I have good aim.”  

Asra hadn’t moved. The snake is gone. He holds his hands up, carefully. “All right,” he says. “I won’t hurt you. I promise, I’d never hurt you.” His voice breaks.

You slowly lower your bottle of leeches, straightening. The magic sealing the doorway behind you falls, leaving empty, damp-smelling air behind. Asra still doesn’t move; he still doesn’t look away from you. 

“Can you just—tell me where Ilya Devorak is? I was told this is his clinic.”

“Dr. Devorak,” you start, and he snorts, rolling his eyes.

“‘Doctor’? Has he finally gotten his medical license?”

“He’s out,” you say, cheeks flushing at Asra’s casual dismissal of the doctor. He’d found you wandering the streets one day with no memory, taken you in and taken care of you—you won’t let anyone slander his good name. “Show some respect. Without him, there’d be no one left in Vesuvia.” 

Asra’s eyes soften. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Do you know when he’ll be back?”

“No,” you lie. You don’t want to give a dangerous murderer another cause to visit the clinic, no matter how gently he’d promised not to hurt you.

He nods, accepting it, though you don’t know if that’s because he believes you or because he knows he’s pushed his luck too far. “All right. Well... when he does come back, please tell him I visited. And that I need to talk to him. It’s important.”

“Why?” you ask, unable to help your curiosity. “Did you two know each other?”

“Something like that.” He exhales, hard, and you see his hands—still uplifted, held out palm facing you—are shaking. One of his hands is bandaged. You bite down on the urge to close the distance between you, unwrap the bandages and take a look at the wound underneath.

“I just...” he starts, then exhales again, breath shaking. “I saw the Count, earlier, come into the clinic. Did he talk to you? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” you say. “Why do you care?”

Asra finally lowers his hands, then shakes his head. You can’t read him very easily with one half of his face covered, but he looks—sad. Wistful. The worst thing is that you have no idea why.

“Well,” he says, stepping back. “I should go, in case someone saw me. Please tell Ilya I need to talk to him. Thank you.”

He nods to himself, lowering his eyes from your face. When you blink, he is gone. The door is locked shut—that’s right, you’d locked it for the night—but the bell is still ringing, signalling the arrival of a customer who had never been there.

[angelicwritingoflesilva]

Sunday, “Everest’s Loneliest Creature”

!! After more than five hours of writing, two hours of editing, here it is, in all its glory: Everest’s Loneliest Creature! Okay, time for some life lessons:

What I’ve Learned: Journals are so hard to write. ;u; People who write stories with just letters, holy frick, props to you. Seriously, making this entertaining without making it seem like a regular piece was... difficult (not gonna say very because that makes for weaker writing see I definitely know what I’m doing).

Props to more people: historical fiction authors. It was hard enough researching something current. How you all can do it for something that has been gone for like at least 50 years, no clue.

EVEREST TAKES FOREVER TO GET GOING. LIKE, HECK, FORTY DAYS TO REACH CAMP IV? REALLY? HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO WRITE A SHORT STORY AAAAA! no i’m not bitter

Characters are really fun to develop behind scenes! I thought that I would just throw the friends who came with Mallory to the side, but they were really fun to write about. I think that I gave them, certainly simple, but interesting personalities. I actually think that the characters are believable in this story, which is something that I think I struggle with a lot.

Final Word Count: 8,986

Final Time Spent (writing/editing): 8 hr 14 minutes

Trigger warning: being stranded somewhere, storms, big monsters who’ll love you to death, and sadness :(

Everest’s Loneliest Creature

February 28, 2018

Hello there, journal! I’m going on the climb of my life with my friends, Jasmine and Casey. We’re going back to my family’s birthplace, to a small country housing the most giant of mountains! A small fry taking reign of the largest shark! A teeny mouse housing a fierce African elephant! 

That’s right, we’re going to Nepal to climb the one and only Mount Everest! Just writing that feels unreal, wow!

Casey suggested the idea to me last year, around April or something. We were studying deer behavior in the field when he suddenly said that he wanted to climb Everest one day. I rolled my eyes at him and said that we would never have the money. I make plenty to keep myself afloat, but to afford an entire trip to Everest? 

Besides, I told him, I’m not great at keeping jobs. To do something like climb Everest when I’m not even sure if the research program is going to want me tomorrow would be dumb. He and I laughed about the time that I abandoned my (infinitely and endlessly boring) task of documenting the edible plants in Yellowstone to follow a goose and her goslings, and my subsequent firing. But, it’s fine. I didn’t really like the people who employed me at that time anyway.

After we stopped laughing, he said to think about it. I rolled my eyes, but agreed. Of course, I wasn’t planning on doing anything with the idea, but Casey is really persistent. He kept bothering me about it, and finally, I threw him a scrap and said I’d talk to my parents about it. Now, mind you (or me, I guess?), I don’t need their permission to do it. I just thought that if I were to go climbing on Everest, they would want to know. Plus, it wouldn’t hurt if they could give me a little money, right?

So, I came to their house, served them a gourmet dinner of oven-baked dino nuggets, and then told them what I was thinking about Everest. I told them that it would be a good way to connect with great grandpa Hiransh’s roots. 

Mom looked at dad, and the two shared a concerned glance. They told me how dangerous it was to climb Everest, and I’m sitting here like, come. On. I am a field biologist. I work with giant snakes and bears, already have spent lots of time climbing mountains, in very dangerous areas, and you don’t think that I know that Everest is dangerous?

Anyways I just nodded as they warned me, smiling and occasionally saying, yep, yep. Or, yeah, I’ve heard that. Nothing disrespectful, just enough to show them that I had done my research.

Eventually, mom said what I was thinking--expenses. She looked over to my father, her hands wringing in her lap. She said that a permit alone could cost me greatly, but I told her that I had already done research on how much it cost. But, I also said, I would love if you guys could spare a hundred or something so I don’t, like, freeze to death on the mountain because I couldn’t afford a coat. My dad laughed at that, but my mom just bit her lip. I promised to pay them back.

My mom and dad talked, and they finally came to an agreement to give me $500. My dad said, jokingly, that if I didn’t pay them back, that he would get to shave off what remained of my hair. (long story short: I decided to get a pixie cut and dyed the tips of my hair dark green, and I think it looks pretty bad. Casey says it looks good, though, so maybe I’ll keep it like this)

So, I left with an extra $500. It wasn’t much, compared to the monumental expenses of climbing Everest, but it was a start. I had to basically empty my spend account and dump it in my growth account. Who knows, I thought. Maybe by the time I climb Everest, I’ll have a whole extra dollar! (I actually ended up getting about ten dollars! Score!)

I started to train for the expedition. At first, I just worked normally at the gym, and then I started to use a mountain training mask. Basically, it just lowers how much oxygen your body gets, and it gets you ready to breathe the thinner mountain air. I also had to work really hard at my job to work up enough extra money so I could go to Nepal and not be bankrupt by the time I got back. I volunteered for every job, even the extra boring ones, and did my best to stay on track. Gradually, my bank account grew.

My friend, Jasmine, heard about this and decided to jump in. Jasmine is more serious than I am (job wise, at least), and, although she’s only like 20, she’s really smart. Her parents were able to afford insanely great schooling for her, and they chipped in for a lot of our trip. We probably we would have had to delay it another year if they hadn’t helped us so much. She and I get along well since she can kind of reel me in when I’m ready to run off.

So, while I was training, I was slowly buying the equipment I would need. Of course, I got the usual clothing--sweat-wicking underwear, long-sleeved shirt and long pants, fleece jacket, coat, and then a larger, bulkier coat, etc, etc. Pretty boring stuff, if you ask me.

But the coolest thing I bought was this air tank. First off, it is a lot lighter than other air tanks, but it can last a climber much longer, because of an incredibly incredible reason that is so incredible that it might just blow your incredibly uninformed mind. It is split into two compartments. One is filled with oxygen, the other is the air breathed out by the climber. There’s something techy about breathing in opening a valve and then breathing out closing it, so it leads to two different compartments, but I’m not really in that field of science, so what do I know? The air that is breathed out is filtered into the one compartment. There’s this bio paper thing that’s kind of like a plant in which it takes in the CO2 to make oxygen, but I literally have no idea how it works. I think there’s something to do with genetic manipulation, maybe? Who knows.

I’ve worked with it more than any of my other tanks and I love it to bits and pieces. I think it can last up to a week and a few days before the bio paper becomes worn out. After that, it becomes basically just a normal air tank.

So, anyways, we’re taking a plane tomorrow. This is like the only notebook I haven’t written in yet, so I’m taking it along. Luckily, it’s really sturdy. Not exactly my taste in books, since it is butt ugly. It’s from like five years ago, so that doesn’t help either. Well, whatever. It’ll do.

It’s going to take more than an entire day to get to Nepal, but we’re making it! I just finished packing not even like five minutes ago. Wait, just glanced at the clock. This has taken me a lot longer than I thought--forty minutes, actually! Well, I better sign off, if I’m going to catch the five o’clock flight tomorrow morning. Getting up at 3:30, driving out for thirty minutes, going through security, and then boarding. Sounds like fun, right?

See you in the morning!

Mallory Woodruff

March 01, 2018 (well, technically, it’s the second but it still feels like the first sooo)

Casey snores so loudly. I swear, my seat is shaking with the sound of him. I don’t want to wake him up though. If I could manage to fall asleep, I would too. But I’m not a great flyer, so I’d probably wake up and vomit all over myself.

Jasmine isn’t sleeping either. She’s still getting caught up with work. She’s kind of a push-over and takes other people’s unwanted work even when she doesn’t feel like doing it. She says that it’s not because she doesn’t want to stand up to them, it’s because she wants to get a promotion. But, if getting a promotion equals ten hours of work on a plane that has spent forever sputtering its way over eternal turbulence with no overpay, uh, thanks, but no thanks.

I’ve been passing the time by reading about Everest. Of course, lots of the writing is the “exciting” stuff that has happened on Everest, i.e., death, destruction, and the like. Maybe I should stop reading it. It’s interesting, but I guess it’s also kind of morbid for me to be reading it right now? Like, is it giving me bad karma? Does karma work like that? I don’t know.

We’re hitting more turbulence, and I doubt I’ll be able to make any comprehensible sentence in a few minutes. We’re supposed to land in like an hour, and then we take one final flight to Nepal.

Mallory Woodruff

March 03, 2018

Okay, so we’re in Nepal, and it’s warm. I mean, I know it was supposed to be warm, but I wasn’t actually expecting it to be this warm. With Everest so cold, it’s strange to me that, so close to the mountain, it’s warm. Anyways, update time.

So, we landed in Nepal smoothly. It was late, around one o’clock, when we landed. The other flight was supposed to get us to Nepal at ten, but it was delayed due to a storm. Talk about a bummer.

When we landed, I wanted to go out and eat somewhere nice. Casey had wanted to sleep some more, but when he heard about my idea, he instantly wanted to go, too. Jasmine eventually caved in, because, first off, food, and, second off, food.

So, we ate out. It was really nice, and I was so happy to not be eating plane/awful fast food. It was like a miracle, to have delicious spicy food again. I gobbled down my entire plate and then proceeded to wistfully mop up the remains of my dish and lick them off my finger. Casey had all of his, too, but then threw up later since he hadn’t eaten anything in like the past fifteen hours. (note to self: spicy food on an empty stomach is a no go. Learn from Casey’s mistake) Jasmine just ate some rice and had water.

Anyways, we have to take a short plane ride to Lukla tomorrow. We stopped in Kathmandu because it is gorgeous and I insisted on it. I accidentally left my camera at home, so you’ll have to make due with some crappy phone pictures.

The city is amazing, and, the best part, there are forests nearby. Like, national parks and stuff. If I were to move to Nepal, I would definitely come here. It’s really great. Wow, I sound so enthusiastic ending that sentence with a period. Shall I do it some more. Wow. I’m so excited that I’m going to climb Everest. Wow. Okay, I’ll stop now, haha. But seriously, it is beautiful around here!

It’s getting late, so I’m going to sign off. If anything cool happens on the flight, I’ll let you know!

Mallory Woodruff

March 04, 2018

The flight was only around 30 minutes, nothing crazy happened. The landing was terrifying though--the runway is so tiny! I swear, I was gripping Jasmine’s arm so hard that I’m surprised I didn’t break it. But, we’re safe and sound!

Today, we met with our guide. He speaks very limited English, but I’m sure that it won’t be a problem. After all, taking people places usually doesn’t require any words! I’m pretty good at reading expressions anyways, I think. Working with animals all the time has actually helped me learn people’s emotions and what they want to convey really well! It’s surprising, but sometimes I can guess what a person’s going to say even before they open their mouth. It’s a useful skill to have, I think.

We’re going to start our trek to Everest Base Camp today after we stretch for a little bit. I’ll probably write something once we stop.

Mallory Woodruff

March 04, 2018

Hey, for once I kept my word for doing something! For starters, let me talk about the villages.

So, people live on Everest. I don’t know if that’s common knowledge (I didn’t know before I started researching), but there you have it. They live in these small towns, with stone roads and stone houses. Although that sounds bland, they also have these amazing red roofs. The sun shines off of them softly, without the pernicious glare that reflective things back home have.

All our guide had to do was gesture at the village with a smile for us to freak out. Even Jasmine was in awe. There are a few cylindrical structures, with a small roof place on top. Tassels hang from the roof, which is shaped like a triangle but is kind of curvy. There are words written in a foreign language, in yellow-painted blocks. The main body is covered in red paint, and yellow and green designs line the top and bottom of the cylinder. It is just gorgeous!

They also have this line that runs throughout the village. There are faded cloths attached to it, colored in dim red and almost blushing blue shades. They are apparently prayer flags. Our guide told them that it’s not for gods; it’s for love and goodness. The flags apparently are made specifically to fly in the wind, to spread peace and joy. The village people believe it, and, if I’m being honest, watching the lines flicker in the wind, I do too.

We set up tents and are sleeping off the side of the trail. There are little lodges called tea houses, but we passed one, thinking we’d be able to make it to the next, since we were moving faster than expected. We were wrong. So, yeah.

I’m sleeping in Jasmine’s awesome tent (you can unzip parts of the tent for windows! In a tent! I wish my family was rich, then I could have cool tents too!), Casey brought his own tiny one, and our guide obviously has his own. I’ve seen at least six yaks, and we nearly ran into one on the trail. We had to walk around it, and the detour took a good twenty minutes to find a safe path, take it, and then get back to the trail. Definitely worth it, though! What I would give to study those yaks, though…

We have around another week to go before we make it up to base camp. I’ll try to update tomorrow!

Mallory Woodruff

March 09, 2018

Okay, so maybe I forgot about this and by the time I remembered I was too lazy to actually write in it. But! I’m writing now! We’re taking a quick water break and catching our breaths. I’ll catch you up on what’s happened since the fourth.

We’re about a day from base camp. We’ve actually made great time, and the weather has been super cooperative. The landscape has turned from green and gorgeous to pebbly and full of shrubs. It’s still pretty, and there are still prayer flags up here, it’s just not as welcoming as it was lower on the trail. Kind of crazy how different things can be just a little further up.

Remember those tea houses I mentioned? Well, we’ve only had to sleep in tents once since that first night. Our guide wanted us to be comfortable, so we’ve been able to sleep in one basically every night now. To sleep in beds is incredible, even if they are pretty stiff. You can also eat there, and by doing so, I’ve met a few people. Most are just going to base camp, hiking around, and then heading back down the mountain. A few have said that they’re attempting a summit, though! Glad to know that there are other crazies out there :)

Anyways, yesterday was the day that we had to sleep in our tents, and today we will too. The air is crazy thin up here. I am so happy that I trained really hard for this--I don’t think I would be able to make it up to camp otherwise. Our plan is to get to base camp, spend two days hiking, and then climb up to the higher camps.

So much has happened in the past nine days. Reading my old passages feels like they’re from a lifetime ago! It’s crazy; I don’t think time has ever held such meaning for me! Looks like we’re getting ready to move. I promise I will write as soon as we get to base camp.

Mallory Woodruff (why am I signing my name? I know it’s me. Maybe I should stop? Eh, too late now. Conformity!)

March 10, 2018

Haha! I did keep my promise! We’re here at base camp, and there are quite a few other climbers with their tents pitched. Some of them are really friendly, but most of them just want to be left alone as they enjoy the mountains. Our guide is going to accompany us on our first summit attempt, but after that, he’s leaving. (totally not because we couldn’t afford him any longer) He warned us against attempting a summit without a guide, but, although we didn’t tell him, we’re definitely going to do it anyways. Well, at least Casey and I will. Jasmine doesn’t seem too thrilled with the idea of climbing without someone who actually knows what they’re doing.

Anyways, like I said, we’re going to hike around for two days and then start climbing to the second camp. It’s going to take a really long time to get up to Camp IV, which is the camp directly before we attempt a summit. Like, 40 days long. I’ll try to update, but we’re probably going to be pushing pretty hard. :) See you later, I guess.

Mallory Woodruff

March 31, 2018

Halfway there! We just reached Camp II. It’s rough. So far, no need for oxygen tanks. Once we get to Camp IV, we’re going to need them, though. It’s crazy--every day feels incredible. Although, I do miss my bed… and the warm Wyoming sun… and my garden… BUT! It is still incredible to be on Everest. Besides, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. I’ll always be able to sleep, sunbathe, and garden, but I won’t always be able to climb Everest!

Our camp is situated on a bed of rocks. Not exactly the most comfortable, but it’s the least slippery surface out here. There’s also a large ice wall-like thing behind us that keep the wind from, you know, blowing us off of the mountain in our sleep. Despite all its discomforts, it has a killer sunrise. Seriously, the colors tint the mountains in gorgeous shades of oranges and yellows, and the sun pokes his head out between the peaks, as if playing a game of peek-a-boo with me. It’s beautiful.

Sorry I haven’t been able to write recently. Also sorry that this entry is so short. I kind of want to focus on the trip while it’s happening, though. Otherwise, it’ll be over and I’ll have no memories but writing in this old journal! Plus, Jasmine and Casey got into a fight over something dumb. Jasmine is paranoid about work, and Casey told her to relax, Jasmine was like, Oh, shut up. You don’t work at all. Casey called her a rich asshole.

So. Yeah. That’s unfortunate. They haven’t talked to each other in like the past two days, but I’m sure they’ll eventually get over it. Besides, there’s not much else for one to do up here but think and talk. So I bet, in a few more days it’ll blow over.

Mallory Woodruff

April 03, 2018

Yep. They’re back to normal now. Jasmine is still worried about work, but Casey’s cooled off from her jabs. I’m glad it’s over--they were kind of using me as a shield against the other person and it really sucked.

We should get to Camp III in about a week. My brain feels numb from all of the snow, but, holy cow, I am happy that I have sunglasses. It’s blinding sometimes, even with them on! The way the sun smacks off of the snow and into your eyes--it hurts! I’ve avoided sunburns since I’m basically covered from head-to-toe. I am so glad that I have all of this equipment.

Oh! I also decided to take only two of my air tanks with me. The trip up to Everest will take only a day. When our guide learned that I was carrying four tanks, he just laughed and told me to pick one. I decided, hey, why not take two?

One will last me around three days, and the other is the super special one that I was talking about earlier. Really, there is probably no need for the first one, since the special one will probably sustain me just fine. But, you know, just in case. :)

There are only a few puffs in the sky today. It’s gorgeous.

Mallory Woodruff

April 09, 2018

Again, we made good time and arrived at Camp III a whole day early! That leaves us some time to chill, and, for me, to write in my journal!

I’ve been taking some wickedly great pictures. I wish I could print them out right now, but I’ll have to wait until I get back home. Even then, they’re not going to be of the highest quality. But, Jasmine has a camera (as I have learned in recent days), and I have been slowly mooching it off of her. Maybe I can convince her to print out some photos from it when she gets home? Hopefully!

Our guide is really kind and helpful. He’s been sure to keep us safe. If there’s any sign of a storm, he warns us to be careful and sometimes turns us back. Nothing has happened, though… yet! Haha.

Anyways, from here on out, it’s going to be really tough. Things are going to be slow, since the air’s so thin up here, and we’ll have to stop every half hour or so. When we’re not moving, I’m going to be catching my breath. So, you’ll just have to wait until we get there for an update. I’ll make sure to give you all the “deets,” though! I’m sure Jasmine and Casey will have another absolutely awesome fight to talk about.

Mallory Woodruff

April 20, 2018

Finally made it. Christ, I am tired. As expected, Jasmine and Casey are fighting again. The air isn’t the only thing that’s running thin up here.

I think Jasmine has gone into super high-stress mode now that her phone has no service (i.e., no communication to work, i.e., no way to make sure that everything’s going alright, i.e., Jasmine’s hell). She’s even short with me. I try to remind her that we are, after all, climbing Everest, but she won’t listen. To her, it’s probably not even that special. Her family could probably afford a summer home on Everest.

Casey’s been alright. He’s quieter than usual, probably because of the drama with Jasmine and stuff, but at least he’s not yelling at me.

With no one really to talk to, I guess I have some time to write. But I don’t really know what to write about…

We’re going to spend a day resting and then go attempt our first summit, at midnight. Our guide said that it’s best to start the climb at midnight, so we can make it up the mountain before the light dies the next day. He said we should get up there by morning, hopefully.

It’ll probably be our only try, since Jasmine’s head is going to explode if we spend much longer up here. I’m inclined to agree with her. I think all of this time spent together is somehow doing our friendships more harm than good. Once we get back to the States, this should all be undone. Hopefully.

Anyways, I’m probably just going to take more pictures tomorrow. Don’t miss me too much, journal.

Mallory Woodruff

April 21, 2018

Ascent day! I’m really excited! Not even Casey’s and Jasmine’s bickering can make this day go badly. I am determined to make the most of this day/night. In about 30 minutes, we’re going to start climbing. There are a few clouds, and the wind has picked up a little bit, but our guide says it should be alright. He feels bad for how Casey and Jasmine have been bickering and promised us to try his very best to get us to the summit.

I should probably stop writing and help out. I’ll write later hopefully, once we reach the summit! Not much though, I’ll probably just write ‘summit!’ or something, since I’ll want to enjoy the view as much as I can. I’ll make the word very pretty though! Maybe I’ll curve the S specially and make the t wind underneath the whole word--that would look pretty great. :)

Mallory Woodruff

April ???

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit.

I have no idea what day it is. At least three days have passed. I’ve been out for almost all of it, I have no idea what to do.

Shit.

I’ve lost everyone. I can’t move, either. The storm blew in way too much snow, every step is a risk. All I could do was build a snow den.

I have enough water for a while. I’m asleep (well, passed out), most of the time. I have no idea when rescue will arrive, so I’ve set my air tank to its lowest setting. Christ, I just need to explain everything.

We were climbing up the mountain when the winds began to pick up. It was about an hour after we had started. Our guide, being the careful man that he is, said that we should stop and go back to camp. He even offered us a free day of his labor so we could attempt the summit again.

So, we turned back. But the storm had crept up on us in the dark. The winds picked up, and kicked up the snow. My flashlight could barely scout out a few inches in front of me. It was pitch-black too, so that didn’t help anything either.

The howling gusts overpowered our voices. I screamed for Casey and Jasmine, but I never heard a response. Eventually, I had to assume that either they had run to camp, or they were dead. I built a snow shelter, basically a glorified hole in the side of the mountain.

I collapsed and turned my air tank down to the lowest setting. I think it has a day left in it. That’s what the meter says, anyway.

I am so infinitely happy that I was carrying my extra tank. I also have at least two dozen bottles of water. I have some food, but not enough for more than a few days. At least since I’m barely awake, I don’t need as much to stay alive. My clothing layers are all that’s keeping me warm enough. But I can already feel the beginnings of frostbite. You aren’t meant to stay still when trekking on Everest.

The snowstorm hasn’t stopped yet. It’s crazy how powerful it is. On one of the days I remember, I had to clear out my den, since it was filled with a fine powder of snow. Also, the fact that the storm isn’t over yet poses another risk--rescue. They obviously can’t send a chopper in this weather, so I’m just going to have to hold on as long as I can.

This might be my last entry ever. If so, mom, dad, I love you so much. I doubt that you’ll ever read this message if I die, but on the off chance that you do, know that I love you more than my job, despite what you probably think.

Jasmine, I love you too. Please chill once in a while. It helps all of us, but mostly you.

Casey, never stop being you. Find yourself a nice woman and have the romance you’ve been dreaming about.

I don’t even know why I’m writing. I should stop.

The storm is finally over. My first tank is empty, but it doesn’t matter because I have my second. I attached it without any issues.

I cleared away some snow and laid out my empty water bottles and bags of provisions, and my air tank. Forgive me for polluting, but this is the best way for someone to spot me. In my snow hut, I’m going to be invisible, despite my bright orange coat. But I can’t go out, in case it starts to snow again. Plus, everything is unsteady. If I took one step beyond my garbage signal, I would probably tumble down the mountain.

All I can do is hope, and wait. I’m too tired to continue writing. I have to turn my oxygen back down, just in case. It’ll make me pass out, but I’ll have enough to last me at least a few days. I’ll eventually wake up. I will.

Okay, so let me start this off by saying I have no idea what the hell happened.

I woke up in a strange cave. My stuff is all in the corner, but the floor is dirt and the ceiling is ice. So, if this is the government’s rescue mission, they chose a strange place to put me.

What concerns me is the shape of the cave. I’ve worked in the field for a long time. When an animal lives in an area for a long time, especially dig-outs, the walls become smooth from them constantly rubbing past them. Usually, the area has to be pretty small. Otherwise, their bodies won’t reach everywhere.

This cave is showing the same signs. However, it is a large cave, so the animal that supposedly lives here must be massive, easily eight or nine feet tall. More likely, its height is in the double digits.

At the same time, it just can’t be an animal den. It feels more like a person’s hideaway than a den. There are no bones or discarded branches. No urine smell. I’ve never seen an animal keep its den this clean. Hell, I don’t keep my house this clean.

Finally, there was just a pile of blackberries waiting for me. Fresh. As if picked a few hours ago. Do you know the last time I saw vegetation?

Before we reached base camp. Which is now more than 3,000 meters below me.

What. The. Hell.

Maybe it’s the abominable snowman, but he grows a really nice garden and heats it using his magic. Maybe he’s super civil and shit, and enjoys a strong cup of tea. Brushes his fur every night with a comb elegantly carved from pine wood. He’s probably so nice that he brought me FURTHER UP THE MOUNTAIN.

Oh yeah, not kidding. I’m definitely higher up. I’ve had to turn up my oxygen input, because I will not wake up if I turn it any lower. Not in this temperature. Plus, I don’t want to be surprised again by whatever took me up here. My tank has about a week left in it, I think.

I need to start moving. I’m going to eat the blackberries and then head out. There’s no way that a rescue team will think to search for me higher up on the mountain than where I was when the storm hit. They’ll just assume I’m dead. I’m going to start walking down.

Okay, so I have two things to say.

One, I’m not going to be heading down the mountain for a long time.

Two, I found what brought me up here.

So, I walked out of the strange cave and not even five feet away was a gigantic creature. I have never seen anything like it. It has no fur. Rather, it looks like it only has scales. But there’s no way that it’s a regular reptile. A cold-blooded creature would freeze to death in seconds at this height. Anything would, but especially something that has no internal body temperature.

Its jaw jutted from its face, and massive teeth spike out from them. Angular horns formed from the side of its head and flanked its jaw. Crown-like ice structures (or perhaps more horns) poked out on its head. It looks like that, naturally, it would be white, but it is pale blue on every edge of its body. Almost like it’s suffering from frostbite, but all of its limbs have remained intact.

Its claws are massive, easily closeable and made for crushing. Its shoulders are rough and powerful. It has a tail with a claw-like appendage at the end, the use of which I can only imagine in my nightmares. Its belly is plated with sharp, curving scales that fold over each other to allow easy movement.

Although my biologist’s mind noted all of this in a moment, I was instantly drawn to its eyes. They were the only part of the creature that stuck out from the snow. They were a deep orange, blazing with life. I could see recognition in them. The way it focused on me was not in a normal, animal one. It was like… it knew me. I think it’s intelligent.

I’ve never seen something like it. I have no idea how it’s alive up here. Why hasn’t anyone seen it before? Why haven’t I heard of it?

After I saw it, I didn’t scream and I didn’t run. If there’s one thing I’ve learned during my time on the field is that the best thing you can do during a situation is be calm. I just turned around and walked back into the cave. Every step caused more blood to flow from my head and into my feet. Once I felt the dirt underneath my shoes, I passed out.

And now I’m awake. I’ve checked my tank--I haven’t been out long. Perhaps an hour or so. There are more blackberries on the ground. I have now realized that it put the blackberries there earlier. It’s keeping me alive. But why? Why not just eat me?

That’s another reason why I’m drawing the conclusion that it is intelligent. There is no other way to explain its strange, un-animal-like behavior. I’m going to go out again, but this time, I’m going to try to see what I can learn about it. I don’t think it means me harm. If it does, there’s not much I can do anyway. I’m bringing my journal, in the rare chance that I can get a sketch of it.

Wish me luck. I hope I don’t die.

It’s night now. Let me explain what happened during the eight hours in which I didn’t write anything.

It definitely means me no harm. When I came out again, it did nothing but watch me with those warm sunrise eyes. I approached and, despite my best abilities, I was shaking pretty badly. When I reached it though, all it did was lift its head.

It stared at me, as if drinking in every detail. From the tip of my hat to the toes of my boots, it memorized me. If I had any doubts about its intelligence, I forgot them then.

I felt like I was on the field again, but the roles were reversed. Suddenly, I was the animal being studied under the watchful eye of a giant. It was terrifying but thrilling. In a strange way, I felt as if I was being cared for by it, like its recognition was something to be treasured.

As the day wore on, our “friendship” grew. It showed me to its berry storage. There were dozens of fresh branches. How it brought them up the mountain, I don’t know. 

It also allowed me to sketch it. I have a few pages filled with drawings and rough measurements. My phone is dead, though, and Casey was the one handling the solar panels and extra batteries. So, no photos.

It is way more intelligent than I previously thought. I talked to it out of habit (and partially out of loneliness), and it looked at me with… interest. Understanding. Like it was learning the English language as I was speaking to it. I would kill to get a brain scan of this creature.

In less than three hours, I have been able to communicate it using simple hand gestures. It picked up on them quickly, far more quickly than even a moldable-brained toddler could. However, it doesn’t just know the hand signs, it understands them too.

We watched the sunset together. I sat with it near a cliff face. It stared at the sun as it dipped behind the tree line far below, its slitted pupils dilating and growing as they adjusted to the changing light. I watched the sunset by looking at the reflection of it on the creature’s eyes. It never looked at me once, entranced by the beautiful colors. Occasionally, it would close its eyes in a manner that I can only describe as longing. It would tilt back its head and breathe in deeply, its nostrils flaring, as if marking this moment in time, a sweet memory to savor in dark times. I understand the feeling.

When it was dark, the creature stood. Stretching, it motioned at me to move. We returned to the den, and there was just enough room for the both of us. I turned on my flashlight and tried to communicate more with the creature using hand signals. It couldn’t reply well, but it was obvious that it understood me.

I motioned at myself and held up one finger. Then, I gradually began to add more to my hand, until I had all five fingers up. Then I pointed down the mountain. I gestured at it and raised one finger, tilting my head inquisitively. The question was clear: where is your family?

The beast didn’t do anything for a second, silently staring at my finger, single among the other folded fingers. It closed its eyes and laid its head on the ground. Confused, I craned my neck to see why it had ignored me. A small tear leaked out of its closed eye, instantly crystallizing on its cheek. I turned away, my heart thudding painfully.

There are none left of its kind.

Is that why it took me? How long has it been alone? I think it’s lonely, really lonely. Maybe that’s why it hasn’t killed me yet.

…

I haven’t thought about escape much. Well, until now I suppose. This creature… whatever it may be, it is the most interesting thing that has ever happened to me. I can’t think about Jasmine or Casey. I have to focus on what’s going on in front of me. If they are dead, my tears will not help, and if they aren’t, then I have no reason to cry.

I’m going to sleep now.

Today was wonderful. The creature gave me more berries to eat. Although they are getting old (and are quite frostbitten), they still are tastier than the pre-packaged food I’ve been living off of for the past few weeks.

I’ve managed on my water well. I have to be careful, though. It’s cold enough up here that any dribbles will freeze. I don’t think it’s cold enough to freeze my mouth, but I’m going to be careful, just in case. I think if I drink about two bottles per day, I could live up here for about a week.

I have started calling the creature Hiransh. I don’t know many Nepali names, and, plus, I think my great grandfather’s fits him perfectly. Hiransh doesn’t seem to need food or water. Of course, he must eat and drink at some time; all creatures must. I believe that he is a predominantly hibernal animal. Almost like mountain goats, I think he spends most of his life on the mountains, coming down occasionally to eat, but, unlike goats, spends lots of his time sleeping. It makes the most sense to me.

His tail is the strongest part of his body, that much I have learned. Four large claws sprout out of the end of it, and, as he once allowed me to inspect it, I have discovered that, inside the claws, it is covered with tiny, hook-like bones. They curl inwards to the center of the tail. 

Here is my theory: Using his tail for balance, he climbs up and down the mountains every few months to get food. His tail is used almost like a fifth leg. He relies on it to grasp surfaces as he moves along the terrain, and, on occasion, to support himself as he climbs directly upwards. Despite his bulky build, he has shown himself to be fluid of movement. I would ask him if I’m correct, but he’s been icy since my question about his family. Pun definitely intended.

Anyways, Hiransh has kept me safe. He can’t keep me warm (he is cold-blooded, as I have found out. Still no clue how his body can deal with that), but he does block most of the wind with his gigantic body. I think he has come to see me as almost a hatchling of his own. With no one else around, it seems perfectly natural for him to do that.

He showed me a new den that he has been building. It is much bigger than his old one. He sat at the entrance, staring after me with a pleased expression in his eyes as I explored his cave. I have noticed over time that he’s meticulously neat--no piles of snow clutter the inside of the cave, no claw marks gouge the carefully patted-down floor, and branches from the berries are stacked in the corner.

I wonder how many caves he’s built. On top of that, I wonder how long he’s been alive. I would bet he has been around for quite a long time. He has an ancient, all-knowing air to him. Maybe that’s romanticizing things a little bit, haha.

I have to think of him as less as a subject to be studied, and more of as a friend. Perhaps it is because I am alone up here, but I like to think that, in any circumstance, Hiransh and I would get along well.

I almost wish I could stay up here forever. Hiransh is the discovery of a lifetime. 

Perhaps my mom was right. Maybe I do love my job more than my friends and family.

Spent three days without writing anything. Very sorry! I have been really busy--will tell you more about it tomorrow!

So, I’m heading to bed now. Let me tell you what’s happened over the past few days. So, the first out of the four that I have to talk about. Hiransh worked on his den. I couldn’t do much, but I helped pack in the walls, so they were more structurally sound. He was appreciative of my work and grumbled a low thanks in his chest. It made me feel warm inside.

We worked well together, with him doing the moving and me doing the sculpting. He was doing work that would’ve taken me weeks, and I was doing work that he would have to rely on time to accomplish for him.

By the end of the first day, the den was mostly done. It wasn’t perfect, but it was much larger than his last home. Instead of his back scraping the roof, he would have to stand on his hind legs to brush it with his head. I’m serious when I said it was big!

We moved my stuff to the new den. I kind of just slung it in the corner, and plopped down. Hiransh shuffled around before coming to sit beside me. When I turned to look at what he did, I saw that my backpack and all the other things that I was carrying were neatly reorganized.

He and I are more different than two creatures could be. He’s in his comfort zone up here; that much is obvious. I’m not… but that has been made quite clear by recent events, right? He’s also meticulously neat for an animal. He rarely has a scale out of place, where, here I am, sometimes not able to remember which way is left and which way is right.

But, we do make quite a pair.

So, after that day, he let me ride him. Yeah, you heard that right. I rode this snow creature. It was terrifying, and he didn’t go faster than a trot, but it was incredible. I was so high up, and I felt almost connected to him through the roll of his muscles. I never stopped squeezing my arms around his neck for dear life, though.

He showed me how he hunted. It’s something that I’ve been wondering about. Surely a creature of his stature couldn’t survive on berries alone. He demonstrated with a tiny branch that has already been stripped of its blackberries. So, he buries himself quickly underneath the snow and, if needed, into the dirt. Then, he covers himself with the snow and waits for something to walk over him. When it does, he bursts out of the snow and catches the creature in his jaws.

Let me tell you, seeing this massive snow lizard erupt out of the snow just to “kill” a twig the length of my forearm is actually the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.

We watched the sunset together, again. This time, I didn’t stare at him, though. I just looked ahead.

Yesterday, we just hung out in the snow. He and I dug random snow pits. Of course, his were always bigger. But mine were more elaborate, if I do say so myself. I love the idea of some random climber stumbling upon them and thinking that there are aliens on Everest making weird snow shrines. Hehe, but still not as funny as Hiransh killing a stick.

Today, he took me to where he finds his berries. It’s actually not that far down the mountain, surprisingly. If the gigantic claw marks in the wall have anything to say, I think that he actually planted it himself.

He has dug out a wide pit for the berries, down to the rock of the mountain, and filled the hole with soil. On top of the soil, he put dark black rocks, which is something I never would’ve thought of in a million years. It’s genius that he’s using colors to keep the berries warm. He lays thin layers of snow on top of the rocks, which melt and water the plants. Everything he does just makes me think that he’s that much smarter than I thought before.

I also sketched more pictures of him. I’m always learning something new about him. It seems that there is no end to his secrets. If only I had access to better lab equipment, I might be able to run some actual tests…

Well, I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. For now, I’m tired. Tomorrow, we’re planning on some more snow fun! Maybe I can teach him how to make a snowman. Doubtful, with those big, clumsy claws of his, but I can try. :)

I’m back at base camp.

Only a day has passed.

I’ve never felt so hollow before.

May 13th, 2018

I think I can talk about this now. I’m sitting in a hotel room right now. Casey has finally left me alone. Tomorrow I’m leaving for the States. Goodbye, Nepal. Goodbye, Hiransh.

Let me explain what happened.

I woke up in the middle of the night. Coughing. It was so bad, I had to breathe in every five seconds, but I never had enough air. I was sick multiple times, all over myself. Hiransh woke up as well, his orange eyes snapping open instantly. I was grasping at my throat, trying to remove the empty air tank’s mask. Hiransh understood what I was trying to do and slashed off the mask with his claws. In his terrified rush, he left a deep cut on my cheek. Despite the mask being taken off, I was coughing and unable to breathe.

Finally, Hiransh seemed to come to a decision. He carefully scooped me up in his jaws. Strangely enough, the only teeth that he has are outside of his mouth, so instead of being impaled the moment he picked me up, I was just bounced along inside.

He made it down the mountain in record time. I passed in and out of consciousness. Only the splash of snow on my face kept me from slipping away. He would bound, bound, bound, skid to a stop, kick up snow, and then bound, bound, bound again. It was jarring.

Finally, we were far enough down the mountain that I could breathe. I took in the air in gasps, planting my hands on the side of Hiransh’s face. Once he realized that it wasn’t a fit for air, he let me from his jaws. Pebbly earth met my boots.

I held Hiransh’s massive head in my hands, feeling the rough scratch of his scales against my skin. A tear slipped down his face, but this time it did not turn to ice.

“Hiransh,” I whispered. I realized he wouldn’t understand me, so I tried to sign to him that I was heartbroken.

I told him that I couldn’t breathe up there. I was never going to be able to live with him. His shoulders slumped, and his ice-blue eyelids closed over his inner fire. I’m so sorry Hiransh. He’s alone. No one will ever be able to stay with him.

I told him that I would come back. I promised that I would meet him by the berry patch in the summer. I vowed to return.

I will return.

Hiransh, please do not give up.

2 Feb. ‘81

This took hours to find. My old bones made it such a pain, too. But, I have to, before I fade away.

Since I suppose that this journal will be given away, I must explain a few things. Like what happened with the rest of my life.

Well, I just kept living it. People discovered me where Hiransh had left me. I was stumbling down the mountain, crying and without a backpack, my phone, or anything really. All I had was the journal that was in my hands when I fell asleep. Luckily, the winds blew snow over Hiransh’s tracks. He was never discovered.

Of course, people were curious. I managed to hide the journal in time, but the press bothered me for days afterwards, when all I wanted to do was mourn the loss of a friend.

Casey and Jasmine were both alive. Jasmine had severe frostbite on her ears, and on three of her left fingers. Her pinkie had to be amputated. But, otherwise, they were miraculously unharmed. Our reunion was tearful. I don’t remember much but a blur. It seems as if all of my memories are like that nowadays.

I continued with my job when I got home and never told anyone about Hiransh. I hid the journal--I knew I should’ve burned it, but I feared that, if I did, I would lose my memories of Hiransh, convince myself that they were just a dream. So, I held onto it, quietly.

I went to therapy, obviously. Eventually, I stopped having panic attacks and got over my chronic sadness. I was able to stop when I was 35, 12 years after the incident. I was never the same, though. Never as excitable, never as fun-loving, never as... naive.

I never forgot Hiransh, like I had feared I would. The place he scratched me when trying to save my life has turned into a scar. I think of him almost every day, wondering how he is doing alone. It breaks my heart to have the terrible knowledge of him, alone on the mountain. Unless someone out there discovered him and is as good at keeping a secret as I am, I doubt he’s been found.

Casey and I married when we were 38. I know, a little later than most, but we wanted to be ready. We adopted a Nepali girl, four years old. We named her Lily. We had our first grandchild when we were 68. A boy named Thomas.

And then there’s you, sweet child. You were always my favorite grandkid (don’t tell your brother that). You loved my work so much. And so I will pass it onto you.

I have spent a lifetime tracking down the berry patch that Hiransh showed me all of those years ago. I have attached the coordinates, as accurate as I could make them, to this journal. You may choose not to believe me, but I implore you, please, please, please, travel to Everest, visit the berry patch, and you will find that I am telling the truth. Grandma Mallory was never one for dementia, right? Don’t be stupid, either. Tell people you are going, but don’t bring them with you. Take a guide, but leave them before the summit. Don’t tell anyone about him, even if you choose to not believe me. Go during summer, in April. He will be waiting.

I know he will.

I love you. Remember me when I’m gone.

Mallory Woodruff.

*wipes sweat off of forehead*

Finally done! If I ever want to revisit this story, it would be quite fun to write about Mallory’s grandkid, and maybe about her grandkid, and so on and so forth. Maybe it would gradually be integrated into the Woodruff family, a treasured family secret, perhaps? But, that’s a story for another time. :) Thanks for reading!

- L.E. Silva