#making someone go to rehab is literally just a step up from sending them to prison its a violation of their autonomy

[armandcock]

can i say something. iwtv fans have got to get more normal about drug usage & im deadly serious.

[inks-books]

Eh I'll just stick it below the cut. It's 3.7K words. It's not bad.

Cryptid Delivery Service

Being a delivery driver had its ups and downs. Some days you make bank, other days people collectively decide not to tip, and you’re left with just enough to get you a gallon of gas so you can make it home when the day is done.

Don’t get me wrong! It definitely had its perks. With contactless delivery nowadays you didn’t have to spend time in front of people, you could listen to your preferred music, and you got to see really cool houses in neighborhoods you wouldn’t have normally traveled to.

I’ve been a delivery driver for some time now, and while I’ve seen some strange people, I’ve seen even stranger things. Things that I don’t talk about to other humans, because they would put me away for seeing things, or call me a liar for making things up. Conspiracy theories, they’d call them. But I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried.

It started with a simple delivery to a place in town inside a nursing home and rehabilitation center. The sweet barbecue baby back ribs sitting in my passenger seat filled the car with a mouthwatering aroma, and it made me want to order some myself. I arrived at the location, marking on my phone that I was there, and the delivery app gave me instructions on where to go next. My customer was on the rehab side of the building.

Only there were no signs saying where rehab was on the outside, so I parked in front of the first set of doors I saw, and looked around for someone to give me directions. Or at least unlock the doors so I could get in.

Only no one was there.

I made two attempts to call my customer, but they sent me straight to voicemail. I texted them a couple of messages saying where I was at, and that I had arrived with the order. Yet, no response came. I stood around for probably five minutes trying to see if someone would pass by inside so that I could flag down, or knock to get their attention. I was staring through the glass door, waiting for someone to catch sight of me, when I noticed a reflection of someone walking behind me in the parking lot.

I turned and called out to them and they saw I was a delivery person, the bags of food and drink in my hands obviously giving that away; and they were kind enough to give me the door code to get in. After stepping inside out of the heat and into the cool air, I was faced with the task of finding a worker there who knew where my customer was.

I still had no response from them.

I found one person who hadn’t heard the name before, but pointed me toward rehab. I trekked down the halls, nodding politely at the people who sat in wheelchairs and silently watched me walk past like I was a specter, or ignored me as if time stood still for them and they couldn’t see me anyhow. It was an eerie sensation that made my spine tingle just a bit.

I found another nurse’s station and asked if they could point me toward my client’s name, or if they could tell me where rehab was. They too, however, hadn’t heard of the name and pointed me towards yet another nurse’s station.

I was beginning to wonder if this person was real with no one having heard of them.

At the third nurse’s station, I found no-one, but I heard a worker talking to one of the patients in a room and called out to them.

“Hello,” I said to catch her attention..

By now my delivery app was getting worried, repeatedly sending me messages of 'Are you okay?' And 'If you do not respond to this, we will alert the authorities.'

I responded I was okay, but at this point I was getting a little nervous myself. Who could work in a place like this and literally no one had heard of you?

When the nurse emerged from the room, I asked her if she had heard of my customer’s name or if she knew where I could find them. She pointed me down a dark hallway that led to double doors.

“She doesn’t work in this area, but I’ve heard her name,” the nurse said, telling me to follow her.

“Thank you,” I said, relieved. I’d been here twenty minutes now, and this was the first real lead I had gotten.

My phone dinged the further we got into the darkness of the hallway. I pulled it out to double check if it was the delivery app again, when I noticed a strange text on my phone.

Do you come here of your own free will or by compulsion?

It was a text from my customer.

“You should answer that, if that was her,” said the nurse, leading me to the double doors and not turning around. I gave the back of her head a strange look. How did she know it was the customer? I texted back:

Both? I’ve brought your order. I’m inside the building.

Then enter the double doors, my dear.

I looked back up from my phone and began to say, “She just messaged me she’s through the double… doors,” but my voice trailed off and I looked around.

The nurse was gone. I did a full circle, looking for her, and ended facing the double doors that seemed to tower before me. Had they gotten bigger?

I glanced over my shoulder one more time before opening one of them and stepping inside to what looked like a small cottage rather than a rehabilitation center. There was a sofa and a chair with a table between them; a beautiful light fixture that looked to be made of wood and vines; candles on bookshelves with little flickering lights inside; and the smell of freshly baked bread in the air. I felt and heard the door shut behind me. I turned and looked to see a wooden door close off my exit, rather than the huge metal ones I had seen previously.

“H-Hello?” I stammered.

“Hello, dear,” said a voice that came from around the corner of what looked to be the kitchen area. An old woman with white hair tied up in a bun, wearing a blue dress that went to her ankles, and comfortable looking slippers to match, stepped out from behind the wall. She was wiping down her hands on a dishrag and smiling brightly. “Do you have my order?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied with an uncertain smile. “Are you Ms. Baba Y?”

“That’s me,” she smiled, reaching out for the order.

I handed her the bags and drink, and pulled out my phone where I confirmed I had handed the customer her order.

“Alright, you have a great day, ma’am,” I said, turning back towards the door.

“Such a polite child,” she said. “You’ll go far with that attitude.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” I replied, adding a little southern charm while looking back over my shoulder with a smile and a nod as I pushed the door open and exited.

I was suddenly back in the rehab center.

I looked around as the door shut behind me and then turned back forward.

Had I just experienced a hallucination? I looked down at my hands and my phone. The bags were gone. According to the app, I received a generous tip. Maybe my mind was playing tricks on me. Making me think that I actually saw all of that. I shook it off and headed back to my car.

It took me several minutes to find my way back, but when I did, I pulled out my app to see what delivery was next. Just as I did, my phone dinged, indicating another order for a frozen yogurt place not too far from there. Hopefully, I wouldn’t have to use my cooler to keep it from melting if it was a far off location for delivery. I only ever found out the destination once I had picked up the order. But I kept a cooler with ice in my car for just such an occasion.

I noticed the customer had a strange name I couldn’t pronounce just by looking at it, but would be easy to find amongst the Karen’s and Debbies I usually dealt with.

I set off for my next destination and when I arrived and collected the order, an address flashed across my phone screen that made me make a face. It was some backwoods country road location that would take me twenty minutes to get to. I sighed. Didn’t these things have distance restrictions? Good thing I had my ice cooler. Making my way to my car, I quickly put the froyo in the cooler and pulled up my GPS.

I drove deeper and deeper into the woods. I finally turned down a dirt road, crawling along so as not to miss my destination, dump the order, or mess up a tire, when the GPS dinged that I arrived at my location. I looked around, worry settling into my stomach. There weren’t any houses here.

There hadn’t been for miles.

I looked around nervously before picking up the text option in the delivery app that allowed me to message the customer. I quickly typed up a message and hit send, hoping they could help guide me to where I actually needed to be.

I feel like my GPS is wrong. I’m in the middle of a dirt road off County Road 50 and there are no houses in sight. Can you help me find your place?

There were a few moments of silence as I continued to sit there and search for any sight of a trail I missed in the woods or a sign that said ‘Turn here!’ or something along those lines, but I found nothing. Nothing that would alleviate my fears of getting a bad review and not being allowed to deliver any more. I was definitely going to get a bad review if this froyo melted. I didn’t want to open the cooler and check and let out any of the cold air. It would have just made things worse anyhow.

Suddenly there was a knock at my window that made me swivel my head so fast it nearly fell off my shoulders. There hadn’t been someone there moments before. How did I not see them walking up? I wondered. Blinking at the brown fur before me, I found myself trying to figure out how anyone could survive wearing that much fur in this southern summer heat. I know I couldn’t.

I cracked my window a little.

“Hello, sorry to bother you, but do you know this address?” I asked, pulling out my phone and showing the fur covered person my screen.

The person pointed to themselves with a grunt.

“Oh, this is you?” I brightened. “Awesome!” So they had sent their physical location by longitude and latitude, not by street address. Huh! They must be out hunting something or communing with nature. I dunno. But in brown fur this thick? Eh, to each his own. I dismissed the thought, trying not to think too hard on it. Furries were a thing, after all. Maybe this was their fur suit. Which probably explained the grunting, too. It was probably hard to talk in those suits where people could hear you well enough to have a conversation.

I dug out the froyo from the icebox and thanked the stars that it was only slightly melted. Rolling down my window, I handed over the goods, and the person held out their giant hand and gestured for me to hold out mine. I did, and they placed a twenty in my hand.

“Oh!” I said, pleasantly shocked. “Thank you!”

Another grunt.

I smiled and gave a nod. “You have a great day!”

And with that, the person turned and walked off, glancing back over their shoulder once at me before disappearing into the woods. As I rolled up my window, I noticed the sand in the road ahead of me where they had walked and had left behind big footprints.

Like really big.

“Huh,” I mused, turning my car around. “Can’t pronounce your name, but you sure do have big feet. We’re calling you Mr. Big Foot today.” Wait till my sister finds out I met a furry in the woods, I thought.

Being this far outside of the usual delivery zone, the app made me travel closer to town before it gave me another ding. This time I was picking up an order from a home improvement store. Odd, but not completely uncommon.

I greeted the store clerk and showed them what I was looking for, and they searched through their inventory behind the counter to check if they had already collected it. Thankfully it had been, and I wouldn’t have to wait around long to take it.

The clerk lifted a boxed lamp over the counter and handed it to me. I took it and my little app back out to the car to drive off to my destination. By now, the day was coming to a close, and I was nearly done delivering. In fact, with as late and as dark as it was getting, I was planning on letting this be my last delivery.

Here’s to hoping it would end on a positive note.

I hit ‘directions’ in the app and start driving towards my destination, bopping along to the music playing in my car speakers and singing like no one was listening and judging my voice or my polyjamorous music choices. When I got closer to the destination, something made me turn down the music.

As I passed under a streetlamp, something flew over my car. Something big enough to make me stop and look. It had been a black mass that blocked out the streetlight for a split second before going back to normal. Around me there was nothing but street lamps, bushes, and the occasional house. One of which looked abandoned. The front of the house desperately needed a paint job, the shutters looked to be on their last leg, and the roof looked like it was going to cave in soon if someone didn’t fix it.

“You have arrived!” my GPS declared, as I stopped in front of the abandoned-looking house. I checked the location and the numbers on the house. Then I checked the mailbox and the numbers there. They all matched. Fear pooled in my gut again as I took the boxed lamp and got out of my car. I had a feeling I was about to encounter squatters. Keeping my phone in my hand should I need to call for help, I made my way up to the porch and climbed the steps.

The door wasn’t facing the street, rather the neighbor’s house to the left (if you were facing the house). When I reached the top of the stairs, I realized two things: one, there was no door on its hinges. Someone removed it and placed it against the wall. And two, there were dozens upon dozens of lamps inside, all off, all strewn about. None of them plugged in. There was a darkness to the inside of the house that made a shiver go up my spine again.

Twice in one day.

I looked down at the lamp in my hands, then back up at the lamps in the house and slowly set it down in the doorway. I pulled up my app to select the ‘delivery completed’ option and to take a picture of the drop off spot. It was so dark now, I had to turn on my flash to even see where the box was against the door frame.

I took the picture and a bright flash temporarily lit up the inside of the house and something red caught my eye. Right in the shadows across from me in what looked like a closet in the brief moment that I could see it during the flash. Two. Big. Red. Eyes.

There are moments in life when something big happens and your brain reacts one of three ways: fight, flight, or freeze.

Fight, I only had in me when things jump scare me. This hadn’t been a jump scare, thankfully, or I would have clocked it in the… jaw? Is that what it was? No clue.

With Flight, I’ve never had much luck because I’m not athletic and my instinct has never been to run. It just doesn’t come naturally to me. Call it bravery, stupidity, it doesn't matter. They both come from the same place. Bravery just means you succeeded.

What I did the moment that I saw the two red eyes staring at me from the closet across from the door, however, was freeze. It was all I could do to stare wide eyed at the thing that emerged next.

First thing I noticed was a… top hat? On top of an already imposing figure. Followed by a brown trench coat draped over what looked to be two massive bulges behind it like a blanket trying to hide three toddlers stacked on top of each other to appear to be a functioning adult. The arms didn’t seem to fit properly in the sleeves; the material stretched thin from the muscles that also bulged there. Around its neck was a fur lined scarf of some kind.

What was it with these customers and their fur today?

When it took one step forward, it ducked so as not to hit its head on the closet door frame, and stepped forwards towards me like a giant before a tiny, frightened little creature. I could feel my pulse speed up in my ears and wondered for a second if I should just turn tail and get back to my car, but something stopped me just as the trench coat person stopped before me.

There was an awkward silence as we stared at each other. My mind flickered back to the furry in the woods and wondered if this was something like that. Then it tilted its head at me and pointed at the lamp at my feet.

“Are you… Mot H?” I asked softly, unable to hide the slight fear in my voice.

Emphatic nodding. More pointing.

“Oh… right,” I said, picking up the box and holding it out to it. “Here you go?”

It took the box excitedly and immediately opened it up, screwed in the light bulb that came with it and plugged it into the wall next to the other lamps. With a flip of the switch, it came on and illuminated its face as it squatted down and made what I assumed (prayed, really) were happy noises. Going so far as to stroke the lamp lovingly.

I seemed to have been forgotten in this strange behavior. I blinked, coming back to the present, and marked the delivery completed.

“Uh,” I began. “Have a nice… night.”

I turned, paused, turned back, still trying to process what I was seeing, and turned once more towards my car, but stopped at the top step. Something was nagging at the back of my mind. Why all the lamps? Why so many? They all looked to be in decent condition. Just in need of some new bulbs, probably.

“Bulbs…” I murmured out loud. “Say,” I said, turning back towards the red-eyed customer. “Have you-” the words caught in my throat as it looked back up at me, shocked I was still there. I tried again. “Have you tried changing out the bulbs? It might make the lamps last longer and you wouldn’t have to buy a new lamp every time one goes out.”

The eyes widened. How they did I can’t even fathom or explain. But they got bigger and the trench coat slid to the ground as it stood and showed a pair of wings that were absolutely stunning, laying on its back.

So that’s what had been under the trench coat. Why try to hide that? I wonder what the hat is hiding; I thought to myself.

Wait… wings… human like figure…those were probably antennae under the hat…

I suddenly realized it was coming towards me. Fight, flight, and freeze kicked in again and just like a game of rock-paper-scissors except I went for rock; it went for paper; and enveloped me in one of the softest, fluffiest hugs I’d ever had the opportunity to experience. The hug didn’t last long, however, as it pulled back to grin at me - at least I took it as a grin - and make those happy noises again. It held up a finger to its mouth as if to say ‘Keep this secret’ and I gave a nod.

Who would believe I’d just met and hugged a Mothman anyhow?

It went over to its trench coat again and fumbled with it for a minute before coming back to me with some cash and a tiny reflective piece of plastic that was shaped like a cat.

“Oh, it’s cute!” I said, holding up the piece of plastic.

It handed me the cash.

“Is this for more light bulbs?” I asked.

A shake of the head.

“Is this for a tip?” I asked, surprised.

Vigorous nodding.

“For telling you about the light bulbs?” I asked.

More nodding.

“You don’t have to do that!” I said, feeling guilty for taking this wad of ones and fives for common knowledge.

It pushed my hand back towards me like it was insisting.

“Okay, okay,” I conceded. “Thank you very much.”

More happy noises like before.

“Have fun with your lamps!” I said.

I waved goodbye and went back out to my car, grinning to myself until I sat down, turned my car around and got out of the neighborhood.

“Wait,” I said to myself as I drove off. “How did that place still have power going to it for those lamps to even work?”

I considered that for a second then shrugged, making a sound akin to ‘I dunno’ but so mangled there were no decipherable syllables. It wasn’t my place to ask where Mothman got power for his lamps. I was just a delivery person for cryptids apparently, that was way beyond my pay grade.

Besides, if you hear or see something strange - no, you didn’t!

Man DoorDashing is the pits some days and lucrative other days. Today for instance I made okay money but I spent 20 minutes hunting down the person the order was for because they weren't answering their phone or text messages nor did anyone know her at the business. It was like delivering to a cryptid!

Even DoorDash was like "Do you feel safe? Do we need to call the cops?"

I said I was fine but I mean, what's next Baba Yaga wants some baby back ribs?

Big foot wants froyo in this summer heat?

Do all the cryptids know each other and tell them not to make me dissappear because I go through great lengths to make sure their food ends up in the right place?

Why does this sound like a cozy story idea now?

[whump-a-la-mode]

Ok so I had a prompt idea? We’re all familiar with the “villain is sent to a ‘rehabilitation center’ that turns out to be secretly torturing the villains there” trope, but consider this: scared villain is captured by a kind hero and sent to a villain rehabilitation center, and villain has never experienced such warmth and kindness! Not to mention frequent visits from hero to check up/see how they’re doing. Maybe it’s no good but just a thought I had; I love your writing so much!! 💛🌼

(No pressure though, I know you’re probably busy!)

Oh, I absolutely love this prompt! Evil rehab centers are all well and good, but I’d never thought of one as being a source of comfort. I hope you like this! I was going to do some more with it, but it was already running a little long ^^

Thanks so much for the prompt!

CW//Arson, burning buildings, smoke inhalation, fear of death, gross food, mentions of torture, animal disease

As though singed by smoke, Villain’s lungs burned.

Even as they gasped, they felt as though they could not inhale a single breath. Yet, somehow, they had enough air to keep going.

It wasn’t as though they had a choice.

They were unsure, at that point, if their legs were truly moving at all. They had lost feeling in them far too long ago to be able to verify such a thing. Somehow, though, they were moving forward. Even if they wanted to, they didn’t know if they could stop, with momentum pushing them as it was.

Everything was riding on this. Days of keeping ahead, of leading the chase. If they stopped moving for just a moment, it would all be wasted.

And their life would be over. If they stopped running now, there would be no Villain left.

In that instant, they understood what it was to be a rabbit. When there was a fox on your tail, there were no do overs. No second chances. It was run or die.

As long as they could, they were going to run.

Villain couldn’t remember the name of the building in which they had managed to find the briefest of respites. Despite its sprawling size, there was nothing truly remarkable about it. Perhaps it did not have a name in the first place. At some point, it had been some sort of industrial complex-- the home of half a dozen separate companies, each clashing and butting up against one another.

Yet, the structure had long since been left to rot. They had a feeling that mold clinging to every corner had something to do with that.

Just a week ago, they would never have dreamed of so much as going someplace like this. The air smelled rotten, and breathing it left a sour taste sticking to their tongue. Not to mention the fact that several animals of varying size and danger had already claimed the rotten complex as their home.

But, they weren’t the same Villain they had been a week ago. Stumbling upon the building had felt like a gift from above, and, the night prior, they’d managed to get some honest-to-god rest among its sodden carpeting.

It was the most rest they’d gotten in days, despite the fact that, halfway through it, they’d awoken to a diseased rat with its teeth buried in their forearm. They’d had worse awakenings.

After shooing away the animal, they’d managed to sleep an hour or so more. Then came the worse of their two awakenings, that night.

The shouting voices of heroes.

Villain didn’t know how they’d found them. There was no trace, no trail. They had no vehicle-- instead moving through the woods on foot. ‘On foot’ was quite literal in that instance, considering the fact that they’d lost their shoes three days ago to a patch of quickmud.

But, still, they’d been found.

They didn’t no how long ago it was, that they’d been awakened by those voices. With the darkened building’s clocks hanging stubbornly on the wrong minute and hour, there was no way to tell how long it had been.

How long they’d been running...

Villain skidded around a corner, hissing as their foot caught on an uprooted carpet tack. Had they been this way before? It was impossible to tell-- all the halls looked the same.

The halls repeated, just as the heroes’ footsteps did.

How were they not tired?

Maybe because they’d eaten. And slept. And had water.

Villain had found that stream the other day, though...

Everything about them seemed to be repeating. The walls. The footsteps.

The lies of the heroes.

“Just stop running! We don’t want to hurt you!”

They couldn’t count just how many times they’d heard those words. Lies. Of course they were lies! Or, perhaps, it was their own sick attempt at a joke. We don’t want to hurt you, we just want to kill you!

Villain wasn’t ready to die. Not just yet.

Another corner was taken with haste, and their nostrils were overwhelmed with the scents of rust and oil.

The garage was massive-- reaching further upwards than the shreds of sunlight filtering through dusty windows could reach with their furthest rays. Its concrete floor stretched out, seemingly, all the way to the horizon-- dotted only by support beams, and whatever scattered machinery and supplies the company had not deemed valuable enough to bring along.

The source of the scent of gasoline was quite rapidly made apart. Stacked haphazardly in the corner, red gas containers stood. Their reek alone made it well known that they were far from empty.

But the gas was far from Villain’s main concern regarding the garage.

In the past few days, they had become awfully good at finding exits. It was with a ruthless instinct that they scanned the room for one.

But, in the end, they reached a terrifying conclusion.

There was one exit. It was the same door as the entrance. The garage doors on the other side of the chamber had long since been chained shut, and there was no time for lockpicking.

The heroes flooded in.

It was with an exhausted hopelessness and steadfast stubbornness that they kept running forth. Of course, with their terrible luck, they did not make it very far. A rebar pipe caught their toes, sending them sprawling onto the concrete, pain shrieking from a thousand different, tiny wounds.

For a few seconds, Villain let themself breathe. They figured that, at the very least, they should let themself enjoy their last moments alive.

Their relaxation did not last long. They refused to die laying down. Trembling from exhaustion, pain, starvation, dehydration, and terror, all at once, they staggered to their feet. For a moment, their vision blurred, before solidifying once more.

Half a dozen heroes fanned out before the entrance, guarding it ruthlessly. Faux looks of concern painted their countenances.

From the array of aches and pains swarming Villain, a single one, all at once, made itself known. Something pressing up against their leg.

Their lighter.

Their trembling gaze flicked to the pile of glimmering red gas cans. It was behind them-- only a few steps back. If they could just...

“Villain!” The person in the front of the group called out-- Hero. “There’s nowhere else to go. It’s okay. Everything’s okay. You just need to come with us. You can’t survive like this much longer, you know that!”

No. What they couldn’t survive was the heroes.

But, they didn’t have to.

Villain took a step back, inching towards the pile.

“Come on, buddy!” Another hero called. “What are you so afraid of?”

It was the heroes who should be afraid. Another step back.

“There’s nowhere to run, Villain.” Hero spoke once more. “Just come with us. No harm will come to you, I swear to it.”

No.

Villain wasn’t ready to die. Not today.

They took the final step, until they were mere inches from the pile. With a well-placed kick, and a horrible clattering, the cans toppled from their precarious pyramid. The reek of gas grew tenfold as brown liquid spilled out, onto the concrete below.

Stepping back from the gasoline-- they were ready to go, not just yet-- they reached into their pocket. The heroes had no time to identify the object they pulled out. By the time they realized what had happened, the lighter had already been thrown.

The flame leapt into the air with such force that Villain was thrown back, tossed to the concrete like a ragdoll.

The faux compassion on the heroes faces turned to an emotion that was very, very real.

Fear.

Spreading so fast that its growth could be heard, the inferno pounced, grabbing onto the base of a wooden support beam and licking its way upwards.

“Everyone!” Hero shouted-- terror in their voice overpowered by sheer determination. “Get out! This building’s not stable.”

“W-what about you?”

“If I’m not out within five minutes, send someone in after me.”

“Are you certain?”

“We’re heroes. And, sometimes, that means saving villains, too.”

Despite their clear reluctance, the other heroes, one by one, nodded, allowing their terror to spur them to flee.

When the last of them was gone, only two remained in the garage. The villain and the hero.

Villain looked upwards, watching as the flame reached the top of the support beam and rippled onto the ceiling.

There were only two ways this could end. They knew that.

Either Hero lost their nerve and fled, allowing their prey to escape, or they both perished in the flames.

No matter which came to pass, there was only one thing that mattered:

They would not die by the hands of a hero.

“You’re scared.” Hero began. Another stupid speech. “I know. I know you’re scared. This last week has been hell for you, I know that. But it doesn’t have to go down like this. You can still make the right choice. 

Please. Come with me. I don’t want to hurt you. Believe it or not, I don’t want you to die!”

“You’re a bad liar, you know.” They croaked.

Villain’s lungs were already torn from gasping. The slowly-rising smoke only served to salt their wounds.

Before them, a flaming ceiling tile fell, spraying them with embers.

“You don’t want this! I know you don’t! You don’t want to die!”

“Why do you think I’m doing this?! Of course I don’t want to die, you fucking idiot!”

“Then come with me!”

“It’s like you don’t even hear yourself.”

The building shuddered as a support beam splintered and collapsed. The force of it sent Villain, once again, to the concrete, bathing their face in smoke. As they scrambled to their hands and knees, they could not help but let out a shuddering cough.

“Villain! Watch out!”

“Wh-”

The ceiling tile struck their head, burying them under its accompanying rubble.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

Warmth... and music.

They awoke to warmth, and music.

The first of the two came in the form of something soft, heavy, enveloping them, making them feel as though they were buried within a cloud. The music, too, seemed to surround them-- there were no words to it, just the soft, lulling tone of a piano, accompanied by the occasional splash of waves.

It was confusion that first whispered to Villain, when their leaden eyelids at last agreed to open. Above them sat an off-white sky, stretching out to meet with a light blue wall. They blinked once more.

Where...

The chase the heroes the running the building the gas the fire the rubble the-

Villain jolted upright, tossing off of themself a heavy, fleece blanket. Trembling fingers gripped the mattress below them as they scanned the world around, instincts kicking in, searching frantically for an exit.

The room was small, walls colored a soft, baby blue, and lit by a pair of lamps with warm, orange bulbs. The few items of furniture were made of a light brown wood-- three small nightstands, two in corners, and one next to the bed in which Villain lay.

Next to one of the stands was placed a small writing desk and chair, while the other was accompanied by a potted plant, petals just starting to emerge from its buds. Embedded in one wall, a window stood, a small radio perched upon its sill.

The door was at the room’s far end, next to their bed. A wooden door with brass handle-- easy to break down.

But guarded.

Before the door, a figure stood-- a person dressed in a bright flannel, from the breast pocket of which stuck an overabundance of pens.

They did not look particularly strong, but, then again, neither did Villain. At the sound of their movement, the figure turned to face them, a smile growing upon their round face.

“I didn’t even notice you waking up.” They hummed. “Good morning.”

There were two options for escape: The door or the window. Neither was particularly desirable, but they had to choose one...

“Hey, buddy.” The stranger’s voice felt almost as warm as the fleece blanket. “You’re looking a bit like a deer in the headlights, there. I’m sure this is all a bit overwhelming, and I’m sure you’re pretty confused. I’d be confused too, trust me.”

No. There was no confusion in Villain’s mind. They were focused on one thing, the only thing that mattered: Getting out of here!

The flannel-wearing figure took a few steps towards the bed. In instinctual panic, the villain scrambled to their hands and knees, shuffling backwards until their spine was flush with the headboard.

“Hey, hey, shhh.” They hushed. “I’m sorry I scared you. I’ll stay right back here, okay?”

“L-Let me out of here!”

The figure frowned.

“Bud, I’m not sure that you’d last another day out there. Not in the state Hero found you in.”

Hero. Of course they were working for Hero.

“I’ll explain everything, alright bud? But let’s just start here. My name’s Doctor. What’s yours?”

Villain only then noticed that they were shaking like a leaf. Whatever this method of torture or interrogation or whatever it is was, they wanted no part in it. They just wanted to go home! To get out! Warm bed or not, this was a prison. They were sure of it.

But, the bed was comfortable, and there wasn’t a single rat in sight...

“How about this...” Doctor coaxed. “You tell me your name, and I’ll tell you what’s going on, okay?”

A trade. Information for information.

Was it worth it? They supposed there was little use in lying.

“V-Villain. My name’s Villain.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Villain.”

“Now, wh-what is this p-place?”

Doctor nodded.

“This is the Supervillain Memorial Villainous Recovery Center. We’re in the city, right by the river. Next to the botanical gardens, if you know where that is.”

They were really telling them the location of their prison? Surely it would have been better to keep such a thing secret. That is, assuming they were telling the truth.

“I believe you’ve been asleep for about... seventeen hours.” Doctor glanced to their watch. “Yep, just about. You’ve been here for maybe half that time. After you got caught in the fire, Hero brought you to the hospital. They bandaged your wounds and brought you here. I hope you slept well.”

Villain almost laughed at that, before a realization struck them. They had slept well. Sure, remnants of the specter of fatigue still haunted them, but for the first time in days, they felt awake enough to think clearly.

But, this was still a prison.

Right?

Prisons didn’t usually have soft beds and fleece blankets, but...

No. It was a trick. This was a prison, and they were a prisoner.

“Let me go.” Villain insisted, though it was halfhearted. “Y-You can’t keep me here! I’m leaving. I need to leave!”

Doctor frowned again, biting their lower lip.

“I’m sorry, Villain, but for now, you’re going to have to stay here. But, I promise, you’ll like it here.” They sighed. “I know you’re scared, and confused, and a thousand other things. But, here, you’re safe. There’s other people here-- quite a few of them, in fact. And, at one point, they were all like you. But ask any one of them. This is the best place for you to be.”

Other people?

“Where are they? W-What are you doing to them?!”

Doctor smiled.

“They’re in our main wing, right now. I believe everyone is eating lunch right about now. I don’t know about you, but where I come from, lunch isn’t a form of torture.”

Villain pursed their lips.

“Then, where am I?”

“This is our arrivals wing. You’re going to stay here, for a few days. Until you’re comfortable, and we can make sure all that smoke is out of your lungs. Then you can join in with everyone else. I’m gonna move over to the side of the bed now, okay? I won’t touch you.”

Even with the warning, Villain couldn’t help but flinch as Doctor approached. They moved to the nightstand at the bed’s side, plucking a small, red box from its surface.

“Hero told me to give this to you, when you got up. It’s not exactly the most nutritious thing to start your day off with, but I think you deserve something tasty.”

They offered the box. After a moment of hesitance, Villain snapped it from their hands, drawing it close to their chest. Was it a threat? Some kind of warning? Morbid curiosity took hold of them, prompting them to open the box’s lid.

Chocolates.

A dozen chocolates, laid out in the design of a star.

“I can eat these?”

“Go ahead.”

Without hesitance, this time, they popped one of the candy pieces into their mouth. Its flavor overwhelmed them, strong enough to nearly knock them over. It’d been days since they’d eaten anything that didn’t come off a bush or from the dumpster.

“Um...” Villain looked back up, closing the box. “So, when are you going to kill me?”

Doctor laughed.

“Hero will be visiting tomorrow. With how long they can talk for, I think you’re only in danger of dying of boredom.”

This was a prison. Of course it was.

Yet, as they glanced down at the box of chocolates, they could not help but forget all thought of panic and escape.

[thatweeboverthereisthirsty]

hello! i saw your headcanons for your six fav chars dating an s/o who smokes and it cracked me up😂😂😂(especially Malleus' LMAO) can i please request the first years reaction to their s/o vaping/smoking? thank you!!💗💗💗💗💗 (i can imagine Sebek is just constant yelling...oof😶)

Ok so like Jack is really out of character but I needed to just post something to get my groove back and here it is.

Characters: Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel

Ace:

So like everything was good and chill until Ace saw you pull out a cigarette and his brain did a loopty loop

HAHAHAHAHAHA THAT'S JUST A FAKE! CAUSE YOU WOULD NEVER SMOKE! AHAHAHAHAH… NO!

Gimme that nasty ass cancer stick

10/10 times would say yeet and toss the pack across the room

Ace why are you like this

Your still in the middle of processing what happened when he grabs your face with a hand on each side

Your face is squished and your lips make fish lips

“Why would you choose death over me? I thought we had something!”

90% of his scolding would be ridiculous and overly funny, but in the end he makes you throw the cigarettes away and promise to never smoke again

“If you smoke again I swear to god I’ll get riddle in here and he will beat your *ss to neptune and back”

Deuce:

Oh you’re vaping. Interesting

*several minutes later*

*Insert dramatic gasp here*

Straight up runs from the room

You’re sitting here like umm… sis what?

When he comes back he grabs the vape and leaves again

“Sorry I need this for a moment”

It’s a solid 5 minutes before he comes back gasping for breath

“Where’d you put my vape?”

...Where did he put your vape

Literally has no idea what he did with it but does know that he was flipping out and ran like all the way around Heartslaybul at least twice

You get 17 texts from other students who are questioning his behavior

“You could have just asked me to put it away”

He looses it and rants about how awful vaping is and explains that as the bad boy he knows that it’s not worth it

In the end you promise to never do any form of drugs again and he calms down

“But like for real do you have no idea what you did with it”

Que Riddle randomly finding a vape on the ground somewhere *dials up Trey* “Collect the children. We’re about to have a public execution.”

Jack:

So like where’d this weird smell of Nicotine come from

Oh it’s you

Haha how odd, Jack would never think someone as bright as you would smoke

Then you’ve pulled out a cigarette and Jacks over protective wolf instincts kick in and he’s snatched it so fast you thought it simply vanished

Absolutely no amount of pleading will have him give it back to you

He’s probably also gonna frisk you for more (his face was red the whole time lol)

He looks you dead in the eye and says if he catches you again he will take you to rehab despite your insistence that rehab is for people who are addicted

That doesn’t matter to him and he’s also probably gonna do research and hold his own little rehab for you

“I’m not doing this because I care about you. I’m doing it so you don’t smell funny.”

Oh Jack you are not fooling anyone

Would buy a pack of cigarettes just to have you flush it down the toilet

Sends you articles and videos about people who died by smoking and sends charts about the stats behind smoking

At some point Leona walked down the hall to get to his room and saw Jack smuggling anti-smoking and sobriety posters with bows on them and packs of cigarettes into his room

It was probably a solid minute before Leona snapped out of his shock and decided he could have Ruggie deal with it later

You wished you could have been there for that conversation

“So jack. Leona wanted me to come and just… check in. He saw you had a few… um… questionable items with you.” - Ruggie

That sort of diffused the situation a bit but Jack still likes to pat your pockets down anytime he thinks something is remotely off

Epel:

Honestly Epel is the type to stay quiet when he first discovers your little habit

Not that he doesn’t care 

He will probably wear himself out with worry but not ever actually tell you what's going on because he was taught to respect people's decisions

Even if they are bad ones

Eventually Vil decides he’s going to get to the bottom of it and pretty much demands that Epel tell him what’s going on

“Your stress fit is seriously detrimental to your health and now since it hasn’t gone away you're making me stressed out, so Epel I swear to the queen if you don’t tell me what’s wrong and my skin breaks out I will poison you with the stomach flu for a week”

Vil probably wouldn’t really do that because vomiting is gross (and totally not cause I headcanon him having a soft spot for the adorable first year), but it does the trick and Epel spills about you vaping

A part of Vil wants to tell Epel to step aside so he can whip you for your ignorance towards your health, but he would also like to see the first year assert himself more

“Confidence is beauty. It doesn’t matter what you wear, you will never be beautiful if you don’t want to wear it.”

Not the greatest pep talk but Epel gets the point and immediately makes his way over to your dorm

You’re more than a little surprised when he walks over and grabs the vape from your hand

“Y/n you know I love you and that is why I am forbidding you from doing this any longer!”

Although he says it with force it’s clear that he is still nervous, so you can’t help but giggle

He immediately pouts and you try to stop your laughing

“Alright Epel, I will stop vaping”

Vil is thanking all his makeup that he didn’t have to step in, he has way more beautiful things to do with his time

[booknerdateen]

The Grishaverse Series

A mini dramaticness before we begin

Also note: there are spoilers so beware

It all started with Six of Crows. I read the book either last year or a few years ago. The news came when Shadow and Bone was being adapted into a show. So, I decided to go down the rabbit hole and read the trilogy before I watched the show so I can get a more depth of the world and all that. I finished the books with eight days to spare. A few days after I finished the season, I went to Barnes to get the other books. I already had Six Of Crows, but y’all can never have too many copies. Soon, I reentered the world of the Crows. Finally at last, I was able to read Crooked Kingdom (one of my best friends been dying for me to read CK). After the catastrophe of CK’s ending, I delved into King of Scars. I didn’t really know much about Nikolai’s duology besides it being about him, Zoya, and Nina. With the annoying ending of Scars, I started Rule of Wolves the next day. I started this journey from Alina and the Darkling to the Crows and their hiesting to seeing Nina’s happiness and Nikolai and Zoya dealing with their demons-figuratively and literally. So, here we are reaching and end of an era for me. I am glad I got to read an amazing series of this world.

The Grisha Trilogy

Aright yall!

I went into the trilogy not knowing much, besides the teaser trailer knowledge

I went in trying to not be biased about the Darkling cuz Ben Barnes

Did it affect me, yes yes it did

Although I don’t like Darkling

Some of y’all hate me for this but I ship Darklina

Yes yes, they toxic, but man you can’t convince me Darkling and Alina had that amazing chemistry in the first book

Not counting when Alina found out bout his true intentions and all that

I didn’t understand why we hated Mal until half way through Siege and Storm

I’m not Malina, but I can understand why we ship them

My amazing love of my life, Nikolai/Stormhund!

Him revealing himself as the prince, omg

Nikolai planting a kiss on Alina and her hitting him afterwards, love it

Tamar and Toyla are amazing!

I actually didn’t realize they were Shu until King Of Scars

Do I see why they betrayed Alina and used her for the Apparat (who needs to freakin die!), yes

Should they’ve, no but I see why though

Harshaw is me half the time

I love him teaming up with a random cat and called him Oncat pure wholesome

Alina going back to the Palace to start the Second Army and understandably putting a whole in the cafeteria ceiling, yes bruh

It’s not the cafeteria but I can’t remember what it’s called so hush

I thought she was gonna murder someone with that cut

Zoya declaring her alliance to Alina

Alina being sus about Zoya….I get that

Genya’s iconic “I am not ruined, I am ruination” I freakin love that!

Nikolai putting his father in his place and potentially exposing the king to r*pe

I freakin lived for that!

I did suspect that what happened between him and Genya, but it was more implied until R&R

Deaths=man, we lost some amazing peeps

Founding out Mal is the third amplifier, blew my mind

Mal dying=was not having that

Mal resurected=didn’t think it had worked, but it did

Darkling being stabbed and killed by his own knife by Alina…..wow

I didn’t like that

Sorry not sorry

I thought it felt a little rushed when that happened

I’m still confused on how he died

Overall: 9/10 I loved it

Six of Crows Duology

I don’t remember what happened in this book when I first read it

I longing to live to be part of the Crows

I love their friendship

Reminds me of my friends

“Compromise. I’m sorry does the trick and uses fewer bullets”

I’ll probably do a post about my favorite lines of the books

Oh yes, so I read SoC after watching S&B

Reading Nina and Matthias’ parts with the shipwreck and all that and it being the same as their scenes in the show

I loved that

Well vice versa it should be….show being line for line like the book with them

“Please, my darling Inej, treasure of my heart, won’t you do me the honor of acquiring me a new hat”

I actually texted my mom that but reworded it as a way of asking her to get Taco Bell breakfast after her PT

It worked

Wesper, Kanej, Helnik=yesssss

My cinnamon roll Wylan

Jesper, Inej, and Wylan hijacking a fjierdan tank=high speed chase but with teenagers

The 180* that Van Eck and Kaz kept doing in the end, omg

Van Eck being a total evilness, man I wanted to smack him

Inej almost giving up on escaping

Kaz pushed Wylan against the wall about to kill him

Jesper’s father being afraid of Little Jesper being killed cuz Jes being grisha

Speaking of that, I did not see that coming

Kaz and Jesper getting into a fight and Wylan and Kuweii being the only ones concerned

Jesper Llewellyn Fahey

Jesper kissing Kuweii thinking he was Wylan

Wylan being broken-hearted

Them making up ahhhhh

The auction….that’s it that’s the only thing

Matthias being shot

Him going to Nina to say he loves her

Chapter 40= I tossed the book and dramatic screamed (not actually screaming)

Omg, Wylan finding out his mother aint dead but in a rehab place bruhhhhh

Kaz reuniting Inej with her parents

Kaz’s small steps of touching people again

Overall: 10/10 I’m biased about this duology

Nikolai Duology

Nikolai transforming into darkling creature at night is the equivalent of a werewolf turning at night (depending if we do every full moon and all that)

Nina burying Matthias’ body 😭

He found peace

Nina being the best necromancer grisha

Nina wanting to choke the ever living death out of Brun

Genya and David being married

Nadia and Tomar being married

David threating the monk

The monk 🤦🏾‍♀️

Wait no, the “Starless Saint” Cult 🤦🏾‍♀️

Nina mentioning about the Crows, mentally not verbally

Kuweii setting a tree on fire

The fold universe is very confusing

Sankta Eve…whats her name betraying them all to bring Darkling to life

Zoya being amazing as always

The Apparat really needs to die

I cannot stand that dude

The attenpted assination on Nikolai and Princess Shu (I forgot her name)

Isaak willingly to take Nikolai’s place while he in the fold

Isaak falling in love with Princess Shu

Or should i say “Princess Shu”

Isaak deserved better

Darkling ressurected 🙄

Nina and Hanne 💜

Freakin Brum I swear

Ramus deserved to die

Alina, Mal, Misha, and Oncat cameo

The Crows cameo!

Inej cameo in the end!

“Captain Ghafa”

Darking decided to give a redemption

Why….just why

Zoya turning into a dragon, that’s my zoya!

Nikolai turning into darkling creature to risk Ravka’s future

Brum being exile

Mwhahah

Hanne tailored as Ramus bruhhhh

I feel like Hanne is a trans coded character, I’ll go depth in another post

Freakin fjeirda in general

Fjeirda soldiers bowing down to “Sankta Zoya”

Nikolai stepping down the throne

Giving the throne to Zoya!

Queen Zoya

David’s death….I was not prepared for that 😭

Inej suspecting Alina to be actually Alina to Nikolai

Nikolai brushing her off as an old friend from the country

“I need Stormund to send a message to Kaz Brekker. I have a job for him”

Not word for word but ya know

Six of Crows 3??!?!?!! Ahhh

Overall: 8/10 loved it!

[ezzydean]

barycenter

for @notsuchasecret

CLICK HERE TO READ ON MY BLOG INSTEAD OF THE DASH

5+1?  Nah.  8+1

8 times a friend cared for/comforted Rei and 1 time he comforted a friend.

(barycenter:  the common center of mass around which two or more bodies revolve)

Nagisa It’s been a long day.  One of the longest he’s had in years.  And somehow he still has hours and hours left of it.  The math of the day just isn’t adding up but he honestly can’t be bothered to figure out just how the last two hours have actually managed to last approximately fifteen years.  Or maybe it’s the last fifteen years that have actually lasted two hours.  He’s not even sure which way it should go.

Not much makes sense today.

He’s pressing his fingertips against his eyes, glasses abandoned on the table about twenty minutes past half a year ago, when he hears soft footsteps padding down the hallway towards him.

“Oh, Rei-chan,” Nagisa breathes out.

Then there’s cool fingers running through his hair and a warm body settling into his lap and the smell of Nagisa’s apple scented body wash filling the air between them and it really says something about his day that he doesn’t even attempt to flail, flounder, or protest Nagisa invading his space in any way, shape, or form.

He tips his head forward, nose resting against Nagisa’s collarbone, and wraps his arms around Nagisa’s waist.

Sometime between a half hour and nine years later he relaxes with a shuddering breath and Nagisa hums softly.

“Next time call me before it gets this bad,” Nagisa murmurs.

Rei nods in agreement even though they both know he’s far too stubborn and sometime in the next seventy-whatever month-hours Nagisa will pad down the hallway and spot Rei bent over the table, too tired to function anything remotely close to properly.  But that’s okay.  Because when he does Nagisa will pull him apart so gently and help put him back together with gentle fingers and bright smiles.

Rin “Hey.”  A warm body drops into the booth next to him.

“Hello, Rin,” he replies politely.

“What’s eating you?”

He glances over and meets Rin’s curious gaze for only a moment before he goes back to staring blankly at the menu sitting on the table in front of him.

“Nothing.”

Rin scoffs.  “Forgive me if I don’t believe that,” he says.  He snatches the menu and grumbles about the ridiculous prices and the silly names and other stuff that Rei barely listens to.  He listens to the rise and fall of Rin’s voice.  He catches the easy shrugs and hand gestures as he rambles.  He feels the way Rin leans against him to half-whisper something to him and then just never quite sits all the way back up.

He simply exists for a little while and lets Rin pull him along in his wake.

By the time the others join him he feels less untethered, less ready to float away at a moment’s notice, and he presses his shoulder against Rin’s in silent thanks.  Rin grins a ‘you’re welcome’ in return.

Makoto Sometimes he just gets so incredibly, unreasonably, unfairly cold.  When it’s the middle of winter and there’s snow on the ground he can understand it.  But in the tail end of summer when the sun is high in the sky and the ground itself seems to throw off heat it’s a little ridiculous.

But ridiculous or not here he is, sitting on the beach and watching his friends chase each other around and laugh and have fun while he sits in the sun and shivers.

A shadow looms over him and Rei leans his head back.  Makoto smiles down at him and gestures to the ground next to him.

“May I?”  Rei nods with a slight smile of his own.  Leave it to Makoto to ask permission before sitting next to him on the beach when they had been squished together in Sousuke’s frightening excuse for a vehicle less than an hour ago.

They sit shoulder to shoulder and watch as Rin and Momo attempt to pull Haru under the water while Gou and Seijuurou egg them on.  He’s not entirely sure where Ai and Nagisa have gotten off to but the last he saw of them they had their heads bent together, laughing as they clearly planned something.

A shudder runs through him and he huffs in irritation.

“You know,” Makoto says suddenly.  “It still takes me awhile sometimes.”  Rei makes a questioning noise.  “To get in the water.  To be comfortable enough to remember that especially with everyone else here I’m safe.”

“It’s not really that,” Rei says.  “I just get so cold sometimes.”

Makoto shrugs.  “The water isn’t the only thing they keep me safe from,” he says as Haru dramatically pops up in the water, sending Rin and Momo swimming away from him as fast as possible.

Rei scoots a little bit closer until Makoto laughs and wraps his arm around Rei’s shoulder, pulling him tight against his side and Rei sinks into the warmth and refuses to move even when Rin stumbles up to them a few minutes later and flops across them, soaking them both.

Gou “For someone so smart,” Gou says as she tucks the blankets up around his shoulders, “you’re pretty stupid sometimes.”

Rei does his best to pout at her.  Not that it really does much.  He doesn’t have Nagisa or Ai’s puppy dog eyes and even if he did he’s pretty sure Gou wouldn’t be swayed by them.

“Not like I was trying to catch Haru’s cold,” he mumbles.  At least that’s what he tries to say.  He’s not sure how much of it comes out the way it’s supposed to.  The fond look Gou gives him really doesn’t help him figure out if the words all came out in the right order or not.

His everything hurts.

“You’re lucky you’re adorable.  And my mom loves you so she sent over soup and gave me a list of stuff to buy for you.  Even though I’m pretty sure by now I know how to handle a stupid boy getting a stupid cold.”

“I am lucky,” he rasps out.

Gou smiles and brushes some of his sweaty hair from his clammy forehead.

“Yeah.  But I suppose we’re lucky to have someone like you too.  So we’re all pretty even in the end.”

Sousuke Logically he knows that he’s lucky they caught it this soon.  That he’s here mostly for prevention and not for rehab.  It still doesn’t stop his hands from shaking ever so much as he makes his way into the clinic for his third appointment for his shoulder.

“Rei?”  Somehow the thought never occurred to him that this might be the same clinic that Sousuke visits for his own shoulder.

His hands shake even more and he curls his fingers until they’re clenched fists hanging at his sides.  He tenses his jaw and refuses to let himself give in to the tears that suddenly try to overwhelm him.

Sousuke glances over his shoulder.  “Hey Ayame,” he calls out.  “Ryuugazaki is here for his appointment but we’re gonna go for a quick walk beforehand okay?”

He doesn’t look at the receptionist, a lady who has the kindest eyes Rei has ever seen in his life, doesn’t listen to whatever she says to Sousuke in reply.  He just lets Sousuke settle his hand in the middle of Rei’s shoulders and guide him carefully outside.

“I get it,” Sousuke says eventually.  They’re about three blocks from the clinic and Sousuke’s hand is warm where it’s still resting between Rei’s shoulder blades.  “It’s a lot and it’s kinda frightening.  Especially since we’re, you know, not creaky old men.  We’ve still got a lot ahead of us.  People like you and me we’ve gotta be careful.”

He could be talking about their shoulders.  But Rei is pretty sure Sousuke is talking about something far more internal.  Something far easier to bust and something that is much, much harder to repair when it does.  He nods and takes one last deep breath before they turn and head back to the clinic.

He’s not even remotely surprised when Sousuke is sprawled in the waiting room flipping through a magazine when Rei finally finishes his appointment.

Momotarou Some days you just can’t win.  His bag strap broke this morning.  He stepped in a puddle less than five minutes after leaving.  He dropped his glasses and scratched the lenses.  He forgot his lunch on the counter and he’s pretty sure his stomach is trying to eat itself even though it is physically impossible to do so.  And now he’s sitting up with a wince and glaring down at the rather impressive scrape he now has on his arm.  Because of course his shoes came untied without him noticing until he literally tipped over his own feet.

A hand appears in front of his face and he tilts his head up until he sees a familiar face.

“Come on,” Momotarou says with a friendly smile.  “My place is just a few blocks away.  We’ll get you cleaned up.”

He can do it himself.  His own place is only a few blocks in the other direction.  But he lets Momotarou pull him up by his uninjured hand and tug him down the block and lead him to his apartment and push him into the bathroom.  The first aid kit Momotarou pulls out is extremely well stocked and Momotarou laughs when he sees the look on Rei’s face.

“Yeah.  I’m not the most graceful of people out of the water,” he explains as he wets a cloth and gently wipes at Rei’s arm.  “So when I moved out on my own my parents bought me a good first aid kit and then my brother and sister both bought me extra supplies.”

Rei simply nods and lets Momotarou clean his arm and carefully apply antibiotic to it.

“Something wrong?”  Momotarou is staring at his arm with a frown.

“No.  I just don’t know if I have a bandage big enough to cover the whole thing and I don’t want you to rub it on something on accident.”

Rei glances down at the scrape.  “Then give me two bandages,” he says.  “Or wrap it in some gauze.  It shouldn’t take long to start scabbing up a bit.”  Momotarou’s eyes dart from the scrape to the first aid kit to Rei’s face and back again.  “If it’ll make you feel better I’ll even stay here a bit before going back outside.”

Momotarou scrunches his face and then nods.  “I think that sounds okay.”

“Thank you, by the way,” Rei remembers to say as Momotarou loosely wraps a piece of gauze around his arm.  Momotarou grins at him, accepting the thanks with a wink.

Seijuurou “You’re never going to be perfect.  None of us are.”  The words are surprisingly comforting.  Or maybe it’s Seijuurou’s hand warm on his knee as he talks Rei back from the edge of a potentially epic meltdown.  “You’re never going to be Tachibana but that’s okay.”

The captaincy had been weighing heavy on his mind and even heavier on his shoulders and instead of giving into the temptation of letting it boil over into frustration and irritation and taking it out on the others Rei had cut practice short and started walking.  He’s not quite sure where he is or why the former Samezuka captain was there but he was thankful just the same because Seijuurou had taken one look at him and led him down a sidewalk to a bench, sat him down, and started talking.

About his own blunders as captain.  About his rambunctious teammates.  About not only training and going to school with his teammates but living with them as well.  About how he learned the hard way that he could count on his team to support him.

“You have a good team and, more importantly, good friends.  Let them help you.  Lean on them if you need to.  Hell you have my number still right?”  Rei nods absently.  “Give me a call if you need.  Or call Tachibana.  I know I’d be more than happy to help and I’m sure he would too.  Just remember.  They’re your team now.  You’ve gotta figure out what works for you.”

He sits there and lets Seijuurou talk and talk and talk.  He does wonder, briefly, when he started being acquaintances with so many talkative people and then promptly pushes the thought aside because he knows exactly when.  It was when he joined the swim team.

It was when he made the choice to change his entire life by stepping out of his comfort zone without looking for a net to catch him should he stumble.

Aiichirou They’ve exhausted all their usual topics — classes, their teams, their last meets, their current training regimens — and are simply listening to each other breathe through the phone.  He hadn’t expected to find such a close friend in Aiichirou when they had exchanged numbers.  Though he probably should have.  They both had such big shoes to fill, such amazing captains to follow with their own captaincy, it’s not really that much of a surprise in the end.

“I just don’t know for sure,” he finds himself admitting, breaking the silence.

“About what?”

“Anything,” he says before he can talk himself out of it.  “University.  Getting a job.  Even graduating high school feels a little bit daunting right now if I’m being honest.”

Aiichirou laughs tiredly.  “I hear you on that.  I’m still not sure if I want to keep swimming competitively in university.  I love swimming but, yeah.  I just don’t know.”

It’s refreshing to hear it from someone else.  Someone who has been dealing with a lot of the same responsibilities and pressure as he has.  Trying to balance being a captain on top of school work on top of maintaining friendships.

“But,” Aiichirou interrupts his thoughts before they can wind him up they way he was before he called.  “But.  It’s okay.  Because we’ve got everyone.  And it’s okay if we don’t know what we’re doing yet so long as we keep on moving.”

Rei lets the words rattle around in his head for a few minutes, once again listening to Aiichirou breathing, before the words really sink in.

“Have you been reading Nagisa’s inspirational quote of the day texts again?”

Aiichirou laughs and starts talking about the quote Nagisa sent him last week and Rei smiles.

They’ll all figure it out in the end.  Because they’ll get there together.

+1 Haruka It’s not unusual to open Haru’s door and find all the lights out and a general feeling of almost abandoned floating through the air.  Haru has lived in the same place for years and years but it just always has a semi-permanent feel to it.  Like he’s just waiting to pack up and leave it all behind.  

Rei has never really been able to understand it.  Heck he’s lived in a dozen different places in the last five years and even the shittiest, most temporary apartment felt more lived in than Haru’s place.

Maybe it’s just the dust accumulating on every flat surface because Haru hates cleaning that gives it that feeling.  But Rei really doesn’t think that’s it.

Haru lets out a huffy little noise when Rei prods at him with his foot; he’s never understood how Haru manages to fall asleep in the middle of the floor without even a blanket or pillow.

“You know,” Rei says, “it’s okay to stay.  To make this place yours.”

“It is mine,” Haru mutters.

“Then get rid of your parents’ ugly tapestry on the wall and put up one of your paintings and stop simply existing here.”

It’s harsh, harsher than he’d usually be with any of his friends, but Haru has always brought out something in him — something a little more raw and fierce and possessive — than any of the rest of them.

Haru scoffs softly but he also reaches out and wraps a cool hand around Rei’s ankle, thumb rubbing gently over the skin, as he considers Rei’s words.

“You’re right,” Haru says eventually, voice tiny in the darkness.

“I usually am,” Rei replies.

“I don’t want to pick the painting though.”

“We’ll pick one for you.  It’s what friends are for.”

[missperfectlyfine13]

A Bandaid For Your Bullet Hole - (Chp. 2/?)

Read Below or on AO3/FF

TW: Mentions of overdose

August 2009

“Mom, I’ve got all my stuff in the ca….” Chloe’s sentence is swallowed back up into the atmosphere when she walks back into the living room, “you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Chloe’s mom is sitting in the middle of the sofa, her arms wrapped tightly around a scruffy looking man in a mechanics uniform. There’s a few half empty bottles of booze on the coffee table and a lit joint between her mother’s fingers. She laughs airily at some dumb remark the stranger practically underneath her makes. She’s as high as a kite and probably drunk to boot.

“Chloe!” her mom’s eyes light up at the sight of her only daughter, “come have a drink baby.”

The only good thing about her mom getting high instead of drunk is that she is much happier. Her mom is an angry drunk, she turns into someone that Chloe scarcely recognizes. At least when she’s high she somewhat resembles someone Chloe used to know.

“What happened to taking me to college today?” she snaps, completely ignoring her mother’s request.

“That was today?” she asks dumbly, bringing her glass tumbler to her lips, taking a long sip of dark amber liquid.

Chloe groans frustratedly, “We’ve been talking about it for weeks.”

“Calm down princess, we can still do it,” she’s got to be kidding, she’s not going to let her mom drive anywhere like this.

Chloe shakes her head vigorously, “No. It’s fine, I’ll just stuff everything into my car and do it myself. You clearly have more important things to do.”

Her words must permeated through her mom’s hazy brain because she’s jumping up from the sofa, some of her drink sloshing out of her glass and onto the cream colored carpet, “No, Chloe let me do this. I want to do this.”

“I’m not taking you anywhere like this,” Chloe motions up and down her mother’s body, “you would just be an embarrassment.”

Her expression almost looks hurt before it turns bitter, “If that’s how you feel about me, then fine do it all on your own. See if I care.”

Chloe turns around without another word. She mindlessly shoves all her belongings into her little chevy impala, barely getting in everything she needs. She doesn’t even bother to go inside to say goodbye before driving down the road. It’s time for a new beginning, a new life, one she doesn’t have to hate. She has a good feeling about Barden, hopefully her gut is right.

************

December 2012

The winter air is crisp, sending a shiver down Chloe’s spine as her and Beca walk towards her dorm. They just left Bellas rehearsal and the air almost feels good after all the exercise.

“So, what are you doing for winter break?” Beca breaks the comfortable silence, shoving her hands deep into the pockets of her coat.

Chloe shrugs, “I’ll probably stay on campus, I might go visit my brother, if he’s going to be around.”

Beca looks at her dumbly for a moment before composing herself again, “You aren’t going home for Christmas?”

Her and Beca have gotten really close this semester, Chloe might even dare to say she’s her best friend…if she didn’t have a heart stopping crush on the younger girl that is. Even so, she’s not sure if she wants to unpack her reasoning for never going home yet.

“Nope,” she answers the question simply, hoping Beca will just take the answer and let the topic drop.

She knew she wasn’t going to be that lucky, because Beca doesn’t care about anyone…anyone but her it seems. Chloe is the only person Beca goes the extra mile for, at least from Chloe’s point of view, that’s how it seems.

“Why?” the question barely surprises her as it come out of Beca’s mouth, her breath leaving a puff of white in the air.

“It’s a long story,” Chloe tries her best to deflect, but she knows Beca won’t give it up.

Maybe opening up to someone else would feel good. Maybe to weight of her problems would feel a little lighter.

“I’ve got time, we can go get coffee?” Beca looks at her hopefully, “My treat?”

“I thought you were having a movie night with Jesse,” Beca had been talking about it all week, the excitement of a new relationship and all.

That’s another thing that has been making Chloe feel even worse than she does at this time of the year. She had a bad feeling Beca would end up with him…she had a bad feeling she was straight. Chloe loves their friendship, but it just makes everything that much more painful.

“You were literally coming to my dorm to hang anyways, that’s not until later,” Beca laughs.

Chloe’s cheeks burn red, “Oh yea, sorry, blonde moment I guess?”

“You’re not even blonde, you don’t get to use that one.”

Chloe gives Beca a playful shove, “Shut up.”

After another five minutes of walking, they finally end up at the coffee shop. Before Chloe knows it, there’s a steaming hot cup in her hands and Beca looking across the table at her expectantly.

“So now, why don’t you go home for Christmas?” Beca parrots the question from earlier, making Chloe squirm uncomfortably in her seat.

“So, I guess it all really started when my dad died,” Chloe twirls the paper cup in her hands, attempting to channel her nerves into something else.

Beca nods, encouraging her on.

“My mom kind of self-imploded after his death…it started with drinking. It just spiraled from there, drugs, lots of sex with random men. It made all four years of high school miserable for me,” Chloe can feel tears threating to spill, she never talks about this, “after my first Christmas back home in college I vowed to never go back until she got her shit together.”

A hand reaches across the table to settle over her own. Chloe looks up into Beca’s eyes, which are sad and empathetic. It makes her feel comfortable, grounded, Beca’s hand against her own. Her fingers twitch underneath the touch, she never wants to break the contact.

“I’m so sorry Chloe,” Beca says softly, “that must be really hard…so I take it she’s still pretty bad?”

Chloe nods slowly, “Uh yea, I’ve tried to get her to go to rehab but she won’t listen, I’m worried she never will.”

“I know this is nothing compared to what you dealt with,” Beca looks vulnerable as she speaks, “but high school was really rough for me too. My parents got a divorce and my dad married my now step monster. I felt so betrayed, I felt like nothing would ever be right again. I felt like my dad was giving up on me.”

“I’m glad you shared that,” Chloe turns her hand so it’s holding Beca’s instead of lying limply below hers, “I’m glad I’m not the only one with a shitty story.”

“I mean you definitely win if we’re comparing, but yea, it was nothing to write home about,” Beca smirks.

Beca finally pulls her hand away and Chloe instantly misses her touch. She quickly moves her hand back to her cup, lifting it to her mouth, not wanting Beca to know how much the little contact affected her.

“Do you want to come home with me for Christmas?” Beca asks after a few moments of silence.

The question practically makes Chloe choke on her latte, “I couldn’t do that Bec. Your family doesn’t even know me.”

“They know of you,” Beca replies nonchalantly, “plus they would love you.”

“So, you’ve talked about me to your family?” Chloe quirks an eyebrow.

It’s Beca’s turn for her cheeks to fade into a light shade of red, “They were asking if I made any friends…so I told them about you.”

“Don’t be embarrassed Beca, I love that you’ve told them about me. If I talked to my mom, she would know about you, because you’re one of the best things about this semester,” Chloe says honestly, hoping the blunt truth doesn’t weird the other girl out.

A smile the size of Texas spreads across Beca’s face. She doesn’t seem sure how to respond, but Chloe knows she probably feels similarly if her expression is to judge.

“Shouldn’t you be asking Jesse to go home with you for Christmas instead of me?” Chloe suddenly remembers Beca’s boyfriend.

Beca shakes her head no, “He has his own family to go home to, plus I’ve only been dating him for a month. I’d much rather have you come with me…especially because I want to save you from having to be here for three weeks.”

“I’ll think about it,” Chloe finally answers Beca’s offer.

She’s going to have to think hard about it, the last time she went home with someone for Christmas…well let’s just say it’s not a fond memory. It was an almost eerily similar situation. She had known Aubrey for one semester and after the blonde found out about her mom, she had invited her home for Christmas. She also needs to remind herself that it was a very different situation all together.

************

December 2009

There’s no hiding the fact that Chloe is scared to go home for Christmas. She’s scared about what she’s going to find. It’s the first time her mom has been alone for that long. Chloe watched out for her more than a teenage daughter should.

She also left on bad terms in the fall.

She could walk into anything really, which is terrifying. Which is why the whole drive back to South Carolina, Chloe is practically shaking with nerves. She probably shouldn’t have loaded up on coffee like she did, the caffeine isn’t helping. Aubrey has called her on and off, offering her support…and the reminder that she can go to Aubrey’s house if it’s too bad. Chloe was determined to make this work though; she didn’t want to run away on her mom completely. Chloe is not a quitter.

About an hour later she finally pulls into the driveway of her mom’s house, the windows are dark even thought the sun set hours ago. That’s already not a good sign. Chloe puts the car into park and takes a deep shaky breath. She gets out of the car after a few moments of composing herself.

She slings her bag over her shoulder and walks up the path to the front door, her hand shakes as she lifts the key to the lock. Chloe pushes the door open slowly, she can hear the TV blaring some infomercial for air tight containers. It’s the only light illuminating the living room. As Choe steps further in the door, she can see her mom’s identical mop of red hair flowing over the arm of the sofa, her hand hanging limply down onto the floor. She can’t make out much else with how dark the room is, the blue-ish light of the TV making everything look a little eerie.

An ice-cold feeling courses through her, her heart rate picking up. Something isn’t right, she can just feel it. Chloe throws her bag down onto the floor and rushes over to the sofa. It barely looks like her chest is moving up and down, her lips look a little blue. Out of the corner of her eye she sees a baggy of pills on the coffee table. Shit. This can’t be happening.

“Mom,” Chloe says firmly, “Mom!”

Nothing.

Chloe kneels down next to her and shakes her vigorously, “MOM.”

Her hands shake as she pulls her phone from the back pocket of her jeans. Her fingers can barely hold still as she dials 911.

The operator is calm and comforting. She walks Chloe through checking to see if her mom’s heart is still beating. She feels like she’s floating through some nightmare as she rips her mom’s shirt open and starts chest compressions. She has no clue how long she hammers into her mom’s chest before the door busts open and the paramedics are pushing her out of the way. Her vision blurs as she finally lets herself cry.

She’s not quite sure how she gets to the hospital. The world finally comes back into focus when a nurse carefully approaches her and asks if there’s anyone that she can call for her.

“Um, my best friend, Aubrey,” her voice sounds foreign to her.

************

When Chloe’s mom finally is stable and back at home, Chloe leaves to go back home with Aubrey. Before she leaves, it isn’t pretty, her and her mom scream and fight, but there is no way she’s ever going to come back home to that again. Chloe gives her a final ultimatum: Go and get some help or I’m done here.

Christmas is miserable, even though Aubrey’s family is warm, inviting and sympathetic. They make her feel like she’s family. Even so, Chloe has never felt more alone. She feels like she has nowhere to go. She has no one to bake her cookies to take back to her dorm or give her a hug that feels like home when she needs it or give her boy (or girl?) advice. She’s all alone and it’s something she’s going to have to get used to.

************

December 2012

“I’ll go home with you,” Chloe offhandedly mentions to Beca as they sit on the bed in Chloe’s room at the Bella house.

Beca’s eyes light up and the chips she was munching on practically fall out of her mouth, “Really?”

Chloe nods, after thinking about it, the idea of having people to spend Christmas with would be really nice. It’s something she hasn’t experienced since Christmas her freshman year.

“I would love to,” Chloe smiles happily at the younger girl next to her.

“That’s awesome!” Beca exclaims, “Oh shit, I’ve got to book the flight like now then.”

“You haven’t done that already?” Chloe looks at her quizzically.

Beca shrugs, “I was waiting to see if you would want to come first.”

“You could have missed out on getting tickets Bec, you shouldn’t have.”

“I know, it’s ok though, I wanted to,” Beca looks down at her phone, which has flight listings to Seattle already displayed, “get your snow boots ready Beale, it’s been chilly out there this year.”

“You know, I’ve only seen snow a couple times in my whole life,” Chloe already feels excited thinking about seeing the fluffy, white precipitation.

Beca’s eyes bug out, “Dude, we are so going sledding.”

For the first time in years, Chloe is starting to feel excited about this time of year. This might be the best Christmas she’s had in a long time…

[rebeebit]

So, your parents are getting old.

TL;DR

Stuff: start cleaning out stuff they don’t need now. You might read “The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning” as a guide.

Where to live: research retirement and assisted living options in your parents’ area.

Medical considerations: HIPPA authorization, advanced directives, long term care insurance

Financial considerations: accounts, power of attorney and trusts

Dementia: what to remember when your parents forget.

So, your parents are getting old.

Most of us have parents. Many, if not most, of us will be supporting them somehow as they age. And I read somewhere that most people are not happy with how their parents have prepared for aging (I’d cite it, but I ran across that statistic a couple of months ago and ... you’ll have to take my word for it). I’ve been observing my parents as they age for a while, and in the past two years, my sister and I have become very active in the process of making sure they are safe and cared for. I decided to write a guide to help all of my friends who have parents so maybe you can avoid some of the mistakes my parents made. There are lots of resources out there, so this is by no means exhaustive, but I hope someone finds it useful!

STUFF

This is the easiest way to start, it doesn’t require uncomfortable conversations or lengthy phone calls, but could instead be an opportunity to reminisce and connect with your parents. If your parents have lived in their house for any length of time, they’ve probably amassed some STUFF. My folks lived in their house for 43 years, and they abhorred wastefulness. They also had loads of room for storage - you can imagine how much stuff they accumulated after 43 years! My mistake: I didn’t reclaim items I wanted over the years to the degree that I could have, and had to scramble to get the things I wanted when the time came to move my parents out of their house. So here are some ideas.

Your parents might feel strongly about passing on certain items - find out what these are if you don’t already know. Then you could suggest they give them to you for your birthday or another holiday. This way they get the satisfaction of knowing you have their special belongings while they’re still alive.

Did you leave your stuff at their house when you moved out, and you just never got around to getting it? That’s on YOU! Get it now, or get rid of it, if possible! 

As you’re going through your stuff, you might “accidentally” run across items your parents don’t use anymore. Help them by donating these items or throwing them away.

The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning by Margareta Magnusson is an excellent guide to this process, and a quick read. Read it, and if possible, suggest that your parents read it.

We were able to move our parents’ photo albums, but they had boxes and boxes of unsorted photos and even slides. Encourage them to go through these old memories now and put them in albums - or better yet, digitize them. They won’t have room for all those boxes when they downsize.

If you wind up having to get rid of everything at once, like we did, there will undoubtedly be heartbreak as valued heirlooms get sent to the thrift shop (or the dumpster) and even loss of some income because you won’t have time to drag it to consignment shops. The more you deal with now, the happier everyone will be with the outcome.

WHERE TO LIVE

Aging in place seems like the best option for many people, but it can be quite costly. There’s no deadline by which your parents should move out of their house, and perhaps they never will. This is where you might have a conversation about the future with your parents: what do they envision for themselves, what do they want? This is a great way to phrase it, as it sends the message that you want to know their desires for aging, so you can meet their wishes as best you can. Regardless of what they say, you can do a little homework into options in their geographic area. We didn’t make too many mistakes in this area, but my parents weren’t willing to move in advance of it being a necessity, and then when it WAS necessary in the summer of 2020 … well, who would move their parents into communal living during a pandemic? 

Several friends told me how important it is to move earlier rather than later, as it makes it easier to add levels of care as your parents age. Keep this in mind! Find out what is available, and make sure options for living include assisted living, skilled nursing, AND memory care. The last two are not interchangeable: memory care is very specific for dementia patients. If you have time, take a tour of a few places to get an idea of what life might be like for your parents there.

The move to assisted living was very important for our mother. Our father was hospitalized 15 or more times in the past year, and two of those included multiweek stays in nursing rehab - in fact, he’s still there now, and it’s been over 11 weeks (as of 7.24.21). The time alone in the house was difficult for my mother, and she will benefit from routines, social interaction, and 3 meals a day that she doesn’t have to cook for herself ... among other benefits! Moving was so hard for them to contemplate because they didn’t want to leave their community - which is very understandable - but moving gets much more difficult as your parents age, and in my mom’s case, as her dementia has progressed.

MEDICAL CONSIDERATIONS

Helping your parents navigate the healthcare system is difficult. I won’t claim to be an expert in this at all, but will at least tell you what I’ve encountered.

RIGHT NOW: find out if your parents have long-term care insurance. If one or both of your parents has a lengthy stay in the hospital/nursing home, Medicare will eventually STOP covering them, even if they need skilled nursing or memory care. This will easily start costing $350/day, which is $100,000/year. Long-term care will kick in after 90 days in hospital/nursing/memory care, and will cover most, if not all, of the costs. 

You will eventually need HIPAA authorization with your parents’ doctors. This allows the doctor to talk freely to you about your parents’ health. Without it, the doctor can listen to your concerns, but they cannot share information. My mother was reluctant to give this to us, but when she finally did, we were able to get her evaluated for dementia and take away her car keys. 

If you live close enough to go to doctor appointments with your parents, find a way to do this. When my father returned from one of his earlier but more serious hospitalizations, I requested to join him at his follow-up appointment so I could hear what the doctor had to say and ask my own questions. My father is a reasonable guy and allowed this, and it was really helpful.

Advanced Directives are their medical wishes about resuscitation. It’s a morbid conversation, and you may not want to discuss the details with them, but you should make sure they have their wishes in place.

While you’re on morbid topics, make sure you know their wishes regarding funeral and memorial services and burial arrangements. Some people even want input into their own obituaries. We knew both my parents wanted to be cremated (and where they wanted us to scatter the ashes), but we were surprised to learn my dad did not want any services. Good thing we asked!

FINANCIAL CONSIDERATIONS

For your peace of mind, you will want to know what the state of your parents’ finances is, and you will likely need to manage these finances at some point. Here is what I learned about this realm of the aging process:

Set up autopay for as many bills as you can for them, if they haven’t done so already. As my father’s health situation became more overwhelming, bills got overlooked and they started having to pay late fees. This is an easy step that you can do now and avoid the hassle later.

Suggest your parents simplify things. Do they have multiple credit cards, or multiple bank accounts? Suggest that they consolidate. Again, life gets more complicated with aging, and it becomes harder to manage. Trying to keep track of multiple accounts will be a headache for them, and they could make costly mistakes.

Make sure your parents have designated beneficiaries for all accounts. Apparently the probate process after a person dies is lengthy and annoying, and not something you’ll want to have to deal with on top of your grief when your parents pass away. On active accounts, like checking or savings accounts, try to get your name put on the account. This will help you with managing their finances when the time comes. Banks will literally not talk to you if you are not the account owner or don’t have POA.

Power of Attorney. This document WILL have to be signed, and you will want to discuss with your parents when, not if, they want to do this. The sooner the better. Sign it and scan it, and save it on your phone. This way you can email it to whoever needs it immediately so you can manage all of your parents’ affairs. I needed POA to cancel their phone service, sell their house, sell their car ... you name it.

Finally, if their finances are looking good, read on. Talk to your parents about putting their assets in a trust, especially if you have kids. If you’ve read this far, your parents probably want your kids (and you) to have something of their estate after they’re gone, but they can’t leave anything behind if they haven’t protected their assets. Medical care is expensive, and Medicaid will not kick in until you have only about $1,500 to your name, so protecting assets is important for some people. I don’t know much about this process, but if it is a concern for your parents, encourage them to reach out to their lawyer and financial advisor to take care of this.

DEMENTIA

My mother’s dementia has been the most challenging part for my sister and me over the past several years, but if you think this is in your future, it doesn’t have to be. As a society we’ve gotten better at talking about mental health, and that should also extend to dementia. As with any other health problem, early detection and intervention will lead to better outcomes. In my mother’s case, we attempted to intervene in 2017 but were unsuccessful. My mother was finally diagnosed in January 2021, but at this point she had progressed to mild dementia, and has been unable to process or accept the diagnosis. This has caused her to have worse anxiety because she’s upset about forgetting things, and fewer coping skills because she doesn’t recognize what is wrong with her. While early intervention may not prolong the life of your parent by much, it will lead to better quality of life - which is why you have read this far in the first place, you want your parents to be safe and cared for!

A primary care doctor will do a preliminary screening for dementia, so it is important for this screening to be on your parents’ radar as soon as possible. At this point, it is not automatically done at a certain age; you have to ask for it (which is idiotic, but that’s our health care system, so…). The screening will be important because it will hopefully give you peace of mind that any memory problems are age-related, and not a cause for concern. If not, it will allow the doctor to refer your parent to a specialist and get the appropriate interventions. While there is no cure for Alzheimer’s, there are some drugs that show promise, but also processing and accepting the diagnosis are important for implementing coping skills.

If your parents are diagnosed with dementia, there are loads of resources out there to help. It’s really hard for children to cope with this disease in their parents, as it’s the beginning of the role-reversal where YOU become the parent. Some tips that have resonated with me are that, in dementia, the brain still processes emotions normally, even if memories are starting to erode. So when you inevitably get impatient, frustrated, or even angry with your parent, keep this in mind: they won’t remember why you got angry, they will just remember how you made them feel. Depression and dementia go hand-in-hand because dementia patients get told so often “don’t you remember?” “I already told you that!” and so on. I am by no means perfect in how I handle my mother, but this tip has helped me find patience and calm.

If you’re like me, and you’ve seen both of your grandmothers and your mother decline due to dementia, you have more than a little concern about what the future holds for you. I recommend reading Remember by Lisa Genova (author of Still Alice). The book eased my anxiety about memory lapses I’ve noticed in myself, as lately I regard any lapse as a harbinger of dementia. She also has tips for improving your memory and for preventing Alzheimer’s - which my mother and likely my grandmother had. The number one tip? Sleep.

REACH OUT!!

I was fortunate to have many good friends lend their ears to me while I’ve been in the process with my parents, and several who have been through this and offered their advice and support as well. It was invaluable to have this support system, so I offer that to you. Please reach out if you have questions, want advice, or just want to vent about what you’re going through. If you like, add comments about your own experience below. 

[13-reasons-ideas]

Finding Peace In Another Part 19

A/N: T/W: Discussion of drug addiction and dating violence. This chapter is coming out a few days early and I’m sorry for the delay, I've been really busy with school. I hope everyone is coping well with the virus and isn't going to stir crazy. Also note that this is a work of free fiction and as such I’m not sticking to exact US immigration protocol. Much love!

A few weeks after my dinner with Scott, things were going well. His suspicions were quelled, Monty and I were good and there were no lingering issues with me hanging out with Scott. Since things had calmed down some, I decided to partake in my new favourite pastime. Recently I started surprising Justin at Monet’s after his shifts.

“Hey Justin, can I get peach tea and a raspberry scone please?”

“Coming right up. Usual table?”

“Depends, do you have leftovers?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see. I’m beginning to think you’re only using me for a baked good fix.”

“Maybe. I do bake as a hobby though, so its definitely more that I like you.”

He laughed as I took my drink and wandered over to the table. I people watched while he finished his shift.

“So, how are things with you?” I asked, casually after he sat down.

“You know, things are going. Clay is kind of oblivious to things, mom and dad are trying to judge what they should and shouldn’t push me on. The usual stuff. You?”

“Yeah. Things are going with me too. Dad still occasionally pops in town for a few days before going to wherever he needs to again. Still acts like I don’t essentially live on my own. I think he’s going to be in town for like two weeks sometime soon so that will be interesting.”

“Oh?” He asked, surprised. “Interesting how?”

I had to be careful how I answered. Man, this hiding our relationship thing is getting hard. “Well, he could decide to actually parent me. I’m an adult though so that could cause problems. May end up being a very silent couple of weeks.”

“Sounds like a trip.” He said, laughing.

“Justin. The last time he was home for any length of time, he told me to go look for a job.”

“Uh, why?”

“I have no idea. I can’t even legally work here. Dad’s work did something with the paperwork or something because I am still in high school. I literally can’t work, even if I wanted to.”

“I know. That makes no sense. Could tell him to send you home really.” He said, jokingly. There was a skepticalness to his tone that seemed to indicate he was nervous for my answer.

“What? No. I have finally finished settling in and have begun to think of Evergreen County as my second home. Alberta will always be my home, but that doesn’t mean I want to move back. I still don’t understand your reluctance for universal healthcare but that’s fine. Technically it hasn’t been long enough to be removed from Alberta Healthcare, but I’m not about to go to the trouble of going all the way home to deal with something that can be dealt with here. Dad haggled and made them give him really good insurance to move here and give up the free healthcare.”

“Okay good. Because we like you and don’t want you to leave.”

We talked about some school stuff for a while before I noticed him start to seem a little restless. I knew about his addiction issues and we talked about it often. “Hey, you still with me Justin?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Sorry what were we talking about?”

“Math test, but that’s not important. How are you doing right now?” I asked, subtly referencing the possible cause of his restlessness.

He sighed before answering, “I’m doing okay I guess.”

“Do you want to talk about it? We can go for a walk if you’re not comfortable talking here.”

After a moment he nodded. I got up and went to order us two coffees to go while he waited, trying to organize his thoughts.

“You ready to go?”

“Yeah, let’s go. Your usual?”

I rolled my eyes at him. Obviously.

We left the shop and wandered around a bit before he broke the silence. “It’s just harder than I expected it to be. Even with going to meetings, it’s hard to manage sometimes.”

“I get it. Have you talked to your sponsor at all?”

“I call him every afternoon to check in but that doesn’t mean it’s not hard. And I want to talk to Jess about it, but I don’t want to scare her or push her away. And I want to talk to mom and dad about it but I don’t want them to be mad or….”

“Or what Justin?”

“Or kick me out or something? I don’t know.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t happen, but I hear you and I understand what you mean.” We sat on a park bench and people watched for a while. “You should tell Jess. Trust me when I tell you she is probably going to figure something out sooner or later.”

He looked at me in surprise, “You…?”

“No, not me. My ex-boyfriend was a prescription drug addict. Percocet was his drug of choice. He was in quasi-recovery, still drank and smoked weed so not actually trying stay sober, when we started dating. It wasn’t pills though so I wasn’t going to push the issue. But as time went on, he started using again and tried to hide it from me. It wasn’t that hard to figure it out. Things got… bad towards the end. Not that you would ever… just. I knew.”

“Oh. I-I didn’t know. Are you like, okay?”

“Yeah. It wasn’t that bad. If we stayed together it would have been worse, but thankfully we ended up breaking up after he went on a bender and I said enough was enough. But we aren’t talking about me, we are talking about you.”

“Do you think she would understand?”

“I think so. It might be hard at first, but I think she will. And she needs to hear it from you, not figure it out on her own like I did or be told by someone else. That will make it easier.”

“And my parents?”

“If you want, I can go with you to talk to them.”

“I think that would be good, yeah.”

“What do you want to do Justin?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what do you need? Do you need to go to more meetings? Do you need someone to take you to meetings? Do you need to consider going to rehab? What do you need?”

“I don’t know. I know I need help. I just don’t know where to start. Why?”

“Because I want to help you. You’re my friend. And your parents will ask, so maybe thinking about it before you talk to them would be helpful. If not though, I understand. And if you need anything, just call me. Okay? Day or night.”

“Okay, I will. Thanks Becca.”

We chatted randomly for a while again before calling it a night and parting ways.

The next day went smoothly as well. At least until lunch that is. The guys were goofing off as usual and since Scott had seemed to quell his suspicions at least for now, Monty and I didn’t have to walk on eggshells as much around him anymore. Bailey called me about halfway through lunch. It wasn’t unusual for him to call me in the middle of the day, given he had a spare after lunch, but he didn’t usually call and then text and then call again. Odd. I hope everything is okay….

“Someone’s popular? Hot date you forgot about tonight Becca?” Garrison joked. I wasn’t looking at Monty but I knew his eye twitched ever so slightly, as it did whenever someone made a comment like that.

“Uh, yeah sure. Whatever Garrison.” I said, distracted as my phone began to ring again. Something is going on. I answered it at the table rude I know, but I don’t think a bunch of teenage boys care much about table etiquette. “Hey Bailey, what’s up?” I asked.

“Hey so I didn’t want to get involved or get you involved since you aren’t here to defend yourself, but I feel like you need to know. And it’s my problem because you’re my best friend.”

“Need to know what?” I put my hand up to quiet the boys down a bit.

“James has been… saying stuff. About you. And your relationship.”

“Uh okay? Why is that a problem?”

“Because of what he has been saying and what it involves regarding your relationship.”

“What has he been saying Bailey?” I felt my cheeks begin to warm and Monty and Zach’s eyes on me.

“He’s been telling our friends uh… intimate details about your erm… private relationship.”

I laughed in disbelief. That little prick. I took a deep breath to centre myself, though it did little to quell my growing anger. The table grew silent as I started to vibrate, “well Bailey. You tell James that if he keeps running his damn mouth, I will get on the next plane home, find him, and shove my foot so far up his ass he will taste it.” I heard Bryce let out a laugh and glared at him threateningly.

“Okay. Is it wrong that I would pay to watch that? Because that would be great.”

“Bailey.”

“Sorry, just trying to break the tension.”

“Has the little slime ball been saying anything else?”

“I mean, he complains about the end of your relationship, which I don’t like but that’s not unusual.”

“Remind him that I kept my mouth shut about a lot of shit he did, to protect him. And remind him about the little agreement we made when we broke up. I may not live there anymore, but my phone plan has international calling and I am on very good terms with the school resource officer.”

“What agreement Rebecca?”

“The agreement that keeps his dumb ass out of jail for various things that I cannot talk about right now. And certainly not with you.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t have money to bail you out of jail and the exchange rate is terrible right now. That’s why.”

“O-okay then. Talk later?”

“Yeah, I might call tonight but if not, later this week. Depends on my plans for the evening.” I heard a bell on the other end of the line.

“Gotta run, love you Becky.”

“Love you too Bear.”

When I looked up, the table was staring at me, slack jawed. Scott looked the least surprised out of the group, considering he had a little more insight than everyone else regarding my last relationship. “What?”

“What the fuck was that?” Matt asked.

“My ex was talking about shit he shouldn’t have been talking about.”

“Okay we got that much but… what was that?” Zach asked.

“You’re so small. How can such a small person have that kind of anger in them?” Garrison added.

“Could have something to do with people not watching where the hell they walk and stepping on me, or it could have something to do with my tolerance for bullshit getting lower and lower the older I get.”

“But you hang out with us. So, I don’t see how that is possible? That was kind of hot though.” Scott asked.

“No offence, but I’ve met second graders who exude more bullshit than you guys do all put together. Well if I knew that’s all it would take to turn you on Scott, I would have told Bailey to call me during lunch a long time ago.”

“Okay, that’s fair. Hurtful but fair. What can I say, it’s the simple things. Are you going to eat your apple?”

“Depends Scotty. Are you going to take it anyway?”

“I plead the fifth.”

“Uh huh. Since I don’t get a choice anymore, knock yourself out.” I chucked my apple at him, half hoping he would miss. He never did.

Zach and Monty shared a look. Still haven’t grasped subtlety yet I see. “Do you want my carrot sticks Monty? I’m not very hungry.”

“Why?”

“Big breakfast.”

“Right. Sure, not one to say no to free food. Even if they are someone’s leftovers.”

“They aren’t leftovers you meatball. I cut them this morning. I had green beans last night.”

“Do you eat other vegetables Becks?” Monty asked, teasingly, taking a bite of the stick.

“Dude, chew your fucking food.” Bryce chided.

“Why? What is this? Interrogate Rebecca day or something? Eat your damn carrot sticks.”

There was a beat of silence, where the boys sat with perplexed looks on their faces. Zach, bless him, jumped in with some game related question that I tuned out as it went over my head. I’m dating a sports player. I never said I understood any of it. The heat seemed to be off of us again, though I could feel Scott glancing my way every now and then while I tried to brush up on some geometry before math class.

I had full intentions to lessen Scott’s once again raised suspicions, so instead of waiting for Montgomery a minute or two after the lunch bell as usual, I merely waived goodbye to my friends and ran to math. I was the first one there so I pulled out the book I was reading between classes.

“Good book?” Cyrus asked, startling me as he sat down.

“God! You scared me. Yeah, I have read it a few times though.”

“Cool. Did you want to come hang out tonight? Mack is going to Chad’s place to talk boys or something.”

“Maybe, I’ll have to check my schedule.”

“Dad is making baked ziti for dinner. You can have a corner piece.” He bribed.

“A corner piece of ziti you say? Well in that case, my schedule is clear as day.”

“It’s a plan.”

Mr. Daniels started class a few minutes later. Will geometry ever get easier?

I met Cyrus at my locker after school and yelled a goodbye to my friends, who were having an animated discussion about who would in a fight, someone I had never heard of or some other guy I’ve never heard of. There was a chorus of ‘byes’ and grunts of acknowledgement. We parted ways and met again at his house.

“Hey Andrew.” I greeted his dad.

“Hey kids. How was school?”

“It was school dad. The establishment and crap.”

“I see you had a good day Cyrus.”

“At Liberty? Sure.”

“I had a pretty good day. I told my friend at home to tell my ex where he can stick his opinion. Do you need help with anything?”

“No, that’s okay thanks though Becca.”

“Oh this I need to hear.” Cyrus said, grabbing a Coke from the fridge.

“Pass me a Diet and I’ll tell you.” After opening my drink, I told the father and son the story of the lunch phone call.

His dad raised his brow and muttered something about punk ass little shits who don’t know their cocks from their feet.

“That is awesome dude. You should have told him to Facetime you when he told this James dickwad.”

“That would require me seeing the asshat’s stupid face. So no sadly.”

“Fair point. We are going to my room to do some homework Dad. Call when dinner is ready? I bribed her with a corner piece so save one for her.”

“For sure kids. Have fun.”

With that, we ran off to his room, but we didn’t work on the non-existent homework. Instead, we went through his records and Spotify account and argued about which to play. “Just go to a radio if it’s going to be an issue Cyrus.”

“No no. You’re my guest, you choose.”

“I already chose and you said no.”

“Fine. Defy it is. You’re lucky I like you.”

“Mhmm. Just play the damn album Cy.”

He laughed as he hit play and the sounds of Of Mice & Men filled the room.

“You better not have been lying about the corner piece man.”

“Lie to you about dad’s cooking? I would never.”

“Right. And I’m the Queen of England.”

We joked around for a while before dinner. Andrew called us down later and as promised, I had my crispy corner slice of ziti.

“Thank God it’s Friday. I want this week to be over. Thank you for dinner again.”

“Everything okay Becca? It’s no problem.” Andrew asked.

“Yeah, it’s just been busy. Lots of assignments and stuff.” Too much work and not enough boyfriend time.

“Well you have the weekend to relax at least.” Cyrus pointed out, waving his fork.

“If you don’t stop that, you’ll poke your eye out one of these days. Are you going to the game next Saturday, Cyrus?” “Maybe. Not really my scene.”

“Oh come on, it’ll be fun. We can not care about the sport together. It’s high school. You only go once.”

“Fine, but you are buying me popcorn.”

“Deal.” I said and shook his hand.

Andrew made sure to send me home with leftovers and a standing invitation to come for dinner any time at the end of the night.

[fareweller]

Buffy The Vampire Slayer and coming to terms with my queerness

I grew up in a small town on Lake Michigan, raised by two ultra-religious parents who sent me to Lutheran school until, after much begging, they let me attend public high school. I’ve learned from various interactions mentioning my private religious school upbringing that people’s ideas of what that looks like isn’t consistent. For me, being raised in Lutheran school meant that in sixth grade my teacher wrote “Love homosexuals” on the board, dropped the chalk like a mic, then went on to say that although his gay neighbor makes him uncomfortable he loves him because that’s what God would want. Love the sinner not the sin. No one in the class agreed. At that time, my classmates’ ignorance bothered me. However, at 22 I can better understand the reasons they isolated me: I was an awkward queer goth kid who spent most of my spare time researching serial killers; I persuaded my parents to let me stop eating meat when I was just 10; when I was confirmed at age 12, I knew I didn’t believe in God, but I didn’t want my parents to tell me I was going to Hell. I was different and vocal about that Otherness. Throughout puberty, my only friends lived in Sunnydale, California. Buffy the Vampire Slayer  served as an escape, showing me a world outside of isolation.

The series came out in 1997, five years after the movie that inspired Joss Whedon to make a Warner Brothers spin off.  The growth of Buffy and her friends paralleled mine in many ways. Willow, one of Buffy’s closest companions and part of “The Scooby Gang,” a small group of people aware that their high school sat atop a literal HellMouth, was my first representation of a queer woman. Ever. It allowed me to escape the constant isolation I felt in class and at home.

Willow wasn’t able to address her queerness until college. Until she meets her first girlfriend, Tara. She comes out to Buffy in the episode “New Moon Rising.” After the return of Willow’s ex werewolf boyfriend, Oz, Buffy is excited for Willow because of the work Oz has put into becoming more of a man and less of a wolf. Willow’s not excited because she’s secretly started dating Tara, another witch at UC Sunnydale.

About 16 mins into the episode, Buffy and Willow have this awkward conversation:

WILLOW: It's complicated - because of Tara.

BUFFY: You mean Tara has a crush on Oz? No, not - Oh. Ohh.

“Are you freaked?” Willow asks.

“No. Absolutely no.”

From this point on, there’s never another moment of awkwardness surrounding Willow’s lesbianism. She’s normal and functioning. She’s accepted by her friends. As someone young, closeted and terrified of my identity I didn’t know this was possible.

Whedon hinted to Willow’s queerness throughout the series but it doesn’t, pun intended, come out until season four. The majority of these hints were saturated in darkness -- her doppleganger born of a wish gone wrong was queer. This hornier, darker version of Willow is everything she doesn’t want to accept about herself. I believe she doesn’t truly face this shadow self until the loss of the the very thing that sparked her beginning steps into queerness -- Tara.

“Dopplegangland” is the second time we’re introduced to Willow’s other dimensional self. At this point in the series Anya, who becomes a beloved member of the Scooby Gang, is a vengeance demon fallen from Hell’s grace trying to gain back her reputation as a Big Bad. She approaches regular Willow, who has just begun her journey into Wicca, to help with a spell that will return her demonic abilities. The necklace that allows Anya to be a demon was lost earlier in the series when a wish lead to another dimensional apocalypse. In this dimension, Willow is a vampire. The spell to return the necklace allows Willow’s shadow self to step into the current reality. In this episode, regular Willow is starting to doubt her identity. But it’s not her sexual identity. Instead, she doubts herself as someone who’s always reliable and studious. It’s here that she’s presented with the very antithesis to that self -- vampire Willow. 

As the episode ends, the Gang decides to send dark Willow back to her own dimension, rather than killing her. Dark Willow is finally dealt with when regular Willow loses Tara and must come to terms with the darkness inside herself.

“She messed up everything she touched. I don’t ever want to be like that.” Willow said. Unfortunately, in season six this becomes her reality.

Season six is broken into two parts, two Big Bads. The first is the Trio, a group of nerds dabbling in the Dark Arts run by the misogynistic Warren who wants to rule the world and defeat the Slayer. A man wanting to defeat a powerful woman to feel better about himself. 

The second is Dark Willow. Season’s end, Warren ends up misfiring on Buffy and shooting Tara through a window. Unable to deal with the loss, Willow goes Dark -- the full power of her dark self is unleashed by a man who hates women, who oversexualizes and objectifies them. She skins him alive. 

The only person who can bring her back is another Scooby, Xander, who reminds her of her humaness. She goes to Witch Rehab and deals with all of the things she never dealt with, all of the things that caused her and Tara to fight, all of the things that had been there the whole time she just hadn’t realized it until it got that bad.

In college, I ended up facing my own Dark Willow. I came out when I was 15 to everyone but my dad. At 18, I told him I was gay. When I got to college, I started dating guys along with girls and lost sight of the queer community. I was diagnosed with PTSD from childhood trauma when I was 20 years old. I was on the precipice of my Darkness when my friends, my own Scooby Gang, reminded me that I wasn’t alone. I rewatched Buffy when I was at my sickest. Willow’s strength reminds me that there will always be loss and pain but I am not alone. Even when I am, I can always return to Sunnydale.

[artemistheauthor]

A Little Red Rebel/Tales of The Scarlet Scorpion: Goals and outline

So I've decided to do this little thing to help me keep my motivation up for all my stories, and make sure I get some more of it out of my head.

So! A Little Red Rebel, also known as Crimson Chronicles, Chronicles of the Scarlet Scorpion, and Rebel Trio. I am aware I have to narrow down my titles eventually. Eventually is not today.

This story is about a Trio, (anyone surprised?) Crimson Wilson, Rosie Jones, and Nicole Cohen. I'm taking the cliche route of rich families and kids with superpowers. The only way to stop me is to come up with something better. I have not figured out their magic system or how they got their powers. I do know what their powers are.

I got the idea from a ML fanfiction (who is surprised? I read more ff than actual books) which was a lifeswap by Imthepunchlord. Marinette was a thief. That's literally what started this plot. Someone remind me to legit link the fic next time I'm on a computer.

Anyway. Rebel trio.

Alter egos are Captain K, Scarlet Scorpion, and Capricious. Not in that order. Captain K is intelligence, SS and Capri are who carry out their missions.

Now for the fun part. Plot!

The RT are not the normal 'maybe I'll be evil but actually nah' kids. They immediately hit selfish. How much can they get away with? What sort of chaos can they cause?

I hope you can in fact, imagine. It'll be a mess. Not sure exactly how, but I will figure it out. I'm currently planning a ten-comic arc. Medium may change, who knows. I really want to make a comic verse.

So using the 10c-arc, lets keep on. 1 is ofc gonna be the origins, how they got their powers and the forming of the team and yada. First few missions. 2, and 3 are going to be building and absolute chaos, while also showing family lives. Nicky has a good relationship with her dad, Crimson does not, Rosie is somewhere in the middle with making bad life choices specifically to spite her mom, but I haven't figured out anything for her dad. Also a lot of friendship because these girls may be on the wrong side of the law but they love each other very much and will fight tooth and nail.

4 is going to have them getting noticed and recruited by bigger supervillains. This is going to be important. They're kids, but they're really good at what they do, and that translates to bigger missions. The problem is that these three are gonna be the staple of rich who don't care what impact they have on others.

And big villians do stuff for effect. They have charts.

It's a slap in the face for the girls. Nicky is the only one who might have had any idea what impact they were having, and she's more dedicated to her friends than the greater good.

I haven't decided if they sabotage it or go with it, but either way the fallouts pretty bad. Actually, I just decided. They go through with it. More fallout that way.

That's when it really hits them. They've been hurting people. Nicky's dad is Military, Crimson's is old money, and Rosie's... look idk what Rosie is. Maybe her mom's a black widow. That would be a twist. I just don't know rn.

Anyway. Nicky. She's not the mc, but she's the deciding factor here. She runs the cons, really. Rosie follows because she's a thrill seeker and as previously mentioned, probably going to die early from petty self-abuse. (Also pen in that I have to find a way to address that because that's a really bad thing and probably actually exists and if I can help people at all I really want to). Crimson really just wants to get back at Mr. Wilson, but she has enough empathy to feel bad.

Next step, they either go for a plea deal or decide to do this the good ole Vigilante way of working around the law. Probably deal, because at this point they're way over their heads.

Look I'm doing half this outline as I go, and anyway by the time I'm done plotting it this could very well be a tv show. I've considered that. For like the next month there's a way to try to legit do that. That's beside the point. For now, comic outline because I too can be petty and rn I just want something done I can count as progress.

At this point we're still in issue four, right? So end four with introspection or them finally deciding on a plan and show the plan in action in 5. Or because that's a freaking rude cliffhanger, have five start with them finalizing a plan and going from there, and probably way more legal filler than most want.

Now I have excuses to move to 6. Because I can in fact do that, I'm the one writing this.

So 6 is going to be the preliminary fighting with the baddies, still pretending to be bad and all that. Spiessssssssss. Either 6 will end with them getting caught or 7 will start/be midpointed with it.

BIG BATTLE TIME!!

7 ends with them mostly winning and injuries. Because whump. You cannot stop me. Angst abounds. (Goodness I even talk like a fanfiction jockey)

8 is looking to actually be wrap up, so maybe we'll stop at 9 issues. 10 is a cleaner number though. Hmmmm. Anyways. 8 is clean up. Anyone who escaped last time gets caught, people get healed, I will probably make Rosie and Crimson talk to their parents. (As Nicky is the only one of them even near healthy, she doesn't have too, because she already has.)((I'm proud of one (1) gremlin))

9 then is going to be snapshots of recovery or rehab or whatever research says I'll have to send them through next. Probably jail. Either that or I have the second half of 8 be that, and 9 and 10 are both happy endings. Ish.

Until I actually write the thing, I'm gonna have problems with exact timelining.

Anyway. The first part that was actually written for this Future Franchise is in fact, future from this. It was Crimson and her fiancé wedding shopping. So ofc I have to tie that in. She marries a hero too. Because pinterest prompts do that.

Since I'm personally obligated to include that, at least half of 10 is going to be little future snapshots between the girls. It'll be adorable.

I also have to figure out what the girls will be doing as future jobs, so that'll play a part. Nicky, at least, will probably end up a techy communications person for the government, and maybe a counselor for those Scared Straight programs. Actually, Rosie will be the counselor. Rosie fits better. Crims can get herself a happy family with too many kids but really they're healthy and provided for so no one can stop her. (Found family is legit my trope, I dare anyone to try and stop me. If I ever end up with a story where there is not found family please assume I was killed and there's now an impostor).

Anyways. Yes. There's some version of an outline for ALRR. You're welcome. I'm welcome. That will hopefully help me write.

[waywardxson]

High Hopes

Who: Rory and Ale ( @serpenthart​ )

What: Early morning moments alone

When: Nov 18, Afternoon

Where: At Ale’s shop

Rory

Rory had been hesitant to send Grace to school but he knew that he couldn't keep her home forever. He dropped her off, trying to mask the pain he was still in as he kissed her cheek and watched her run inside the building. He waited outside for almost an hour before convincing himself to leave. He'd left strict instructions that no one but he, Dare, or Charlie could get her out of school. He'd change it again and add some more names again soon but until he was a Serpent for real, he wanted the list short. Driving back towards the trailer with a long day of doing nothing ahead of him, Rory decided to stop by the shop and get the oil changed. He stopped at the closest shop and walked in, knowing once he saw the guy that he was one of the Serpents. Rory was sure there would be a lot of hesitation and distrust around him right now but with Dare's protection on him, he didn't expect any trouble. Hopefully. "Hey," he greeted. "I uh.. do you have time for a quick oil change? My truck's out front."

Ale

Ale had been getting next to no sleep in the last couple of nights, mainly for attending the underground fight club the guys, and also girls at the gym had. It had been the perfect outlet to put himself some distance from everything and anything. He made the choice not to reach out for Eliana during her time in rehab, figuring she needed that time for herself to fix, or at least try to fix what was wrong. But the truth was that watching her die, literally, still came to haunt at night, so any time he could spend not sleeping was welcome. But what he couldn't do was lack his time at the shop, especially now with the whole improvment episode that had just happened. So that morning, like any other, he was going by his business when the sound of a car stopping at front caught his attention. Under any other circumstances, the presence of a Ghoulie at his shop would have caused much more than just a disagreement, but this guy in particular they were ordered not to touch, and Ale knew better than to break the rules. Even if he couldn't understand why would Darius want that man to be a part of the Serpents. "Whether I have time or not, it's my job, right?" he said, then he walked over to the car and popped the hood open.

Rory

There was a moment that Rory knew could have turned this a completely different direction. If the roles were reversed, Rory would have probably done what he was supposed to and fought the guy who walked up to him. But he was learning that the Serpents were a lot different than he'd expected or ever gave them credit for. He sent a half smile to Ale and then followed him over, leaning against the side of the old truck. The truth was, Rory usually did everything on his own, including his own repairs. But he figured he needed to make his face known to the people around here if he had any chance of them accepting him. He looked up and after several minutes, he said, "You can ask me, if you want. I mean, if you have questions about.. everything. You can ask."

Ale

Ale unplugged the oil pump and placed it on the ground, then he gave the engine a check to make sure everything else was working properly. He looked up when the other man said that and shrugged. "We're not really suppose to ask when Dare orders something. But I can guess that you must have some heavy info on you for him to make this happen."

Rory

Rory watched him work, knowing full well that Ale knew what he was doing, but needing to focus somewhere as they spoke. "You could say that." He motioned to his face, the product of Derek's rage there -- bruises from the punches, and him trying to choke him to death, the broke nose and other cuts. "I wasn't just born this pretty." It was strange, he thought. Rory hadn't tried to get along with anyone new in.. well, a very, very long time. "I'm sure most of you don't trust me but I'm hoping I can change that." He scratched the back of his neck. "I'm not really sure how to do that yet. For what it's worth, I'm not trying to play anyone, and I have no intention of going back to that giant bag of dicks nor telling him shit. I'm done with living like an animal. I want to do better, y'know? For my kid."

Ale

Ale could soon tell the truck didn't need anything need any other repair engine wise other than the oil change, so he got to work on that. He walked to where the spare cabinet was and got a new oil pump from it, algo getting the new hoses and connectors he needed and placed it all on top of the table. "I can see they fucked you up really good. Did Derek did that? He's an asshole. He hurt my best friend. He doesn't deserve to live." There was a time when such harsh words, but nowadays it was usual for him to be in that kind of violent mood. "You never fail the trust Dare has given you, that's how. If you do, I'll be first in line to beat the shit out of you." He grabbed the new oil he would put in later. "You have a kid then?"

Rory

Rory nodded at the question. "Yeah. After he kidnapped my daughter and tried to make me murder a family. Asshole is far too kind. He's a psychopath." Perking an eyebrow at the fact Derek hurt his friend, he asked, "You mean when Derek attacked Dare? Apparently he hit him when he was already fucked up." But Rory couldn't deny that Ale was right about Derek not deserving to live. The man nodded at the advice. "I won't. He told me a lot about the Serpents, and I've been learning the laws. I know you're all like a family so I won't fail yours either, if you decide i'm worth you giving your trust to." Then Rory almost physically lightened at the mention of his kid. "Mhm. My daughter, Grace. She's seven. She's really polite but there's a good chance she'll try and give you hand sanitizer every chance she gets. She's a little crazy about germs and keeping clean, just a heads up." Reaching into his pocket, like any good father, Rory found the picture he'd taken that morning and turned it towards Ale. "She decided she wanted to wear butterfly wings to school this morning."

Ale

Ale looked up at him in shock. "You murdered a family?" he asked, his eyes way beyond wide, and he was now thinking  why wasn't he in jail. Perhaps Darius had something to do with that. "He... No. I mean, yeah. He hurt Dare. But he also hurt someone else. It seems he gets off on choking people then. I really hope you mean that, man." He pulled out all the remains of dirty, old oil from the engine, then installed the new pump. He looked up and wiped his hand on the cloth that hung from the waistline of his pants and looked at the picture he showed him. "Cute kid. I'm Alejandro, by the way. I feel we haven't been properly introduced" he said  and extended his hand to him

Rory

Rory's back straightened so fast that a shock of pain went through his nerves and he tried to hide it. "No. No, no.. I didn't do it. He wanted me to but.. I couldn't. I helped them.. got the shit kicked out of me for it but I'd do it again. I'm not like him." He listened and nodded when Ale told him about his friend being choked as well. "I'm sorry about that. I hope your friend is okay." Throwing his hand out to shake Ale's, Rory felt a little bit like maybe he was making some small progress. He expected people to distrust him but he wanted to work through that. "Rory," he said. "We haven't, but you'll get the chance to beat the shit out of me soon enough." Dare had given him the out that he didn't have to go through that step but Rory was insistent. He wanted the Serpents to know he was with them, no matter what kind of pain he went through for it. "It's a nice place you got here. You own it or just work here?"

Ale

Ale felt quite the relief when the other man, Rory, clarified the facts for him. "Time will tell" he said when he asked about his friend, then he shook his hand and nodded. "Nice to meet you, man. And unless you give me a reason, that shouldn't happen." He kept on working on his truck, while he also kept the conversation going. "Thanks! Oh, I own it. I also happen to live in the apartment upstairs, so that makes the ride to work a lot easier." He chuckled.

Rory

"I mean for initiation," Rory said about him basically getting the shit kicked out of him like Dare said they would do. If all the other Serpents went through it, he was going to do it too. No shortcuts. "But I appreciate you not wanting to just voluntarily kick the shit out of me." Rory turned, leaning his back on the truck as Ale worked. "Oh, hell yeah that would definitely keep you out of traffic." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette. Popping it in his mouth, he looked up at the building to where he assumed the apartment was. Then, pulling the unlit cigarette out, he asked, "Is it okay if I smoke?"

Ale

Ale chuckled, now finally putting the new oil into the pump. "Oh, yeah... Maybe I'll just give you a couple of hits but not too hard. Gotta say what the boss says, right?" He chuckled, then looked at him and shook his head. "Actually, it's not. There are a lot of flammable things around here, so it's best if you don't. We don't want to get our asses blown up to fucking oblivion."

Rory

Smirking, Rory nodded, "Yeah, I guess. But I'll tell you like I told him. If I'm going through this whole process, I want to do it right. I have a lot of ground to make up, considering my background." He'd been kicked out of the North Side and didn't belong with the Ghoulies. Maybe part of him just wanted to find somewhere he fit in. The other part liked everything the Serpents stood for. "You make a good point. I don't think I'd like to get blow the fuck up to my resume." He popped the cigarette behind his ear and shoved his hands in his pockets. "So what about you? Any kids? Married?"

Ale

Ale nodded. "As hard as that sounds, you do. Dare doesn't just let anyone in, and they have to go through a test period, but once you're in, you're family. Trust me, it's felt that way to me all these years." He continued to do his work, then shrugged. "The answer is no. To both questions. Guess I haven't found the right one yet." He smiled at him. "What about Grace's mom? Is she in the picture?"

Rory

Rory was glad that Ale said that. He knew that it was the right things to do even though he'd been able to prove himself to Dare. There was still a nest of Serpents that he needed to prove himself to as well. "That's what he said, about family. I'd really like that." He'd like Grace to have it too, people who he knew wouldn't hurt her. Some of the Ghoulies he had been able to trust but others he kept her from. It didn't feel like that with the Serpents. He nodded at the answer, then shrugged, "All things in good time, I suppose. I.. guess I haven't either," he said, though his mind flashed to a beautiful smile that he felt like he lost. Looking up when Ale mentioned Grace's mom, Rory shook his head, "No. She, uh.. Well, I thought she might be around at first when we found out she was pregnant but.." He shrugged. "I guess it was just too much. She gave birth and had her parents give Grace to me. We haven't seen her since, so.. just been me and Gracie all these years."

Ale

Ale finished pouring in the third bottle of lubricant in and looked at him with a small frown on his face. "Oh... Sorry, man. That sucks. Can't imagine why a mom would do that. I want to say she must've had her reasons but... that doesn't make it right. Not to you, and much less for the kid. I bet all the single parent thing isn't easy, huh?" He popped the final bottle open and started pouring it in too.

Rory

“Sometimes I really wish I knew.” Rory shook his head but kept his eyes focused downward on his shoes. “Other times I kind of think it’s better I don’t. If she just changed her mind about me, about Grace, maybe it’s safer that I let myself think that instead of whatever the awful truth might be.” Like that she’d never cared about him at all. “Not often but I also lucked out with Grace. She’s more adult than I am sometimes. She already decided she wants to be a doctor like her doctor is when she was young. She likes reading and always reminds people about manners, eating vegetables, and washing their hands and face. She’s.. something else, man, but I wouldn’t trade her for the world.”

Ale

Ale could see the hint of sadness on Rory's face and voice when talking about Grace's mother, apparently a touchy subject. "Look man... Whatever that truth is, she's the one who's trash for walking out on you guys like that. Some things just happen for a reason, you know? Maybe you were just meant to meet someone better." He smiled and nodded. "Sounds like she already has the makings of a good doctor then. That's cool. Sounds like a great kid. You're really lucky." He finished putting the oil and closed the hood. "Oil done. You want me to check the breaks?"

Rory

"Thanks," Rory nodded, a thankful grin crossing his face. He was sure that he'd be talking about Grace's mother a little more than he had because the Serpents didn't know him and people would wonder. Dare had. So Rory kept it to the facts. He'd thought they would work it out together but then she changed her mind, wanted nothing to do with him or their kid, gave Grace up and they never spoke again. "Yeah, i'm sure they do. Remind me to keep my eye out for that someone better once we don't have to worry about what craziness Derek wants to get up to." He pushed off of the truck, "Next time. It'll give me an excuse to come back and talk some more. How much do I owe you?"

Ale

Ale chuckled and wiped his hands on the cloth before also wiping some sweat off his forehead. "Yeah, what the fuck is wrong with that guy? I feel bad for Aaron and all the fucked up shit he had to go through because of him." He shrugged. "Nah, it's cool. First one's on the house. Or you can buy me a beer some other time, how's that?

Rory

"Yeah, tell me about it. But worse than that, no one said a damn thing to Derek about it, or defending Aaron. Everyone kind of shut their damn mouths, me included." He shook his head remembering how everything went down. "I always knew I didn't fit in there but I think I didn't realize I couldn't stay until I saw how everyone turned on Aaron because they were told to. Everyone else calls the Ghoulies cannibals but I hadn't seen it happen until then." Shaking off his feeling, Rory smiled at Ale and nodded, "Thanks, man. I'll definitely buy the first round. It was good talking to you."

Ale

Ale looked down and shrugged. "If you ask me, I can see why everyone is afraid of him. He's a heartless bastard who won't stop at anything to get his way, even hurting the people of his own group or their families." He put his hand on Rory's shoulder. "You won't have to worry about that with us." He smiled and nodded. "Deal. It was good talking to you too, man."

Rory

“Yeah, I agree. Everyone has a right to be afraid of him.” But then he looked up when Ale pat his shoulder and he smiled. That’s what he was looking for. He knew that no one could promise complete safety for his daughter but the ones who took care of their own, the ones who came closest to giving her that safety, was the Serpents. “I’ll see you for the beer,” he said as he opened the truck door and started the vehicle. As he backed out, he actually felt successful. Maybe he did have a chance.

[harmonic-motion]

Superheroes

I read this, this morning.  First time I’ve ever read something like this, and I so relate to it, like someone else out there is like me.

Dear Dr. NerdLove:

Just want to start out by saying I’m in therapy already and also on medication. I’ve always wanted to be a superhero. But for most of my life, going back to my childhood, I’ve imagined a superhero in my head and created complex plots for her to live through. I know I’m not her. I know it’s not real. I also know that there are apparently other people that do this, and they have termed it maladaptive daydreaming. I haven’t really explored this on the internet because I haven’t seen any solutions, mostly just people sharing their experiences.

The thing is, my superhero persona has basically the same problems I have. She doesn’t have a lot of experience with dating. She can’t figure out how to eat right and doesn’t really like her own appearance, but people praise her because her body looks the way our society thinks women’s bodies are supposed to look. She is constantly upset about how injustice manifests itself in the world. She has serious problems with addiction and has, up until recently, been really in denial about it. She had a really violent childhood and, well, her solution for dealing with her dad was more extreme than mine. She has a lot of trauma and trust issues.

Is it weird to create a superhero persona in your mind who has the fighting skills of some kind of Selene/Buffy/Black Widow/Sara Lance hybrid and then send her to rehab multiple times?

The key differences between me and her are that she saves the world a lot and has really close friendships. I realize the close friendship thing is actually achievable, and I’m actually going back to school right now to be in the medical field, so saving people is also something that I could potentially be doing. Even if it’s just one person at a time.

The problem is that I think this coping mechanism, or whatever it is, is really fucking weird. I feel like there are already so many negatives or things that would turn someone off dating me—I don’t want to add this. I could say, logically, yeah, you grew up in a scary situation and you wanted to escape and this is what your brain decided to do! But it’s not working for me anymore. I want to experience real relationships. I think this is one of the reasons I’ve held myself back in the past.

I don’t need to go out into the real world and experience rejection when I have this person in my head who has most of the same problems as me, and people love her anyways. People in this world that’s in my head actually celebrate it when she’s vulnerable, instead of turning away because she seems pathetic or crazy.

I feel like I know what I want: I want to stop doing this. Mostly because I feel like no one could ever accept this in someone they would want as a long-term partner. But I also feel like life is so shitty sometimes. Why do I need to take away something that helps me?

My Secret Identity

I’m not sure this is a problem, MSI… certainly not in the way you think it is. I mean, your internal superhero is someone who has the same problems you have but has the strength and the agency to rise above them, the courage to love and be loved and the heart to care about the people around her. You’ve decided that since nobody’s going to save you, you’re going to save yourself and the people around you.

That doesn’t sound like a bad thing at all. That sounds like life goals to me. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with dreaming about being loved and accepted by the people around you, any more than having a power fantasy that comes down to “EVERYBODY LIVES!”

And while you may not be able to develop superpowers, there’s literally no reason why you can’t be her, in your own way. Hell, you’ve already started taking steps in that direction with going back to school. That doesn’t strike me as being maladaptive; that strikes me as admirable and inspiring. That’s not crazy or weird at all. All she is doing is revealing to you the strength of heart and soul and will that you’ve always had inside of you and giving you the courage to make it real. As far as I’m concerned, that’s a good thing. And anyone who thinks that’s bad or too weird clearly doesn’t get you and isn’t right for you.

I don’t see why you need to take that away or stop doing it, especially if it’s been a help to you. Hell, I think the fact that it’s helping you and driving you forward is the most important part. And if it’s motivating you to make your life better then why the fuck should you give it up?

Instead, I think you should take Super You as your inspiration and find ways that you can learn to incorporate her in your life. Maybe it would help you to write out her adventures. Maybe you can bring them to life, as a blog, as a book or as a comic.

Or you can use that inspiration to unlock the courage you have within.

Give yourself permission to be her—brave enough to reach out, strong enough to let herself be loved, resilient enough to bounce back from all the trials and tribulations that you and she have faced. Hell, lean into the superhero idea and give yourself a secret word that you can say lets you become her when you need that extra strength and valor. Let her give you the courage to connect with people and build those relationships you’re looking for. Let her motivate you to make the world a better place, even if it’s in small ways.

You may have noticed that the world’s a fucked up place right now, MSI. The planet’s on fire, Nazis are marching in the streets and the world could use a little hope. It could use someone who wants to make things better in any way they can.

It could use a hero like you.

And if the first life that you and she save together is your own? So much the better.

Hero time starts now.

Good luck.

[lifeinahole27]

CS ff: “On the Two” (Chapter 2/9) (au)

Summary: He’s one bad trip from ending up in AA, and she’s one performance away from a solid job and moving closer to home. Their paths were unlikely to cross until Camp Hope brought them together. How and why they meet and intertwine is against the odds, and definitely against the rules, but will that really stand in their way? A Dirty Dancing inspired modern au.

Rating: E

Content Warnings: Borderline alcoholism, very brief mentions of past relationships, mentions of the loss of a limb - this fic is primarily tame but I’ll do my best to tag anything that might need tags.

Chapter Specific Warnings: Alcohol use & overconsumption, mentions of some PG-13 activities with other partners but that’s the extent!

A/N: SO. I decided that once a week was too slow. So I decided two chapters a week should be a good schedule! 

Catch it on FFN & Ao3! Or find the previous chapters here on Tumblr!

Chapter 1 |

He figured he’d wake up at an airport, with Liam rousing him as he parked the car and herded Killian into the terminal to make their way to whatever gate for whatever destination his brother picked. A quick nap was all he needed.

“Let me choose,” Liam had said. “It’ll be a surprise.”

It certainly is a surprise to lift his head when the car comes to a stop. He looks out the window, but instead of seeing long-term parking, he’s looking at trees. With a confused grumble, Killian lifts the sunglasses off his face and peers around, unable to focus on anything the signs say, or figure out where the bloody hell they might be. He wants to ask Liam where they are, but the sudden stop in motion means that his stomach and equilibrium are in disagreement, and before he can question anything, he’s throwing open the door to lose the rest of the liquor left in his stomach from his last night out on the town.

A woman walking a Pomeranian looks on aghast, but he only notices that once he’s straightening up. He makes eye contact briefly, grimacing as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He wonders if he should apologize or wave it off, but before he can do anything, Liam is nudging his arm and Killian turns to see the bottle of water he’s being offered.

The woman is forgotten, and Killian closes the door before adjusting his seat upright and accepting the water. “Thanks,” he croaks out, carefully twisting off the top with the bottle propped between his knees before lifting and just barely remembering to not chug it. “Where are we?”

“A rest stop. I need to use the facilities and figured some cold drinks would be nice. That’s the last bottle I brought on the road.”

“There are no rest stops on the way to the airport, so let’s try that again. Where are we?”

“Maine. Just crossed the border a bit ago, actually.”

“What, Logan wasn’t good enough for you? Thought you’d save a penny by driving to the middle of bloody nowhere and flying out of there? Please tell me the plane has an engine and isn’t powered by pedals.”

“We won’t be needing an airplane this time around, brother.”

At this news, Killian slips his sunglasses back on his face so he can scowl without squinting. “Please, do continue.”

“We’re about an hour from our destination. I thought we’d try something new.”

“What happened to that grand European adventure you proposed last week?” Killian interrupts, throwing his hand and prosthetic in the air in agitation. “What about visiting home and family and all that rubbish?”

“You honestly didn’t want to go visit Aunt Milly, did you?”

“No, but I did envision a night or two in my old stomping grounds. Couple good rounds in the pubs and such.”

“This will be much better, I think,” is what Liam ends up responding. There’s an underlying hint of ‘for you’ that he doesn’t say out loud but Killian still hears it. Suddenly, he’s thinking of some dry town or a rehab facility and it takes everything he has to not lose his temper out the door with his breakfast (okay, so there was no breakfast in there, but the point remains…)

“Well, go on then,” he finally responds. “What’s to be found in the bloody state of Maine?”

“It’s called Camp Hope.”

Killian groans – a theatrical sound that knows no boundaries – and resists the urge to crumple this half-full bottle in his hand. “Please don’t tell me you’re sending me off to some alcoholics’ dry camp.” It’s all his worst nightmares come to fruition.

“Nothing of the sort, actually. Just a place for adults to go and meet new people and learn new things.”

“Brilliant,” Killian deadpans. He pauses a moment, searching his memory for something. “Oh bloody hell, this is that damn pamphlet that was in my mail last week, isn’t it?” Liam just chuckles while he slides further into his seat to endure the rest of the drive. He hopes above all hopes that the flask of rum he packed in his suitcase will last the whole length of time they’ll be at this stupid camp.

Summer camp for adults, he grumbles internally. Is he bloody mad?

But he can’t say anything out loud. What will he do, demand that Liam turns around? It’s a week or two, at most right? That’s how most camps usually last, if memory serves.

He manages to stay awake the rest of the trip, with no other objections from his stomach. It’s not until they pass through a small town – if you can even call it that – that he speaks up and asks about lunch.

Liam pulls up outside a ramshackle little diner, a small patio with tables dotting the front beyond the small wooden arbor over the walkway. Inside the diner, every table is filled, and there are luckily two spots left at the bar that they take up as they walk in. An older woman with white hair and an arched eyebrow takes their order, glancing through the spectacles balanced on her nose when she reads it back to them.

“Give us a couple minutes, dears. As you can see, we’re a little busy with the camp traffic passing through.”

They both nod, Liam in an amicable way and Killian’s short and jerky, as he realizes he needs something in his stomach to sop up the rest of his hangover. He excuses himself to the restrooms after two waters are placed in front of them, and he wanders the narrow back hallway to push through the door.

The odd thing about this place is that it still somehow feels homely without him ever having stepped foot inside before. It’s temporary comfort though, with the thought that he’ll be going to some kind of weird adult camp for a couple weeks. He’s picturing barren cabins, or worse, tents. He shudders at the thought of communal showers and a lack of temperature regulation.

When he returns, the food is already placed in front of his seat. “I thought she said to give it a couple minutes,” Killian idly comments as he settles back in and starts picking at the fries.

“Apparently, she was quite literal about that time length.” Liam’s happily chewing away, and Killian shrugs once before starting on his own food.

It turns out, small-town diner-types are delicious. It’s been a length of time he can’t even recall since he’s eaten something this genuinely home-cooked that wasn’t made by his brother. He hums in content as he finishes, managing to smile despite his earlier unhappiness at the circumstances he found himself in. Liam smiles back at him, motioning to the proprietress to inquire about desserts while Killian watches people filter in and out.

During the short time they’re in the diner, there’s a never-ending change of faces around them. People order, they eat, they pay, then they’re gone and someone else is taking their place. And the whole time, the woman who insists they just call her “Granny” keeps cool and calm. All of her workers do, too, from the wait staff to the kitchen, which they can see through the window where the food is placed before quickly being whisked to the appropriate guest. The big city establishments could learn a lot from this woman, in Killian’s opinion, and he tells her as much as they pay and stand to make their exit.

She smiles, then, her whole face taking on that grandmotherly appearance that Killian never knew he craved in his life, and her eyes crinkling. She tells them to have a good time and to stop back in on their way home, looking like she’s this close to patting or pinching both their cheeks when they finally say their farewells.

As they get back on their way towards camp, Killian even warms up to the idea a little bit. “Tell me more about what you’ll be subjecting me to, brother.”

“From the website, it looks like they have heaps of options. Pretty much everything we would’ve gotten to do if we’d ever gone to Camp Sherwood back home. I’m particularly looking forward to kayaking and hiking. Did you ever stop to think how city we’ve become since moving here?”

“No, not particularly. But I also tend to stick to three or four locations while you’re the one always wanting to try something new,” Killian remarks, even going so far as to throw up air quotes at the end and mimic his brother’s exuberance when he’s trying to badger Killian out of his solitude.

“You’re turning into a miser at such a young age,” Liam says, reaching over and trying his hardest to ruffle Killian’s hair without taking his eyes off the road. He’s able to easily swat away the affectionate move and chastises Liam to keep driving all in one go.

So it’s a miracle that he’s smiling when they pull up and Liam tells the parking attendant at the end of the drive that they’ll be booking for the summer pass. The poor thing looks startled when, from the passenger seat, Killian goes all high-pitched and screechy when he demands to know, and she would later quote, “what the bloody hell they’re going to do for a whole summer?”

“You’re the worst brother!”

“You agreed to the whole summer when it was Europe,” Liam says calmly, guiding the car through the lanes until he finds an open parking spot. “The scenery might not change as much but that doesn’t mean we can’t find new things to do the whole time we’re here. Live a little, Killian. And do it adventurously. You’ve a whole list of new things to try now.”

“Aye, tell me, how many of those can you do with one bloody hand?”

“Plenty,” Liam responds succinctly. “I’ve looked through the whole list, little brother. I wouldn’t bring you somewhere if you couldn’t do anything while we were here. You have to trust me on this.”

Killian grumbles in response. A lot. But he still gets out of the car at Liam’s prodding and slings his backpack over his shoulders. There’s a young man at their assistance in the blink of an eye, helping them load their bags onto a trailer attachment on the back of a golf cart. Liam immediately strikes up conversation with the attendant, who introduces himself as Henry.

“This is my first summer as a full-timer but I’ve been driving the carts for two years,” he admits, his voice just beyond that dip that happens after puberty, and Killian wonders if they should worry at all for their safety in the hands of what looks to be someone still in middle school. As if reading Killian’s thoughts (or perhaps the blatant expression on his face), the lad smiles and climbs behind the wheel. “I’m eighteen,” he informs them, motioning for Killian to slide onto the backseat as Liam is already occupying the front one.

With a move that he’s absolutely sure is for his benefit, the cart takes off at a fast clip, jerking Killian on the seat just once. He turns his head in time to see the absolutely innocent look on Henry’s face, but a shit-eating grin on Liam’s. A few curse words may be muttered under his breath, but mostly, he just settles back and shuts up.

A broad sign arches over a main entrance, which Killian doesn’t see until after they’ve gone under it. He twists in order to read it backwards, but Killian can still see the carved letters proudly proclaiming a welcome to Camp Hope, and he does his best to swallow his apprehensions again. They stop briefly in order for Liam to check them in for their accommodations. Killian joins him, handing over the required identification when asked and sliding back onto his seat when it’s clear he’s no longer needed.

Liam dumps the welcome bag in Killian’s lap upon returning, and he opens the tote long enough to extract one of the two keys and hand it up to Liam. There’s also what looks to be a map of the grounds, various schedules, and some free merchandise. He fishes out a bottle opener in muted glee, because if there’s a bottle opener, then surely there are bottles to be opened.

True to his word, Henry zips them across the camp with ease, passing several other carts on their way back from delivery. He points out various buildings that they’ll need, including an explanation of the color coordination on the map that Killian’s yet to look at. Yellow is the main lodge, according to the lad. Green buildings are for outdoor activities and related. Blue buildings are for indoor hobbies.

“Can I tie-dye a t-shirt while I’m here? Macramé?”

“If you’d really like, yeah,” Henry responds, completely nonplussed by Killian’s sarcasm. “There’s a crafts building that offers a variety of classes, like pottery and painting. And yeah, even things like tie-dyeing.” There’s another sly look from their driver, but Killian doesn’t respond, instead choosing to let him have that point.

The whole place is bigger than Killian would’ve figured; for one, it takes them much longer to get to the cabin designated as theirs and it’s only after they’ve passed a few other clusters of similar cabins. Henry informs them that the small, hotel-like sleeping center is located north by the parking lot, intended for those guests only staying a matter of days.

They’re in the unfortunately named Dwarf Camp, which seems to have eight cabins in almost a perfect circle.

“Snow couldn’t let go of the fairy tale theme when they reopened the place,” Henry explains, as if either of them had asked. “So these ones are all named after the dwarves. There’s a cluster of bigger cabins for groups that’s named after the fairies from Sleeping Beauty, and the camp next to yours is named after Ariel’s sisters.”

“Wait, if these are named after the dwarves, why are there eight?”

Henry raises an eyebrow at Killian, his lips quirking up in a smile that makes him look even younger but wiser than his years. “Haven’t you ever heard of the eighth dwarf?”

“You must be joking.”

Henry doesn’t respond to that, just slows to a stop outside a cabin at nearly the farthest end of the circle. Through the trees, Killian can see the water beyond, and it’s the first time he feels like Liam did something right. Looking at the placard above the door, however, he groans. At least they didn’t get Cabin Grumpy, he decides.

They’re waved away to unlock the door and head inside, which Killian takes no issue with. He does grab his backpack and the welcome tote, using his own key to unlock the surprisingly sturdy door and swinging it inward.

The common area of the cabin is more spacious than Killian would’ve expected, taking up the entire front of the building. Henry explains the specifics as he hauls in their bags, asking which room to take each suitcase as Killian glances around at the efficient use of space. There’s a kitchenette on one end, a small table with two chairs tucked against the front wall with the picture window above it, and a living room with a couch in front of a modest television set.

“Killian?” Liam’s voice jolts him out of his examination, and the look on his brother’s face tells him that wasn’t the first attempt to get his attention. “I asked if you wanted the room on the left or the right.”

Henry is still standing there, expectant look on his face and one large suitcase propped beneath each hand.

“Whichever has a better view of the water,” Killian says, and Henry jumps into action when Liam indicates which bag to take to fill that request.

With their bags delivered, Henry returns to the front of the cabin, pausing just inside the door. Liam hands him a bill for a tip, and Henry beams harder at him if it’s even possible. “I’m the junior concierge for this cluster, so if you need anything at all, my number is listed on the contact sheet over here.” With one last wave, he’s out the door and jogging back to the cart, presumably to aid with another check in.

The whole interior of the cabin is decorated in knotty pine, down to the furniture, but it all speaks of age. Everything has a fine sheen of remodel on it, but the whole structure seems to be much older than Killian would have originally wagered.

At the clearing of Liam’s throat, Killian turns again to see his brother standing in the kitchen area, holding the cabinet open and pointing inside. “See? I even asked for them to stock a few specialties for us.”

Peering in, Killian barks out a laugh. There are two bottles inside (amongst a few other things he’ll inspect later): one is a bottle of his favorite rum, and the other is Liam’s whiskey of choice.

“I suppose that comes close to answering if this place has a bar or not,” Killian says as he gestures to the bottles. “Go on, then. Let’s give it a proper toast.”

Obliging, Liam pulls two glasses out of another cabinet, pouring a small (so small) measure into each one before bringing them over to the table.

“To a summer of discovery,” Liam says, clinking his glass against Killian’s.

“Aye, or something like that.” It’s not the most rousing toast he’s ever heard, or given, but it does the trick in a pinch and they sip instead of take them as shots. It’s early, and while Killian normally has no qualms about drinking at any time of day, let alone in the afternoon, he also knows he’ll want to unpack and change and give his brother the illusion that he’s not as much of a fall-down drunk as he used to be.

As it turns out, the first thing Killian does upon his arrival at Camp Hope is take a nap. The bed, while not as big as the one he has at home, is soft and inviting. The cabin is still cool enough that he only has the fan on and the windows open, with the faint sounds of water moving just beyond the trees, and it all combines with the hangover and travel experience to serve as the perfect lullaby.

Liam’s rustling in his own room and the living room is what finally brings him back to awareness, and just in time for his brother to push open the door the rest of the way and smile brightly at him.

“Good! You’re awake. Dinner will be served in the main lodge starting in half an hour. Shall we get cleaned up and see what the rest of this home away from home has to offer us?”

“We don’t have to eat every meal with total strangers, do we?”

“Of course not. That’s why we have our own kitchenette. But unless you’ve packed a whole meal’s worth of groceries in your bag, we do need to eat tonight.”

Amidst a little more grumbling, Killian follows by example and goes to one of the shirts he managed to hang. Navy blue, minimum wrinkles, button down for dressy, yet casual, just in case – he decides it’s a good choice and only goes to shut the door as he shucks off what he wore in the car and changes into something a little less rumpled. He saves the shirt for last, going instead to the washroom after Liam is done in order to splash his face with water and brush his teeth and hair.

Dinner is noisy; that’s the only way Killian can think to describe it. There are droves of people milling about the main lodge, all huddled around the host’s station waiting to be seated. He manages to keep it together through the wait for their table, and even when he keeps getting jostled by people passing by.

He holds steady all the way until they’re back in their cabin for the night, not even remembering what he ate, only that he did, before closing himself away in his room and drinking from his flask until its empty. Luckily, he’d wished Liam a goodnight when they walked in, making it clear he was done socializing for the evening. He could go out and get the bottle in the kitchen, but that’s too much effort. This will do for tonight.

There were too many people – questioning eyes, loud voices, unfamiliar faces – and it all compounded into an anxiety Killian didn’t know he had. The habits he sticks to at home are filled with strangers, as well, but at least there are always less of them. It’s always on his terms. This… this is something he hasn’t dealt with in a long time.

He falls asleep to the muted sound of the water trying its best to soothe him, even if he’s still wondering how he’ll make it a whole summer at this hellish place.

The next day begins bright and early, with Liam trying to rouse him to go to breakfast.

“Just grab something for me on your way out?” He puts on an expression just a little helpless, a little pouty, and Liam readily agrees.

Somehow, from that moment onward, he’s able to avoid what he views as the worst of the camping experience. While Liam gives him daily run-downs of the activities and lessons going on around the camp grounds for the day, Killian loses himself further and further into the bottle (plus a couple more he manages to get his hands on) in the kitchen cabinet.

It works out well; Liam keeps himself busy all hours of the day with one thing to the next and Killian keeps himself drunk or close to it as much as he can.

After a week, he manages to find a system and a schedule to stick to in order for Liam to remain happy with his absence. Killian notices that if he cleans and otherwise keeps the place tidy, Liam doesn’t even try to get him to participate. And Killian is always attempting to keep the pantry stocked, but going to the market request is almost worse than going to the main lodge, in his opinion.

It’s located directly next to the building and no one ever seems to move with urgency from the large board with all the numbers to write down on the order sheet. He just wants to write his list, submit it to the attendant inside the kiosk, and leave, but it usually takes him twice as long as he wants it to. On this particular trip, he accidentally tramples the back of someone’s heel. He barely manages to avoid getting hit by a long braid of blonde hair belonging to that heel, ducking and offering a hurried apology as he hastens to the other side.

“So many bloody people,” he mutters under his breath, just doing his best to find a place to prop up and mark his items off so he won’t have to do this again for another couple days.

He just barely manages to avoid that same blonde after he hands in his slip, side-stepping and almost knocking himself off balance in a Hail Mary move to avoid running into the woman again. He glances up for just a moment, another apology dying on his lips as he sees her face, her eyes, that one skeptical eyebrow, the tempting upward tilt of her lips where there’s definitely the hidden kiss of Peter Pan lore.

Because he turns so fully to see her, Killian slams directly into the side of the lodge. With a curse, and with his embarrassment coloring all the way up to the tips of his ears, he leaves as quickly as he can and hopes to never see the lass again.

-x-

Normally, when Emma gets to camp, her lessons go one of two ways, with some exceptions.

Either the guests start off as shit dancers and get better once everyone gets into the swing of things, or it starts out okay but dips rapidly as everyone tries to get their shit together. Sometimes, rarely, things start off great and stay great.

This year defies all previous experiences at camp, so far. Things start as shit and don’t get better. No one gets their shit together. Her toes are bruised and just below a point of bleeding, and will actually bleed if these guys don’t stop staring at her tits long enough to learn the dance steps she’s trying to teach them. Her left ankle is still healing from where some guy caught the back of it the week before, which isn’t helping.

Okay, it’s not all bad. The staff rec lodge parties are what get her through each week. Although David and Snow would largely frown upon her actions, she’s snuck into the storage closet two weeks in a row to neck like a teenager with two new staff members. There’s no actual rule about fraternization with other staff members (mostly because her brother and sister-in-law are realists even in the face of their never-ending optimism); guests are strictly off limits but as long as it’s not on camp time and they aren’t in the middle of the Main Lodge, the owners pretend like they don’t have a bunch of horny, overly hormonal adults working for them for a whole summer.

So while everything else during the day can currently go to hell, this is what she has to look forward to at the moment.

It’s different now at twenty-eight than it was when she was a junior counselor. She only fools around with the ones that get her rhythm, and she makes sure they don’t work anywhere near the dance studio. She doesn’t even know their names – she finds the less she knows about somebody the better it is. Knowing more is kind of like naming a wild animal: she doesn’t want to get attached.

They all share responsibility for closing up the rec lodge; this is Emma’s week to be the adult, so after making sure the lodge is cleaned and locked up, Emma begins her short trek back to her cabin. The living arrangements have been the best part of camp, so far. While both of her possible partners have asked to come back to her cabin to finish off the evenings, she’s declined both of them. This is one bed she wants to herself, and no staff debauchery is going to change that.

She’s just about to make the turn up the path to her cabin when she spots a shoe on the path. People losing shoes is a real thing that happens all the time around here, but that’s not what stops her. This particular shoe is still attached to someone. In a rush, Emma’s by the side of who she assumes is a camper.

Oh shit, is her first thought, followed by why didn’t I take that damn first aid class with Ruby last month? But all it takes is a quick scan to see he’s breathing, he’s not visibly bleeding, and if she gets just an inch closer she’ll be able to practically inhale the rum he’s all but soaked it. The smell of liquor wafts off him like he dabbed it on as cologne.

“Hey buddy, you okay?” Emma chances to ask. If he’s injured and she can’t see it, she’ll have to go to the on-call medic and she really doesn’t feel like dealing with Victor right now. She gently prods the camper’s arm, poking a finger into his bicep. She does another visual sweep, this time for her own records instead of trying to find signs of injury or life.

He looks a mess, sprawled in the mulchy underbrush just to the side of the path. His clothes look a little wrinkled, his hair is just a touch past disheveled, and his jaw is slack and open as he emits a loud, saw-like snore.

“Oh, come on,” Emma mutters, digging her finger in a little harder this time. “Hey, get up!” One, two, three more jabs using her whole hand to shove his arm this time, and then he’s jolting. The snore cuts off and his eyes blink open, wide and wild and confused with too much alcohol. His gaze barely flits across her before he’s looking back up at the trees – his expression changes to one of disgust after he sees those, for some reason.

“Bloody hell, I’d hoped it was all still just a nightmare. Stupid arse brother of mine, stupid summer camp for adults,” he opens his mouth to damn something else of his experiences but seems to remember he’s not alone. He focuses on her as much as he can, going so far as to close one eye. “Aye, but you’re quite real, aren’t you?”

She can’t help it. She bursts out laughing. Through her fits of giggles, she manages to spit out that he looks like a pirate. “We could give you a proper eye patch and a hook and you’d fit the title perf- oh, fuck, I’m so sorry!” It’s only as he struggles to sit up during her amusement that she catches the fact that he only has one hand, the left one catching the stray lights from the safety lamps along the pathway. Her eyes go wide, and she looks at his face to gauge how lawsuit-y in trouble she is, but all that greets her is vague confusion.

“Is the pirate joke because of the hand or the rum?”

“Actually, it was because of the way you were talking and because you were squinting at me. And yeah, also the rum. I didn’t even realize the hand thing until you sat up.”

He looks down at his own false hand, now propped in his lap, still with one eye closed. “Huh. All right.”

“Okay, buddy. We need to get you back to your cabin or room, whatever.”

He makes a sound of aggravation, even as Emma moves to help him stand. “Back to that bloody cabin and my brother snoring through the paper-thin walls.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re hammered enough that you won’t even notice it once you hit that bed, pal.”

“Killian.”

“What the hell is a Killian?”

“I am a Killian,” he says with a dramatic finger jab to his own chest. Emma catches that hand and pulls, trying her best to balance out when he stands and tilts forward. They almost end up back on the ground but she steadies him at the last second.

“Nice to meet you, Killian. Now which way do I go?”

“It’s only polite to give your name in return, love.” Even though she tries to pull him towards the cabins, he digs his heels in, now surprisingly steady in the face of his stubbornness.

She grinds her teeth, wanting nothing more than to be in her own bed. Her first lesson is scheduled for 10am and it’s close to 1am at this point. She can see those hours subtracting as she stands there so she gives in easier than she normally would. “Emma. Emma Swan.”

“Swan. Seems rather fitting for someone so feisty and graceful, from what little I’ve seen.” He smiles, and his eyes clear a little, and Emma has to hold her breath and count to ten because holy shit he’s gorgeous when he looks like that. It helps that the lights catch his eyes just the right way and she’s enchanted by the blue, and with the way his lips quirk up so he’s smirking at her, and the way his eyebrow arches as if it’s moving independently from the rest of his expression.

Her mouth opens to respond, but that’s the exact moment that her new friend Killian lurches forward and throws up. In a perfect world, it wouldn’t have happened at all, but in her perfect world, it could’ve at least gone off to the side.

Nope. All the way down her front. All the way. Her only thought that rises above the grossed-out aspect is that thank god she didn’t just get done performing, because if this had been a dance costume, no one would’ve convinced her the murder wasn’t justified.

“Cabin Bashful,” he grumbles out meekly, barely able to make eye contact. “I’m terribly sorry, lass.”

It’s as they begin the very long, very awkward walk back to Cabin Bashful that Emma realizes that he’s the guy that she ran into in the grocery kiosk last week. When she ran into him there – or rather, when he stomped on her heel and then slunk away as quickly as possible – he was hunched in a way that she’s not used to seeing at the camp. The guests are usually here for a break, so most (if not all) of the campers she’s met in the last so many years, have all been happy. Pleasant, at the very least. So that’s two strikes against him in Emma’s book.

Once she makes sure he’s safely back in his cabin, Emma hastens back to her own and immediately strips down. The clothes and shoes all go in a bag to be washed in Storybrooke the next day. She rushes through her shower, brushing her hair and letting it fall loose to dry while she sleeps. It’ll be a mess, but it would’ve happened anyway as the humidity keeps ramping up with each new day.

And she was right; by the end of her early lesson with a man hoping to impress his girlfriend back home, Emma’s hair is poofing out around her head. The majority of it is balled up in a bun but she feels like she has to look as frazzled as she feels.

She relinquishes the studio to Tink after her lesson, happy to get back to her cabin and wash up again. It’s not that it’s too hot yet – this is June in Maine, not Georgia, after all – but it’s still her favorite part of the day to shower off the sweat and change into clothes that don’t expect a workout. With a scrunch of her nose, Emma looks at the bag of clothes from last night and wonders if Ruby has anything to go to town. She wants to visit Granny and check their studio email account, anyway, so she might as well make a trip of it.

The staff lodges are swarming with activity, with various leaders and volunteers going in and out of the row of connected cabins. Ruby is sharing a cabin with a hiking pro, Mulan, and the door is wide open when Emma walks up the three steps that lead to the door.

“Knock, knock!” Emma calls as she walks up, smiling when the sight of Ruby sprawled on her bed greets her. Her nose is buried in a book, something Emma is used to seeing on calm days with Ruby.

“Hey, stranger! Nice moves last night!”

“I do my best,” she says, preening just a touch. Ruby snickers while she sits up, throwing her book on her nightstand. “Where’s Mulan?”

“Beginner hike today. She’ll be back in a couple hours. I’m going with her on one of the intermediate hikes next week. Already broke in my new boots and everything!”

“You certainly seem to be getting into the camper spirit this year.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t realize how much I needed a break from dancing and waitressing until I got here. So, what’s up? What brings you up the hill to my cozy abode?”

“Laundry run. Had a drunk guest throw up all over me last night.”

She’s sure Ruby doesn’t mean to laugh so hard or so loud, but Emma just sighs and takes it. “Oh, that would’ve been hilarious. I mean,” she pauses, trying to look apologetic, “awful. Must’ve been awful.” She just barely manages to hide her grin as she gets up and starts collecting a small sack of laundry. “Do you have any lessons for the rest of the day?”

“Not until after dinner. So I’m going to the laundromat, maybe eat lunch in town while I check email.”

“Bring me back a peach muffin,” Ruby instructs, handing over her laundry bag and a handful of quarters.

The drive into town is peaceful, and Emma makes sure to roll the windows down before she gets going so she can feel the wind whipping through the cab of her car. Also to make sure the bag of clothes in the backseat doesn’t smell up the interior.

Once the washer load is going and she’s said a prayer to the shoe gods that her slip-ons will survive, Emma heads to Granny’s with her computer. Halfway through her grilled cheese sandwich, Emma finds an email that she definitely was not expecting.

The sender is one Regina Mills, an old associate from Boston who moved to Portland, Maine a few years ago to open her own high-end hotel. The subject? Hiring potential full-time entertainment.

Emma scans the details that Regina has sent her way, talking about an audition period of sorts. There’s a line of events that she’s holding for the grand opening of the Mills Regency and each one will act as an audition of sorts. Emma and Ruby have been invited to participate, and a preliminary date and time are included in the message. It’s still a month away, enough time that they can schedule in some practices in the evenings when lessons are over for the day.

Before she even leaves town (muffins in hand for Ruby and a bag of food for David and Snow) Emma is already running through routines they could potentially do, what costumes they brought with them, and her mind is whirling.

She’s bubbling over to share the news when she gets back, but Ruby is either in the studio with a lesson or out on an adventure. Either way, she leaves the muffins and clean laundry in her friend’s cabin and practically bounces off to hers. After dropping off her own laundry (thankfully her shoes didn’t get ruined in the dryer), Emma heads off to the Nolan cabin to drop off their food from Granny.

Snow is busy at her desk when Emma walks in, and she holds up one slender finger to have Emma wait while she enters some number or another on the spreadsheet open on her computer. Once she’s hit the save button, she’s out of her chair and coming over to embrace Emma tightly before taking the bag of food from her.

“How’s it going? Have you had a lot of lessons so far?”

“You have my numbers on that spreadsheet, Snow. You already know I’m usually swamped during my available lesson times,” Emma says, a wry grin crossing her lips as her sister-in-law starts unpacking the containers and sorting them before sliding them into the fridge. Emma is actually surprised there aren’t labels for which day of the week each item should be consumed by on the clean shelves inside.

Snow is fastidious, at best, and anal retentive at her worst. Her summer may be filled with camping adults but the other months are taken up by being, very aptly, a school teacher. She has color coded files for everything, and the disposition of her namesake.

“Yeah, well, I like to hear it from the source sometimes. How’s Ruby?”

“Throwing herself into every activity possible. You know, the usual summer-Ruby-schedule.”

“I swear, she gets more out of this camp than some of the campers,” Snow says. She pauses in her task, opening one of the containers and inhaling deeply, a look of pure bliss crossing her features. “Please tell me you’re going back to town soon because I’m going to need more of Granny’s potato salad before the week is up.”

Emma chuckles, nodding when Snow holds up the container in invitation. Soon there are two plates on the table, along with forks and napkins, and Snow is hurrying back again to deliver glasses of homemade blueberry lemonade. She just ate her own lunch, but this is a meal she won’t say no to.

She doesn’t mention the job opportunity; David and Snow have been trying to get her to move closer to home for ages now and she doesn’t want to get their hopes up, in case she and Ruby don’t get a spot. Moving to Portland would be beneficial in so many ways, not limited to their proximity to home and the living expenses. She would be willing to give up bail bonds chasing if she didn’t have to worry so much about making rent and utilities every month.

So instead, she and Snow talk about the summer that still stretches ahead of them and the upcoming school year. They talk about the junior concierge employees that just got hired in. One of them, Henry, has been chasing Emma’s heels since he was a child. He’s on his first summer as concierge to a full group of the cabins and she thinks she’ll have to check in on him soon, but Snow assures her he’s doing a great job already.

“I met one of his campers last night. I’ll have to tell Henry to keep an eye on him so the guy doesn’t drink himself to death.”

Snow’s eyebrows pinch downward in a worried look, one that Emma knows all too well. “Is this someone I should be concerned about?”

“No, no. Nothing scary or threatening. Just a guy that likes to drink a lot. I’ll give Henry a heads up, just in case.”

“If you say so,” Snow responds. “Just let me know if anything happens again?”

“Of course,” Emma promises, reaching across the table to squeeze her sister-in-law’s hand. “So, Henry is in charge of the dwarves, and Violet is junior to the Neptune sisters. Who’s in charge of the fairies?”

“Jefferson is still doing most of the work, but he’s training Grace so she can save up some money and add the experience to her college applications. She’s determined to be an RA in her dorms wherever she ends up.”

“Where did we get such an awesome group of people?” Emma wonders out loud as she stops herself from licking the plate clean.

“Storybrooke,” Snow answers, grinning as she pushes her empty plate away and folds her arms on the table in front of her. “What time is your next lesson?”

“Not until later. I lucked out and had an empty schedule during the afternoon so I could take some time in town today.”

“David should be done checking the zip line structures. Wanna take the cart and go get him? I know he’s been hoping to run into you.”

Opening a camp for adults in the age of the internet has been the greatest thing ever, in Emma’s opinion. Especially after someone suggested last summer that they open a GoFundMe to purchase a small fleet of golf carts to get around the campsite easier. From the Nolan cabin to the zip lines would normally take longer than she would want to devote, but using their personal cart means that less than ten minutes later has her all the way in the woods at the end stop of the lines.

David is probably prouder of these than he would be if he had a piano prodigy as his own kid. He’s also the All-American Boy Scout type, so he spends once a week inspecting every single inch of the cables and platforms, every piece of gear used on the lines, and all the netting that acts as a failsafe in case he somehow misses a detail and something were to go wrong.

Just as Emma is pulling up, David is walking towards the clearing, his smile widening and his face lighting up at the sight of her.

“Finally, I get visual proof that you’re real. I was starting to think you were a figment of my imagination again,” he says as soon as they’re close enough. After Emma hops out of the cart he repeats the tight hug he gave her before camp opened – the last time she was able to do more than just text him – and her heart squeezes at the way his hand comes up to cradle the back of her head. He’s not even her biological brother but sometimes the bond between them feels so close she forgets he’s not a blood relative. And that’s okay with her.

“I’ll give you a ride back to your cabin. Tell me all about your camp time so far.”

True to his word, David takes the wheel and steers them back the shorter distance to her cabin, listening to the few stories she’s amassed for this camp session so far. It’s barely even a month in, but she still has plenty to tell.

“The air conditioner in the studio needs checked again,” Emma remembers as they pull up in front of her cabin. She only really remembers because she can hear the cooling system rattling loudly from where they are, and it’s been on the fritz lately. It was fine when the summer began, after she cleaned the studio from the ceilings down, but now that it matters it seems the damn thing wants to quit.

“I’ll try to get Leroy out as soon as possible, but I think it’s time to buy a new unit to replace the original one. Maybe even try to work central air into the budget for next summer if we can stretch the life of that sad, little unit.”

Emma beams at the possibility. “You better mean that. The only thing this studio lacks compared to our space in Boston is the reliable cool air.”

“If all I need is good air conditioning to keep you in Maine, I’ll get right on it,” he says, letting the engine idle as he ruffles his hair. “I gotta get back. I gave my lunch to Henry today for being such a good apprentice at inspecting.”

“Go. Go to your wife and all the food from Granny’s you could ever ask for,” she says, hopping from the passenger seat and waving goodbye as he goes.

“Hey!” Just as David pulls away, Ruby’s voice is pulling Emma’s attention in the other direction. “What’s this message you left about a job?”

“Ah! You got your muffins, then. Good. Come inside and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Instead of heading for the studio, Emma motions for Ruby to follow to her cabin. She still has to put her laundry away and change for the other lesson she scheduled for the day, so she figures it’s easier to cover all at once.

Just as Emma had done upon reading the email, Ruby’s excitement grows with the news about a possible full-time job. While they both love Boston, Ruby has just as much at stake to move closer to home. It would mean being closer to Granny, and visiting more often. It may not be their Broadway dreams, but it would be regular exposure where they could still set up a studio for lessons if they choose.

Ruby’s mind whirls along with hers, and by the time Emma’s cabin is back in order with all her laundry put away, they have practice time set aside for that evening after dinner. They have new routines to try out, and choreography to plan, and just a month and a half to prepare for their trial run.

Chapter 3

[whoacanada]

‘Supremacy’, Part I

Pairing: Zimbits

Shameless Tropes: Cup Magic, Doppelganger AU, What-If, ‘not-so-Evil’ Twins

Warnings: Implied drug and alcohol abuse, fudging of timelines a little bit

A/N: Title thanks to Muse’s ‘Supremacy’, which I listened to on repeat for most of the time I mapped out this fic. Written as a late Christmas present for @omgpieplease and @heyfightme

Summary: Coming off his second cup win in as many seasons, Canadiens’ Forward Jack Laurent Zimmermann is the most beloved athlete in Canada. 

Though his public persona is sterling, his private life is a mess and Montréal’s front office is desperately hiding more than a few secrets beneath the C on Jack’s sweater. 

When a drunken cup wish strands him in an alternate reality where he dropped out of the draft, went to college, and still managed to make it to the NHL, Jack becomes desperate to make his counterpart’s world his new permanent home.

Montréal, QC, — two lives removed from a handful of terrible decisions… 

“Phillip? Another?”

The bartender has been serving him as long as Jack has lived in the high rise a block over and the man knows how Jack likes his ‘mimosas’: with vodka instead of champagne so the paparazzi don’t get antsy.

He downs the rest of his glass, pokes at what’s left of his omelet, and ignores another call from his father. There is no part of him that wants to deal with whatever story Bettman’s team has spun for the Canadiens front office.

His phone vibrates again, wriggling toward the edge of the table like it’s possessed, and Jack finally swipes to take the call.

"How was your cup day?” 

Bob wastes no time and Jack leans back in his seat, taking notice of the teenage girls a few tables over covertly trying to take his photo. He plasters on a smile and waves with his free hand. The blonde with braces and blue eyeshadow gasps and ducks back into the booth, before peeking over the cushion to see if he’s still watching. 

He is. He's always watching. The phone in her hand might as well be a gun.

"I didn't damage it,” Jack answers, reaching to take his new drink from the waitress.

“I’m staring at an official memo that cites ‘Inappropriate Behavior’.”

“Oh, is that all? You can deal with ‘Inappropriate’, can’t you?” Jack pulls a pen from the pocket of his jacket and scribbles an autograph on a napkin, snags a passing waiter and whispers,  ‘for the girl in the corner booth’.

“I swear to Christ — don’t take that tone with me. What the hell has gotten into you?”

“Oh, you know better than to ask questions you don’t want the answer to.”

“You can’t keep doing this —“

Jack debates hanging up — chancing a house call from his furious father and a fat organization fine — but the alcohol in his system is softening the situation just enough that Jack can’t seem to care.

“And what is ‘this’, exactly? Winning? Bringing Cups home to Montreal? What was it you told me, again? Something about how you don’t give a ‘flying fuck’ what I get up to on my own time as long I look good doing it?”

“Are you using again?"

“Fuck, don’t I wish,” the words are out before he can stop them and the line goes silent; for a moment, Jack thinks the call may have actually dropped.

“…Don’t tell me that. Never tell me that.”

Right. Plausible deniability.

“Yeah? What will you do if I don't? Suspend me?” Jack dares, waving at the girl again. She looks like she’s about to pass out and Jack wishes he could concentrate that excitement and shoot it right into his veins. “Or will you send me to rehab? I'm sure that'll play well.”

“Don’t make me take action, Jack. Neither of us will enjoy it.”

The girl in the corner is waving excitedly, and Jack knows she’s moments from working up the courage to come over and say thank you.

“Good talk, Bob.” He hangs up on his father, knowing damn well he’ll pay for that move later. Jack knows better than to motion for a bill, instead, he tosses down a hundred dollar note and waves halfheartedly at the wait staff he can see.

His good mood is long gone.

“Have you talked to your parents?”

“They don’t know. About any of it.”

Jack runs the nail of his thumb along the skin of his pointer finger, trying to calm his nerves.

“Well, are you going to tell them? I mean, you might straight-up vanish.”

The FaceTime connection keeps freezing and Jack stares at the disapproving downturn of Kent's lips for six seconds before the feed catches up.

"Don't think that would be the most prudent course of action at this point."

"Just, tell me this: when was the last time you were actually happy?"

It's almost upsetting how quickly he realizes he knows the answer.

"Ugh. How are you so handsome?" Bittle asks, tugging Jack's hair out from its bun so the sweaty locks fall on his face. "It's disgusting. You're disgusting. A disgusting, handsome, sweaty hockey player."

“Doesn’t seem to bother you much,” Jack pauses from where he's pressing messy kisses to Bittle's flushed torso. "It's all those pretty boys you train with, making you crave something more rugged."

His partner reaches up to scratch his nails over the stubble on Jack's cheek. "You're pretty cocky, hon," he whispers, voice thick like honeyed wine, and Jack's done for. He could die happy with this spitfire in his arms and a gold medal around his neck.

"I'm literally the best the world has to offer, I can afford to be cocky," Jack laughs and covers Eric's mouth with his own, tugging at Bittle's bottom lip gently with his teeth. "And so are you. We're a perfect match."

"We are?"

"You’ve made a fan of me," Jack runs a thumb over the Olympic rings tattooed on Eric's hip. "I've been trying to find a way to talk to you since Sochi."

"Seriously?"

"Not to scare you off or anything but I really wanted to meet you."

Eric’s bravado tapers and he tries to hide his face but Jack doesn’t miss the way the skin over his cheekbones flushes a warm peach; it makes his breath catch in his throat.

“Glad I live up to the hype,” Eric whispers shyly, and Jack dips his head again for a kiss relishing how he can feel the way Bittle smiles against his lips. It's almost better than winning.

Almost.

"Pyeongchang."

"The Olympics?"

Jack wants to say yes so desperately because it feels unclean to verbalize his obsession but Kenny, as usual, beats him to the punch.

"No, shit, you're talking about --" Jack looks away from the screen, not quite willing to see pity on another ex's face. "You know, you never actually told me what happened," Kenny prods gently. "Must have been something serious if you're still hung up on the guy."

Morning comes too soon and while Jack can ignore the alarm on his phone, Bittle isn't so content. When Jack rolls over, intent on clutching Eric as close as possible for as long as possible, he finds his partner watching him with an expression Jack can't quite read, his phone clutched tightly in his fist.

"I should head out. I have a phone interview at nine and my publicist needs to —” he stops himself and takes a measured breath before asking, “do you have a Valium or something?”

Jack’s still bleary with sleep but he nods to his bag. Eric steps over his clothes from the night before to dig through Jack’s things for a pill bottle. Crouched the way he is, Jack can make out the tell-tale purple bruise of a bite mark on his hip.

“Someone took a picture of us in Korea,” Eric explains, cracking half a pill and tossing it back dry. “You can’t tell it’s you in the photos — but my  publicist has been fielding calls from sponsors talking about morality clause violations.”

After the initial panic that accompanies ‘picture of us’, Jack breathes and refocuses on what Eric isn’t saying, his posture, all of the new information that he needs to work through.

“You’re in violation for going on a date?”

“I’m in violation for kissing an unknown man in public, in a foreign country, while wearing clothing belonging to an ‘identifiable brand’ .”

“That’s bullshit. You’re gay. You’re out, it’s not a secret.”

“I can date but, being ‘publicly indecent’ with a random man is unbecoming of Team USA,” Bittle quotes lamely, dropping his arms and tossing his phone onto the bedspread. “Fuck.”

“I’m not a random guy,” Jack defends but he doesn’t need to fill in the gaps. He just won his second cup, he isn’t public, and he has no plans to come out. The sheet covering him is suddenly too heavy as he kicks at the bedding to get some of the building energy out.

“Literally no one else knows that. Right now I’m just your secret,” Eric points out, pulling on the same briefs Jack removed himself not eight hours earlier. “I’m not a hockey player, Jack. I don’t get paid a hundred million dollars to fling pucks into nets. My job is 90% image — I need to pay for training and ice time, and when you have sponsors there can be really shitty strings attached. I don’t know why I’m telling you this, you know better than anyone.”

“You’re not a secret, you’re…” Jack trails off realizing he doesn’t know how to finish his sentence. Eric turns to him and looks older than Jack has ever seen him.

“I’m your ‘what’, Jack?”

“My boyfriend,” Jack swallows against the lump in his throat. “Or, I wanted you to be.”

Eric falls back on the bed and pulls a leg underneath himself. Leaning against the headboard, Jack can see their reflection on the glass of the television mounted to the wall — like a photo they’ll never be able to actually take. He knows what’s coming because he’s been here before.

Jack’s never been great with goodbyes.

"You're hyper-focusing like a motherfucker, have you talked to your therapist about this? That was like four months ago."

"Well, it still hurts like yesterday," Jack scoffs and takes a pull from his beer.

"Okay, look, it doesn't matter," Kenny refocuses, "you made a wish on your cup day, a vague-ass, stupid wish, and we need to figure out what the fuck is about to happen to you. Maybe you get lucky and nothing happens but you need to talk to your father in case you end up like a zombie or some shit —“

"Fuck my father," Jack snaps. "He's two steps from throwing me on IR, the last thing I need to do is pour gasoline on that fire."

“Wait, what did you do, now? Piss in the cup?”

“No.” Jack doesn’t elaborate and Kenny’s brow furrows with suspicion.

“Then talk to your Uncle. Anyone. Just as a backup plan for when you blow up.”

“I should get to bed,” Jack hints, desperately wanting the conversation to be over, and, ever diligent, Parson nods and tells him to call first thing in the morning. Just to be sure he hasn’t expired in the night.

They say their goodbyes and Jack closes the lid on his laptop; falling back against the pillows, willing sleep to come and hoping against hope he’ll feel better when he wakes up.

Providence, RI 

It takes a moment for those attending the Falconers’ first Family Skate of the season to realize there are two Jack Zimmermanns facing off at center ice. 

One in Falconers’ blue, the other in Canadiens’ red.

[thatbluegibson]

CH 57

Liz tucked her boys into their beds in her sister’s old room and met her mom in the hallway.

“Try to get some sleep, dear,” her mom whispered, “We’re just across the hall if you need us.”

Liz nodded and retreated to her childhood bedroom, still somewhat unchanged since she had last slept in it some fifteen years ago. Her mom had taken down the band and gig posters, lovingly rolled them up and stashed them in the closet, but the bulletin board and CD collection still were intact. Liz curled up onto her full sized bed and stared at her old nightstand, smiling at the pick collection she had stuck to the side of it. She wondered if Travis had talked Kyle into rehab and if he had the will to get clean again. An emergency custody order had been arranged through her lawyer to strip Kyle of his rights until he was proven clean which she knew would infuriate him, but the boy’s safety came first above everything else. Rolling onto her back, she took inventory of her day. Up at five with the kids, dropped Jack off at school at 8, then drove over an hour to Portland for her dance lesson, then an hour back to pick up Jack and then head home to relieve Travis of watching Owen. An hour later Kyle had shown up. She took a deep breath just to see if she could, thinking that the exhaustion of everything was so heavy that she might not be able to. Her life was a fucking wreck, but it wasn’t all gloom and doom if Paul McCartney wanted her to work on an album. And then there was Dave, who cared enough to worry about her and her seemingly endless drama. Why did everything have to fall apart right when he showed up? Remembering she still hadn’t called him, she felt for her phone and dragged herself off the bed when she realized she had left it in the kitchen. Tiptoeing down the steps, she avoided the squeaky treads that she knew by heart and grabbed her phone off the kitchen counter. She was just passing the foyer when a figure in the window next to the front door made her gasp and jump back before realizing it was Travis.

“You fucking scared me,” she whispered as she pulled open the front door and let him in.

“You didn’t answer your phone,” he replied, looking down at the device in her hand, “Kyle is all checked in and under lock down for three weeks.”

Liz let out a long sigh and leaned against the wall, “Good. Thank you for dealing with all that.”

“He’s my brother, Liz. I’d do it whether you asked me or not.”

Liz felt the rush of empathy hit her and realized she was being incredibly selfish. She stepped forward to hug him and he immediately hid his face in her hair. He didn’t often let his tough facade break, but when he did it was a full collapse. “He’s such a fucking idiot, Liz.”

“Yeah, I know”

“The boys deserve so much better.” He loved Jack and Owen like they were his own and cherished being their Uncle T more than anything. He had come running when Liz was in labor with Jack and Kyle had vanished, holding her hand through the thick of it until Kyle miraculously reappeared and kicked him out of the room.

“I know,” she repeated.

“Do you think…” Travis stepped out of her arms and looked down at his feet, “Do you think maybe I could take the boys while you’re in England? We can send Andy for security and-“

“Travis, I’ll never take those boys away from you, ever. Regardless of what your idiot brother does,” Liz said firmly, “If you want to send Andy and watch the boys, I’m 100% down with that.”

Liz couldn’t remember the last time Travis looked so happy. She hugged him goodbye with the promise that she’d see him tomorrow to work out logistics and locked the door before heading back up to bed.

 *

Dave’s phone lit up and buzzed sideways, bouncing off the red glass candle that was set in the middle of the booth’s table.

“Answer it,” one woman urged her friend as she checked her makeup in a small mirror fished from her giant purse.

Her friend flipped her black hair over her shoulder and picked up the phone with her long acrylic nails, swiping to answer the call, “Hello?”

Liz looked down at her phone screen thinking she had called the wrong number.

“Hello?” the woman asked again, her shrill voice now annoyed.

“Uh… yeah. Is Dave there?” Liz furrowed her brow, trying to listen over the blaring music in the background.

“Oh, he’s a little busy right now,” the woman said, her friend giggling hysterically next to her. She flipped her hair again to hide the phone when Dave turned away from the bar with his hands full of beer glasses.

“Riiiight…,” Liz muttered, looking again at the phone screen.

“You’ll have to call back later. Like tomorrow or something,” the woman said quickly and ended the call, slamming the phone onto the table top.

Josh jumped at the loud noise and leaned across the table as the woman adjusted her top, “Who was that?”

“Literally, no one,” she smiled up at Dave when he set the glasses on the table and shoved Josh over so he wouldn’t have to sit next to the two random groupies Josh had plucked from the crowd at The Rainbow.

“So do you have a girlfriend?” the blonde screeched across the table at Dave.

“Yeah, Dave. You got a lady in your life lately?” Josh threw his arm around Dave and shook him a little.

“I’m seeing someone, yeah,” he replied, raising an eyebrow when the two women exchanged a giggle.

“But she’s not… here, right?” the other woman leaned forward and pressed her ridiculously huge implants against the wooden table top.

“She’s working,” Dave said, now thinking it was a bad idea to call Josh to get his mind off things. Why didn’t he call Taylor? Or Chris? Or Nate? He could be sitting in Nate’s kitchen discussing vintage aprons with him right now, but he had to call his rowdiest friend and go to the most insane bar they knew on the Sunset Strip of all places. He had waited as long as he could for Liz to call him back before he was certain he was losing his mind and Josh was the first person he thought of. They were several beers in when Josh had the bright idea of trolling the dance floor for some tail and dredged up these Oxford scholars while Dave did shots with some fans at the bar. Spotting his phone on the table, Dave slid it towards him and checked the screen, disappointed for the hundredth time that his notification bar was blank.

“Well if she’s busy…” the woman with jet black hair that he was pretty sure was a wig purred and he felt her acrylic claws slither up his leg.

He jumped back and Josh looked at him like he had grown another head, “What the fuck, dude.”

“I’ll be right back,” he managed and fled the booth for the back of the bar. Once outside, he shakily pulled a cigarette from his shirt and lit it, leaning against the brick building away from the other groups of smokers. He tried to remember the last time he had smoked, but couldn’t place it. He had tried to quit so many times at the request of his girls, but it was a bitch of a habit to break especially when he had been drinking. Realizing he hadn’t smoked in Oregon, a cigarette at least, he checked his phone again. Scrolling through Liz’s texts to make sure he hadn’t missed any, he noticed his call log was off. Thinking that was a bizarre thing to notice, he checked the log and swore when he saw her name above Josh’s at the top of the list.

“Shit,” he whispered and tapped the return call button as hard as he could.

“Hello?” Liz’s voice was muffled and gravelly.

“Hey,” Dave looked down at his shoes so no one would see that he was grinning like an idiot.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t call earlier,” he heard her roll over in bed and shut his eyes, imagining he was next to her.

“It’s okay, Liz,” he said quietly, “How are you?”

“We’re at my parent’s for the night, but Travis got Kyle in an inpatient rehab so we’re going back home tomorrow.” Dave struggled to understand what she was saying. She had to leave home to get away from Kyle? What the fuck was happening up there? “What are you up to?”

“Oh, uh…,” Dave looked up as Josh appeared next to him, “Josh and I went out for a beer.”

“Or twelve,” Josh chuckled and tossed a cigarette in his mouth.

Dave heard Liz mumble something and turned to the wall to hear her better, “What?”

“I’ll let you get back to having fun,” Liz said louder.

“No, I can-,“ he looked around for a quieter spot he could talk to her in, but couldn’t see anything.

“I have to get up in a few hours anyways,” she yawned, “Have a beer for me, okay?”

Dave leaned back against the wall feeling a little defeated, “Okay.”

“Bye, Dave.”

“Goodnight, Liz.”

He held the phone to his ear for a minute after she ended the call, only looking up when he felt Josh staring at him.

“You find a muse, man?” he asked, taking a deep drag off his cigarette.

“Fuck, dude,” Dave shook his head and returned his phone to his pocket. “I found something.”

Josh eyed a group of women that were inching their way towards them, “You ready to unshelve that Vultures record yet?”

Dave thought about the rainy day he had spent in bed with Liz in Oregon, telling her all about the Vultures sessions. “Yeah I might have promised someone that we’d put something new out.”