#matthew has no idea how he can barely be standing one second and climbing a tree the next

[kevindayprotectionsquad]

how r ur ocs doin lately?? what've they been up to? what's the dumbest thing jack's done recently (bc we all know this boy's pure of heart and dumb of ass)?

aahhh thank you for asking!!! i've been so busy lately they have been on the back burner, but i always love talking about them! as for jack... you get it lmaoo the dumbest thing he has probably ever done was get super wasted at the pub, so much so matthew had to come get him to take him home, and on their was home, chased a cat into the woods because he wanted to catch it. he climbed the garden wall and a tree while drunk to catch the cat only to be attacked by it in the tree, which resulted in him falling out of the tree and breaking his arm and a few ribs. needless to say matthew was not pleased with him, and didn't even try to cover for him when the king asked how he got hurt. 

[bqstqnbruin]

But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you, not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all

Imma be honest I forgot what this last part was supposed to be called aidfjaoisf (also I know I used that gif for another part but c’mon tell me you don’t love it)

ANYWAY I caved and decided to post THE FINAL PART of 10 Things I Hate About You tonight as an ✨early✨ birthday thing for Matty (compromise ?). Thank you to everyone and anyone who has read it and put up with my perpetual being annoying about this but especially a thank you to @fratboytj​ for pretty much writing the poem in this with me and @pucksnsticksnhockeyboys​ @indyfish​ for their help, too, ily 💛

Here we go, y’all. Enjoy the ride!

Read the other parts here:  I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair // I hate the way you drive my car // I hate it when you stare // I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind // I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme // I hate the way you’re always right // I hate the way you lie // I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry // I hate it when you’re not around, and the fact that you didn’t call

___________________________

“What? No, I’m not going to-”

“Leave. Now.” 

---------

“Because I love you.”

You take a step back in shock, even Evelina letting out a small gasp before retreating to her bedroom. “You have no right to say that to me,” you tell him, trying not to let him get to you. “You can’t leave me alone for over a week and then just waltz here and say that to me. You couldn’t even pick up the phone when I called you yesterday.” 

He looks at you, completely confused. “You needed space. How is that my fault? You pushed me away at the bar and I came back. You pushed me away in the street and I came back. You pushed me away here and where was I supposed to go? How could I call you when I was afraid you would push me away a third time?” 

“I tried to come back to you. I called you yesterday and you ignored me,” you repeat, your voice getting louder, “If you wanted anything to do with me you would have answered.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do? Drop everything any time you call me? I was on the phone with someone else and I called you as soon as I saw you called me, and you didn’t answer me,” the level of his voice matching yours, the flowers he brought you making a mess all over your floor as he angrily waved them around. 

You shake your head, not wanting to tell him that it was because you had blocked him. ‘If it were meant to be, he would have been able to answer when you called,’ you tell yourself. “We’re only meant to be friends, Matthew,” is all you can manage to get out.

“How long are we going to keep dancing around the fact that you and I are meant for each other?” he asks, trying to fight back the tears that he knew were coming. God, if anyone else could see him right now, they would never think he was some NHL enforcer, whatever the hell the media called him. He was just a guy in love, trying to get the girl to understand her feelings for him. 

“How long is it going to take you to understand that I hate so much about you?” you spit out at him, trying to hide the regret you felt as soon as you said it. “If we were meant to be then making that list wouldn’t have been as easy as it was,” you lie. 

“Because we both know that’s not true,” he says, choking back the inevitable sob that was begging to come through as he tries to get closer to you. You weren’t sure what to make of this, you had never seen him this worked up over anything like this before, not to the point of tears, at least. 

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” you lie, trying to stand your ground, trying not to crumble before him. 

“How is it bullshit? Everyone can tell that we’re in love with each other. Everyone but you. There is no one on this planet who knows you better than I know you. There is not one person that is more made for you than I am. There is no one more made for me than you are,” he tries to tell you,  not wanting to let yourself hear his words. 

They stung, no matter how much you didn’t want his words to get to you. Part of you knew he was right, and the other part of you didn’t want to admit it. “So, what, because other people believe it, that automatically means it’s true? I could get any guy and he could be better than you are for me.” 

“Yeah? What names would this other guy call you in bed? Would he know where to touch you? Would he know that right here,” he drops the flowers so he can spin you around, kissing you behind your ear, his lips lingering long enough to pull a moan from your lips, “Is where you melt into me?” 

“No!” you say, pulling his arm from your waist. “You can’t do that to me,” you tell him, tears falling down your face, your voice choked with a sob, “You can’t tell me these things when you’ve been hiding so much from me this entire time.”

“I hid one thing from you,” he insists. “You hide ten things you hated about me. I don’t even care about that at this point. It doesn’t matter if other people think it’s true or not. What matters is that we know it’s true. I love you.”

“Fuck you. Fuck. You. You do not get to tell me that. I can’t even look at you right now, Matthew,” you tell him, trying to think of anywhere you could retreat to when you remember you’re supposed to be downstairs waiting for your boss to show up, Evelina locked in her room to avoid any confrontation that might come from her being a third party. 

“You don’t mean that. You know how you feel about me. Why can’t you just say it?” You look at him, the pain he felt showing on his face. You hated that you were doing this to him, but you hated it more that he was doing this to you. You couldn’t say it to him. You couldn’t lose him because of how you felt about him. 

“You don’t know what I mean, Matthew. Evelina and I have to get going,” you try to go to her room to get her, praying that your boss wasn’t bombarding you with texts on your phone buried in your bag before you had to deal with him.

“That doesn’t even make sense.” 

You whip around to him irritated, that hatred of yourself turning into anger towards him that he kept pushing you when you clearly were already on edge. “Why do I have to make sense? I have not slept. I have barely eaten. I can’t even go five seconds without thinking of your stupid face, hearing your dumb laugh, and just wanting you next to me and knowing that all of that is a bad idea. We are friends Matthew. That is it. That is all we can be.”

“Is that what you want? Why do you keep denying everything?” he asks, his hand warped around your arm, just tight enough that it didn’t hurt, not hard enough that you could easily escape from him. 

You look down at the floor, biting your lip. “Why do you think?” 

“Come on,” he says, his other hand on you, pulling you ever so slightly closer to him. The distance between you was the smallest it had been in a week, you wanting nothing more than to take him in for a hug, kiss him, something that would make this go away. But you couldn’t do that. You couldn’t even answer him. “This right here is our issue!” he snaps, letting go of you. 

You stand there, frozen, hearing Evelina come out of her room. “I don’t care. You need to leave.” 

Matthew stands there, shocked. “What? No. I’m not going to-”

“Leave. Now,” you say, standing firm, grabbing your bags from the floor along with Evelina’s hand. “We have to go, our boss is waiting. Take the pile of shit that’s in Evelina’s room that yours,” you say, looking to her for a nod telling you it was ok. You drag Evelina to the door, her shocked over your entire conversation. “And Matthew?” you ask, a single tear falling from his eye.

“What?”

“Leave your key,” you tell him, your voice cracking as you shut the door and leave him there to collect his things. 

“You just left him in our apartment to go through my room?” Evelina whines as the two of you run to the stairs in hopes that he won’t be able to find you, catch you and cause a scene out on the street.

“You nodded and I took that as it was ok. He’s out of my life and that’s how I want it for now so I don’t care what you think but you need to respect it. No more of this meddling, Evelina. There is no way he would have known to come right before we were leaving unless you told him,” you spit out at her as you sprint down the stairs. You hear her inhale as if she were about to say something, stopping at the landing and turning to her, “I’m not mad. You gave me the chance for a goodbye. A goodbye before we leave for a new city, even though we’re coming back here.” It’s Thomas all over again, but this time, you were the one leaving him.

Evelina nods, taking your hand and leading you outside where the caravan that had your coworkers and boss was already waiting, your boss leaning on the door of the car. “Sorry, I had a slight family emergency that I was trying to deal with. Luckily, though, you planned out plenty of extra time so that we were going to be at the airport about four and a half hours before our flight anyway,” you say, smiling at him, hoping he could hear the sarcasm that was dripping in your voice through the latter half of the sentence.

“Evelina said you couldn’t find something,” he mutters, taking your bags from you as you climb in the car, not sure how to respond to the rest of your obviously sarcastic chipperness.

“That was the emergency,” you lie, “My mom thought I took something with me back here and wanted to catch me before we leave. Don’t worry we found it. It’s right where it belongs,” you say, closing the door as the three of you join the other two, getting ready to finally leave for a few days. 

This was good. This is what you needed. Work would keep you busy, especially considering your boss bought what you were telling him, already changing subjects to talk about the conference and what else he thought the four of you should be doing while you weren’t presenting. The van was about to pull away, seeing the door of your building swing open, Matthew red in the face holding his coat and the key. You swallow hard, not letting yourself start to cry as you pull away, focusing your attention back to your boss even though what he was saying was mundane and trivial to you at this point. 

Matthew watches the car leave with you in it, the key he thought he lost in his hand, not realizing you had had it the entire time, never using it. He had no idea if you even wanted it, if you knew you had it. If you did, then that would mean the entire time, you never wanted to use it. This entire time, you really didn’t love him, no matter how much he loved you. 

All he could do was put the key in his pocket and walk away. So he did. 

You do your best to tune out our boss, getting to the airport in no time and finding yourself sitting on the floor outside of the gate, the four of you on your computers going over the last minute details of the presentation you had tomorrow. No matter how hard you tried, you still had a nagging voice in your ear that you need to tell him, that you shouldn’t push him away. All you could do was take a breath and ignore it, talking when you had to, giving your input, and forcing yourself to think of nothing but this presentation and the conference. 

By the time you land in LA, you were more exhausted than when you left, your boss talking your ear off about heading to the conference that night to scope things out, see potential future directions for projects for your company, talk to other people and make more connections in the states since he thinks you were one of the few groups from Canada present. “Y/N? Have you been listening to a word I’ve said?” he asks, either oblivious to your eyes drooping as you struggle to stay awake while Evelina checks everyone in, or not caring in the slightest. 

“You want to go to the conference tonight because there’s the expo and you want free stuff, and other people to talk to about their business ventures” you mumble, knowing that was what he said pretty much verbatim. 

He leaves you alone, Evelina coming over and having to drag you to the room the two of you were going to share. “We have like three hours before he wants us to meet for dinner and head to the convention center. You’ve gotta get some sleep,” she insists, you acting like such a zombie you didn’t even realize that you were already standing in front of your hotel room door. 

You nod, not caring enough at this point to argue with her. You fall asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow, Evelina probably moving around the room without you even realizing it. You knew you were dreaming, unable to really talk, just watching the scene around you unfold. You had no idea where you were, walking around a backyard, two small children, a boy and a girl, squealing as they chased each other around. There was a house behind you, other people who you couldn’t make out laughing and talking. You knew that everything and everyone you saw in your dreams were places and people you had seen before, your mind unable to conjure up life like that when in a dream state. You just couldn’t figure out where you knew everything from. 

You feel two arms snake around your waist, someone’s chin nestled onto your shoulder, immediately feeling yourself relax into whoever it was even though you couldn’t tell. 

“Look at them,” the familiar voice says. You knew that voice. You knew who it was as he planted a kiss on your neck, feeling his curls graze against your ear once he pulled away, your knees going weak at the feeling you didn’t realize you missed. “I can’t wait for the next baby Tkachuk to come along,” he whispers. You look down, reaching to touch your swollen stomach, somehow missing that before. 

You shoot straight up, awake and breathing heavily. “Fuck,” you whisper, thankful that Evelina was in the bathroom and unable to see the panic wash over you. Dreaming about pregnancy typically meant that you were about to start something new. One point to your subconscious for that one.  “Ev?” you call, getting off the bed and going over to her. Do you tell her about the dream? 

“What’s up?” she calls from behind the closed door.

“Uh, what time are we leaving for dinner?” you ask.

“I was gonna wake you up in like five minutes to give you half an hour to get ready?” she says, opening the door. “You ok?” 

“Yeah, why?”

“Your hand is on your stomach.” 

You hadn’t realized it was, involuntarily holding it like you had been in the dream. “Yeah, just hungry,” you lie as she passes by you, thankful she couldn’t see the smile that was growing on your face. 

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

It was the first and only night of the conference that you didn’t have to be there if you didn’t want to, unbothered by your boss who encouraged you to wander the city and try to find something ‘more fun than listening to people talking about what you’re passionate about,’ despite him being oblivious to the fact that none of you wanted to be there for the last two days you were supposed to be. You were sitting on the bed, your computer up with your earbuds in trying to find something on Netflix to watch for the night, watching Evelina get ready to go to the game out of the corner of your eye. 

“I really do want you to come with me,” Evelina says, standing next to your bed with her Lindholm jersey on from Matthew. 

You don’t look up from your computer, knowing that if you saw her in the flaming C you would cave in and go with her, the last thing you wanted to do. “I don’t have anything to wear even if I wanted to go,” you tell her, trying to give her a tone that made it sound like you didn’t care, no matter how much you did.

“You know you want to go. Come on. Matthew or not, it’s free tickets to a hockey game. We haven’t seen a bunch of grown men in skates beating each other up live and in person in ages because we never have money. And, it’s LA. If you start swearing at him then no one would question it because they hate him, too. And you do have something to wear.” You look up, clearly confused. Evelina goes over to her bag, holding up the red fabric that was supposed to be in Matthew’s apartment. “Please?” she says, handing it to you. 

“You’re not going to stop until I say yes, are you?” you ask her, tracing over the letters of his last name slowly with your thumbs. 

“You know me well enough to know that the answer is probably not,” she says. “Plus, I don’t know. Since we got here, you’ve been different than you have been the last few days. I know he’s been on your mind.” You look at her, unsure how she could have figured that out when you knew you hadn’t mentioned him since you got to Los Angeles in the first place. “You changed your phone background from a picture of us to a picture of you and Matthew. The one when we went to that apple orchard back where your parents live? You were on his shoulders so you could get the apple at the top of the tree?” she says, pulling a smile from you. You tap on your phone screen, bringing up the picture she was talking about. You mentioned that your dad always said the best apple was at the top of the tree, putting you on his shoulders so you could reach them when you were younger. Matthew picked you up and helped you get the apple, Evelina taking the picture of you two right before Matthew nearly dropped you. 

Caving easily after her pointing that out, you throw the jersey over your head, closing your laptop. “Then we��re going before I change my mind.” 

She squeals, grabbing your hand and running out the door, ordering the Uber for it to get there in record time. You get into the car, your heart racing about seeing him again, even if it were from afar. You didn’t know what to do if you came to face to face with him, somehow. 

“I don’t like how easy it was for you to convince me,” you say to her as she gets the tickets Matthew had set aside for you. 

“You’re just lucky that I packed the jersey instead of leaving it for Matthew,” she boasts, the two of you wandering through the Staples center, two red dots in a sea of black and white. You could feel the eyes of everyone on you, clearly sticking out, not belonging while wandering through the arena while you try to find your seats. You get there as the boys take the ice for the first warm ups, half an hour to puck drop. 

You feel your heart start to race when you see Matthew take the ice, unsure if he realized you where there or if he even knew where you would be sitting. “Are you ready to admit it yet?” Evelina asks you, noticing that you hadn’t taken your eyes off him since he started skating and stretching. 

You watch him joke around with Johnny and Sean, not seeing Elias find you two in the crowd and waving to you. He gets Matthew’s attention, pointing to your seats. You and Matthew make eye contact, giving him a weak smile, all you could manage to give. He nods, his lips forming a thin line before turning back to his other teammates. “I guess not,” you say, the excitement you felt from seeing him gone. 

Why were you even there? He didn’t want you there anymore, clearly. Evelina sees your shift in mood, trying to change the subject back to the conference, telling you about one of the talks she went to while you were off at a poster session. You try to keep your focus on her, listening to what she was talking about but not hearing anything, stealing looks at Matthew whenever you had the chance, just wishing that you would catch him doing the same. 

The game starts, you paying no attention to anything besides Evelina, unable to keep your focus on the puck moving across the ice, instead focusing on the curly haired pest that was already wreaking havoc against the Kings. No matter what you did to try to take your attention away from him, you were drawn to him. 

Elias ends up scoring off an assist from Matthew, Evelina jumping and cheering even though she was drowned out by the deafening boos from the surrounding Kings fans. You watch the boys skate over to the bench, sitting down and taking off their helmets. Matthew makes eye contact with you, both of you freezing for a moment before Gio gets Matthew’s attention. You knew he could feel your eyes on him as your stare lingered, swearing that you caught him glancing over, a smirk on his face even though his captain was talking to him. 

“I’m going to head to the bathroom before the line gets too long,” you tell Evelina, getting up with two more minutes left in the period. 

“Wait,” Evelina stands up with you, reaching into her jersey and pulling out a folded piece of paper, “Read this.”

“You’re a woman. You don’t have pockets. How did you keep this in there?” you ask her, taking the paper from her clearly confused. “That’s not important. Just go read it.” She pushes you away, causing you to trip on some already irritated Kings fans as you stumble through the aisle to get out. 

What even was this? You get up to the concourse, pacing around the currently empty area. You read the first line, immediately knowing that whatever this was is from Matthew: 

10 things I love about you

I love the way you rant to me as a way to relax yourself

I love the way you dress to your comfort and won’t listen to anyone else

I love the way you play with your pen even though it makes a mess

I love the way you focus on your work no matter how much it makes you stress

I love the way you get along with the guys and can chirp them all the time

I love the way you’re quiet at first, not letting anyone see you shine

I love the way you’re stubborn as hell and how you drive me crazy

I love the way I’d do anything for you even when you call me lazy

I love the way you’re the one I want to talk to, how my heart races when you call

But mostly, I love the way you say you hate me, even though you don’t, not even a little bit, not even at all. 

You get to the last line, tears clearly falling down your face as you walk around like a zombie, your eyes fixated on the piece of paper in front of you while people start flooding from their seats, the silence around you broken by the noise of the Kings fans. 

“Hey Calgary!” you hear a man yell, for some reason catching your attention. You see an older guy in a Doughty jersey, looking you up and down. “Fuck Tkachuk,” he says, walking away.

“Don’t you think I would if I could?” you yell back, stopping in your tracks at what you just said out loud. You would if you could. “Ah fuck,” you mutter to yourself. You had to find Matthew, and you had to find him now. You couldn’t go the rest of the game without telling him. 

You start running, unsure where you were headed, just hoping that it would eventually lead you to finding someone from the Flames that you recognized that could get you down to Matthew now that it was intermission, forgetting the fight you had back in your apartment before you left for this city. 

You finally find someone you recognize, begging them to bring you back down with them because of an emergency that you had to tell Matthew about. What if he didn’t want to see you? What if he left you standing there, humiliated while you waited for him? You started pacing, trying to figure out what you were going to say to him in the case that you did see him. 

“Y/N?” you hear him, heating rushing to your cheeks at the sight of him. “They said it was an emergency, what’s up?” he asks, panic washing over his voice at the thought of something wrong with you.

  You scrunch your face up, feeling bad that you worried him, but not enough not to do it. “I kinda lied? But I,” you close your eyes, letting out a sigh in hopes of releasing the tension that overcame your entire body, “I needed to see you.”

“Ok?”

“What is this?” you ask him, handing him the paper that Evelina gave you. 

His eyes scan the page, a smirk on his face letting out a small laugh. “Evelina asked me about all the ways I love you. I guess she typed it up. But I didn’t say this last thing. Evelina must have written that herself,” he tells you, pointing to the last line. But mostly, I love the way you say you hate me, even though you don’t, not even a little bit, not even at all.

“Is it true?” you ask him.

“You tell me.” 

You stand there in silence, both of you staring at the page that Evelina wrote. “I hate the way you cut your hair,” you start, Matthew raising an eyebrow.

“We were having such a nice moment, what are you doing?” 

“Just, shut up,” you tell him, both of you smiling at each other. “I hate the way you cut your hair: your curls could make any girl melt and yet you do that thing on the side of your head. I hate the way you drive my car: everytime you get behind the wheel I’m worried about how I’m going to claim the inevitable damage on my insurance,” you start to rant, Matthew laughing as he traces patterns on your hand with his thumb, sending chills through your body, “I hate the way you tease me, and I hate the way you stare because it makes me weak and act so stupid and it makes me so mad that I can’t help it. I hate the way you read my mind, and the way you make me rhyme. And I hate the way you’re always right.” 

He can’t help but laugh, shaking his head as he takes a step towards you. In his skates, he towers over you, reaching for your hand as he looks down at you, “That’s only seven things.” “It’s been a month since I started the list. I never got to ten things.” 

“Why’s that?” he smirks, pulling you as close to him as he could. 

“Do I have to say it?” you whine, a smile on your face anyway.

He nods, his curls moving he did. “Yeah. You do,” he teases, you biting your lip and looking at the ground instead of him. His thumb and forefinger find your chin, tilting your head up to look at him, “Please.” 

“Because I love you.”

“There it is!” he yells, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around, your cheeks red as you don’t even try to hide the joy you felt finally admitting it. 

“Put me down!” you squeal, his hands on your waist with arms draped on his shoulders. “Do not ruin this,” you warn him, his forehead pressed against yours. 

“You really mean it?” he whispers, a bigger smile on his face than you had seen in a long time. 

“Yes. I love you, you idiot,” you giggle, caught off guard as his lips connect with yours, the first time in over a week. You hated to admit how much you missed that. You hated to admit how much you really did love him.

“Matthew! Warm ups!” you’re interrupted by Elias standing down the hall, the guys filing from the locker room to ice behind him.

“I gotta go, but meet us after?” he begs, not wanting to let you go.

“Go win the game for me,” you tell him, moving away from him, the connection between your hands lingering.

“I’ve already won,” he says, pulling you in again for another kiss, running down the hall to finish what they started.

[bluenet13]

It's All In Your Head (Chapter 1/2)

Written for @badthingshappenbingo

Fandom: Chicago Fire

Characters: Matthew Casey, Sylvie Brett, Kelly Severide, Stella Kidd, Wallace Boden, Firehouse 51.

Prompt: Hair Matted with Blood

Summary: Post-ep to S09E09 "Double Red." Casey's life continues to spiral as his friends worry around him; or what happens when no one notices Casey is struggling and our captain is too stubborn to ask for help. AKA, I enjoyed the ep but needed more angst, h/c, and Brettsey, so I'm fixing it.

Links: ff.net / AO3

Playing basketball with Severide probably wasn't his greatest idea, because by the end of just one round with Stella's new arcade machine, Casey's head is throbbing and the whole room is spinning.

Barely suppressing a grunt, he stumbles backwards until his back hits the column in the middle of their loft. Taking advantage of Stella and Severide being focused on their new furniture, he takes a second to rest his head on the pillar. Eyes sliding closed as he massages his temples, another barely suppressed grunt escaping his lips when he touches the swollen and tender spot on the side of his head. Moving his finger around the area, Casey makes a mental note to take a shower before work the next day as he can still feel the cut from when his head hit the ground and dried blood sticking to his hair around it.

As soon as the machine plays the sound that signals game over, Casey quickly opens his eyes and rights himself. His mask continuing to slip away as his pain continues to increase.

Turning towards the kitchen, Casey does his best to avoid his roommates' stares as their eyes search the place where he had just been standing. He moves quickly to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, before he gingerly makes his way to his room.

"Going already?" Severide shouts from the living room.

"Yeah, man. Just tired. So I'll grab a quick nap before beating you again. God knows you need some alone practice," Casey says, trying to get the attention off him, while doing his best to sound convincing and not slur his words.

"Are you okay, captain?" Stella asks carefully, knowing how the boys get when you fuss over them. She is standing a few feet away from her boyfriend and is looking at Casey with clear worry in her eyes. They're all usually tired after a shift but their last one wasn't particularly bad and Casey always likes to take advantage of his days off to do some construction or work around the apartment. And it wasn't even 6pm. Definitely early for Casey to turn in.

"Yeah, yeah. All good. As I said, just tired. I'll see you both later. You guys enjoy yourselves," Casey says, throwing what he hopes is a reassuring wink their way, and making a point to hide the side of his head where blood might be visible.

Stella nods, but she can't shake the feeling that something is off. The previous day's events play on her head and she wonders if the accident did more damage to Casey than everyone thought.

Turning to her boyfriend as soon as Casey's door clicks shut, Stella grabs his shirt and draws Severide to her. "Did Casey seem off to you?" She wonders, not able to stop herself.

"Hmm, honestly? Since that night last fall, he always seems a little off," Severide answers sincerely. Both automatically knowing which night he's referring to.

Thinking back to the last few months, Stella can't help but agree. Remembering how the captain tends to spend his free time on shift closed down in his quarters, and how often he loses his cool and snaps at people now. Not to mention, how little they see of him at home, with Casey spending most of his days off working his construction job or locked inside his room. His occasional trips to Molly's usually ending soon after Brett makes an appearance with Grainger.

"Yeah, you're probably right," Stella concedes eventually. She then grabs the basketball and proceeds to put the ball in the net from where she's standing. "Come here and let me school you. And maybe next time you can actually beat Casey," she teases, picking up the basketball and scoring another point.

Severide mumbles something under his breath but he's smiling to himself as he stares at his girlfriend proudly. He waits until she's done, beating both his and Casey's scores in the process, before he takes her hand and pulls her alongside him towards their bedroom.

-x-x-x-

As soon as the lock clicks shut behind him, Casey slides down the door. The short walk to his room left him winded, and made his headache evolve to include nausea and a ringing in his ears that makes him feel as if his PASS device is active. But unlike in that scenario, there is nothing to turn off now because this sound comes from within, as his skull seemingly threatens to break in two.

Taking a tentative sip of water, Casey stops as his stomach tries to revolt. Closing his eyes, he takes slow, deep breaths willing the nausea to pass so he can drink enough water to down the two pills he managed to grab without Severide or Stella noticing. Now wishing he also had the presence of mind to grab some nausea medication from the kitchen.

After minutes tick by and his symptoms don't ease at all, Casey decides to forgo the water and just down the two pills dry. They scratch his throat but, at this moment, he couldn't care less.

With a groan, he then drags himself through the floor and awkwardly climbs into his bed. Not even bothering to take his clothes off and just collapsing into the mattress. Hopefully a good night's sleep in his own bed is all he needs and he will wake up feeling refreshed and like the last two days had just been a bad dream.

-x-x-x-

He doesn't.

Sleep is elusive all night long. And he spends the whole night tossing and turning because of the pain in his head, and then having to take deep breaths to calm his worsening nausea because of all the tossing and turning.

His awake moments also mix with dreams of cars and sad smiles. Leaving him feeling even more miserable and exhausted than the night before. So much that the last two days do in fact feel like a bad dream, while this night feels like a full-blown nightmare.

-x-x-x-

The following morning, knocking on the door wakes up Casey, and he groans as soon as his eyes land on the clock sitting on his nightstand. He's late for work.

"Case? You alright? We need to leave soon or we're going to be late." Severide's voice comes from outside his room and Casey briefly wonders if it's too late to call in sick. He feels like hell but all things considered he should probably feel thankful he's still alive and that his head is still in one piece. Even if it feels like someone is trying to crack it open from the inside.

"Sorry, man. Just getting ready. Give me a minute," Casey shouts, wincing as his own voice hurts his head. With no time to shower, he just spends a couple minutes getting ready in the bathroom, mostly trying to fix his hair that's sticking up in every direction.

"Let's go," Casey says, stumbling out of his room, and going directly to the front door so his roommates have no time to take in his appearance.

Or so he hoped. "Are you really okay? You look like hell, and you're wearing the same clothes you had yesterday." Severide asks. "And is that blood on the side of your head?"

Looking down at himself, Casey frowns, taking in his wrinkled look, before moving his hand to the spot where he knows the cut is and sighing as he can feel new crusted blood around his hair. He must have reopened the wound with all his tossing and turning the night before. "Didn't have time to do laundry. Will get on that after shift. And why would I have blood? It's probably red paint from my construction job yesterday." Casey settles on the first excuse that comes to mind, hoping they're already so late that Severide won't have time to question him further. "I was working on a barn," he adds as an afterthought, shaking his head and promptly regretting the movement as it intensifies the pounding on his skull.

Severide and Stella look at each other. Both knowing Casey is not the type to neglect his housekeeping duties, and also remembering the captain had actually done laundry last weekend. But, they're both more worried about what looks nothing like red paint and definitely like blood on the side of Casey's head.

Does he really think he can fool a squad lieutenant and firefighter/paramedic/future lieutenant? Stella seems to ask as she shares a look with Severide.

Severide nods, then shrugs and walks to the kitchen, grabbing a styrofoam mug and a plate with toast and eggs. "Here, we left some breakfast for you. You can eat in the car."

Casey's stomach does a backflip at the sight of the food and he has to use a lot of his remaining energy just to push his nausea down. "Thanks, man. But not really hungry. I will just take the coffee," he says casually, trying to sound normal.

Severide and Stella share another knowing look, but both decide to let it go for now, instead Severide sets the plate on the fridge and passes the cup to Casey. Then everyone grabs their keys and bags and they're out the door.

For a moment, Severide worries that maybe he's imagining things and Casey is totally fine. But looking at Stella out of the corner of his eye, noticing his own worry reflected in her brown eyes, he decides to trust his intuition and ask her about it later. He has been Casey's best friend for a long time and he knows they need to tread carefully when it comes to the man sharing his feelings and opening up about what's ailing him. Because something clearly is.

For his part, Casey is barely able to follow Severide and Stella down the stairs and towards the parking lot, and in his struggle, has the sudden, very obvious realization that he shouldn't work like this. All his energy is going into just taking one step after the other and he's in no condition to be anyone's captain today. But he made it this far so he can at least make it home. Once he's there, he can just tell Chief Boden he's not feeling well and spend the day out of the field and doing paperwork. It would be good for Stella too. She can be truck lieutenant and get some more preparation for her upcoming exams.

With that decision made, Casey then spends the next half hour sitting quietly in the backseat of Severide's car. The cup of coffee getting cold in his hand after his first tentative sip was received with his body threatening to throw up. What exactly, he wouldn't know, given he had skipped both lunch and dinner the day before.

When Severide parks his car in the street in front of Firehouse 51, Casey takes a second to close his eyes and compose himself, then slowly gets out of the car and makes his way inside. Not sparing his roommates a single glance.

Ignoring everyone who is already in the common room, Casey walks directly to the bathroom and closes himself inside a stall. After taking a minute to make sure there's no one inside, he finally lets go and proceeds to try to throw up the emptiness in his stomach. With nothing to come out, Casey just coughs and dry heaves. By the time he's done, he is sweating and shaking. And not for the first time realizes he's in no condition to go out into the job. Matt Casey has never been particularly good at self-preservation but he is the best at protecting the lives of the firefighters and paramedics under his command, and he would never willingly put their lives in danger.

Moving to the sink, Casey washes his face and mouth, before reaching inside the stall for his discarded bag and taking off his now sweat soaked t-shirt and changing into his white captain's shirt. He spends the next five minutes carefully scrubbing the blood that's matting his hair, before he arranges it in such a way that it covers the cut on his left side. Then taking deep, calming breaths, he schools his features and exits the bathroom.

As soon as he turns the corner towards Chief Boden's office, Casey collides with Severide and he can't help the grunt that escapes his lips. "Here you are. I've been looking for you. Case, are you sure you're okay?" Severide asks, concern evident in every single one of his words.

"Yes, man. Stop worrying. You're acting worse than Stella last time you got hurt," Casey says, as the previous day, trying to take the attention off him and direct it back to his roommate.

Severide says nothing, but looks at his best friend intently. Easily noticing how tired he looks and how the dark circles under his eyes are even more pronounced than anytime in the last few months. His skin also looks flushed, cheeks reddish, and he keeps squinting at him. Casey hasn't particularly looked good since his failed night with Brett, but he looks like shit now. But before Severide can steel his resolve and call him out, Casey seems to dismiss him with a shake of his hand and continues on his way.

"Going to speak with Chief Boden, I will see you later," Casey offers, then he is gone.

-x-x-x-

"Casey, good morning. What can I do for you?" Chief Boden asks from his desk, signaling for Casey to close the door and sit down.

"Hi Chief, I wanted to request the day off," Casey begins, but stops at the shocked look on his chief's face and the sudden way his eyebrows go up. Casey knew it was uncommon for him to voluntarily request time off but he wasn't expecting his chief to look so surprised. "Must have eaten something bad yesterday because my stomach is not agreeing with me today," he lies, inwardly wincing.

Matt Casey never lies, but sometimes he likes to color the truth. After all, his stomach is really not agreeing with him. And, as if trying to add more truth to his statement, Casey's stomach does another flip.

"Alright, Casey. I will tell Stella to take command of truck for the day and you go home and rest. Let me know if I can do anything to help," Boden agrees easily. A small seed of worry settling deep inside him because his captain rarely takes himself off the lineup voluntarily. But if he says it's just a bad case of spoiled food, there's nothing he can do and they just need to let time do its magic.

"Thank you, sir. But, if you're okay with it, I'd prefer to stay here. I can just lie down in my quarters for a bit, then take advantage of the time to get ahead on some paperwork," Casey proposes, knowing his situation is a lot more complicated than food poisoning. He doesn't want to go to the hospital as he fears this might be the time the doctor mentioned where another head injury could really put a damper on his career as a firefighter. And even if he hopes that this will all resolve on its own with time, he would still like to be close to an ambulance and paramedics in case it all turns worse before it gets better.

As it turns out, he does have some sense of self-preservation after all.

"Whatever you think is best, Casey. But if you're feeling worse, don't hesitate to go home. Or ask Brett or Mackey to check you out. They can give you something to make you feel better," Boden instructs. Like always being the type of leader that likes to point out what he believes to be the right path, but ultimately, wanting to give the men and women under his command the chance to decide for themselves.

Casey nods, even knowing that Brett is the last person he would ask for help right now. He almost did yesterday, then spent the whole night dreaming with her sad eyes when he had broken her heart. Being honest with himself, he knows he wants nothing more than to talk to her and let her comfort him. But he has done enough damage already; now she wants space, and the least he can do is give that to her.

"Thank you, chief." Casey bids his boss farewell before he walks straight to his quarters. Closing the door and lowering the blinds, then promptly falling face first onto his bed.

Five minutes later the alarms go off, calling all five units to a vehicular accident. The alarms and sirens only intensify the throbbing in Casey's head and a sob escapes his lips as he tries to shield himself from the noise by covering his head with his pillow. When the room is back to silence, he sighs in content, glad he doesn't have to get up and worry about being Captain Casey right now. At this moment, he has more than enough just worrying about how he feels like he is dying.

Barely shaking his head, Casey wills those thoughts away from his mind and closes his eyes. With the whole firehouse out on a call, he can finally get some rest and hopefully this time actually wake up feeling better than before.

-x-x-x-

After Casey more than dismisses him and walks to the Chief's office, closing the door behind them, Severide has the familiar need to follow him and find out what's going on. But he doesn't want to get on his friend's bad side, so instead, he follows the path where Casey came from, and decides to find some clues on his own.

Seeing the locker room empty and intact, Severide walks into the bathroom and quickly notices the discarded cup of coffee on the trash. The entirety of the black liquid spilled on the bag. Sighing, Severide decides to go wait for Casey outside of Boden's office so he can talk to him about it. Something is clearly wrong with him, and Severide needs to do something about it before Casey's stupidity lands him in trouble. Severide knows he's not great at taking care of himself, but some days he thinks Casey is even worse.

Getting to Boden's office, Severide finds the door open and the chief alone working on some paperwork. Briefly considering talking to Boden about it, Severide eventually decides he doesn't want to go over Casey's head, so he turns around and walks to the officer's quarters.

From a distance, Severide can already see that Casey's door is closed and the blinds are down, so he's probably inside, but before he has time to knock on the door the alarms go off as they're all called to an accident downtown. Staying in place for a few seconds, Severide waits to see if Casey will come out so he can make sure he's really okay before they go into a scene. But there's no movement inside, and Casey never comes out.

Hearing the engines of the trucks, Severide shakes his head and runs towards the apparatus bay, coming face to face with Boden as soon as he exits the door.

Seeing all of truck, but Casey, sitting at their usual spots, and the seat next to Stella empty, Severide turns to his chief. "Sir, is Casey alright?" Casey can get pissed off if he wants, Severide thinks. After all, he wouldn't need to be asking their boss if the idiot had just opened up to his best friend and roommate, instead of avoiding all his questions.

"He said he has food poisoning, and requested the day off. Stella, you're in charge of truck today," Boden all but shouts, both answering Severide's question and informing the rest of the house that they will be going to work without their captain today.

Food poisoning? Severide wonders, scrunching his face when he remembers he hadn't seen Casey eat anything since the day before yesterday. Something is clearly up and he will find out as soon as they're back from this call.

Nodding, Severide jumps into the squad truck and turns on the sirens as Cruz hits the gas. For a brief moment, as he passes the apparatus floor, he catches Stella's eyes, and again, sees his own worry reflected in them. They briefly spoke when they got to the firehouse, and even though Stella also felt something was off, they both agreed this might all be in their heads and was just another side-effect of Casey's current distance from Brett. Still, they can't help but worry. And if that wasn't enough, Severide then turns to Brett, who's sitting on the driver's side of ambo 61, and sees an unasked question on her gaze, her face also showing concern.

-x-x-x-

Sylvie Brett prides herself on always being ready to do her job and help whoever is in need. Or rather, almost always. Because a certain fire captain has the uncanny ability to draw her thoughts away from the job and towards his beautiful blue eyes and deep gaze. Even when the man is not even in the same space, her mind is an expert in conjuring his face whether she wants to or not.

So now, even as she exits the ambulance and goes to the back to find her med bag, Brett tries to catch Severide or Stella's eyes. At any other time, they would be the ones seeking answers from her, but nowadays, she knows Casey is much more likely to share personal details with his roommates than with her. It's not the first time she has that thought, and as every time before, a sad smile escapes her lips with the realization.

Brett can't deny that she is in love with Casey and wants to be more than friends with him, but mostly, she just misses her best friend. And wishes things would go back to normal, when they would communicate like no other, and share with each other what neither dared share with the rest of the world. That's how she knew that whatever was happening now, wouldn't be happening at all if she hadn't sought Casey that night. Then she wouldn't have asked that question, and he wouldn't have broken her heart with the power of his honesty alone.

Shaking her head, Brett gives up trying to attract Severide or Stella's attention and instead focuses on the current call. Grabbing every instrument and item she might need, she follows Mackey to the accident, and together they stand to the side, while squad works on getting the victims out of the three cars involved in the crash, and truck, minus Casey (as her mind helpfully points out), works on extinguishing the few flames that had already sparked and making sure no others join.

When that's done, Brett and Mackey do quick work of taking care of the victims and getting them stable while they wait for additional ambulances to come and help them transport the victims to Gaffney Chicago Medical Center. Only for that brief moment she forgets about Casey, taking some time to stare at the young paramedic, her partner for two more shifts, as she ponders why another partner is leaving her. Maybe she's a good paramedic, and just not a good leader? Because there has to be some reason why no partner is able to stick with her for more than 2 years, while the previous Ambo's 61 PIC was able to spend years with just Shay and then Brett. Apparently Casey is not the only one who prefers Dawson.

Sirens getting closer draw Brett away from her own pity party and she joins Mackey in letting the new paramedics know the state of the victims they just treated and helping them get everyone inside an ambulance. As she proudly stares at Mackey, hearing her confidently recite all the patients' stats and known injuries, Brett makes it a point to remember to congratulate the young woman again and wish her good luck in her new house.

That thought also makes Brett realize that even in a very small way, she's still a part of Mackey's success and the fact she so quickly got the recognition she deserved by being considered for a future PIC job, an achievement which took Brett more than a few years. She should feel proud of that, for both of them. Plus, she's always been good, some would even say great, at her job. So there's no reason for Brett to be feeling down on herself.

But then she remembers Casey, and her conviction crumbles. Whatever is happening to him now wouldn't be happening if she hadn't let their personal lives mix with their jobs. And even if it is just food poisoning, which she doubts, it would still be her fault, because any firefighter should feel like they can reach out and ask her for help, however minor the injury or illness might be. And Casey clearly hadn't thought he could. But then again, he had tried to ask her a question during the last shift. It hadn't been her fault that, as usual, they got interrupted, but it was her fault not to ask him about it later.

Same as it was her fault that she didn't check Casey after the incident last call. And deep down in her gut, she is certain that is the real problem of whatever is happening to him now.

Sighing, Brett forces her mind to return to the present and closes the door of Ambo 61 after Mackey climbs inside next to the stretcher. For now, she will focus on doing her job to the best of her ability, but she knows something is up, and she will find out what, as soon as they're back at 51.

-x-x-x-

Again, Casey doesn't wake up feeling better than before. In fact, the pain in his head now reaches a new level of misery and the room is spinning so much that just getting out of bed is a struggle.

Closing his eyes, Casey pictures what he remembers of his small quarters and tentatively makes his way to the door. Resting his head on the wood as he wills the world to stop moving.

Opening his eyes again, he unlocks the door and slowly makes his way to the common room in search of Brett, Mackey or anyone that can help him. But the room is empty and with a sinking feeling he realizes the call lasted longer than expected or maybe he just didn't sleep all that much.

But then Casey hears the telltale sound of the firehouse's units and his friends' voices and with the last of his energy follows the noise to the apparatus bay. Every step is a new challenge and by the time Casey crosses the threshold and stands on the garage, the ache in his head has worsened. He moves a hand to message his temple, hoping to alleviate the ache in his head and frowns when his fingers come back sticky with blood.

When the trucks and SUV are close enough for Casey to see them, or rather, their blurry outlines, he raises his hand, hoping to get Brett or Severide's attention, and in his disorientation, frowns again when he sees blood staining his hand. Wanting to get closer to his family and the only people that can help him now, Casey takes one final step but it's too late and his whole world collapses on him. His dizziness and nausea take over, the room around him disappearing as the blurriness gives way to full-blown darkness and the familiar sounds of the firehouse are reduced to interminable silence.

And before Casey can process anything of what's happening, the world seems to tilt off its axis and he feels himself falling...

[ibtk]

Book Review: THE ANIMALS IN THAT COUNTRY by Laura Jean McKay (2020)

(Full disclosure: I received a free copy of this book in exchange for an honest review through Edelweiss and Library Thing's Early Reviewers program. Content warning for violence, including that against animals. Caution: this review contains a spoiler in the form of an excerpt.)

'Well, I’ve got a secret for you, Miss Kimberly Russo.' She digs her sharp little nails into my skin. ‘What is it?’ ‘This flu means people can talk to animals.’ Her head shoots up. ‘I want the flu, Granny. Don’t you?’ ‘Grown-ups don’t wish they had diseases, and neither should you.’ ‘But don’t you?’ Outside, Wallamina and Princess Pie are nose and beak to the sliding door, trying to press their way through. Eyes shining. ‘Course I bloody do.’

I can see the wild in her. She looks and acts like any dog. Plays, wags, stares into my eyes with her baby browns; does chasey, catch, begs for biscuits. Then the dusk comes and she lifts her neck and howls the saddest song in all the world, and there’s that wild. Dingo, owl, night thing — that sound is a warning. Loneliest you’ll hear. Wraps around your face, your sleep, your dreams. She’s saying: ‘Hey, hey. There’s something coming.’ The rangers here are always telling me, don’t talk like that. They say how dingoes are just establishing territory, checking on their pack. Dingo admin. But stand on the hot road that runs from the gift shop to the enclosures, and listen to the dingo in her cage call out to the packs on the other side of the fence. Tell me that’s not special. Tell me she doesn’t know something about the world that you and me haven’t ever thought of.

Jean Bennett isn't you're typical grandma - unless you're picturing Gemma Teller Morrow, that is. Jean drinks, smokes, swears, and sleeps around, usually all at the same time, and occasionally with her gay and committed coworker, Andy. She's got a tiger tattooed on her boob, and a dingo named Sue imprinted on her heart.

A lowly guide who dreams of becoming a ranger, Jean works at an Australian wildlife park, run by her son's ex-girlfriend Angela and owned by Angela's father. Jean and her husband Graham landed there years ago, after bouncing around the world for a while. Eventually Graham left Jean to shack up with another woman; their only child, Lee, jumped ship too, but not before hooking up with - and impregnating - Angela. Now Ange mostly keeps Jean around for the free child care (and maybe also because Ange feels sorry for her).

As for Jean, she stays stuck in this weird, awkward morass for her granddaughter Kimberley - one of the few people she can tolerate, let alone love. Jean prefers animals of the nonhuman variety, and the Park's residents/captives are her found family. She has a special place in her cockles for Sue, a dingo mix who she helped rescue as a wee little pup.

Jean's precarious life is already teetering on the edge of chaos when THE FLU arrives - first in southern Australia, then at the Park's gates, thanks to none other than an infected Lee, as charming as he is irresponsible.

Zoanthropathy (from Greek: zóo, “animal”, anthroponis, “human”, pathy, “disorder”), aka zooflu, otherwise known as "the talking animal disease," allow humans to understand and communicate with other animals:

'The strain known as zoanthropathy affects cognition in humans, and it is believed that enhanced communication between humans and nonhuman animals is possible. Zoanthropathy is hosted and spread by humans. [...] The disease is very high in morbidity and very low in mortality. Infected humans appear able to communicate (encode) and translate (decode) previously unrecognisable non-verbal communications via major senses such as sight, smell, taste, touch, and sound with nonhuman animals.'

When Lee runs off with Kimberley - to commune with the whales on the southern coast - Jean embarks on a cross-country road trip to find them. Riding shotgun is Sue, whose keen nose points the way to Tomorrow (Tomorrow being Sue's conceptualization of Kimberley. Jean is Yesterday, and Lee is Never There. Scathing, yet accurate.)

As with most potentially animal-friendly tales, I was equally nervous and excited to dive into THE ANIMALS IN THAT COUNTRY. As it is, the book both thrilled and disappointed me; I almost feel like it deserves two separate ratings, one for the idea and actualization of the dystopian zooflu future - which is breathtaking - and another for the human-centered plot that propels the audience's journey into this world - which is decidedly less so.

Let's start with the zooflu. It seems like it would be awesome to be able to talk to animals, right? Think again. I mean, really turn the idea over in your head, sit with the superpower, and try to envision what this might entail. Given that most of the nonhumans we encounter on the daily are exploited, oppressed, or otherwise negatively impacted by humans -

be it the 25 million farmed animals we create, torture, and kill for food every year in the US alone; the "wildlife" (read: free-living animals) we displace, starve, and kill through habitat loss; the dogs and cats we buy, neglect, and then abandon at shelters; or the animals we unintentionally hit with our cars (or the bugs we trod on just walking down the street); etc. x infinity

- we are weapons of mass destruction. To most of our nonhuman kin (and sometimes our fellow humans, too). Instead of words of wisdom and messages of hope, we'd be more likely to hear cries of terror. Confusion. Pain and agony. Hellfire, everywhere. Created and fueled by us and our own.

Heck, I'm not even sure it would be beneficial to always know exactly what our beloved, nonhuman family members are thinking. I have a fifteen-year-old dog named Finn who's going deaf and blind and battling dementia. More often than not, I suspect that being privy to his innermost thoughts would freak me the fuck out. Not to mention break my damn heart.

And then there's the mode of communication: not just just verbal, as we're used to, but all-encompassing: "sight, smell, taste, touch, and sound." Think pheromones, sound waves, scratches and ticks. The beating of countless tiny wings, all bombarding your brain and trying to tell you something. That kind of thing, coming at you uninvited and from all directions, is apt to drive a person mad. And it does, as evidenced by zooflu sufferers who stuff their orifices with whatever's handy to block incoming stimuli - or, at the more extreme end, the pseudo-religious trepanners who invite strangers to drill holes in their skulls in a misguided attempt to relieve the pressure.

Talking to animals sounds like the stuff of dreams - but in McKay's hands, it's a nightmare.

And a pretty trippy one, at that: fittingly, the incoming messages that Jean's left to decode aren't quite what you'd call straightforward. There's a lot of translation required, and Google hasn't yet caught up:

I’m reading her body like some language I barely remember from a high school textbook. Bonjour madame, connaissez-vous le chemin de la gare? Let’s go to the station. Or, where the hell is the supermarket? I can parrot the words, but the meaning is in scraps.

Copies of this book should be sold with a sheet of acid, or maybe some edibles. I kid, but also not.

If, like me, you assumed that increased understanding and compassion would surely spring forth from this newfound ability to communicate with nonhuman animals, you'd be wrong. While some people do indeed embrace the flu, many others lash out: animal-free zones are established, and hungry citizens start hunting former pets, since they make for easy prey (apparently they've never heard of fruits and veggies?).

There's one especially excruciating scene that I don't think I'll ever be able to forget. Jean takes refuge in a makeshift church, only to catch a glimpse of how the missionaries make their sausage (stew):

A small fluffy dog has pelted out a kitchen door, thin bit of twine tangled around its legs, body blonde fire, screaming, Hello. Please. Please bite its soft. Quick. Help me. I jump up, calling the poor little bugger, but the parishioners shriek louder, climbing on their chairs like that dog is the snake from the garden of Eden. The woman rushes for her daughter and hauls her by an arm out of the room. It’s funny, for a second, until the laugh dies in my throat. The little dog, too tangled in the twine to move, slumps panting in the aisle. It’s not just m e. Where’s other me. She’s still — The god-botherers are faster than me. They grab that dog with WWF wrestling passion, using real lumps of wood, real knives. The little dog has enough time to issue a thick whiff of terror from its undercarriage, Help her, before they’ve slit it ear to ear right there in the pulpit. There was no blood with Lee. He didn’t even look that drowned. He might have come alive any moment. He might be alive right now in his grave. This little dog, though, is bleeding out on the beige carpet. The door to the kitchen is open. Matthew the soup cook leans on the jamb, then turns back. A fluffy tail on a chopping board. The steaming pots. Pain like a stab to my guts — he stirs a soup very much like the one he was serving up in the park.

Of course, this scene is so repulsive to most of us - Jean included - only because the animal being killed and consumed is designated for "companionship" instead of "food," at least in this particular culture. Chances are you've known and loved a dog or two yourself - and so the doomed beast transforms from a something to a someone. Not an unfeeling object to be used and discarded at will, but a sentient creature with her own feelings, desires, and loved ones. Had it been a chicken or pig, the result wouldn't be quite so horrifying; Jean herself eats meat, and justifies doing so, on several occasions.

Yet an earlier scene - in which Jean comes upon an abandoned tractor trailer truck packed with pigs destined for slaughter - will hopefully challenge readers to expand their circle of compassion:

I’ve seen battery hogs before — of course I have. But not out and about. Not staggering around and trying to walk, calling to whatever they think is ‘more’. Glazed eyes that strain like they’ve never seen sunlight. Skin stretched over bodies fed to the point of bursting — something between swine and meat. Saw some animal liberationists on the street in the city one time, saying factory farms were the same as Nazi camps. I called them bloody racists too. The pigs clatter past me down the ramp, fucked-up eyes on the road ahead, calling, Hello is it more. Those animal nutters were wrong, but not in the way I thought. It’s not the same as the Nazis: that was us doing to us. What’s this? [...] A hurt sow sits on her haunches, then lies down on the verge, panting unevenly under the slathering sun. Another weaves blindly over the asphalt toward her, flies spinning around her head. They push their noses into each other. Send me a postcard, the sick one says. Postcard, indeed. What the fuck. I watch more closely. The meaning bright off that tight skin. All the little bits saying, Leave me, and, I’ll hear about it, and, Don’t you see it. Move on. There’s more. The ones that can walk stretch their legs, for, More, more, more. I stand at the top of the truck ramp watching them break into a group trot toward the next paddock. Skin rippling. Hooves carolling. Know that heart-in-your-mouth run. Know exactly what ‘more’ is. I’ve seen it in Lee and I’ve had it too, at times. These pigs are half dead, they’re stumbling around, blind, mad, and fucking hopeful.

Even if many of the characters in this book resist the humanity clearly evident in nonhuman animals, I hope that readers will hold these passages close - especially at the dinner table.

Sue, our main nonhuman protagonist, is a fascinating character; like many of the semi-domesticated animals in the park, McKay paints her as a series of conflicting impulses: safety or freedom. Hunger or satiation. Dingoes or humans. She is fiercely loyal, much to her own detriment. She has wants and needs of her own, and she's often satisfied to set them aside for the good of her (adopted) pack.

And I guess that brings me to the second half of this review: the humans, most of whom are awful. Jean, exponentially so.

Initially I thought that Jean would be my people: she's a hard-drinking, mold-breaking badass broad who gets on better with animals than people. She has a mini-rescue in her backyard where she keeps some of the park's doomed relinquishments. (The public treats the park like a rehab facility when in fact it's in the business of entertainment - old, sick, injured, and "common" animals are routinely killed.) She and Kimberley spend their afternoons together designing the animal rescue they hope to build one day.

But Jean is kind of a terrible person. To call her a misanthrope is half the story: she's also senselessly mean and cruel, especially when drunk, hungover, or frustrated (in other words, 90% of the time). I don't fault Jean for her substance abuse problem - alcoholism is a mental health issue and should be treated as such - but nor is it an excuse for being such an asshole. (There's even a scene where she trolls people discussing the zooflu online, like a fucking American redhat.) She's shit to everyone around her, except for Kimberley and Lee (Lee, who could use a good ass-kicking).

And then there's Sue: Sue, who followed Jean across the damn country when she should have been settling into a dingo pack of her own. Sue, who found Kimberley and saved Jean's life. Sue, who is nothing but good and true and trustworthy. Sue, who Jean assaults on multiple occasions: kicking her in the ribs, binding her with rope to prevent her escape, and even trying to shoot her (with a gun that's thankfully empty of bullets). At one point, she "forgives" Sue for saving her life - as if Sue's the one who needs forgiveness!

Despite the abuse, Sue continues to stick by Jean's side, which galled me endlessly. Towards the end of the story, following the attempted murder, Sue gets revenge of a sort, dominating a delirious Jean and forcing her subservience. However, the book ends shortly thereafter, cutting any sense of satisfaction far too short.

I really felt cheated with Jean: I thought she might be my avatar in this world - but she's just another terrible human who doesn't deserve the company of animals.

Likewise, the whole subplot involving Kimberley's parentage is way over the top dramatic and unnecessary; it seemed like we were being plucked from a dystopia and dropped into a soap opera for a minute there. Just, gross. So yeah, there are definitely some aspects of the book that I appreciated more than others. THE ANIMALS IN THAT COUNTRY may be imperfect - but I'd still wholeheartedly recommend it to anyone looking to explore our relationship to nonhuman animals in a dystopian setting.

[mandl27]

Before the Mystery: Chapter 3 - Joining the Guild

“We’re here to register as a dungeoneering team at this guild,” Tesla responds before I could even say a word.

The Riolu’s eyes and nubs glow briefly. “Then please, feel free to enter,” he says, gesturing with a hand-paw toward the front door of the building before us. “And welcome to the Wigglytuff Guild.”

“Thanks,” I say as I enter. Inside, we find nothing but stairs and an elevator leading further down. I enter the elevator, Tesla following close behind, and then descend further into the guild. “So, what’s the guildmaster like? Do you know?” I ask Tesla.

“Not really. Though anyone I’ve asked about it has said he’s pretty nice,” Tesla answers as we arrive one floor lower than where we came in.

Among the many Pokémon milling about the floor, one in particular feels like an authority figure: a navy- and black-feathered avian with a feathered crest vaguely resembling the stem of an eighth note. “Hello!” he greets, flying over to us. “You’re new here, I presume?”

“We indeed are,” I say, nodding in agreement. “We’re here to register as a dungeoneering team.”

“Ah, I see!” the Chatot responds. “Follow me, then,” he instructs as he flies down another flight of stairs, Tesla and I opting to take the stairs as well this time. Once there, we find the Chatot before a door with a pink swirl pattern on it. “Beyond this door is the Guildmaster. Never under any circumstances, I repeat, never under any circumstances are you to affront our Guildmaster. Is that quite clear?”

“Yep!” Tesla answers.

The Chatot then knocks on the door. Shortly after, it opens, revealing a purple and white egg-shaped Pokémon with rabbit ears and bright green eyes. “Hiya!” he greets exuberantly, causing me and Tesla to both jump back a bit, startled by how informal he seems to behave. “I’m Stardy, the Guildmaster here! And you are?”

“I-I’m Matthew,” I manage to say, regaining my composure after that rather sudden greeting.

“And I’m Tesla,” Tesla follows. “We’re here to form a dungeoneering team.”

“Oh! Then let me just get this out…” Stardy says, reaching for a stack of papers behind him and pulling off a few sheets. “Just sign this and we’ll get you set up with the rest!”

I stare at the paper, the writing upon it being unlike any language I’ve ever encountered. Then again, I’ve only really encountered one, maybe two, so that’s not saying a whole lot. “Uh…” I start, not sure how to phrase my request. “Do you have a copy of this in…ah…Unown script?” I ask.

“Unown script?” Stardy repeats, his thin, shiny fur reflecting the lighting around the room. Seems something about that confused him. “Oh! That means you’re…! I’ll get that right away!” he says as he bounds over the three of us and seemingly flies to a different room.

“So you can read Unown script, but can’t read talon runes at all?” the Chatot questions, tilting his head in palpable confusion. “How could that even be? Unless you’re…no, you couldn’t possibly be…”

“Couldn’t possibly be what?” I ask, wondering why that request so befuddled not one, but two Pokémon.

“Couldn’t possibly be…” he resumes, pausing to take a deep breath. “…human.”

“What about that is so strange?” I ask. “The not knowing talon runes thing, I mean.” Blowing my cover at this point isn’t a good idea, though considering both of them have me figured out already, I doubt it’d matter much.

“All Pokémon in cities like this learn talon runes at a young age. To not recognize them at all, yet be fluent in the hard-to-grasp Unown script, is highly unusual. The last time a Pokémon was observed showing such talent with Unown script, they were actually human.”

So I’m not the first human…just like Tesla said. “Well, you’re right. I’m human too,” I admit, figuring it’d be easier to just say they called my bluff than to make up a reason behind that rather notable difference.

“Just as I suspected…” the Chatot mumbles. “But why would there be a second human? Nothing’s really gone wrong of late, as far as the Federation knows…”

“Federation?” I echo, wondering what he’s talking about.

“Oh, I know about the Dungeoneering Federation,” Tesla chimes in. “It’s a big group of Pokémon that basically govern the registration and training of dungeoneering teams. Guilds operate as extensions of them.”

“You certainly know your way around the Federation’s system!” the Chatot congratulates. “Yes, like your Shinx friend said, this guild and all others like it operate directly under the Dungeoneering Federation. As a guild, we’re licensed to register and train new teams until they prove, in a manner dependent upon the guild’s own administration, that they have mastered the skills within the scope of our training program.”

“I’m back!” a familiar voice shouts into the room as Stardy once again bounds over us, returning to his desk with a new stack of papers in hand. The rather noticeable sheen and vague scent of ink makes them seem freshly printed. “Here’s that contract in Unown script. Once you and Tesla sign off on it, we’ll get you set up as a team here!”

I take the papers and begin reading over them. Other than a couple typos that may have just been the translation process, it’s a fairly boring read with how self-explanatory most of it is. Then again, if they didn’t have it in writing, they’d have no way to enforce anything on it. After reaching the final page, something unusual catches my eye: the signature boxes are square and not rectangular. Figuring there’s some cultural thing I’d mess up, I pass it to Tesla, who dips a finger on his right forepaw in a nearby jar of ink and stamps it in the box. I then follow suit, now knowing the kind of signature they expect on papers like this. “All done,” I then say as I pass the papers back to Stardy.

“Alright!” he says, filing the papers in a bin on the desk. “So, what do you want your team name and color to be?”

“I, uh…” Tesla begins, freezing up a bit. “…I didn’t think of a team name.”

“You were so excited about coming here and forming a team, and you didn’t even think of a name?” I question, half incredulous and half annoyed. “Er…” I mumble as I look over myself, my cyan fur giving me an idea. “How about Aero?”

“Yeah, that works!” Tesla agrees. “I like it. That sounds like a good name for a nice sky blue color, too.”

“So, Aero and cyan,” Stardy says to himself as he writes it down. “What kind of team would you want to be?”

“What kinds of teams are there?” I immediately ask, wanting to know my options before making any decisions.

“Rescue teams, exploration teams, research teams, and hunter teams!” Stardy lists. “Want me to tell you more?”

“Sure,” I say, wanting as much information as I can get.

“Rescue teams focus on finding lost Pokémon and items. Exploration teams focus on exploring new territory. Research teams focus on learning more about the world we live in. And hunter teams focus on tracking down criminal Pokémon.”

“Think we could do a research team?” I suggest to Tesla. “That seems most likely to get answers about my predicament.”

“Sure, we can do that,” Tesla says, nodding.

“Then we’ll go with research team,” I state.

“One last thing before you’re official,” Stardy says, moving what looks vaguely like a fingerprint scanner toward me and Tesla. “Just put a forepaw on that! That’s all.”

I do as instructed, holding the same finger I signed with earlier (after wiping the ink off) against the glass lens of the reader. Strangely, it felt like it was resonating with the same aura I channeled yesterday in Beach Cave. “Is it supposed to be resonating with my aura?” I ask.

“Yup!” Stardy responds, barely ever breaking his hyper demeanor. “Team badges need to be marked with auras so only their rightful owners can use them.”

“I see,” I say as the machine beeps. I lift my hand-paw off it and step aside so Tesla can do the same process. With both our auras recorded, Stardy pulls out two badges from a mechanical-looking container. The badges resemble winged Poké Balls, with a white top half and cyan bottom half. The wings are gold in color, and in the middle is a light blue gem. “You’re all set, Team Aero!” the shiny Wigglytuff says as he passes us our new badges. “Yoooooooooooom-tah!”

I grab my badge, not questioning his sudden roar of excitement. “Thanks, Stardy,” I say with a slight bow.

“Anything for a friend!” he replies. “Oh, and we have some starting supplies for you!”

“Really? What kinds of supplies?” Tesla asks.

Stardy sets a yellow box down between the two of us. “Open it up and see!”

I open the box, revealing a rolled-up map, a small bag, and two round Pokégear-looking things. “Pretty nice stuff in here,” I say as I reach in and pull out one of the round objects. “What are these?”

“Those are expedition gadgets! You can use those to stay in touch with teammates both in and out of dungeons. Oh, and you can view guild postings there too!” Stardy explains.

“Sounds neat!” I say, setting mine back down. “Uh…who gets to carry the bag?”

“I can do it,” Tesla says. “Though you’d probably be the one getting stuff out of it.”

I take the bag out of the box and secure it around Tesla’s torso. “Is that good?” I ask.

“Yep! Fits just fine,” he responds. “Though I think there’s something in the bag.”

I open it up, revealing a red scarf and yellow bandanna. “Huh, what are these?” I ask, holding them up.

“The yellow one’s a Power Band, and the red one’s a Defense Scarf,” Tesla answers. “You want the Power Band?”

Something feels familiar about this…but what? “Sure, I’ll take it,” I say, reflexively tying it around my right arm. I then gently wrap the Defense Scarf around Tesla’s neck, its red color nicely playing off his light blue fur. With our accessories in place, I put the map and gadgets in the bag and close it back up. “Should we pin our badges to these?” I ask.

“Might not be a bad idea,” Tesla concurs.

I pin mine to my Power Band and his to his Defense Scarf. “All set.”

“Orzo, mind showing them around the guild?” Stardy requests.

The Chatot - apparently his name is Orzo - nods and hops over to Tesla and I. “If you will follow me, I’ll show you all our guild has to offer.”

Our first stop appears to be just outside Stardy’s office. “Down this hall is the trainee residential area. You’re welcome to use a room there, or simply live near enough that you can visit the guild daily.”

“Are there any advantages to either choice?” Tesla asks.

“Living at the guild means you don’t have to trek back and forth every day to wherever you might live,” Orzo explains. “On the other hand, if you prefer the comforts of home, you’re welcome to commute.”

“Guild housing sounds better, then,” Tesla says. “At least it’d be more convenient than walking through Treasure Town every day just to get here.”

“You’ll be able to move into your new rooms effective this evening,” Orzo informs. “And on the other side of this floor, we have the guild mess.”

“Mess?” Tesla repeats, tilting his head and angling his ears downward. “Why, is it never cleaned up?”

“Not that kind of mess!” Orzo declares, flapping his wings a bit in annoyance. “Rather, that’s where guild members dine.”

“Oh, you mean a dining hall,” Tesla says, now understanding it. “I get it now.”

“Indeed,” Orzo confirms, pointing a wing toward a blue frog-like Pokémon. “Bero there maintains the guild’s inventory. All rescue team trainees are required to accompany him and Furu to Apple Woods at some point. As you’re a research team, I don’t currently know whether you’ll do that.”

“It couldn’t be that hard, could it?” I say. “I mean, Apple Woods doesn’t sound like that tough of a place.”

“Oh, it’s a very difficult place,” Orzo objects. “If I had to estimate, I’d say the Pokémon there are about twice as strong as you are.”

“I…see,” I reply. “Guess we just need to train. A lot.”

“And train you will! Tomorrow will begin your training here at Wigglytuff Guild. All we ask is you fulfill one request at a good level every day. Fail to do that, and…” Orzo trails off. “Let’s just say the results would be far from pretty.”

“Eh, I think we can do that,” I say.

“And of course, we’ll be walking you through this for the first few days,” Orzo elaborates before flying upstairs. “Follow along!”

I nod and run upstairs, Tesla following close behind. “So what’s on this floor?” I ask.

“The mission boards, of course,” Orzo states as he flies over to the one on our right. “This is where Pokémon in need have their requests displayed.”

Unfortunately, it still seemed to be in that weird script - talon runes, I believe Orzo said - that I can’t recognize. “What does it say, Tesla?” I ask.

“Uh…” the Shinx mumbles as he looks over the screen. “The left option is ‘View All Missions’ and the right option is ‘Filter Missions’,” he reads.

“Seems pretty standard,” I say, nodding as Tesla translates. “Should we do one of those now?”

“No, not today,” Orzo informs. “You’ll be completing something off this board tomorrow. Take today to get settled in and meet your guildmates. Anyway, over by the other board is Wave,” he resumes, motioning to a light orange rodent-like ‘mon standing on her own tail.

“Hey!” the Raichu greets, waving a hand-paw.

“She’s the guild chef, but she also manages team assembly. When you want to bring other Pokémon you’ve recruited with you, speak with her before setting out so we can make sure everything’s set up.”

“Got it,” I say, looking over at Tesla.

“Sounds good to me,” he agrees.

“Upstairs from here is the guild exit, as I’m sure you remember,” Orzo describes. “Feel free to take the rest of today to meet your guildmates, move into your guild housing, and familiarize yourselves with Treasure Town. Your guild work begins tomorrow.”

“I think we’ll do just that, Orzo,” I say with a respectful bow. “Thanks for showing us around the guild.”

“I can show you around Treasure Town, if you want to do that now,” Tesla offers.

“Sure, that could work,” I say with a nod. “Shouldn’t take too long, should it?”

“It shouldn’t.”

“Then let’s go,” I say. “We’ll be back soon, Orzo!” And so Tesla and I climb back upstairs and leave the guild to explore Treasure Town.

As we head back into town, I notice a lot more Pokémon milling about than there were earlier this morning. “Did we really leave that early in the morning?” I ask no one in particular.

“Sort of,” Tesla answers. “This place doesn’t usually get all that active until later.”

I glance down a side road, seeing a tall, almost residential-looking building with two rodent Pokémon in varying shades of brown walking away from it. “What’s that building?” I ask.

“That’s the Treasure Inn. Yunei runs it, and honestly if I had more Poké I’d be there instead,” Tesla explains.

“Sounds about right,” I say, not fully understanding the feeling but also not being surprised.

“Wonder who the Bidoof and Rattata are.”

I shrug. “Maybe they’re just townsfolk. They don’t seem too bad, anyway.”

We continue along Treasure Town’s main thoroughfare, soon returning to the not-quite-Gym that I saw this morning, the Smeargle still standing outside. “So is that Smeargle affiliated with the dojo?”

“Not really. He runs a move-training service, though,” Tesla answers.

“Maybe we should look into that sometime later, then.”

As we cross a bridge, I notice Kangaskhan- and Haxorus-shaped buildings opposite each other. “You know these buildings, Tesla?”

“On the left is Liana. She runs a storage service for all teams.”

“I get the feeling we’ll be using a lot of that,” I say. “Should we drop off the fragment there?”

“Oh yeah, good idea!” the Shinx agrees, bounding over toward the Kangaskhan.

“Oh? Are you a new team?” Liana asks, noticing our scarves and badges.

“We sure are! We’re Team Aero!” Tesla responds, his eyes shimmering with excitement.

“Do you need anything stored today?” Liana asks us.

“Just one,” I say, pulling the Relic Fragment out of Tesla’s bag.

Liana takes the fragment and brings it into a back room, later emerging without it. “Stored away!”

“Thanks!” I say, liking her cheerful demeanor.

“You know what a Kangaskhan Rock is?” Liana asks. “They’re little storage-management stations professional dungeoneers set up around most dungeons so you don’t need to be dragging all your dungeon supplies halfway across the continent.”

“Oh, neat!” I say, liking how adventure-friendly this world seems to be. “But…how does what we store end up there?”

“The power of modern technology,” Liana answers, with a knowing smile. “Well, that and networks.”

Huh, sounds a bit like the Pokémon Storage System back home. “I see. Thanks, Liana!” I say with a wave as I head back to the road, Tesla following after me.

“Shiano opens Treasure Boxes. But I doubt we’ll find any of those for a while, so we can meet with him later.”

A natural archway of trees, through which the setting sun’s rays peek, provides a smooth, natural transition to the town square. “Over there is the town market. Remember Shay? She’s set up shop there,” Tesla says, motioning to a sprawling building that looks about like a normal shopping mall.

“Should we take a look around?” I ask, looking over the building.

“Not today; it’s getting a bit late. We’ll definitely be out here tomorrow for supplies, though!” Tesla says as he begins to lead me back to the guild.

As we arrive, we see that most of the ‘mon milling about earlier are nowhere to be found. “Where’d everyone go…?” I ask, my voice shaking a bit.

“Maybe they’re all downstairs?” Tesla guesses as he goes down another floor, with me not far behind.

Indeed, I start to hear voices as we descend, soon seeing the Alolan Raichu from earlier flying out from the mess hall. “Dinner’s on, everyone!” she announces.

And then my ears are met with a loud chorus of cheering. At least they’re enthusiastic, not that I needed all the noise to tell me that. “Guess now’s a good time to introduce ourselves,” I suggest to Tesla.

Tesla nods, following the crowd into the mess hall.

Inside, there seems to be kiosks around the perimeter distributing various foods, with most of the seating in the middle in tables of about ten. For some reason, it smells like they’re serving baked goods of some sort. Once the two of us get to the kiosk, I find out why it smelled like that: they’re serving pancakes. I get a small stack for Tesla and I and then carry them to a couple empty seats across from the Bidoof and Alolan Rattata from yesterday. “Hey,” I greet as I sit at the table.

“Howdy!” the Bidoof responds. “You folks new here?”

“Yep! We’re Team Aero,” Tesla says. “I’m Tesla, and this is Matthew.”

“Well, welcome to the guild,” the black-furred Rattata says. “I’m Takao.”

“And I’m Bivin,” the Bidoof says, introducing himself as well. “Together, we’re Team Tooth.”

“I can introduce myself, you know,” I mumble in Tesla’s general direction between bites. “Anything we should know about guild life before our work starts tomorrow?”

“Well, since y’all are new here, they’ll probably start ya off with somethin’ simple,” Bivin explains. “Somethin’ like finding a lost item, or a search and rescue.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad, as long as it’s not in a place like Apple Woods,” I say.

“Nah, most places around town are fairly tame,” Takao mentions. “Besides, the Apple Woods run is something everyone has to do at some point, to my understanding.”

“But by that point, we should be a lot better at dungeoneering anyway, so it won’t be as bad,” Tesla notes.

I nod. “So we’d start with dungeons closer to town, and then work our way outward? That seems fairly reasonable.”

“That’s it,” Bivin affirms with a nod.

“Guess we’re the second newest team at the guild now,” Takao adds. “Have you been around Treasure Town yet?”

“Yep! Tesla showed me around,” I say with a nod. “I’m sure we’ll be spending some time in the market getting ready for tomorrow’s assignments.”

“Best of luck to you, Team Aero,” the Rattata says as he and his teammate leave the table.

I yawn as I finish up my dinner. “We should get to bed, huh, Tesla?” I say.

Tesla nods and yawns as well. “Sounds like a good idea, Matthew.”

We head across the guild’s lowest floor and soon return to the residential section of the building. After a bit of searching, we find our room and enter it. “So, what’s this Federation like?” I ask, glancing over the beds, map, desks, and other furniture in the room.

“Well…” Tesla begins. “Before the Federation was formed, exploring dungeons was a total free-for-all. Teams rose and fell on a whim. There was no real kind of security or identification for dungeoneers at the time.”

“Did that lead to impersonation?” I assume as I sit down on one of the beds in the room.

“A lot of it,” Tesla confirms with a quick nod. “And that’s not even getting into outlaw teams. They’d operate under the guise of a legitimate team, but just make the situation worse for whoever they were supposed to help.”

“And the Federation was founded to prevent all that?”

“Pretty much! The Rescue Team Federation, as it was known back then, licensed teams and gave them official badges marked with auras. If a badge was lost, its aura could be scanned and matched with the Pokémon it belongs to,” Tesla describes, hopping into the other bed.

“That doesn’t sound like it’s the end of the story, though,” I say. “Anything else I should know about the badges, considering we’re a team now?”

“Well, after some time, badges were fitted with Escape Orb fragments to let teams escape in emergencies,” Tesla says.

“Emergencies? Like what?”

“Did you feel any kind of…uh…effects on your own aura when we were in Beach Cave?” the Shinx queries.

“No?” I respond, wondering what that has to do with anything.

“Stay in a dungeon too long, and your aura can start fading. Or at least so I’ve heard,” Tesla says, moonlight from the window illuminating his soft feline face. “That’s one emergency that the badges’ Escape Orb fragments are meant to get you out of.”

“Is it recoverable?” I ask, wiping one of my aura sensors out of my face. Rather concerning that too much dungeoneering could destroy my aura…

“From what I’ve read, yes,” Tesla says, nodding again.

“That’s a relief.” I then yawn, glancing out the window to see how dark the sky got since we returned to the guild. “Maybe we should call it a night…” I suggest.

“Sure,” Tesla says, yawning as well before curling up on his bed. “Good night, Matthew.”

“Night, Tesla,” I respond, laying down on the other bed.

[choccocatmylo]

Dull Colors pt.1:Welcome Home

Eleven years. That's what the judge deemed sufficient for a violent child's outburst of self defense. Even with a capable legal team and vast evidence in her favor, a simple no forfeited her life to a confined cell in a county jail, and later on a maximum security prison. Chocco was 15 when she was arrested, charged and sentenced. Twenty six when she was finally released from the hell of prison.

Matthew, her legal guardian, had written her only two letters. The first, lamenting her foolish refusal of his proposal, one of both convenience on her end, and a selfish wanting on his. The offer was simple, he'd do everything in his wealthy positioning to free her and in return she'd give him her life, in both legal marriage and social standing. With her bearing a suitable heir to his fortunes and keeping herself socially hidden as to stifle suspicions from her half sibling, his daughter.

The thought of being tied down to the brute disgusted her for multiple reasons, and the sheer idea that he could and had already punished her with confinement for refusing had burned a seething hatred for the man so deeply into her mind that she saw a deep red at the thought of him. 

He had stolen seven years from her at that point, and the letter was only rubbing salt in the aching wound he'd made.

The second letter came when she had already been imprisoned for close to nine years, and had been moved to maximum after contributing to a large scale riot, resulting in multiple casualties of both guards and inmates. She had newly been released from solitary for biting a handsy guard in the jugular and was seated in her cell, a steel mouth-guard tied to her face to prevent future incidents.

The mail carrier entered the block and pulled the slot in her door open, then slid in a yellow envelope. The pungent smell of sunflowers flooded the room and made her nose itchy. She climbed to her feet and shambled to where the letter had fallen by the door. The slot closed quickly and she heard footsteps running off. Now twenty two years old, Chokaria stood a massive, bulking 6''3 with broad shoulders and bulging muscles. She used one of her clawed fingers to tear open the top of the envelope and pulled the folded papers out. At first she skimmed the letter, then reread it carefully, afraid she was illiterate after all this time or maybe he'd written in code. But no, he'd written in carefully calligraphed Italian, knowing it was the only written language she was familiar with.

 "Dear Chokaria, 

How are you, princess? I'd imagine not so well with the transfer, I hope you were given a chance to say goodbye to any friends you'd made at your last residence. Luckily I pulled a few strings on the outside and moved you somewhere near to me. Peggy says hi, of course. She still believes you're enrolled in a private militant school in Venice. You'll have to write her sometime, I'm sure she'd love to her from you.

I have a proposition for you my dear, it is not so different from my last, but I believe you'll find this one more appealing for the both of us. You're familiar with bartering by now, no? We shall call this a barter. I currently hold in my possession a beautiful engagement ring, and some imperative papers pertaining to your early release. You can come home at any time I wish, and I do intend for you to return to me soon, all I ask is that you sign a few papers on my next arrival to your current…residence. 

Do carefully consider my offer, and evaluate your choices. In the end I will get what I want, the only question is will you get anything you want?

With love, Matthew D'Angelo"

Chokaria had read the letter at least a dozen times. He'd even included a picture of her sister, smiling gleefully and holding a scribble that vaguely resembled the trio of them. She hung the picture of her sibling on the wall, and folded the letter back up. Paranoia began to seep into her brain, would he stoop low enough to hurt her sister to get her to agree? She prayed not, but that man was above nothing, held no quarrels with anything immoral to succeed. What he'd done in the name of training her as a child was evidence enough of his limits. 

Matthew's arrival and subsequent visit had arrived sooner than the inmate envisioned. She was escorted to the private room by two guards, shackled arms behind her and mouth-guard fastened tightly, pressing against her scalp. Her ankles were shackled and her tail was the only free appendage, fastened around her waist as a belt. She was shoved into the room and forced into the chair adjacent to Matthew. He was dressed to the nines, as if to impress her. He had a shit eating grin on his face as he adjusted his red tie. For all intents and purposes he seemed genuinely pleased to see her-or rather, see her in her prisoner garbs.

"It's always a pleasure to see you, beautiful."

She glared at him with her only visible eye. He chuckled and addressed the guards.

"Could one of you please remove that, contraption off of her? I'd like to have a conversation here."

The guards were visibly hesitant.

"Inmate 4467 has an issue with biting and spitting, sir." One of them spoke, the other nodded in agreement. 

Matthew refused to take that for an answer. 

"I am hear in regarding to her legal issues, it would be useful if she could speak, no? I assure you, while I am here she will act in accordance to the warden's rules."

Hearing that the guards cautiously removed the mouth guard. Chocco cracked her jaw and stretched her sore mouth, a visible bruise on her cheek had ached under the pressure of the metal mask.

Matthew was appalled by the bruise and turned his swelling anger to the guards. He began berating them, inquiring to who as he put it-assaulted his client in such a brutal manner. He began promptly speaking to her in Italian. Though his accent was strong and made the words come out scuffed, despite his fluency.

"It wasn't them, another guard." Chokaria spoke nonchalantly.

"Give me a name, or a badge number, now." Matthew demanded of her.

"Can't." She moved her bangs from in front of her hidden eye, which bore three deep scratch marks that had blinded her eye and turned the emerald color to a glazed over gray. 

"Why is that? Are you being extorted? I will bring down the gods hammers on their skull so help me-"

"Bit out his jugular."

"You-What?!"

Matthew asked incredulously, he knew the girl to be a brute but never a homicidal monster that spoke so calmly before him. So she explained herself. Earlier that month a guard had removed her from the yard and did a random frisking in the halls, conveniently where there were no cameras. The search went south fast and resulted in her headbutting him and getting into a short scuffle, at one point her mesh mouth guard came loose which she used the opportunity to remove it, and sink her sharp canines into his throat, nearly ripping out his Adams apple. Matthew, disgusted by the story had then inquired as to where the guard was.

"He ain't dead, in the med bay on leave till the hospital boys come for him. Got solitary for it, the hole was worth it though. Won't let these sick fucks get at me, plus they'll think twice now."

"And if he were to return to his post after this, how are you sure he wouldn't test his luck again? Or seek vengeance?"

"Simple really," Chokaria crossed her legs and rested her arms on the table. "Word gets around, only thing girlies in here hate more than the few chomos that come in are handsy guards. If he comes back the bigger girls will get him fore he comes near me."

"Excuse me? Chomos?"

"Child touchers, diddlers, sickos."

"I see."

Matthew shuffled to his left,  bending slightly at the waist to retrieve something resting near his calf.  He then placed a slim brown briefcase on the table.

"Doesn't match yer outfit oh chief." Chokaria leaned back in her chair. Matthew shot a mean glare at her.

"So you're a fashion critic now?"

She smiled and switched her legs, crossing the opposite over the other.

"No captain, just observant."

"Well, I have some papers you can observe." Matthew pressed to clips on the briefcase and the top sprung open. He shifted through a thin stack of papers before separating it into two piles and closing the case with his elbow. He then placed both on the table, sliding one over to her side with a pen holding them together by the top right corners. A pen of his own adorned his stack, acting as a paperweight.

Chokaria's attention drew to the few sentences she could read. Some  was written in Italian for her convenience, but the vast majority had been written in English. She tried her best to read those parts as well, but ultimately failed. 

"Is this a joke at my expense, Matthew?"

He smiled at the sound of his own name, but when his hazel eyes met an angry green one, the smile faded as fast as it appeared.

"No, no! Not at all, it was simply a legal precaution for the notaries and lawyers. This," He pointed to a small paragraph in Italian. "Is the beginning of the important parts."

Chokaria swiped his much larger hand away and began to read the section he pointed at, the contents expanded onto the remaining pages and were indeed the bits she should be paying attention to.

"You wish me to move in your home, marry you, and bare your kin?" She asked him but also herself, in disbelief of the sheer audacity of the man before her.

"More or less, yes."

"I-I can't believe you!" Chocco slammed a fist onto the table.

"I understand, you must be very confused as to how I could be so-"

"Selfish! Arrogant! Horribly Ignorant!" She yelled in rage filled huffs.

"I was going to say generous, but if that's how you feel.."

"It is not how I feel! It is how you're displaying yourself! You relentless leech, you said the deal would be better for both of us, but it's the same as the last!" 

Matthew stood and raised his hands slowly.

"I understand your frustration, but please, return to your seat."

Chokaria hadn't realized she'd jumped out of her seat, the lax ankle shackles suddenly tightened as she noticed Matthew glance at the guards. With the swelling frustration of her situation, and her fleeting energy she sat down roughly, slamming the chair onto the concrete floors. Matthew slowly returned to his seat, and lowered his hands calmly.

"There-there! No need to get these inadequate gentlemen involved in our conversing." Matthew fixed his tie, flattening it against his bulging chest, his suit did little to hide his bulky muscular frame. Not to mention the modest soft spoken persona he put on for humans was futile if you couldn't ignore how threatening his physique was, and most could not. Chokaria sighed, her curly brown locks falling over her face. The shaven right of her scalp itched like it usually did when she was worried, and her furrowed brows tore down the visage that she was handling this news well and good.

"I refuse D'Angelo. You know I will never agree to this."

"I'm well aware of your stubborn tendencies, but you're willing to throw away your freedom? A chance to have a life again, all for your pride?"

"No, it is your pride that is your hubris, you're the one who lives in this idealized hell that if you have enough money, you can make anyone do anything for you, and you can have anything you wish. Even at the expense of others, even at the expense of people you care about."

"Those are tall claims from someone in your position, Chokaria."

"I'm done talking with you, goodbye."

Chocco stood and signaled the guards. Snapping at them in English.

"Take me back to my cell please,"

She looked at Matthew, who was now standing and holding out the papers for her.

"We're done here."

"I insist, just read them over once more, and if you change your mind, sign them."

 Matthew held out the papers for her to take, placing the pen in his pocket. The inmate could no longer conceal her disdain for him, and any excuse to get him to stop looking at her was one she'd take greedily. So in the end she did take the papers, balling them up into a crumbled tube and shoving them haphazardly into her pocket. Matthew bode her farewell with two kisses on the cheeks and bid adieu before departing. The return to her cell block was stifling with quietness. It seemed lights out had been set for a while and those who were still up were either reading, meditating or humming tranquilly.  When they reached her destination one of the guards briefly spoke into the walkie talkie placed on his chest. There was a loud mechanical buzz and the heavy steel door reeled open with noisy groans. Chokaria slowly entered with her back to them and patiently waited as they released her of her cuffs and shackles. She sat in the middle of the cramped space as the door began to close, and sighed. Retrieving the rolled papers from her pocket and skimming over them. The severity of her predicament began to hit her and she couldn’t help herself from crying tears filled of anguish.

In the end she would be a prisoner regardless of what path she took, and with the time she'd already spent locked away from civilization she would give anything to regain a semblance of freedom.

Even if it meant waiting for her release date.

Chokaria Maelor was released from Decoder's Maximum Security Penitentiary at the age of twenty six. She was given the clothes she came with when she was first incarcerated at fifteen, and the feeble collection of items they confiscated from her when she was in booking. It was a fine day when she exited those barbed gates. The sun was hidden behind a thick row of clouds, and there was a comfortable breeze through the crisp air. Her long mane of hair was tied loosely in a low ponytail, and she used her clawed fingers to rip the old worn tie from her hair. The busted hair piece fell to her feet which were adorned with black converse that were far to small for her feet. She draped her leather jacket over her, reminiscing on how it used to be so large on her, and now it fit properly. Her once striped shirt had transformed into a belly shirt due to her maturity, and it laid snug against her bulking muscular body, as if sculpted to her. The dense pack of muscles on her torso were on full display. She resigned to keeping her gray sweats that were given to her in jail, knowing her only pair of jeans would never fit again. Granted she'd grown tenfold in pants size, regardless of it they were in tatters, barely recognizable as once being an article of clothing.

She hadn't expected anyone to show to her release, and yet still a black SUV sat waiting for her, engine running and an unseen driver waiting at the helm. Someone exited the back seat from the adjacent side as she neared, and her gratefulness dissipated at the revelation of just whom showed up for her. For someone you loathe to be the only one there for you after years of enslavement, a different breed of hatred can be birthed in the human conscious.  

Despite all of her prayers, wishes and hopes, despite all of her pleads for it not to be so, there Matthew D'Angelo stood. Defiant against her wishes, laughing at her prayers to her gods, allowing her to hold hope in her cell all the while knowing he'd return for her regardless of how she felt towards him.

He was there for her, and she hated him for it.

The ride to his estate was quiet and tense. The driver said not a word to them besides giving Chokaria a smile and "welcome to the free world madam." before driving off. Matthew resigned himself to the silence he considered to be a peaceful refrain from their snarky banter. He was simply happy to have his prized toy returned to him, a plaything was all he really saw her as. An item to own, something to add to his growing collection of possessions. But Chocco would not go so willingly, nor without fighting him tooth and nail. She didn't want freedom, she demanded it, and would fight for it, if it came to it she'd kill for it. Sweet freedom that had been robbed from her, stripped and torn from her since she had came with him and her mother to this accursed nation. Well no more, she wasn't going to lay down and wait for a slow, agonizing death. That wasn't quite the being she was raised to be. She was meant and instilled to be a monster. An unruly, uncontained beastly creation of love and hate. Her father's hatred for their home's laws and religions, and her parent's love. But their love was fickle like most ties to others in her life. And when her mother went astray and invited Matthew to her bed, Chokaria learned what hell on earth looked like. Then, when she smuggled the small child to her lover's home, Chocco lived through hell with him. Like all things, when he was bored of her mother he moved his revolting sights on someone else, her. Then, when her mother angered him he did what he always did with his faulty toys, he broke her. Brutality was his specialty, and he enjoyed the screams of those who he inflicted it upon. 

Chokaria shivered as the buried memories resurfaced, creeping into her mind and taking place there to ensure her suffering. She balled her hands into fists and let her gaze fall to her lap, she always promised her mother, as horrible as she had been to her, that she'd never let that fate become of her or her sibling. 

The car stopped at a red light, Chocco looked out the window at the bustling world around her. Random civilians living in their personal universes, coexisting in peace. For the most part there were only humans, but among them there were Creatures, of all shapes and species. Avians soared high and low, rodents stuck to the walls of buildings and squeezed through the crowds. Bigger hulking Creatures like Oxen, Bears and lanky Serpents walked and slithered in longer strides among the smaller humans. There were no hybrids in sight, and she thanked Matthew internally for having the foresight to keep every window in every car heavily tinted. With one way mirrors no one could see  their features, and with proper attire they could blend in with  humans publicly. That was Chokaria's downfall after all, she hadn't listened to him all those years ago and went outside without any obscuring accessories to hide her ears or even a jacket to hide her tail. 

But she hadn't, and she had to live with her decisions, dwelling on the past would not help her now.

"Where are you taking me?" She asked firmly, refusing to even look at the man she spoke to.

"Where else? Home."

She could feel eyes staring at her, his stare boring into the back of her head and making the hairs on her neck stand stiff. It was a mix of disgust and dread that had filled her body, making her chest heavy. She had decided to no longer speak, and in her stead Matthew would happily do so.

"Peggy is currently attending a prestigious, private school for gifted mages and wizards, she'll return in the fall. Until then, you'll have very loose responsibilities. I have an exceptional roster of maids, butlers, chauffeurs and a highly trained security team. Rest assured your every desire will be met, and you needn't worry yourself about anything you might need."

When Chokaria failed to respond he continued on.

"Of course you'll have the freedom to roam the property at anytime and renovate and decorate as you see fit, the staff will brief you on the few rooms you're not permitted to enter…as for leaving the premises, I would hope you can agree that it's far too soon for that."

She looked at him for the first time since she entered the car, he'd peaked her interest with that statement, and if her stoic face and icy stare failed to show it, her perked fluffy ears did.

"I see you're excited about something at least, yes-yes, you may leave the estate in due time. At first I considered after a month, you do need to rest, and readjust to society. Your social graces could use some work to say the least, and I'd rather you be comatose before you leave the house in…"

He gave her a once over and used a limp hand gesture to address her outfit.

"Whatever the hell that is."

"It's what I went to jail in, ass."

"Now let's not make excuses for your god awful taste in fashion, dear. It's not your fault your invalid of a mother couldn't impart any sense of style on you. For fucks sake she was a goddamn tailor, it was the least her selfish ass could've done." He snarled coldly. It seemed some things never changed, like his lax tongue when talking about her mother. Chokaria withheld the urge to throttle him, but just barely.

"Enough about that though, you really aren't ready to face the new world that surrounds you, with how the politics of our world have evolved over the last decade, and with your current mark on the civil rights aspects of the judicial system, it's really in your best interest to stay near me for the time being. If not then firmly under my heel, so if you must leave for any reason there'll be some…constrictions for you."

"Such as?"

"Well you're going to be given a lady in waiting-"

"Excuse me? Is it the 1800's and no one told me?"

"Silence. It'll simply be a woman to aid you with your wardrobe, diet, daily scheduling and classes."

"Classes? I'm no student. I’m unsure if that's what that title even means either."

"As if you'd know. You will be in etiquette along with other things."

"I'd rather be shot in the fucking face."

"Mind your tongue or you'll cease to have one, Chokaria." Matthew warned. Their eyes met in twin glares, and his never faltered once. She bit her tongue and allowed him to continue.

"In that case, if you truly refuse to learn any semblance of civilized activity, there are alternatives available to you. Though few, I assure you they will pique your interest."

"What if I don't want to do any of them?"

Matthew laughed heartily, it was genuine amusement with her. He carried on for a while until his laughs began to die down. He wiped a tear from his eye and pressed a palm to his breast.

"Oh my dear, it's so cute you think you have a say in anything."

The car suddenly stopped. They had arrived at their destination. 

"Now get out of my goddamn car."

[seriestrash]

Summer Storm

○ ONE SHOT ○

Prompt: This combines a number of summer vacation prompts I’ve been sent. All will be credited at the end of the one shot. 

Summary: The gang (along with Josh) head to the Minkus’ family beach house for a week of fun in the sun. On their last night in town a storm hits.

Pairing: Rucas, ft. light Smarkle + Joshaya 

Word Count: 3390

○ ○ ○

The Minkus family own a holiday home in Malibu and by home, I mean an extravagant mansion right on the beach. The family however, barely use the house despite having owned it for a number of years. 

Although, when Stuart has company business to handle over the summer in Malibu he sees it as an opportunity to use the facilities. Considering he’d be mostly out and occupied with business he urges his son to plan a vacation around it with his friends. 

Eventually all five friends manage to convince their parents to allow them to go on the trip and they were all off on a Malibu adventure in a matter of days. On first arrival at the mansion, everyone - with the exception of Farkle, whom is used to its grandeur - is blown away by the sheer size of it all. 

Riley immediately finds herself spinning in the grand entrance, her eyes dancing around the room as she tries to absorb every beautiful detail of the building. 

“Whoa,” Riley stops her twirling when she catches a glimpse of the lavish chandelier hanging above her head. 

Everyone takes note of Riley’s gasp and each point their gazes in the same direction as hers. More gasps of astonishment follow. Farkle stands by awkwardly as he’s never been a fan of showing off how wealthy his family is. 

“Farkle, why don't you give your friends the grand tour?” Stuart clears his throat.

Excitedly, all Farkle’s friends turn to face him. The genius holds in his sigh and takes everyone around the house. On the first floor the genius shows them the kitchen, the dining room, living space, home theatre and built in bowling alley before taking them out onto the patio where there’s a pool overlooking the sandy beaches and ocean waves.

They all go back inside cooing their amazement at the place with one another and Farkle is burning red with embarrassment at this point. 

“Come on,” He clears his throat, “I can show you guys to the rooms.” 

“Ah yes,” Stuart makes himself known again, an arm around his wife, “All bedrooms are upstairs and I’m under strict instructions that it’s boys with boys and girls with girls.” 

“Mr. Matthews the stiff,” Maya jokes with a scoff. 

“Actually Maya, Shawn was the first one to bring it up,” Mr. Minkus gives her a knowing look. 

Maya giggles at her protective adoptive father and Riley smiles at how happy that makes her friend. 

The group climb the extravagant staircase and all pause at the top of the stairwell. Mr. and Mrs. Minkus’ room is directly adjacent and on either side of their door are a rooms with attached bathrooms. Farkle points the girls in one direction and leads the guys in the other. 

In the girls room, Riley squeals upon entering. She’s sure this room alone is bigger than her entire apartment. The wall on the far side of the room isn’t even a wall at all, it’s completely made up of floor to ceiling glass windows giving them a stunning view of the ocean. 

On one side of the room there is an enormous bed, one that would fit all three girls, three times over and they’d all still sleep comfortably. Adjacent to the bed is a flat screen television mounted on the wall. The room was that large that it even had enough space for a grand lounge setting. 

Next the girls inspect the bathroom and gasps escape them all again. It’s magnificent and light. Grand, just like the rest of the house. Riley’s eyes widen as she sees the large bathtub and a completely separate rainfall shower, double sink basins. Everything about it made Riley feel like she was a celebrity. 

In the boys room the view is much the same with the entire far side being floor to ceiling windows. An enormous bed rests against one wall much like the girls room but they also had the addition of a slightly smaller - but still enormous - bed on the opposite wall. 

After getting over the initial excitement the gang prepare themselves to hit the beach. The wave bye to Farkle’s parents and take the short walk down to the beach. With the weather being warm there are other people on the beach but it’s not overly crowded.

The group set up their belongings on a nice semi-secluded spot adjacent to the beach house. Riley lays out her purple beach towel, removes her summer dress exposing her newly purchased swimsuit and sits herself down on the towel, applying sunscreen. Maya sits by Riley, a very wide brim floppy hat on her head, oversized sunglasses perched on the brim of her nose, distressed denim shorts and an oversized band tee covering her swimsuit. 

“You okay, Peaches?” Riley fights the urge to giggle. 

“No,” Maya whines, “You know I burn easily. I don’t have lovely skin like you or Smackle.” 

Smackle - whom is on Riley’s other side starts spitting some scientific jargon about what actually makes Maya’s skin prone to burning but the two other girls look at her with blank faces so she gives up. 

“Come on, we’re here for a whole week. You have to swim at least once,” Riley waves the sunscreen tube in her hand, “How many times is an amazing vacation like this going to be handed to us for free?” 

“Fine,” Maya sighs as she reaches for the bottom of her shirt and pulls it over her head. 

Riley helps her friends apply sunscreen because that’s the responsible thing to do and the girls help reach the places on Riley’s back she couldn’t while the boys were already off throwing a football to each other. Well, Zay and Lucas were whilst Farkle stood by looking like he wished he wasn’t. 

“I think maybe you should save Farkle,” Riley nudges Smackle’s arm with a giggle. 

“He doesn’t appear to be in any danger,” Smackle gives her a quizzical look. 

“Danger of dying of boredom maybe.” Maya chuckles. 

Smackle locks eyes with Farkle and waves for him to come over. To which he looks thankful for and is with the girls in a second. They joke about how much fun he’s having and he responds with his usual mocking noises. 

Maya sits with her knees brought close to her chest and Riley sits cross-legged when Zay and Lucas return to them. Lucas holds out his hand to help Riley up. 

“Swim?” He asks simply and Riley bounces up in excitement and the two frolick towards the oceans edge. 

“Swim?” Zay imitates Lucas and holds a hand out for Maya. Maya reluctantly accepts his offer. 

When she’s standing she looks down at her bare stomach. “I’m so white.” Maya groans. 

“Me too,” Zay jokes and he manages to get Maya to crack a smile.

The pair go and join their friends in the surf and the two geniuses aren't too far behind them. The six frolic in the waves together, laughter a constant presence. The always graceful Riley manages to lose her balance almost every time a wave crashes into her but Lucas was always right there to catch her. Although, Riley managed to find herself too far away from the group as she’d been unaware she was drifting out further when a wave dumps her and she’s trapped in its spiral, too panicked to find a way out. Luckily, Lucas spots her in distress and quickly comes to her rescue, helping free Riley from the watery grip of the wave. The Texan helps Riley to a spot where she can find her footing and stand on her own. The brunette coughing as the salt water had pierced her throat. 

“Are you alright?” Maya comes over in a panic. The rest of the friends close behind her, also expressing concern of their own. 

“I’m fine,” Riley says with her heart racing as she tries to catch her breath. “Thanks to Lucas,” she smiles sweetly at him and he tries to act as if that didn’t just completely stroke his hero complex. (I LOVE HIM OKAY, NO HATE Just imagine how cute and proud he’d look after saving her fhgkldgjhk)

Maya pulls Riley in for a tight embrace but tenses completely when a familiar voice calls out to them from the sand. 

“You guys started without me?” He shouts. 

Maya begins to chuckle knowingly and slowly turns around to find Josh standing on the shore line. Lucas jogs over to greet him. 

“Riley,” Maya says to her best friend but doesn’t dare break her stare from the college boy on the beach. 

“Did I forget to mention that my dad asked my Uncle Josh to come along and keep an eye on us?” Riley sways innocently. 

“I think I’d recall anything involving your Uncle Boing,” Maya turns to face her, “Because if you had told me I would have been acting like a complete idiot and your father would have thought that it was a bad idea.. Ohhhh, I see.” 

“You’re welcome.” Riley giggles. 

“Maybe I should pretend to drown.” Maya says seriously. 

“Why?” Zay asks. 

“So Josh can save me.” Maya’s wide grin doesn’t waver. 

“I nearly died, Maya!” Riley shrieks, “This isn’t some game.” 

“I know, I know,” Maya swats the air, “But if I’m lucky I’ll get my first kiss with your Uncle.” 

“Mouth to mouth doesn’t count as a first kiss,” Riley gives her a look. 

“Yeah, be careful,” Zay pats the blondes shoulder, “Smackle is the most qualified here... You might be locking lips with her.” 

“I wouldn’t object,” Farkle states and all three girls look at him in distaste before splashing him. 

Eventually - after Maya regains her cool composure - they all join Riley’s uncle and Lucas on the sand. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Josh side hugs his niece, “I had to tie up a few things back at campus first.” 

“No problem at all,” Riley grins, “Glad you could make it.” 

The rest of the day is spent soaking up the sun and enjoying the wonderful beach atmosphere. That’s how it was for days. The seven teenagers would laze about in the sun on the beach or by the pool and on a few occasions the girls went to check out a few of the shops around. When the weather proved to be too warm for the group they’d spend time inside watching movies in the theatre room or playing a few games of bowling. 

On the day before they’re set to return to New York, a weather warning is issued. With the skies covered in ominous dark clouds the group decide to order pizzas and settle in for a movie night. The theatre room had a large projector screen on one wall and at least a dozen roomy recliner chairs that the group scatter themselves amongst. 

Riley begins on her own seat to the right of Lucas and left of Maya but once they’re two horror movies deep Riley wedges herself into Lucas’ extra space on the chair as she was much too scared on her own. Lucas of course happily welcomes her as he loved feeling like a protector when it comes to Riley. 

After the second scary film wraps up Riley insists they watch a comedy to lighten the mood and her anxious thoughts, it seems to work as she’s drifting off to sleep by the end of it. 

Riley is woken by Lucas as he tries to carefully get out of the seat without disturbing her. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” Lucas speaks softly. 

“Is the movie over?” Riley wipes at her tired eyes. 

“Yeah, everyone’s gone to bed.” Lucas says. 

Riley looks around and notices the room is empty. Lucas extends a hand and helps the still sleepy Riley up from the chair. With an arm around her shoulder, Lucas leads Riley out of the theatre room. Riley jumps in fright immediately as a loud thunder clap sounds. Now out of the soundproof theatre room Riley realises that storm warning was now in full effect. The rain was pelting down so loudly Riley wondered if it was really hailing. Lucas steadies Riley and tells her it’s just a storm. 

As the couple are nearing the staircase they spot Maya and Josh sitting on opposite armchairs by the closed patio doors. 

“Whoa.” Riley says with wide eyes as she looks out the glass noticing how dark it was and how heavy the rainfall is. 

“I love watching storms.” Josh says with a grin. 

“It’s kinda pretty, hey Riles?” Maya turns her head back to her friend with a smile.

Another loud thunderclap sounds and burst of lightning illuminates the outside area momentarily, surprising Riley in the process, it causes her to jump in fright again.

“Just beautiful.” Riley grumbles sarcastically with a frown. 

Josh shares a light chuckle over his niece being frightened by storms but Maya gives her a sympathetic smile. 

“I’ll be up there in a second.” Maya says to Riley. 

“No monkey business down here you two.” Lucas jokes with a smirk. 

“Yeah and you say that with an arm around my niece.” Josh glares at the younger but much bigger boy. “Don’t get any ideas,” Josh turns to Maya with a panicked look on his face. The blonde sports her cute monkey imitation causing the college boy to smile. 

Lucas leads Riley upstairs and with every thunder clap that sounds she grips even tighter to his side. They stop outside of Riley’s room, their voices at whispers as they guessed Mr. and Mrs. Minkus were asleep in their own room next door. Another thunder clap and another jumpy reaction from Riley. 

“I hate storms.” Riley huffs quietly. “I can never fall asleep during them.” 

“Did you want me to stay with you?” Lucas asks sheepishly.

“No!” Riley answers embarrassed.

“I just meant I could sit with you if you were scared.” Lucas shrugs. 

“No it’s okay, I mean the girls are in my room, the boys in yours just- no thank you.” Riley blushes. 

“Okay, well you know where to find me if you get too scared.” Lucas gives Riley a kiss on the cheek before heading to his own room. 

Riley enters her suite, Smackle is already sound asleep on the far side of the bed. Riley shimmies under the covers beside her and tries to block out the noisy storm outside. She has no such luck. 

Eventually Maya tip toes into the room and climbs into bed on the other side of Riley. 

“You’re still awake?” Maya whispers once she noticed Riley stir. 

“Yes.” Riley whispers back, nervously gripping the edge of the blanket as she pulls it up around her neck. 

Maya sleepily rolls over, her back to Riley as she whispers, “You’re not thinking about the scary movie are you?” 

“I am now!” Riley whisper panics. 

“It was just a movie.” Maya yawns, “And it’s just a storm, Riles. Try and get some sleep.” 

Easier said than done. Riley sits awake for another hour, her two friends fast asleep on either side of her, every thunder clap and every lightning flash that sneaks through the crack of the curtains makes Riley tense up in fear. Terrifying scenarios of crazed killers waiting out in the storm play through her mind like she’s watching another horror film. 

“Maya?” Riley whispers. No answer. “Smackle?” Again no answer. Finally Riley carefully shimmies her way out of the middle of the bed and tiptoes out of the room, down the hall and all the way into the darkness of the boys suite. 

It’s pitch black and Riley is regretting her decision in coming over here. Then, another lighting flash illumines the room and Riley uses this as a way to work out where everyone was. Josh is asleep on the plush sofa after coming in late that evening after watching the storm with Maya. A crash of thunder sounds and Riley tenses up, she wonders how everyone can be sleeping so peacefully with all this terrifying noise. Another lightning flash and Riley notices Farkle and Zay sleeping on the massive bed against the wall. Then, another flash sees Riley finally finding Lucas asleep on the slightly smaller bed on the opposite side of the room. Riley tiptoes her way over to him. 

“Lucas,” She whispers quietly as she gently nudges his shoulder. 

“Riley?” Lucas asks sleepily and she’s thankful that he’s not a heavy sleeper or otherwise she might have woken up the other guys in the room if she got any louder. 

“I’m scared.” Riley admits and another loud thunder clap sees her jumping in place. 

Lucas wriggles over a bit and pats the space beside him. Riley chews nervously on her bottom lip. 

“What if people see?” Riley asks embarrassed. She’s thankful it’s dark in the room because she knew her cheeks would be burning red. 

“We’re just waiting out the storm.” Lucas can’t help but yawn. “Besides, you said you never fall asleep during a storm, you can just leave before anyone wakes up?” 

Another thunder clap, another jumpy reaction and Riley quickly climbs in beside Lucas on the bed. Awkwardly she lays next to him on her side, no contact between them, her eyes had adjusted to the darkness so she could make out the basic outline of Lucas’ features without needing the lighting flashes to illuminate him. 

Right now Riley was more nervous about sharing a bed with Lucas than she was about the storm but eventually she calms down and lets Lucas comfort her when it came to the storm. His efforts seemed to work as Riley managed to doze off. 

The next morning there’s not a single drop of rain to be seen. It’s as if the monster storm of the night before was a very distant memory. Riley wakes to the sound of someone clearing their throat, beside her Lucas wakes too. Somewhere in the night Riley found herself pinned comfortably under Lucas’ arm and she remains there that morning. 

Riley’s eyes adjust to the light in the room and she sees five faces staring down at her. Lucas releases Riley from his grip in an embarrassed hast as Zay, Maya, Farkle, Isadora and Josh all wear various expressions on their faces, mostly amused but Josh didn’t seem too impressed.

“No monkey business, huh?” Josh asks with folded arms, his gaze directed at Lucas. 

“I hate storms.” Riley groans with embarrassment as she pulls the covers over her face realising she’s been caught. 

“You know, I think I don’t mind them.” Lucas says with a goofy smile on his face.

“Yeah I bet.” Zay says with a smirk and Josh lightly smacks him over the head. 

“Cory doesn’t hear about any of this, okay?” Josh addresses the group looking defeated. 

“Sure thing, Boing.” Maya sways on her feet with a devilish smirk. “And Shawn doesn’t hear about last night either.” 

“Last night?” Riley throws the covers back with urgency. All eyes point to a very smirky Maya and wide eyed Josh. 

“Nothing happened last night!” Josh says defensively.

“But it could have.” Maya teases playfully. 

“No it couldn’t have.” Josh matches her tone but he was a little more frazzled.

 “You’re going to get the poor boy in trouble.” Zay shakes his head. 

Josh wants to talk about literally anything else so he decides to assert his authority. “Okay so we’re leaving in an hour, boys and girls lets get some distance and get to packing, okay?” 

“Okay.” Maya says still wearing a devilish smirk. “See you in an hour.” 

Josh shakes his head and makes his way over to his things and everyone seems to scatter. 

“Morning.” Lucas says to Riley with a slightly sheepish smile. 

“Morning.” Riley laughs at the awkwardness of it all. 

“I thought you couldn’t sleep through storms?” Lucas says. 

“I don’t normally,” Riley shrugs but with a small smile she says, “Then again I don’t normally have you with me.” 

“Have I mentioned lately how much I like storms?” Lucas grins. 

“Once or twice.” Riley crinkles her nose cutely. 

“Riley.” Josh says knowingly from the other side of the room. 

“Okay. Okay.” Riley giggles. “I’m going.” 

“See you in an hour?” Lucas says with a grin. 

Riley risks being reprimanded by giving Lucas a quick kiss. “See you in an hour.” 

○ ○ ○

End note: obvi this isn't the sad one shot i was talking about but I finished this one first so HERE YA GO!! :)

Crediting all my anons bc this was more requested than I thought and I have to give credit where credit is due!! Hopefully my combination of these satisfies you all!! :)

[wreckedwaters]

Life Switched Up

The lovely idea By Feli

basically gmw but on a gender bender and this lovely idea made me so inspired, I’ll probably make this is a series but I may type the rest on a different website(posting it here as well of course) but hopefully you all enjoy !

Boy MEETS life or in this case reality

“I can’t believe it.. My son.. My young, young, young son’s first day of school is less than twenty minutes away… come here kiddo get a picture with your mommy please”

“Mom, I’m fifthteen and it’s just the first day of highschool” Ricky sighs as his mother engulfs him into a huge hug, she always got so sentimental once school came around crying and holding until the very last minute possible before Cory and Ricky himself would remind her that he would be late if she didn’t let go.

“I know honey but.. It’s the first day of your career and-- gosh you’re getting old, Cory remember when he was just a boy” Topanga cries again as Cory comes to rescue his son, he frees Ricky and he waves goodbye, Ricky leaving to meet Miles near the subway.

To say Ricky wasn’t nervous was an understatement, he was freaking out internally. Ricky unlike most boys was always awkward and oblivious to the world around him, growing up in a home with a younger sister to look out for and two parents that basically taught him the ins and outs of life he never really had to struggle with much other than his own insecurities and optimism. Ricky, for the entirety of his life, has always been plagued with the go lucky- goody two shoes trait that made him a joy to be around, especially for the girls that fell for him left and right to which he never noticed as he always assumed that his niceness was only being reciprocated. Ricky always overthought things, even when he didn’t mean to, he was always worried that over something whether it be an upcoming bio quiz or the matters of home and the outside world his curious mind would lead him to thinking into different variables over the simplest equations, one being the start of high school. This would be the last four years of which before he ventured off to become an adult and do adult things, the thought of being an adult and doing adult things scared him more than Miles as he shouted “Boo!”.

Ricky shifts uncomfortably, rolling his eyes “Very funny Miles”, he says as his best friend gives him a warm hug. Miles was the complete opposite of Ricky in both physical features as well as personality; Miles was more adventurous, more charming, and more reckless with his blonde hair and green eyes that makes almost any girl swoon and most times he was often more recognized and loved for his troublemaking ways which always led to Ricky having to save him in the end of course. Miles unlike Ricky was the only child in his family, he grew up without a father and had only a mother who worked her ass off at a diner to keep a roof over their heads, Miles barely ever bothers to recognize or think about why his father left or who his father was, that was all forgotten and bottled up in the form of him not being academically smart and being the bad boy of brooklyn jay middle school, to which that bad boy persona and his overall look of nonchalant-lance would carry over to brooklyn high nonetheless.

Miles laughed as they both boarded the train and grabbed a pole, “Oh come on, you were totally out of it! It would’ve been cruel of me not to try and scare you”.

Ricky once again rolled his eyes and chuckled a bit as he pulled out his phone and checked the time. 8:04 AM. He let out a breath of relief, they still had a good forty minutes to get to school on time. Ricky began going on a tangent about how nervous he was for the idea of highschool when the train shaked just a little, with Miles glancing behind them to see a gorgeous blonde sitting by herself reading, he nudged Ricky to turn around causing the anxious boy to stop dead in his tracks.

“Woah,” Ricky speechlessly says as he stares at her while leaning on the pole, her dirty,curly  blonde hair cascaded down her face easily. With headphones in her ears she looks up for a mere second and catches the glance of Ricky to which she smiles smally at, then returns to her book in hand. Ricky's nerves instantly turn to butterflies as he turns around and grins with Miles who is just laughing at his awkward best friend. “She’s she’s-”

“Hot, Datable?, ohhh Bedable ?,” Miles smirks and Ricky shakes his head and sighs, “No, she’s beautiful and probably completely out of my league,” the jet black haired boy mumbles as he looks back at her again, this time she’s completely engrossed in whatever she’s reading.

“Ricky that’s the thing about you, you think too much”

“And you don’t think at all”

“See! You get me, this is why we're best friends, it’s also why I’m gonna show how easy this is and how you’re so in her league that she might as well be out.. Just watch,” Miles says as he guides his way over to her. He swings around a pole before greeting her.

“Hi I’m Miles. You’re really cute we should go out sometimes ? You make me happy! You don’t pay enough attention to me!, this isn’t working out. It’s you, not me. We can still be friends.. Not really,” He walks away leaving the girl confused and lost as she stares in their direction before diverting her attention back to her book.

Miles comes back and pats Ricky on the shoulder, “She’s available, we just broke up”.

Ricky frowns, “Awwe I’m sorry dude, do you want to talk about it ?”

Miles shakes his head laughing,”Look here’s a quick tip: be like me and don’t think”, he let’s Ricky’s hand go as the train shakes causing Ricky to fall back, slipping into the seat right next to the blonde haired beauty who glances over and gives him a weird look as he straightens up and smiles, “Hi, we we’re just talking about you.. You use to date my best friend Miles” he laughs a bit as a blush of embarrassment comes over him.

She laughs and it sounds like actual angels to Ricky as she speaks, “I’m Lucy”  she says as she holds out her hand.

“I love it”

“Ack.. I mean I um.. It’s a nice name. I’m Ricky,” The jet black haired boy stumbled as he shook her hand that felt softer than pillows, the butterflies were definitely swirling inside him. He was about to say something when an older Lady politely came up to him and ask if they could trade seats, Ricky being the generous person that he is instantly gets up and allows her to take his seat, only realizing after what a mistake that would be since now he was left standing awkwardly by them.

“Okay well… see you around Lucy,” Ricky walked back to the pole where Miles stood glaring at him, “What ?”

“Dude you had the golden opportunity to talk to her and you gave it away for an old lady,” Miles scorns as Ricky shakes his head comprehending his mistake, the train stops at their destination and they get off together ready to walk together for the first time through the halls of Brooklyn J. High, the butterflies disappearing and the nerves kicking in yet again.

“Oh my god you’re so right, I mean what if that was the greatest moment in my life? What if I never get to see her again, what if after that a girl will never talk to me again all because I’m an awkward dork”, Miles rolled his eyes at Ricky’s exaggeration, like always his best friend overthink everything even when it wasn’t necessary. “Look Dude”, Miles begins as they finally make it to the steps of the high school with seven minutes to spare, “Just take a deep breath and relax, we’re the new underdogs and just like any new rookie we must climb our way to the top of the social ladder… or at least I’ll help you climb” the blonde boy nods as they enter the school both stopping dead in their tracks as they gawk at their very new surroundings.

Everything. Is. Different.

There were lockers that were long and not split in half, there were students not walking in a line, there were places where students can freely talk and enjoy life, there were vending machines, and there was Fiona Minkus, Brooklyn Jay- er- High’s richest elite, walking up to the two boys and ready to plastered herself to her boyfriend’s side. She crashes into Miles causing him to jump before hugging back and kissing the pretty brunette on the cheek.

Fiona Minkus was the epitome of intelligent, there was not one problem she couldn’t solve in less than ten seconds. Rivaling basically the boy version of herself, Fiona was known for her great mind but also for her rich name. As her dad is one of the founders of Brooklyn J. High, her name is famous in the halls of this school even before her first official day of freshman year.  Treated like royalty, the blue eyed brunette always hated her family name and the responsibility it held, she always felt that she could never fully be apart of and treated like her peers around her, whether due to her intelligence or her money Fiona would never truly learn what it’s like to be an outsider.

“Took you guys long enough, I was starting to worry,” She laughs as she grabs ahold of her boyfriends hand, they all begin walking together with Ricky obviously third wheeling but not that either of the lovebirds mind. Ricky although insanely gorgeous, was a very oblivious and easily distracted boy; for all of middle school girls who didn’t fell for her boyfriend’s charm swooned over Ricky’s awkwardness and kind heart however, he always assumed that they were only just being nice to him. Fiona has known the boys since 3rd grade when they ended up being the only two who came to her birthday party she held at her penthouse, most parents felt intimidated by the Minkus family but the Hart’s and Matthew’s family weren’t like them and from there they’ve grown up together, with of course Miles and herself falling head over heels for each other in 7th grade.

“Fi you must remember, they are commoners compare to us” Zoelle giggles as she catches up to them. She gets an uncomfortable silence before Fiona coughs and introduces her, “Guys um this is my new friend I met over the summer during abroad in India, Zoelle Babineaux. Zoella meet Ricky and my boyfriend, Miles Hart” they boys smile and greet her nicely and she blushed with embarrassment, “Sorry about my comment, it was just a joke” she tries to laugh it off and Miles laughs with her.

“Oh don’t worry if that’s the worst thing you’ve got then trust me I will be out doing that by the end of the week”

“Is that a challenge Hart, I’ll have you know I sure do enjoy a good war”, She snickers teasingly and he laughs once more patting her on the shoulder, “Trust me Zoelle, if a war is what you want best believe I’ll win”.

“Oh Zoe he’s right, there’s no way your too much of a goody two shoes” Fiona jokes.

“Oh my god,” Ricky gasps loudly,”I’m not the only one, high five!”

Zoe giggles again and gives Ricky a high five before turning her attention back to Miles who was already staring at her, “We’ll settle this after homeroom” She smirks before walking into the class to which the others follow suit.

They all sit down when the teacher turns around, Ricky’s, Fiona’s, and  Miles’ face’s instantly drops, “Oh no” they say simultaneously. The teacher cheers as he claps his hands together, “Oh yEs!”

“Do you guys know him or something?” Zoe asks confused.

“He’s my dad,” Ricky mumbles as he tries to hide his face, which is pointless since he is in the very front row.

Suddenly a knock at the door and it opens to reveal Lucy from the train entering with a note, suddenly Ricky’s eyes light up and Miles sits laughing while Cory looks terrified, looking back and forth between the smiling blonde and his gushy son.

“Oh no”

“Oh yEs!”

[penelopelovesalvez]

A Lucky Night- Chapter 11

Here is my multi-chapter pic featuring characters I do not own from Criminal Minds, Alvez x Garcia, in a story of my own creation. It picks up at the end of 13.5.

Warning: Some chapters contain smut. While many do not, the ones that do are definitely 18+, NSFW.

Please feel free to re-blog and review! Please ask for permission before posting on any other platform.

It seemed like only a minute had passed as Luke and Penelope sat before the beautiful, electric fire trading lazy, sensual kisses. Suddenly they felt the engine cut out and the boat stopped swaying. A knock sounded at the cabin door, and they heard Captain John’s voice informing them they had docked.

“Do we have to leave the boat?” Penelope asked, her lower lip shaped into a perfect pout, the kind a Hollywood starlet in the 1920’s would have built a career on. “This afternoon, just the two of us, has been so perfect and I’m not sure I’m ready for reality just yet.”

Luke chuckled, shaking his head. “Sorry Chica, but that’s a yes. We’ve got places to be. Up with you, or we’re gonna be late,” he said, standing and then reaching his hands out to her. He easily pulled her off the sofa, and directed her ahead of him to exit the cabin, slapping his leg for Roxy to follow. He pulled out his phone, typing out a quick text as they climbed the narrow oak stairs that led back out to the deck.

They gathered their things, and reattached Roxy’s leash. Shaking hands with Captain John and exclaiming their absolute delight at the experience, they conveyed their hopes to return again in the future. Then they descended the narrow stairs again and crossed the gangway to the dock. Hand in hand they walked back up the wooden dock, turning back once to wave at Captain John. When they reached the parking lot Luke again opened the door of the truck for Penelope and helped her climb into the cab. This time he placed Roxy in the kennel that was secured in the truck bed. Stopping for a moment at the tailgate, he checked the text he’d received. Then he slammed the tailgate shut and rounded the car, opening the door and swinging himself up.

Penelope had been looking at herself in the mirror on the back of the visor. Ugh, she looked awful. Not a trace of the morning’s carefully- applied makeup remained. It had been erased by the spray of the water and the wind. In its place, however, was the faintest sunburn on her cheekbones and a bit of wind burn on her lips. Or maybe they’re swollen from all the kissing she’d been doing. Well, regardless of the reason, she was looking like a hot mess. Repairs were definitely needed to both hair and makeup if they were not done with this adventure. She sure hoped he didn’t think he was going to be walking her straight into some fancy restaurant with platform sneakers, his hoodie, and frizz-tastic hair. For the love of God and all things fluffy, let the man take her to a bathroom with decent lighting and a plug for her curling wand. Hearing him open his door, she slammed the mirror closed and returned the visor to its original position. Turning towards her door, she pulled her seatbelt across her chest, buckling herself in.

“Off to Roxy’s dog sitter, right?” she asked, her voice a little bright with the false cheeriness she was projecting to cover up the sudden nerves at not knowing what was planned and the bit of insecurity she felt sitting next to the FBI’s own Puerto Rican Ryan Gosling without even her makeup as a security blanket.

“Actually, tiny adjustment in the timetable. We’re running a smidge late, so instead she is going to meet us at our next stop. Saves us having to double back, that way we can make up time and get to Alexandria,” Luke said, grinning over at her. “You’re going to need the go-bag you brought for our next stop. We will be changing- you did say you brought something for tonight, right? If not, I will be happy to swing by a shop and pick up something myself,” he said, licking his lip wolfishly and winking at her. “I’m sure I can pick out something sexy for you,” he practically growled low in his throat.

“Luke Matthew Alvez,” she giggled as he shook his head “no” at her latest guess. “Well, Luke whoever you are, you should know that I accomplish sexy all on my own, and I am definitely prepared. Give this beast an hour in a proper bathroom with what’s in that bag and she will emerge a beauty once more,” Penelope said, flipping her hair best she could with it spilling messily out of what had been a very charming braid some hours ago.

Luke stopped the car at the line as the light turned yellow to red. He turned and cupped her cheek. “You are gorgeous Chica, whether your hair is all tousled on the pillows in your bed or from the waves and wind. I get lost in your brown eyes, with or without the smoky eye makeup. And your lips- I can’t get enough of them. Sure, the red lipstick drives me wild. But I like them bare too, so long as they end up against mine,” he said quietly, leaning down to kiss her before the light changed. A car behind them honked the horn, and he turned his attention back to the road, lifting his foot off the break. “You’d look sexy tonight no matter what Penelope Grace, but I will enjoy seeing you all dolled up and watching everyone see how lucky I am,” he said, letting his right hand drop from the steering wheel to land on her leg. Massaging the muscles of her left thigh through the fabric of her denim skirt and leggings, he navigated them away from the marina and towards downtown.

Penelope contented herself with looking out the window, pondering what a smooth talker Mr. Strong and Silent turned out to be. She was enjoying the feel of his firm fingers pressing into the flesh of her thigh. Mmmmm, maybe she’d let him continue that later on this evening. Although… what if he’s one of those guys who are only in it for the chase, and once they’ve “had you” they’re off, looking for the next challenge. He did hunt fugitives for years… She’d better be cautious- you know what they say. Play with fire, you’ll wind up burned. Best to keep a firm grip on her heart until she knew if he’s really into her, and not just the challenge of nailing the girl who wouldn’t even make small talk with him last year…

Penelope let the somber thought slip away as they pulled into a parking garage firmly in the center of downtown Alexandria. Being one of the closest suburbs to Washington D.C. it was usually a pretty bustling area, especially on weekend nights. Most of the lower levels of the garage were already full of cars. Luke pulled them all the way to the top floor, where there were a surprising number of available parking spots. They pulled up next to a silver, older-model sedan. “Roxy’s sitter, Maggie. Thought it would be easier to make the exchange if we could actually pull up next to her so I told her to meet us at the top of the structure. Just let me get Roxy and her stuff loaded into her car, and we will be on our way down the elevator,” Luke said, sliding out of his door.

Penelope gathered her purse and her bag while Luke led Roxy to the back of the young woman’s car. She looked like a college student probably, nineteen or twenty years old. She was pretty, but wasn’t dressed in any way that seemed to obviously invite attention. She had on sweats and an old, faded graphic tee over a long sleeve shirt. Nothing flashy at all. Penelope wondered why a pretty young girl her age would rather spend Saturday nights at home with someone else’s dog, and made a note to ask Luke about her later. 

Luke returned to the car, collecting the button down and leather jacket he’d brought, as well as his dress shoes from earlier. They waved to Maggie as she and Roxy pulled out of the spot and headed down the levels of the parking garage. Luke took Penelope’s bag from her, and then placed her hand on his elbow as he escorted her to the elevator. He pressed the button for the lobby floor and they descended in the small, enclosed car. “So, do you have any idea where we are headed, Chica?” he asked, raising his eye brows. “Have you hacked my phone, read through my texts? Maybe run a search of business establishments within walking distance from the garage?” he teased, his dimple showing as he smirked at her. 

“Well Luke, I did consider sending a quick text to Reid. He could have answered the question regarding the establishments within a reasonable radius around the garage, and he would have automatically filtered based on a semi-casual dress code and likely locales for a first date, but I decided to just be surprised,” she said, with a saucy wink of her eye.

“Well, then it is good you want to be surprised my little troublemaker, because surprised you shall be. First off because where we are going would never have occurred to Reid, and it wouldn’t have shown up on one of your searches either based on those criteria. And, this is not our first date Chica,” Luke said, as the doors opened. He put his hand on her lower back, guiding her as they exited the elevator and turned right, heading down one of the main streets that ran the length of the downtown area. “Last night was our first date: sleepover. Chaperoned by Roxy, of course. I’m nothing if not a gentleman,” he laughed, raising his pointer finger. Adding his middle finger, he continued, “Second was breakfast. Our third date was the boat ride at the marina,” he stated, ticking off his ring finger. Unfolding his pinky as well, he turned toward her and pronounced, “This is actually our fourth date, Penelope. I’m rather astonished that one who trades in information is paying so little attention to the milestones of our relationship,” he teased. They passed two more store fronts before Luke stopped them in front of an elegant brick building. “Here we are, Chica,” he said as he turned her to face the door they’d arrived at.

Penelope looked at the door, and then to the large picture window next to it. The curtains were drawn, but she could see clearly illuminated on the glass the scrolling letters that announced the shop’s name to passerby: Alex’s Day Spa and Salon. “Eeeeeek!” Penelope squealed. “You brought us to a spa?” she asked, spinning to face Luke.

Looking down at her, his eyes twinkling with laughter at her obvious delight. “Yes, we have an appointment here. Or actually, we have a few appointments. We will start with a half hour couple’s massage, and then we have a couple’s mani/pedi arranged before you get your hair and makeup done, and I get a trim and a straight-razor shave. How does that sound?” he asked, squeezing her hand in his.

“How does that sound?” she exclaimed. “That sounds, Luke Esteban Alvez, like our fourth date is already my favorite!” she shouted, throwing her arms around him exuberantly. “Is it? Esteban, I mean, is that your middle name?” she asked, her mouth reaching up as close to his ear as she could reach. He brought his own mouth down, pressing a kiss to her neck, his breath tickling her. “Not even close, Chica,” he chuckled. “Wait,” she said, “Why am I getting my hair and makeup done as well? We aren’t going somewhere after the salon, are we?” Penelope asked, wrinkling her eyebrows in confusion.

“Patience, Penny,” Luke chided. “One secret at a time.” Luke stepped back and held the door open so he could get her inside before her curious nature made them late for their appointments.

[cassies-collections]

Drunk!Damien WIP

Damien found K's bar by accident one night, walking the streets of Chicago like he usually did to clear his head. He hated being cooped up in the mansion, so close to the noise of everyone's cluttered thoughts. He didn't even know that the redheaded woman would be in the bar that he wandered into, shocked when he saw her chipper smile behind the counter. "K? What are you doing here?" He asked in his soft tone, the woman laughing and brushing him off with a wave of her hand. He was used to that kind of treatment. "Damien! Fancy seeing you here! I had to pick up a part-time gig to keep the Pink Lady afloat!" She lied easily through her laugh, but Damien knew better. The Pink Lady Cafe was always busy so it wasn't like she needed the extra money for that. Instead, he decided not to push the issue, shrugging a little and pulling up a stool. "Oh. Sorry to hear about the trouble. What do you have that's strong?" The incubus muttered, rubbing his temples. His head hurt but he didn't want to use more energy to make it stop. The pain made him feel a little more human. K tapped her chin as she went over drinks in her head, staring at Damien until she settled on one with a curious ingredient. "How did you get access to that?" His voice was low, lavender eyes darkening and narrowing at the woman. "I have many secrets, Damien. Do you want it or not?" She laughed, smirking dangerously back at him. "Yes." The word was hissed through clenched teeth as his headache spiked and he grunted in pain. K grinned again and turned to fix his drink, humming as she went over the directions in her head. When she turned back around, she presented him with a glass of Long Island Iced Tea with her special ingredient and slid it across the bar to him with a smirk. "Cheers!" *** When Damien first met Mika, his head was spinning and his leg was bleeding. He had managed to lead his older brothers to the mansion that the old human had mentioned to him before climbing in through an open window and collapsing onto the lobby floor. 'What are we gonna do now?' 'Where are we?' 'Hunger. Hurts.' 'Tired.' 'H-Huh? W-Who the heck are these guys? Why are they here?! What's going on?!' "Ugh..." he groaned in pain as a new voice joined the chorus of thoughts hitting his skull that he recognized as his brothers. The new voice, however, was feminine and somehow familiar. "Who are you guys?! I'll call the police!" The voice shouted, words echoing her thoughts that came rushing at the ginger haired demon who recoiled from the waves of anger pulsing towards them. 'Human.' 'Hunger.' 'Feed.' 'Hunger.' The sudden switch of thoughts from his brothers had Damien struggling to push himself upright. Before he could reach the girl to protect her from the sudden rush of demons, he saw Sam, who must have been using the last bit of energy he had to use his powers, reach the girl first and lean in to kiss her. He watched her go limp under his brother's control but heard her mind which vehemently refused to obey. Damien finally found his footing and glanced over at his other 3 brothers, noticing they were now standing as well although Matthew looked as shaky as he felt. He met his eldest brother's eyes with a pleading look and shook his head. "Sam. Stop it." A small growl passed through James's lips as he understood what Damien was silently telling him. The girl didn't want this. Sam was taking advantage of her with his powers. "Ugh. Fine." Sam growled back in reply as he pulled away, licking his lips and leaving the human breathless. Damien turned his lavender gaze to her as the next wave of confused thoughts hit him. He stood there silently as James tried to calm the girl down, explaining the situation as carefully and vaguely as possible to her. When she scoffed and laughed off the idea that incubi are real, challenging them to prove it, he felt her mind suddenly hesitate as Erik stepped up to her. A wave of protectiveness hit Damien like a train and he had to stop himself from baring his teeth at his second eldest brother as the pink haired incubus leaned in to steal her next kiss. 'No. This isn't real. It can't be real.. It can't-' Damien gasped softly in worry as he felt her mind go blank and watched her suddenly go limp. Luckily, Erik caught her almost instantly and picked her up bridal style. 'Erik went too far.' 'Oh!' 'Shit!' 'Oh crap!' Another round of thoughts from his brothers hit him and Damien swayed on the spot, tired and aching from the run through the forest. "We'll find the master bedroom and leave her there to rest. Damien, you can watch over her. The rest of us will clean up this mess and find the kitchen to make something to eat." James instructed and Damien limped up the main stairs after Erik, grabbing the bags that she had dropped as he passed by them. *** The first drink went down quickly, the bitter alcohol hitting his tongue and mixing with the sweetness of something else. "Another." He pushed the empty glass back across the bar, K looking almost surprised as she took the glass and began to make him the same drink again. Damien took the chance of her distraction to glance around the dingy bar, taking note of how sticky the faux wood was under his arms and the few patrons sitting around the room. Everyone was too focused on their drinks and drowning themselves in them to be thinking about anything and Damien let out a relieved sigh at the quiet in his head. This was where he wanted to stay. "Bottom's up!" K called, sliding another drink across the bar to him and the incubus whipped his head around to catch the drink in time. He brought it up to his lips and sipped, groaning softly at the sweet alcoholic taste washing over his tongue. Yeah, this is definitely where he wanted to be. *** "Ngh.. Where..?" Damien's head snapped up from his position against the far wall as the girl's groggy voice reached his ears, watching her cautiously as her thoughts slowly formed questions. 'Where am I? Where's Mom and Dad? This isn't my room.. Wait.. That's right. This is Grandpa's house... Why am I still dressed in bed? How did I get here? Why is it night? I'm hungry.. Maybe I should order delivery.' He couldn't help the small smile that spread over his lips as he silently watched her. She was kinda cute when she was thinking of basic things. Suddenly, wide emerald eyes were staring at him and he froze on the spot. "You're awake..." His voice was soft and calm like water rippling in a pond, but he had to swallow gently past the lump forming in his throat. He could've smacked himself for the dumb statement but he didn't want to startle her. "Huh? Gah!" She scrambled back away from him and he frowned a little, trying not to feel stung by her racing thoughts. 'WHEN DID HE GET HERE?! WHO THE HELL IS HE?! Oh no.. A guy in my bedroom?! Did we..?!' "There's no way!" She yelped and shook her head hard, her raven hair flying back and forth around her shoulders. Damien remained silent and still, closing his eyes for a brief moment as he waited for her to calm down. Heartbeats passed and finally Mika's breathing started to slow, a light blush crossing her cheeks. "Um, sorry... I-I think I was saying my thoughts out loud." She shifted a little into a normal sitting positing and eyed Damien warily, still cautious of the male. He watched as pictures of the encounters from the previous hours flashed in her head but said nothing as she squeaked. "Oh!!" 'Incubus.' The word echoed in her head over and over as different scenarios flashed in her mind and Damien swallowed hard again, feeling slightly nauseated at the creature she imagined him to be. Suddenly, she took a slow breath and his eyes widened slightly as her mind went blank. "Yeah. I'm awake now." She murmured quietly back to him and Damien smiled softly again. "That's good." Mika blushed lightly and the incubus thought it best to ease her mind before she could start to wonder again. "I'm not going to use my powers on you." He whispered, adding silently in his head with a small bitter taste on his tongue. 'The ones I can control at least.' "H-Huh? How?" She stammered, looking shocked and embarrassed that he knew. "I can read minds. It's an ability I was born with. Each of us has a different ability outside of our usual mind-altering powers." He explained quietly, closing his eyes. 'Great..' The thought sounded dry and sarcastic and he flinched slightly. "I see.. How long have I been asleep?" Damien's lavender eyes fluttered back open at her calm question, surprised that she wasn't lashing out at him again. "For a few hours. Heh, it's already gotten quite dark outside." "Ah, well.. where are the others?" She asked, thoughts still wondering why she was alone with only this incubi. "My brothers are downstairs, cleaning up the blood from the lobby floor.. hehe, and making you dinner as an apology." He could faintly hear a brother's thought every once in a while and he couldn't help the fond smile that crossed his lips. "Oh. Okay. That's unexpectedly sweet..." "Oh, it's the least we can do after invading your home and two of us using our powers on you." The ginger haired boy looked out the balcony window, feeling guilty that he hadn't been able to stop Sam from rushing her. "You've got a point.." Mika murmured and her thoughts went racing again, too fast for Damien to catch until she stopped on the word 'police'. He jumped a little and his next breath was a little shakier than he would've like to sound. "D-Do you feel well enough to get out of bed?" "Yeah, I think so- Woah!!" She yelped as she started sliding out of the bed, knees buckling under her weight once her feet touched the wooden floor. Damien launched himself away from the wall to catch her before she could fall. He scooped her up into his arms bridal style as Erik had earlier and smiled sweetly down at her as he carried her towards the door. "Trust me. I won't let you go." "Uh.. I-I'm not so sure about this..." She stammered a little, shifting uneasily in his grip as she blushed shyly. "I promise." His voice was sincere, eyes shining hopefully at her as he tightened his grip slightly. "Um.. okay. I trust you." She slowly relaxed and a feeling welled up in Damien's chest but he couldn't put a finger on what it was. "Good." 'He's carrying me like I weigh nothing. He's really strong.' "Thank you." Damien chuckled softly and her blush darkened. "Ehh?! Oh.. yeah, I forgot..." "It's alright. I'm used to it." He sighed quietly, gazing at her as he felt a pang of longing in his heart. 'If only I could be innocent and human like you..' He carried her silently through the hall and down the steps to the lobby, seeing that Sam and Erik had finished cleaning up their mess when he heard a faint thought. 'I think can walk now.' He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked down at the girl, whom he still didn't know the name of, when she blinked back up at him owlishly. "Thanks for carrying me, b-but I think I can walk by myself now. Not saying that I didn't like it. I mean, I-I liked it! Not in a weird way, of course; it's not like I get carried around all the time. What I'm trying to say is that it was really nice of you to do that." She stammered over her words, blushing darkly again and Damien couldn't help but chuckle softly and blush lightly a little as well. "It's no problem. I'll be heading to the dining room, then." He gently set her down and headed off to the dark doorway off to the side of the lobby, hearing her call her goodbye to him as he quickly made his way to help set up the table for dinner. *** The only downside to the quiet in his head is that it allowed him to finally think in peace which he certainly did not want to do right that moment. He didn't necessarily have much of a choice though as his mind drifted back. He had seen the darkness in Mika's head, heard the voice of Malix threatening her, and felt the panic that consumed her as if it had been consuming him instead when she had the nightmare on her second night in the mansion. He and James had been making breakfast when he had gone rigid. The eldest brother had snapped Damien out of his stupor only to watch as the younger brother took off running out of the kitchen, through the dining room, up the stairs, and down the hall to Mika's room. He didn't bother to knock, entering the room to see the girl writhing from the nightmare and whimpering loudly. Her mind was screaming for help, for someone to save her. The incubus didn't hesitate as he rushed to her side, sitting gently on her bed and pulling her into his arms. He felt a small sting when he heard Erik's voice in her head but he was grateful none the less that she had stopped jerking from the dream. When she gasped awake, it wasn't Erik holding her but Damien and a happy-confused question flashed so briefly in her head that the mind reader didn't have a chance to catch it. That's when he had talked to her more about his powers, hoping for her to understand him a little better. When James joined them and announced that breakfast was ready, Mika had wondered about why the boys care so much or if it was just out of courtesy. She made a comment that she can't read THEIR minds and Damien felt conflicted about that. Why would she WANT to be able to read minds when he wasn't even able to control his power? Damien curled his lip at the thought and shook his head, downing the last of his second glass. "K! Another one of these, please." He called to her, pushing the glass away and rubbing his temples as his mind spun a little. *** After Mika's nightmare, Suzu and Naomi had stopped by during breakfast. James introduced himself and his brothers to the raven haired girls friends as servants, trying to make things sound not quite as complicated as they truly were. The girls were naturally confused at first but they seemed to buy the story after a while. Mika told them of the housewarming party to take place later that night and, when they offered to stay and help, she shooed them away, opting to stay herself to help with the preparations. It was quite a shock to Damien when she offered to help him dust the lobby. He handed her a dust cloth and nodded towards the staircase. "We have to dust off the railings and the other surfaces before we mop the floor. Is that okay?" She nods and rolls up her sleeves, smiling sweetly to him as she climbed up the steps. "Easy as cake!" They dusted the rails as they walked up each side of the large staircase, a mischievous grin plastering itself to Mika's lips as a visual popped into her head. Damien's eyes widened slightly in surprise as he glanced over at her before he frowned in concern. "What if you get hurt?" He murmured, lavender eyes flicking down the stairs. It seemed like such a long way to fall. "Oh, come on! It'll be fun! I did it all the time as a kid!" She giggled and pictures of a younger Mika flying down the stairs flashed in her mind. Damien couldn't help the smile that graced his lips at the images, letting out a soft sigh before nodding. "WHOO!!" Mika cheered and ran up the stairs, dusting as fast as she could. Damien mimicked her movement on the opposite side of the stairs. They simultaneously jumped on the railing and slid down together. The exhilaration sent a rush through Damien, but at Mika's sudden thought of stopping, his eyes flew open. "Gah! Watch out!" He yelped. "Woah!!" Mika squeaked. They met at the bottom of the steps in the middle, crashing into each other and falling over. The demon landed over the girl, concern taking over her face as she blinked up at him in breathless surprise. Suddenly, Mika let out a breathy laugh of pure happiness, her mind blank of thought as Damien started to chuckle with her. He rolled off of her and held his stomach as she held her sides, both gasping for air as they laughed. "You were right! That was fun!" The ginger haired boy giggled, pure joy pulsing through his veins. "See? I told you! Hehe!" Mika smirked in glee, rolling onto her side on the floor to face Damien and he mirrored her actions, smiling back at her. Slowly, the laughter faded and Damien smiled sweetly at the girl, a small blush dusting his cheeks as his eyes still glowed with happiness. Mika smiled back shyly and blushed darkly, her mind going blank as she met his lavender eyes. 'Charming.' The word echoed into his mind from hers and he slowly stood up, offering his hand to her as she fell silent again. No one had ever called him that before. "Hehe. Come on, we need to keep cleaning." He chuckled and helped her to her feet. Mika smiled and nodded, continuing to clean. *** Damien smiled faintly at the memory, remembering the joy Mika brought to his life during spontaneous moments like that. It was the best feeling he had ever experienced in his entire existence. K pushed another glass across to him and watched him in concern as he took a gulp of it. He thought of the night that followed, remembering seeing her standing at the top of the stairs in a dark dress with low sleeves that hugged her waist. Damien wasn't the only one who had been surprised by the way she had looked, recalling just how floored his brothers had been as well. 'Stunning.' 'Exquisite.' 'Gorgeous.' 'Beautiful.' 'I don't want to do this.' Damien heard Mika's thought and he offered her a small smile as she approached them, trying to ignore his brothers thoughts of continuing compliments. He agreed with everything they were saying but more than that, he wanted to take away her anxiety by making the stress of the housewarming party nonexistent to her. Her emerald eyes met his lavender ones and her shoulders visibly relaxed, her smile brightening sweetly. The night had passed almost uneventfully, until Malix showed up after all the guests had left. Immediately, he had blocked himself between the girl and the devil, his fingertips tingling with energy as his brothers joined his side to create a crescent formation around her. His lip curled again as he sat at the bar, K looking very concerned at the display of aggression he seemed to be giving off as he stared off into space. "This place is protected." His own voice rang in his ears and Malix had turned his aggression from his brother to him. When Mika stepped forward to confront Malix, Damien felt a wave of awe and protectiveness crash through him. She had no power and yet she had the guts to tell this devil off. Malix took a swing at her and she ducked, Damien finding himself in between her and Malix once again with Matthew at his side. As Malix left, Damien focused on Mika's fearful thoughts. 'Will he be back? Can I leave my house to attend school? What will we do?' "Don't worry." He murmured to her and she didn't jump when she heard his voice in her ear as he hovered close to her. He brushed his fingers gently against hers, blushing lightly. "You're protected as well. The same spell that protects this house was also cast around you. You can leave to go to school and still be safe." When Mika relaxed at his words, Damien felt a warmth swell in his chest again. He set his empty glass on the bar and laid his cheek on the cool, sticky wood, whimpering faintly as he longed to feel those things again. "Maybe you should slow down, kiddo." K murmured, coming over to take his glass and set down a glass of water beside his head. "No. Keep them coming." He grumbled, lavender puppy eyes staring off into space again. ***

[calmdoctor]

400 Lux: MGG pt. 3

the final part of 400 Lux! its a little on the long side, but its super cute and i hope you all like it!

Warning: none

___

and i like you.

I begin to push Matthew back into the room and close the sliding door with my food, all while never breaking from the kiss. Our hunger for each other is growing by the second. With him, I feel at home. Sometimes even more so than when I’m in my actual house. He gently backs me into a wall as his hands grip my waist. My fingers comb through his curly brown hair as we fall into a rhythm with each other.

i love these roads where the houses don’t change. -and i like you.

I can feel his warm breath against my face as we breathe into each other. As we separate for a brief moment, Matthew breathily lets out a simple phrase: “I love you.” He instantly closes the gap, drawing us back into a kiss. Once the small gap between us exists again, I reply. “I love you too.”

where we can talk, like there’s something to say. -and i like you.

Gaining a surge of courage, I push Matthew back once again, but this time so that we end up crashing onto the queen sized bed. As he takes a breath, he plants soft kisses along my jaw, then moves to my neck. My breaths become sharp with each of his movements. My heart feels like it’s going to burst out of my chest. Slowly, he kissed his way back up my throat and returned to my mouth. I have no idea if there will be marks, but I don’t care. All I know is that I’m tasting him again. My teeth graze his bottom lip, and I feel him smile. I quickly roll over so that now I’m on top of him.

i’m glad that we stopped kissing the tar on the highway. we move in the tree streets,

I pull away and flicker my eyes open to look at him. His eyes are full of not lust, but love. My weight falls to the side and I lay next to him on top of the rustled sheets. Matthew pulls me closer to him, and I wrap my arm around his waist.

“I could get used to this,” he sighs. “Me too,” I reply with the same longing in my voice.

If time could stop, right now, in this moment, I would be beyond joyful. I want to spend forever in Matthew’s arms and be able to love him every second of every day. I want to be home when he gets home, and be able to wrap his body into an embrace after a long day. I want to wake up on Saturday mornings and have his perfect face be the first thing I see. I want to be able to go places with him and have him get to know my friends so that they slowly become his as well. I crave these simple joys as much as I crave air to breathe. But time does not stop— the second hand on the wall clock in front of us keeps ticking away ever so slowly.

i’d like it if you stayed- -we’re never done with killing time,

“Lets go do something,” Matthew whispers, his pink lips dangerously close to my ear. “Yeah,” I giggle, “like what?” “I don’t know, maybe, something outside.” I spend a few moments thinking about what we could do, but honestly, anything that I could be doing with him is something worth doing. “Lets just take a walk, see where our feet take us,” I suggest. He laughs a little, “Seems to be the theme of the weekend. I’m game.”

And with that, we both get up from the wrinkled sheets of the bed and and head out the door. We emerge onto the city boardwalk hand in hand, taking in our surroundings. The sun has set and the various lights on the street are the only source of illumination.

can i kill it with you, till the veins run red and blue?

We grab some food on our way down the boardwalk, and I can genuinely say that I may have never been happier. Matthew and I relish in the fact that nobody here knows us and that we are, for the most part, anonymous. He’s done his best to mask his identity with a dark red beanie, a style he only uses when trying to stay hidden.

The sun has officially set, and the lights of the city are breath-taking. We always seem to end up in this situation: we run away from our hometown and turn up somewhere along the California coast line. This time it’s San Diego, but it feels like a whole new world because of the fact that we don’t have to hide our feelings for each other.

we come around here all the time, got a lot to not do;

“Can we go to the beach?” Matthew asks as we near a pathway down to the shore. I smile at the thought; how cheesy would be to take a walk on the beach with the man that I’m head-over-heels in love with? “Sounds cliche… I’m in.”

can i kill it with you?

We took off our shoes and left them at the entrance to the beach, as was the norm for the area. The sand was cold between my toes and the air smelled like salt; I was never one to enjoy being at the beach, but today I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Matthew and I walked hand in hand down where the waves rushed up against the earth, our feet occasionally getting wet with sea water.

“Hey,” he said, stopping in his tracks. “What?” I responded, hoping that nothing was wrong. He just stared at me for a moment with those perfect brown eyes. Before I could even process what was going on, Matthew let go of my hand, with a smile on his face, and just as a wave was coming to shore, pushed me backwards, stumbling into the receding water. “Oh, you’re going to pay for this,” I taunt, playfully.

and i like you.

My backside dripping wet, I climb to my feet and chase Matthew, who started running away when he realized what I might do to him. The beach was surprisingly vacant. I found him hiding behind a palm tree at the side of the beach closest to the street, and launched my arms around his neck.

“Gotcha!” I yelled in victory. “Not so fast,” he said as he began to run back towards the ocean, dragging me behind him.

i love these roads where the houses don’t change, -and i like you.

Matthew ran as fast as he could while carrying me on his back. He ran straight into the water, stopping when the water got to his ankles. He put me down, and we stood in the cold water together.

“Are you ok?” he asks sincerely. “Yes,” I smile, “but I’m not done with you yet,” I smirk as I push against his chest and shove him into the water.

where we can talk, like there’s something to say, -and i like you

He just sat up in the water and stared at me with those puppy dog eyes that make me weak every time he pulls that card. Matthew reached out his hand, silently asking me to help him up. Feeling bad, I took his hand. Suddenly, I felt a tug on my arm and I came crashing into the water and on top of him. We both bursted out laughing.

i’m glad that we stopped kissing the tar on the highway.

Matthew brought his hand up to my face and tucked a strand of wet hair behind my ear. I smiled and bit my lip slightly, a new habit that I’ve developed, knowing that it drives him crazy. He closed the gap between us and pressed his lips gently against mine; I could taste the salt from the ocean on him as we kissed, our mouths falling into a rhythm quite like the waves that were lapping around our bodies.

we move in the tree streets, i’d like it if you stayed.

We both separated, gasping for air. The sound of the sea filled my ears and the smell of the ocean mixed with Matthew’s scent as I lay my head against his chest.

“We have to get up eventually, right?” I question, wanting to live in this moment for the rest of my life. He lets out a sigh, “Unfortunately, yes, we can’t sleep in the ocean.”

I knew that we couldn’t stay there, but God I wanted to.

and i like you.

We stay there for a moment longer before we both stand up, soaking wet. We weren’t wearing any sort of swimwear, as this little adventure was unplanned. But it didn’t matter; Matthew and I were together, enjoying each other’s company, making complete fools of ourselves, and falling even harder for each other.

and i like you.

He laced his fingers into mine as we walked back up the beach and making our way to our hotel. It was late, and the moonlight was shining off of the water like a work of art. I leaned my head against Matthew’s shoulder as we walked, the soft sand sticking to our wet feet.

“I love you so much,” I breathed out, my voice barely above a whisper.

and i like you.

I could feel Matthew’s grip tighten on my hand as he replied, “I love you too, so much.”

[pinknerdpanda]

Vice

Characters: Dean x Reader, Sam (mentioned), brief mention of reader’s ex and friend

Length:1919(ish?) Words

Warnings: Angst, loneliness, past infidelity, drinking, slow dancing with Dean (because I think that deserves it’s own warning), implied drunken sex

Note: This is based off of the song “Vice” by Miranda Lambert. If you haven’t heard it, you can listen to it here. Even if country music isn’t your thing, check it out. The song is beautiful and sad and wonderful. I bolded the lyrics I used for this story.

This is my first completed fan-fiction. I have had the idea since I first heard this song, but I had been too nervous to write it out until I met @wheresthekillswitch. She beta’d and edited this for me and was incredibly patient with me while I struggled with tense. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. You are an amazing, sweet and kind person and I am so glad I met you.

Vice

Numb.

That is what you wanted. You wanted the pain and the confusion and the guilt and the betrayal that you had endured for the last 2 months to be gone. Even for just a short time, you needed to be numb. Feeling absolutely nothing was better than bearing another night of what was ahead of you otherwise.

The ice hasn’t had a chance to melt before your glass is empty and you’re signaling the bartender for another. The drink is bitter and stings at your throat, but you don’t care. Your salvation tonight is dressed up in a pretty black label and you welcome the burn spreading through your body as you gulp the second glass of amber liquid.

In the months preceding this, you had not allowed yourself a single vice. You had worn your agony like a badge – a raw reminder to yourself of the choices you made that had brought you here.       

Matthew had put the blame for his infidelity squarely on your shoulders and there is a large part of you that believes him to be right. If you had been happier, or thinner, or nagged him less, he wouldn’t have had a reason to seek the comfort of another woman. But he hadn’t sought out just anyone. It had been your best friend. And it wasn’t a one-time deal. It had been going on for over a year, right under your nose. They likely would have kept up their deceitful charade indefinitely if Tiffani hadn’t ended up pregnant.

You shake yourself from your thoughts, looking up to order number three. That’s when you see him. From the scruff on his jaw framing his firm, pink lips, to his wide chest, swathed plaid and leather, everything about this man dripped sexuality. You look away quickly when his ivy green eyes meet yours, an instant heat filling your cheeks.

You give the bartender a slight nod of thanks when he refills your drink. You are vaguely aware of a new presence to your right as you quickly drained your glass.

“A girl after my own heart.” His voice is warm and low and you know without looking that it’s the man with the green eyes. Shit.

Turning slightly toward him, you offer a weak smile. “Well, if you are going to drink your problems away, might as well make it the good stuff, right?”

“Damn straight!” He nods approvingly, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly as he grins at you. He holds up two fingers requesting a refill for both of your drinks before offering his hand to you. “My name is Dean.”

“I’m Y/n.” You shake his hand gingerly. “You must not be from around here. This is a small town, and I think I would remember seeing you here before.” The alcohol in your bloodstream is already beginning to embolden your words. Are you flirting with him? Maybe you should sip your drink this round.

“I am in town on business,” he said. “If I had known there were girls as pretty as you here, I may have stopped by sooner.” He winks at you and you feel the blush in your cheeks deepen.

Is he hitting on you? No. Surely not. And even if he is, what’s the most you can expect out of it? He’s just passing through. You had never been a one-night-stand kind of girl. Not because you saw yourself as above it, but because you just never really saw the point. What good was a single night of messy, steamy, drunken sex with someone you barely knew? At least that was what you had always thought before. Tonight, however, you don’t know if it’s the whiskey or your recent state of mind, but the idea of mindless, meaningless passion sounded like the perfect way to dull the ache in your chest.

“So Y/n, do you dance?” Dean stands, extending his hand as the jukebox switches to a slow country anthem full of heartbreak. When you don’t take his hand immediately,he tips his head  to one side and wiggles his eyebrows slightly. “Oh come on, just one dance?”

Sighing, you rise and let him lead you to the sparse dance-floor. Dean’s hands snake deliberately around your waist, fingers lightly grazing the bare skin between the hem of your shirt and the waistband of your jeans. Your wrists settle carefully at the nape of his neck as the two of you begin swaying to the music. Before long you feel his hands press gently at the small of your back, urging you forward until your bodies are molded completely against one another.

Glancing up you find his brilliant green eyes focused intently on you. His tongue darts out between his lips and he slowly drags his top teeth over his bottom lip, his eyes search yours for permission. Slowly you close the short gap between the two of you and press your lips to his, hesitantly at first. Soon, he’s sweeping his tongue along your bottom lip, urging your mouth open to deepen the kiss. His grip slides to the back of your hair before you pull back, breathless.

You smile up at him through your lashes and in that moment you know that this man is it. He’s the key to making you forget Matthew and Tiffani and all the hurt you’ve been feeling, even for just the night. His eyes darken slightly as though he can read your thoughts.

“Want to go back to my place?” he breathes in your ear.

Dean’s POV

Nothing about this week that has gone as planned. The simple salt-and-burn had turned into a week from hell and I’m exhausted. My attempts to convince Sam to return home to the bunker had escalated into full on yelling matches over the phone. We both said things that we wish could be taken back, but that’s the tricky thing about words, I guess. Demons and vampires i can handle. Words, however, can’t be killed.

I know it’s my fault that Sam’s so angry. I tricked him into allowing Gadreel to possess him, but what was I supposed to do? The alternative was unimaginable and, even now, knowing how betrayed he feels, I would make the same decision in a heartbeat. Sam’s the only vestige of family I have left and I’ll do whatever I have to do to keep him safe.

Kevin’s death is on me, and yeah there were probably some things I could have done differently. But whatever, a pissed-off Sam is better than no Sam at all. I did my best; guilt isn’t going to help me know.

So here I am in this little town, not feeling guilty, checking out the local water hole instead of rushing back to the empty bunker. What’s one more night? Here I can be anonymous, small towns are good for that, I don’t have to be Dean Winchester, deadly hunter and over-protective older brother. I can just be me without my reputation preceding me.

I noticed her immediately upon entering the rundown, backwoods bar. Sure she’s pretty, but also there’s something unbelievably intriguing about a woman shot-gunning Johnnie Walker Black Label with abandon.I catch her checking me out, her instant blush as our eyes meet puts a grin on my face.

It’s obvious she isn’t here looking for someone to take home. I sense the pain she’s trying to drown in whiskey; it’s something I understand to the very fiber of my being. Maybe we can be each other’s vice for the night.

The jukebox changes songs, and I see my opportunity. When I ask her to dance I see her thoughts battle across her face. Part of her doesn’t want to dance, but I sense some part of her is enticed by the idea of being close. She sighs and lets me drag her onto the dance floor and hold her close. She’s so beautiful in the neon glow and she smells like spring flowers. I study her face, something about the sadness in her eyes makes me want to fix her. I want to take away whatever is keeping the smile on her lips from reaching her eyes.

I lick my lips as I think about kissing her. She closes the small gap and kisses me instead. Time stops. She’s so hesitant at first, but slowly she melts into the kiss, like she’s trying to drink me in. We’re both breathless, chests heaving and hearts racing as we pull back. She gives me a look I recognize because I’ve seen it on my own face. She knows what I want to be for her- a means to an end.

5 minutes later we’re climbing into the Impala and heading towards my motel room.

Sunlight pours through the small window in the dingy motel bathroom. You grasp the porcelain sink tightly, head hung low, your breaths ragged. What the hell have I done?

You refuse to meet your reflection in the mirror, partly out of shame and partly out of fear of what you’ll find there. Your head spins from the copious amounts of alcohol you consumed the night before. You wait until you’re more or less steady before releasing your grip and turning on the cold water. You splash a little on your face before reaching for the threadbare towel on the rack and burying your face in it. It takes two deep breaths and a considerable amount of concentration before you’re able to meet your eyes in the mirror.

It’s still there, just as you feared. The pain reflected in the glass in front of you hasn’t disappeared as you had hoped it would. Last night with Dean was incredible. Mind-blowing actually. The things that man can do with his tongue…

What was I thinking? You inhale deeply and remind yourself that you had simply been looking for a short term fix, and you found that in Dean. That didn’t stop the regret from bubbling in your stomach. You clench your eyes shut while choking back a sob.

You compose yourself before quietly opening the door to the bathroom and creeping across the room. You scribble a quick note to Dean on the hotel stationary next to the bed, apologizing for your disappearing act and wishing him well. Tossing your purse over your shoulder, you gather your shoes in your hand before silently slipping out the door and squinting against the bright morning rays.

Dean’s POV

I roll over stretching an arm out and hit empty bed sheets. I quickly open my eyes and scan the room, already knowing she’s long gone. I swing my legs over the side of the bed before clicking on the bedside lamp.

This, by far, is not my first rodeo, but there’s always something a little painful about the morning after, especially when I wake up alone. I know the gig; no part of me had any illusions that this was anything but a one night only deal. Maybe I’m addicted to goodbyes, maybe I just want to make sure she’s ok. Whatever it is, it’s hard to explain.

I scrub a hand over my face before glancing at the bedside table. I find her note and it puts a sad smile on my face. By this time tomorrow I’ll be gone and this town will be a distant memory but if there’s one thing I know how to find, it’s another vice.

[kickfoxing]

happy valentines day to @reneewvlkers! here is my gift for this lovely from the @upperclassmennet exchange <33

It wasn’t really an accident, not really. It’s not like any of them purposefully intended to get magical powers and become vigilantes, but when the opportunity presented itself, none of them said no.

It started on an exciting day, which is unusual for a magical adventure. Typically the day is mundane and grey and then something magical happens. But the foxes lives never followed what was considered typical and they were surely never mundane. It was the girl’s final season, a thought that weighed down most of the team as they crawled their way through second semester. They had decided that it was a good bonding exercise to travel together over spring break like they did last year. And by they i mean Allison who then got Dan to round up the troops.

The foxes, sans all the freshman, made their way to the cabin they stayed at last time via several vehicles. When they arrived, they took the same room arrangement as they had last year since no one wanted to argue with anyone about better rooms, better placement, different roommates, etc. Their activities were much the same as last time, expect that Neil wasn’t sporting a mummy look and Aaron wasn’t being a dick to Neil about his and Andrew’s relationship (he was being a dick about the fact that katelyn couldn’t come, though).

One morning, Dan had decided that it would be a good idea to go hiking and climbing as a whole group. Kevin, while upset it wasn’t exy, was happy to be exercising and pestered everyone until they said yes just to shut him up. In order to fully take in the sights around them, Dan had made sure everyone left their phones back at the cabin.

The incessant chatter began almost as soon as they hit the trail, mostly consisting of Nicky complaining and trying to get a rise out of Kevin and Aaron. Renee was walking with Andrew and Neil, discussing the merits of wilderness survival in different  habitats. Dan, Allison, and Matt were leading the troops, playing an intense game of would you rather. They were following a map they had snagged at the dining hall, but for some reason none of the landmarks they were seeing were matching up with the map.

“Okay gang,” started Dan, “we’re going to take a quick break while we get ourselves readjusted on the map.”

“Are we lost? We’re lost! Are fucking kidding me? I’m forced to do physical activity on spring break and then we get lost? This is the worst thing that’s-”

“Nicky, for once in your life, shut up,” said Aaron as he pulled out his phone, searching for service.

Allison almost laughed before explaining to Aaron, “It’s no use, there’s no signal out here. We are in the middle of nowhere, there’s a reason Dan made us leave them at the cabin”

The group was quiet for a minute, sitting around the small clearing they had stopped in, taking in the nature around them. Suddenly, a strong gust of wind blew through the clearing and it began to pour.

“What the fuck?!”

“Why me?”

“Did anyone check the radar before we left?”

“Did anyone bring an umbrella?” Renee asked, breaking through the swears and exclamations at the sudden twist of the weather.

“No.”

“Nope.”

“Didn’t think we’d need one!”

“There’s an overhang that way we can go hide under,” suggested Neil, pointing to a place deeper into the woods, “at least we can try and wait the rain out.”

Before he had finished speaking, Nicky had begun sprinting to the overhang and sat himself as close to the wall as possible. The rest of the foxes made their way over as well and squished together under the overhang.

The chatting from the trail resumed as they huddled together and waited out the rain. After about 10 minutes, water started to pile up near their feet and seep through their butts.

“Well this is just great! We could be back at the cabin in front of the fire right now but instead we’re stuck here under a mossy rock, lost in the god forsaken woods.”

“Nicky-” Neil began but was cut off before he could finish.

“I would shut up if I were you,” stated Andrew, peering over the rest of the group to stare him down. The group went silent again for a couple minutes. Everytime the wind blew, they shifted closer to the wall and too each other.

“You know what, I’m just going to say it: FUCK EXY!” yelled Nicky while standing up and running out from under the rock.

Kevin drew a small gasp at Nicky and his dramatics before taking his place by the wall. The group just barely fit underneath here but with Nicky gone they could spread out a tiny bit. Thoroughly soaked and done with his dramatics, Nicky  dove at the rest of the group while yelling “group hug!”

Suddenly, a flash of lightning struck Nicky’s leg and coursed through the rest of the foxes. The collective screams that went out were enough to scare off a tree of birds not to far away. As soon as the electricity began, it stopped. The group slumped to the ground with a groan and were too busy recovering to notice the slight colorful tinge each of them gave off.

The rain let up moments later and the group clambered back to the clearing they had originally stopped in.

“What the fuck?! What the fuck!” muttered Kevin as he stared down at his glowing fingers.

“Ahh hah,” laughed Nicky, awkwardly filling the silence, “my bad, you guys.”

“Aparently the Exy gods saw it fit to strike you down for your earlier comments,” interjected Matt, “and you decided to try to take out the whole team with you.”

“Uhh guys?” Neil began, “are anyone else’s fingers uh.... emitting light?”

The rest of the group looked down at their hands to see that they also had different colors cast across their fingers. Each fox had a color of the rainbow softly glowing from their hands, but Andrew and Neil were different. While Neil’s hands were we’re a bright, blinding white, Andrew’s were the opposite. The inkiness around Andrew’s hands seemed to bleed into the air around him and suck out all particles out light.

“Uhh okay guys, what the actual fuck is going on?” said Allison said as she inspected her yellow hands. As she brought her hands up to her face she spoke again, “Mine actually seem to be giving off warmth, anyone else?”

“I can’t even look at mine,” said Neil, instead inspecting Andrew’s hands while Andrew stared off in the distance trying not to get caught being interested.

“Let me see if mine are warm too!” Nicky shouted as he slapped his hand on his face, “Ow! Nope! Mine just shocked the everloving fuck out of me.”

“Of course this had to happen,” said Aaron as he stomped towards a log to sit down, “nothing normal can happen with any of you!” He swung his arms in anger as he sat down when suddenly a fireball shot from the ends of his finger, landing on a nearby rock and extinguishing with a his.

“I think I’m hallucinating,” said Matt shaking his head vigorously, “there’s no way Aaron just shot fire out of his fingers.”

While everyone was staring at Aaron and the smouldering rock, a small noise was made as Kevin fell sprawled on the ground.

“Kevin!” Dan yelped as she rushed over to his side, “Are you okay?”

“Don’ loo ah my hans-” Kevins slurred as he attempted to sit up again.

“What, why?”

“Dizzy,” Kevin said as he finally pushed himself up. He quickly shoved his hands under his butt so he wouldn’t get caught up in looking at them again.

“Aaron,” Renee began, “do you still have your phone?”

Aaron gave a nod before reaching into his pocket and tossing his cell at Renee. Renee caught it easily, her position is goalie after all, and opened it up. As soon as she pressed a button on the keypad, the phone sent out a burst of energy and fell to the ground. The foxes crowded around the phone that looked like it had met the same fate as the rock Aaron’s flame had hit.

“Fuck,” uttered Matt as he began pacing, “I mean, just fuck! What are we supposed to do? No cell phone, no helpful map. We’re stuck in this godforsaken forest while everyone appears to have magical powers from some weird fucking lightning that hit us on our hiking trip! Just, what sort of alternate reality did we crawl into? Who’s sick joke was-”

“Matthew,” said Dan, voice cutting through the fog of words Matt had caught himself up in, “I know it seems bad, but take a deep breath.”

Matt took a deep breath. “Thanks babe,” he began, reaching for Dan’s hand as he spoke, “you always know just how to-” When his handed found Dan’s, they were suddenly thrust apart. Matt’s sleeve seemed to be smoldering while Dan’s arm hair was standing on end.

“I feel like I just got struck by lightning again,” said Dan, shaking her head Renee’s extended hand as she pushed herself off the ground.

“And I feel like I just stuck my hand in a superheated oven,” said Matt, as stayed spread eagle in the dirt.

The group stood around, each looking at their own hands as they contemplated the reality of the situation. Everyone seemed to be getting restless as the sky started to darken, the soft glow of their hands intensifying with the decrease of the sun’s light.

Andrew and Neil had been having one of their weird almost psychic facial expression conversations. It looked like an intense battle but it appeared Neil won when finally, Andrew spoke, “I know the way back.”

“What?!” Exclaimed Nicky, shooting up from where he was leaning against a tree trunk.

“He has an eidetic memory,” said Neil, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Well then why didn’t you say anything earlier?” asked Kevin as he pouted, still sitting on his hands.

“I like seeing you all squirm,” Andrew said, before taking off down a path.

Eventually, the group made it back to the cabin and all slumped in the main room. Dan went off and grabbed her phone, careful to use her elbows and legs instead of her hands in case something happened like it did with Renee earlier. When she made it back to the main room, she set her phone down and hit Wymack’s speed dial and put it on speaker.

Wymack answered with a quick, “This better be good.”

The foxes looked around at each other, trying to figure out who should speak and what to say when Dan finally bit the bullet.

“Uh so Coach, we were in the woods on a hike we’re hiding out under a rock while it was raining and ended up getting struck by lightening and I think we all have magical powers now.”

“Wilds, you should lay off the drinking and should stop trying to make jokes.”

“Wait, I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true!”

“I know you think it’s true-” began Wymack but was cut off by Kevin.

“Father,” Kevin began, “Wilds is right. You need to get here immediately.”

“Are you serious?” Wymack asked. The resounding silence was all the answer he needed.

“You assholes couldn’t just go on a normal vacation could you?”

“Apparently not,” Dan laughed as she breathed out a sigh.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Don’t get into anymore trouble.”

With that, Wymack hung up and left the room in silence. Little did they know that being struck by lightning was only just the beginning.

[thrashermaxey]

Ramblings: Yzerman Back In Motown, Flames Doused, Advantage Leafs (Apr 20)

There were two playoff games on Good Friday. As we like to say in Canada, both of them involved Canadian teams. One team had a good night. The other, not so much.

Leafs/Bruins

Both teams played a very conservative style through the first two periods, as each team had barely reached double digits in shots on goal midway through the second period.  

Auston Matthews opened the scoring over halfway through the third period on a goal that the Bruins contested was goalie interference. It looked to me like the Bruins had a case, but in any event the call stood and it was a good goal.

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A week ago I discussed how Matthews was having a hard time scoring goals. Since then, Matthews has scored four goals over his past three games while taking 16 shots over that span. That matters because your best players have to be your best players in order to win. Now the Leafs have two chances to exorcise the Bruins demon, starting on Sunday afternoon.

Just over two minutes later, Kasperi Kapanen scored his first goal of the playoffs. He had also assisted on Matthews’ goal. The two points are his first points of the series.

David Krejci made it close, scoring with just 43 seconds left in regulation. It wasn’t enough for the Bruins, who will try to force a Game 7 on Tuesday night.

Don Cherry and Dobber agree on at least one point: Frederik Andersen is the best goalie in hockey. Andersen stopped 28 of 29 shots he faced to backstop the Leafs to the Game 5 victory.

Sean Kuraly was back in Bruins’ lineup after missing past four weeks with a broken hand. He was back on the fourth line with Noel Acciari and Chris Wagner.

Avalanche/Flames

The Avalanche are the third team that you I didn’t pick to advance to the second round, eliminating the Flames in just five games with a 5-1 win. With the addition of Cale Makar in this series and a high first-round pick via Ottawa as early as next season, the Avs are only going to climb the standings from here. If Philipp Grubauer can sustain his late-season success, this result could be a sign of things to come for Colorado next season and beyond.   

Once the damage was done, Colin Wilson and Mikko Rantanen each scored two goals and added an assist. Nathan MacKinnon and Tyson Barrie each added three assists. Rantanen has racked up nine points (5g-4a) in this five-game series, while MacKinnon has eight points.  

#Flames & #GoBolts are both eliminated.

This marks the first time in NHL history that the regular season champions from each respective conference have been eliminated in Round 1

— Sportsnet Stats (@SNstats) April 20, 2019

In addition, the Flames and the Lightning combined for just one win. It’s not as if these series were even close. This might be shaping up to be the most unpredictable Stanley Cup Playoffs in league history. Keep reading, because later on I’ve got something for you if your bracket is busted.

After Game 1 the Flames appeared to be a team that would roll all over the Avalanche, but since then the Avs have clearly been the better team, even though they had to go to overtime in Games 2 and 4. The Flames’ big guns were snuffed out in this series, in particular Johnny Gaudreau (1 point in 5 games) and Sean Monahan (2 points in 5 games). It was simply not Gaudreau’s night.  

Wow. This has been some game for Johnny Gaudreau. Misses penalty shot, misses net on breakaway, scores but goal is disallowed for interference.

— David Satriano (@davidsatriano) April 20, 2019

In fact, Sam Bennett led the Flames in scoring in this series with five points in five games. He was rewarded with a spot on the top line in this game, so this could even be a case of his playoff performance improving his stock for next season. Better line deployment could be what is needed to push his career back on the upswing. After scoring 36 points in his rookie season, the 2014 fourth overall pick has failed to reach 30 points in each of his last three seasons. 

James Neal was a healthy scratch for Game 5. As you might expect, he had no points in four games. Neal has quite simply been a bust for the Flames since signing a five-year contract worth $5.75 million per season last summer. His 19 points in 63 games is his lowest point total in his 11-year NHL career, and he doesn’t seem to fit into the Flames’ younger core going forward. Hopefully you didn’t draft him hoping he’d play on the Flames’ top line. We could now be seeing why Nashville left him unprotected in the expansion draft.

The Flames have a major decision coming up with respect to their goaltending. The series result is by no means entirely on Mike Smith (his 188 saves leads all playoff goalies), but he was easily considered the biggest question mark for the Flames entering this series. You’d have to think that the 37-year-old Smith won’t be returning and that the Flames would instead turn to a tandem with RFA David Rittich and a goalie that they find as a UFA (maybe they circle back to Smith?) There doesn’t appear to be anything waiting in the system, as the numbers for both Jon Gillies and Tyler Parsons don’t suggest that they’re NHL ready. Maybe a trade?

*

Stevie Y is coming home. To nearly no one’s surprise, the Red Wings are bringing their former captain back as general manager, with current GM Ken Holland moving to the role of senior vice president.

This move is a home run for the Wings, both from a hockey and a PR perspective. During his time in Tampa, Yzerman has taken a relatively unstable team in a non-traditional market and turned it into a Cup contender. In fact, the Lightning are perceived by many to be the NHL’s model franchise for its ability to develop players through its minor-league system, a trait that was associated with the Red Wings during their run as one of the league’s top teams.

Sure, the Lightning haven’t won a Stanley Cup with the current core group, and the recent four-game sweep at the hands of the Blue Jackets is still raw. However, Yzerman has left the Lightning in a position in which they should be one of the league’s top teams for at least several more years to come. I’d expect the Wings to be back in the playoffs within 2-3 seasons, although the 2019-20 playoffs are probably a reach with this group as it stands today.

Current head coach Jeff Blashill was signed to a two-year extension earlier this month, so his job for at least next season is secure. However, I’d think that Yzerman would immediately raise the bar for a former contender that has now missed the playoffs for three consecutive seasons. The Wings have some nice pieces centering around Dylan Larkin, but Stevie Y will need to add more in the way of draft picks. With some cap space, Yzerman could even dip into the free agent pool as early as this summer. Optimism abound in the Motor City.

For more detailed analysis, see Mike Clifford’s fantasy take.

As for Holland, there have been rumors abound that he is being considered for the GM jobs in both Edmonton and Seattle. But according to Darren Dreger, Holland has withdrawn his name from the Oilers’ GM search.

*

The Blue Jackets’ four-game sweep of the Lightning has easily been the surprise story of the NHL playoffs so far. The Islanders’ four-game sweep of the Penguins will come in as a not-too-distant second in that department. As of tonight, there’s the Flames as well. That isn’t good news if you’d built your fantasy playoff roster around the likes of Nikita Kucherov and Sidney Crosby.

There’s the old expression “when you lose, don’t lose the lesson.” So can fantasy owners learn anything from these surprise quick exits of the Lightning and Penguins, two teams that have been on the short list of Stanley Cup contenders over the last few years? I can think of at least three takeaways.

The playoffs aren’t fair

Tampa Bay’s record-setting regular season of 62 wins didn’t matter in the end, as they failed to post even a single win in a season that they were picked by many to win the Stanley Cup. This is a problem not unlike that in head-to-head fantasy leagues, where a team with a strong regular season can be eliminated quickly because of a down week, an unusually strong week by the opponent, or a combination of both. 

To ensure fairness, some fantasy leagues give first-place teams a bye in the first round. That is something that probably won’t be made possible in the NHL unless the league decides to adopt a one-game playoff similar to what MLB currently uses. A complete first-round bye might make a team more well-rested than they should be, but the real reason the league will probably never use it is that it would generate less playoff revenue for teams than simply playing the games.

So what can fantasy owners do about this? Even first-round byes don’t ensure deserving first-place teams win championships, although they make the path a little easier. You can look at your fantasy league’s playoff schedule to confirm that you don’t have key players on one- or two-game weeks (the Dobber Midseason Guide has an article on this topic). Even if you examine the schedule, it doesn’t guarantee against trades or injuries changing the course. It doesn’t hurt to draft with your playoff schedule in mind, although your first priority should still be to get to your league’s fantasy playoffs.

If the whole idea of a successful regular season going up in smoke in one week bothers you, perhaps rotisserie scoring is for you. Like the English Premier League, the team with the most points at the end of the season wins the title. Fair and square.

You won’t be the only one

Like many, I was hit with the losses of Tampa Bay players from my playoff pool (6 of the 25 players I picked were from the Lightning). However, note that I said “like many.” In spite of this loss, I’m still in fifth place among 70 teams in my playoff pool (pick any 25). All the teams in front of me also lost players with Pittsburgh and Tampa Bay being eliminated.

Not all playoff pools are constructed the same way, but many use the “pick any X number of players” model. If you play in a smaller group and perhaps use a draft, then you’re okay to diversify with players from different teams. So the key to winning might be not to miss on some of your other playoff picks. Regardless, the net effect for individual fantasy owners might not be as disastrous as you might assume.

By the way, did you know that you will be able to submit a second-chance playoff bracket over at NHL.com? Just call this the “Tampa Bay rule”, as this is the first time that the league has created this do-over bracket.

Zig when the others zag

The one writer on the Experts Panel who picked Columbus over Tampa Bay looks like a genius right now. (That was Capped writer Alexander MacLean, in case you were wondering.) It’s a high-risk strategy, but one that can pay off if the expected result doesn’t happen. Just because everyone is doing something doesn’t mean you have to. This strategy makes a little more sense in a larger pool, where picking a similar team to others won’t help you stand out. Or you could simply be the contrarian to challenge your friend’s wisdom.

*

The Islanders will be without a significant top-4 defenseman for their second-round playoff series. Johnny Boychuk is expected to miss the next 3-4 weeks with a lower-body injury, which resulted from a blocked shot during the Isles’ first-round series against Pittsburgh. Boychuk was third among Isles’ defensemen in total icetime (18:50) during the regular season. Thomas Hickey is expected to enter the Isles’ lineup to replace Boychuk.

*

Cam Robinson’s 2019 NHL Draft Rankings for the month of April are out. Is Jack Hughes still projected to go first overall? Which player is projected to be picked when your favorite team steps up to the podium? Cam has the answers to these and more.

*

For more fantasy hockey information, or to reach out to me directly, you can follow me on Twitter @Ian_Gooding.

from All About Sports https://dobberhockey.com/hockey-rambling/ramblings-yzerman-back-in-motown-flames-doused-advantage-leafs-apr-20/

[thegloober]

How To Improve Yourself In 6 Months

You can’t. It’s really hard to change. I’ve been an addict. When you’re addicted to a drug you can’t just say, “Well, this is bad for me. I’m going to stop.”

Just give up now or be ready to go through a world of pain.

Or…

You can. But it’s really hard and few people do it.

You can’t say, “I’m out of shape and I don’t exercise so I’m going to start exercising every day now for an hour a day.”

I started exercising three times a week. Some weeks two. Some weeks one. I knew that if I overdid it, then I would simply lose interest.

In any case, I lost interest. I hated it .

I stopped even though I knew that stopping would hurt me and not help me.

It’s really hard to change.

But…

Here’s how you can improve in the next six months.

Remember this line: The way you do Anything is the way you do Everything.

Remember it.

I’ve had to improve at lots of things. Sometimes to survive and feed my family. Sometimes to stay healthy and LIVE. Sometimes because I simply wanted to.

Learning to improve at ONE thing gives you the ability to improve at everything.

I read the other day there are three aspects of “well-being”:

Connection with community or friends or family or partners

Freedom (every day you make more decisions for yourself instead of relying or being dependent on the decisions of others)

IMPROVEMENT

It doesn’t say “Improve yourself”. It just says “Improvement”.

Because if you improve at anything, you are improving yourself.

And the way you do anything is the way you do everything.

I’ve had to improve at investing, interviewing, writing, selling, negotiating, creativity, public speaking, leadership, programming — all just to survive.

I’ve had to improve at chess, comedy, poker, parenting, being a good husband/boyfriend, reading, friendship, charisma, authenticity — all because I wanted to.

I realized quickly that the “language” of getting good at one thing taught me the basic grammar to get good at everything.

The way you do anything is the way you do everything.

FIND ONE THING TO IMPROVE:

You can’t improve without passion and obsession.

After interviewing on my podcast 400 of the most successful people in recent history, there’s one thing I know: all of them were obsessed.

They were obsessed with their ONE THING.

But improving at their one thing meant they were improving at everything.

You can’t be great at golf without weight lifting.

You can’t be great at physics without having the charisma to get across your ideas.

You can’t be great at inventing the light bulb without knowing marketing.

HOW TO FIND YOUR ONE THING:

Some basics:

A) There will be many “one things” in your life. I’ve been obsessed with chess, computers, writing, TV, business, investing, speaking, podcasting, marketing, stand-up comedy, etc.

Each thing feeds the other.

B) Go to a bookstore: which section could you see yourself reading every single book?

C) List what you LOVED at the age of 13. How did it age?

For instance, Matthew Berry loved sports at age 13. He later was an unhappy Hollywood screenwriter. Miserable.

But he wasn’t going to be an athlete. He was too old. Not in the right shape for professional athleticism.

But he quit Hollywood. Got divorced. Went broke.

And for $100 a post he started writing blog posts about fantasy sports.

He improved every day.

And now he’s the ESPN anchor for fantasy sports. I can’t walk down the street with him without people going up to him constantly and thanking him.

D) Try lots of things.

E) What are you a little good at? Usually what you have some talent at could easily grow into an obsession.

I asked Sasha Cohen, a former world champion of figure skating, what was the one most important ingredient of being the best in the world at something. Anything.

“Obsession,” she said. And so did the other 399 people I’ve interviewed.

And once you find your obsession, how do you improve?

And remember two things:

When you improve at any one thing, you… IMPROVE.

The way you do ANYTHING is the way you do EVERYTHING.

PLUS, MINUS, EQUAL:

When I was 17 I barely knew how to play chess. But I was a geeky, lonely kid and I wanted to be popular and I wanted to be good at something.

I wasn’t an athlete and girls didn’t like a pimply scrawny kid like me with no confidence.

I knew the rules to chess and they asked me to play on the bottom board of the school team. They gave me a book of rules to read while we are on the bus to the match. I won my game.

I don’t know why, but I became obsessed with getting better. People liked me when I won! I wanted to be liked.

Within three months or so I was the best on the team. A year after that I was the best high school student in the state and one of the best people in the country for my age group at chess. A game that millions of people played.

Here’s what I did:

I found my PLUS:

I took lessons from Sammy Reshevsky (once the best player in the world) and Michael Wilder (the US Champion). I took lessons up to three times a week.

Not everyone lives near a mentor they could take lessons from.

But I also read one-two chess books a week. And I studied the games of all the top grandmasters. For instance, Bobby Fischer’s book “My 60 Memorable Games”. I went through each game and his analysis over and over.

I had real mentors and virtual mentors.

I found my EQUALS:

I found other people my level who were striving to be better. We would study the same books and try to analyze different positions. We would play against each other and this was a way to see how I was improving relative to my equals who were just as obsessed as me.

I found my MINUS:

After I became better than everyone else on my school’s chess team I started giving them lessons.

If you can’t explain a concept to a three year old then you don’t fully understand that concept. Which means I’d have to go back to my PLUS (real or virtual) to understand more.

30+ years later I’m a nationally ranked master. I play every day. It’s something I’ll enjoy for the rest of my life.

(Frank Shamrock, the best MMA fighter in history, explained to me his Plus, Minus, Equal theory)

I had to get better at investing to survive.

It was 2001 and I had lost all my money I had made by selling a business for $15, million. I was struggling to raise a family, pay my mortgage, and nobody would give me a job.

I found my PLUS: 200 or so books about investing. I also found real mentors by trading for various hedge fund managers, although I had to gain knowledge from the virtual mentors before real mentors would even talk to me.

I found my EQUALS: many message boards of investors, everyone trying to figure out the right strategies that gave good, consistent results. Was it value investing? Momentum? Arbitrage? Etc.

I found my MINUS: I started writing about investing to people who understood far less than me. The MINUS was critical because it helped me understand how the masses invested and what they were doing wrong that I could model via computer software.

I became a good investor and made a lot of money and pulled myself out of the hole at the exact moment I was about to be buried alive.

TEN A DAY:

In the summer of 2002 I was so depressed. I had about four months before I would lose my house.

I was scared. One thing made me happy.

I would write down ten ideas a day. Somehow being creative just a little bit made me happier. Made me have hope. Made me think I would make it. That no matter what I could make it.

I could climb. I could improve I could wish and hope and live and love. Just ten ideas a day and maybe one would be good or okay or something I could grab onto and it would pull me out.

And it did.

MICRO-SKILLS:

I wanted to get good at stand-up comedy. It’s scary to go onto a stage with a room full of strangers.

It’s like public speaking but it’s not. I could go up and speak about Donald Trump and everyone could nod their heads and then my job is done.

But in stand-up comedy you go up to a room full of people who have no idea who you are and you have to make them LAUGH every fifteen seconds, more or less.

It’s HARD to make people laugh.

Do you know how many times the average child laughs per day? 300 times!

Do you know how many times the average adult laughs per day? FIVE TIMES!

So if I’m doing stand-up comedy for 15 minutes I have to make the people in the crowd laugh roughly sixty times. 12x more than they normally do in a 24 hour period.

(Dave Chappelle has all of the comedy micro-skills: storytelling, likability, crowd work, punchlines, point of view, etc.)

I did the PLUS, MINUS, EQUAL. I did the ten a day. And still do.

BUT… “stand-up comedy” is not one thing. Just like “investing” is not one thing. And “chess” or “tennis” or “piano” or “business” is not just one thing.

Comedy is a collection of micro-skills where each skill has nothing to do with the other skills.

You have to master each micro-skill in order to improve.

Here are some of the stand-up comedy micro-skills: likability, crowd work, crowd control, humor, delivery, dealing with hecklers, stage work, act-outs, writing, voice work, etc.

Here are business micro-skills: ideas, execution, leadership, sales, negotiating, fundraising, marketing, customer relations, etc.

Here are chess micro-skills: openings, endgames, attacking, defending, tactics, positional ability, and each of those are broken into micro-skills (king and rook endgames, king and two bishops endgames, king pawn openings, queen pawn openings, tactics in closed positions, tactics in open positions, etc.).

[FOLLOW ME ON INSTAGRAM TO SEE MY WEALTH MICRO-SKILLS]

Divide your passion into micro-skills. Pick one each day. Get a little better at it.

Last night, for the first time, I did a full hour of comedy in front of a full house of people.

I had a blast.

Did they? The key skill of comedy is to know that if you are having a party, then they are also.

BORROW HOURS:

Malcolm Gladwell says that the Beatles practiced for 10,000 hours before they became the best in the world.

(The last time the Beatles performed together)

I’m 50. I don’t have that many 10,000 hours left in me.

But the good thing is: we’ve all done many things in life. You can borrow hours from other things you got good at.

I’ve put in my 20,000 hours writing. I’ve put in my 10,000 hours public speaking.

I was able to “borrow” hours from the time I’ve spent doing humor writing and public speaking when I started to get interested in stand-up comedy.

I had put in my 10,000 hours running businesses when I needed to get good at investing.

Investing means: “investing in businesses”. Too many people treat investing like a game. It’s not.

When I buy a share of Apple, I’m owning a piece of a real company with products, management, employees, investors, etc.

I borrowed from my hours running companies in order to understand how to value the companies I was investing in.

The other day someone said to me, “You can’t skip the line.”

Shut the F up.

I can do what I want.

FAIL FAST:

When I was 17 I was playing chess for my high school team. I was in the #1 spot after playing for just a few months.

I lost.

I threw the pieces on the board and ran out. I heard everyone laughing.

I didn’t go back to school for a week. I hated myself. I hated life. I judged my life by my ability to be good at something and now I was “bad”.

I was a sore loser.

I stayed at the same level for years. But then, I don’t know why, I stopped being a sore loser.

I loved chess but maybe it was because I had other things in my life. I had a business. I was married. I was creative in other ways.

So I took lessons again (plus minus equal) and I quickly hit the Master level.

How did I improve so quickly then?

By losing a lot of games and then studying them.

Where did I go wrong? What micro-skills did I need to learn? What was I missing?

I studied with my PLUS. I asked my EQUALS. I taught it to my chess students.

I got better.

At comedy I was heckled when I first started. I was telling an extremely crude joke.

A father had taken his two sons. He started yelling at me, “Get off the stage!” I was so new I didn’t know what was happening so I kept telling my jokes while he was yelling

Afterwards, the MC came on and said, “Sir, do you need a drink?”

And the heckler said, “That guy was weird.”

I didn’t know what I did wrong.

So I asked my PLUSses.

“Videotape yourself,” one said. So I started doing that and, now, several years later, I still do it. I videotape each set and watch myself with both the mute and un-mute buttons.

Another PLUS said, “Likability is more important than humor.” I went too fast into my crude humor without focusing on likability.

Another PLUS said, “Work on setup/act-out/absurd-ism/punchline.”

Another PLUS said, “Work on crowd work”.

One of my EQUALS said, “You didn’t show enough confidence on stage so the audience knew they could overpower you.”

Another EQUAL said, “Find things that the audience can relate to first.”

I had to fail and bomb and die before I could kill and destroy and murder.

SAY YES:

People always say, “Say no”. This is true. I even wrote the WSJ bestselling book, “The Power of NO”.

Well…

Say yes.

When you first start improving, say yes to everything. You need to learn.

I didn’t know what to say “no” to at first.

When I started my first business, “Can you design a logo for us?” Yes. “Can you write this software for us?” Yes. “Can you help us develop a new kind of tea?” Yes. “Can you come to LA for a meeting?” Yes.

I learned what to say Yes to and what to say No to. But I had to say a lot of Yesses.

With stand-up comedy, “Can you do one-liner jokes on a subway?” Yes. “Can you go up for 15 minutes even though you never have done that before?” Yes. “Can you go up tonight without any notice?” Yes.

“Yes” gives you the opportunity to build out the map of your comfort zone.

GO WHERE IT’S LEAST CROWDED:

I asked Peter Thiel, the first investor in Facebook, what made Facebook so special.

“It’s the tenth social media network out there. It wasn’t unique.”

“No,” he said. “It was the first.”

“The first what?”

“The first social network with verified identity.”

Every other one prior to it: MySpace, Friendster, GeoCities, Tribes.com, etc allowed anonymity.

Facebook went to the place least crowded and became a $500 trillion company while the others went out of business.

Warren Buffett worked at 40 Wall Street for Benjamin Graham. He could’ve stayed there. That’s where all the Wall Street investors were. That’s where all the information was.

No.

He moved to Omaha. There were no investors there.

(A very young Warren Buffett learning public speaking in Omaha because he had the foresight to know he needed that micro-skill to raise money)

By himself, he studied every company report. He read all day long.

He’d find small companies in the middle of nowhere that he thought were undervalued.

He would drive to those towns and put up signs: if any employee has shares they want to sell, you can find me at this motel.

And then he’d buy up all the shares he could. He didn’t buy them on a Wall Street exchange, competing with everyone else. He went to people’s homes.

He was the only person who did this. Everyone else stayed on one little block in one city.

He became the most successful investor in history.

—

Everyone wants to stay in their comfort zone for a very good reason: It’s comfortable!

Of course it’s good and fun and easy to stay in the comfort zone. I HATE being uncomfortable.

But since EVERYONE is in the comfort zone, the comfort zone is where it’s most crowded. Everyone does the same thing, shares the same ideas, believes the same rumors, loves the same people, pursues the same dreams.

Right outside the comfort zone is a friendly neighbor: Opportunity.

Opportunity is just sitting there, waiting for someone to find it. But nobody wants to be uncomfortable.

Practice being a little bit uncomfortable each day. Practice getting outside the comfort zone.

Take a cold shower, tell jokes in a subway. Pitch an idea to your hero. Say sorry to your mother.

TALENT SEX:

Scott Adams, the creator of the most syndicated cartoon strip in history (Dilbert), told me:

“I was not the best drawer, but I was pretty good. I was not the funniest guy but I was pretty funny. I was not the best at business, but I was pretty good. But when I combined them all, I was the best.”

And that’s how he created Dilbert.

POINT OF VIEW:

When I look at social media, it seems like there are only two point of view: pro-Trump and anti-Trump.

One side screaming at the other. Nobody listening to anyone. Oh, and if you need to scream louder, find out what the latest viewpoint of your “team” is and shout it out loud.

Everyone in their air-conditioned suburban homes yelling how they’ve “lost faith in humanity” because of the other side.

Whatever I do, I try to have a unique point of view. Else I’m just replaying someone else’s thoughts.

Point of view on publishing: don’t beg an agent or publisher to publish your book. Self publish a book! And here’s why X, Y, and Z.

Then I self-published my most successful books, helped Amazon advertise their self-publishing, and even created a course on self-publishing.

I do a podcast. I don’t just interview people to get facts. I have a point of view: I want to know how people survived their darkest moments. How they climbed out of the hole.

Selfishly, I wanted to learn this so I could get better.

I didn’t ask Kareem Abdul-Jabbar how to get better at basketball. I could care less. I asked him why I couldn’t find any photographs of him smiling.

I didn’t ask Sara Blakely how to sew underwear (which made her a billionaire). I asked her how she avoided doubting herself when she had never been in the fashion business.

I didn’t ask Jewel how to be a better singer. I asked her why she turned down a million dollar deal when she was homeless and sleeping in a car. I wanted to know how I could have such authenticity.

(Arguing with Jewel)

I had a point of view that created my “question compass”.

In stand-up comedy, point of view is critical. Else you just tell fart jokes. I have insecurities about relationships. I’m afraid to lose all of my money. I think most of society is hypocritical. I think people are 100% irrational 100% of the time.

Jerry Seinfeld looks for the absurd in everything. Then he makes a joke.

Point of view is funny when it’s unique.

BACK TO BASICS:

Whenever I bomb on a 15 minute set in a professional lineup in a crowded room, the next day I do an open mic with beginners.

Whenever I make a bad investment, I get back to my basic formula (invest with people smarter than me).

Whenever I have a bad relationship, I try to meet people who I can just be friends with. Restore my faith that there are good people in the world.

——

There are good people in the world.

Connect with them.

That’s how you improve.

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