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noladyme · 4 years ago

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My Only Sunshine - Chapter 1

Liv is as human as they come – faults and all. After a dark experience in her past, she is determined to live life on her own terms, and never let anyone claim her as theirs again. This becomes an issue, when she meets a 1000-yearold vampire, who is dead-set on claiming her as his own.

TW: Blood

It was a warm night, and I was wearing my favorite summer dress, seated on a velvet couch, in an old house.

“Well, miss Sunday. Thank you very much for coming all the way out here to speak to me. I’ll go over your resumé one more time, but I think I’ve heard all I need”. The dark-haired, pale man gave me a friendly smile. I knew better than to reach out my hand for him to shake, and simply got up to stand, and nodded at him. “Thank you, Mr. Compton”, I smiled. “Just let me know if there’s anything else you need… So, interview over?”. “Interview’s over”, he said. “Good! Calling you Mr. Compton was getting weird!”, I laughed. “Well, you did insist”. “It was a job-interview. It was only proper”, I shrugged.

Bill Compton walked me to his front door, and I was about to say goodbye, when he halted, just before going for the doorknob. “There is one thing, I wanted to ask you; and seeing as you’ve been so forthcoming with me, on everything else…”. The vampire narrowed his eyes at me. “What?”, I said. “Why did you decide to apply for the position as my day-person?”, he asked. I smiled embarrassedly. “Honestly… I need the money”, I said. “I’ve been hoping to pay down my student loan, but taking up extra shifts down at Merlotte’s just isn’t cutting it”.

“That’s not what I meant”, he said. “You just don’t strike me as the type of person to take a job for a vampire”. He raised an intrigued brow at me. “Not enough fang marks on me?”, I chuckled. The vampire chuckled, and it seemed that if he’d been able to blush, he would have. “You’re offering a good salary for what seems like an easy job; and one that I can do while still staying on with Sam. The fact that you’re a vampire doesn’t really matter to me”. “Why not?”, he asked. “Why should it?”, I retorted. “Some might say it’s dangerous to work for one of us”, the vampire said. “You’re no more likely to hurt me than any other vampire around – or human for that matter”, I said. “Besides; Sookie speaks highly of you, and I trust her”. “Well, she speaks highly of you as well”, he said.

He seemed to think for a moment, before coming to a conclusion. “If you want this job, it’s yours”, he said. My jaw dropped. “Really?”, I asked. The vampire confirmed it with a nod. “Thank you, Bill. You won’t regret it…! One thing, though… Day-person? Can’t we call it… secretary? Or assistant?”. He chuckled warmly as he opened the door for me to leave. “Please come by tomorrow. I’ll have a list for you with some things I need handled”, Bill said, as I went down the steps of the porch. “8 pm?”, I asked. “That sounds perfect”, Bill said. “See you then”. He handed me back the “resumé”, which I’d written on the back of a paper placemat from Merlotte’s. As I took it, I got a slight papercut on my finger. “Shit”, I muttered. Bill smiled slightly. “Would you like me to fetch you a band-aid?”. “Nah…”, I said, and looked at the trickle of blood. “You hungry?”, I teased. “I think Sookie might have a problem with me feeding from a friend”. “Alright”, I shrugged.

I began fishing my car keys out of my bag, and cursed to myself, as they fell from my hand, and landed in the gravel on the ground. I was about to crouch to pick them up; when I felt a gush of wind, and suddenly stood nose to chest with a very tall man. I had to tilt my head back to look him in the eyes. They were bright blue, and had a sharpness to them. “Hello”, he said, a cheery mischievous tone to his voice. “Hi”, I said, and went to pick up my keys again. The man – vampire, I realized – held them out to me, before I even so much as bent over. “Fuck, you’re fast”, I gasped. He put the keys in my outstretched hand, and grabbed my wrist, to look at my bleeding finger. “When I want to be”, he smiled. “Bill, who is this? Introduce us”.

Bill stepped of his porch, and walked warily towards us. “Eric Northman… This is Liv Sunday”. I found it hard to break eye contact with the tall vampire, mostly because he was one of the most handsome people I’d ever met. “Liv”, Eric said. He dragged out the sound of my name, pronouncing it Leev. “Yours…? She smells… pure”. I managed to look away, and turned my gaze to Bills face instead. His jaw was clenched. “My assistant”, Bill repeated, put a hand on my arm, and went to stand half way in front of me. The tall vampire let go of my wrist. “Off limits”. “I’m a big girl, Bill", I said. “I can speak for myself". “Yes, she’s a big girl, Bill", Eric smiled. “Let her speak for herself". I frowned at the tall vampire, and shook my head. “That means you too, Vlad", I said. A grin ghosted his face.

Eric leaned his head forwards, and burrowed his eyes even deeper into mine. “Liv… You’re interesting”, he said. “Please. Tell me more about you”. “Eric!”, Bill growled. “Why have you come?”. “To discuss matters surrounding the conference. It is election year, after all”, the other vampire replied, never taking his eyes off mine. “Now stop interrupting my conversation with… Liv”. The vampire-testosterone was heavy in the air, and I swallowed hard. “Maybe some other time”, I said. “Oh come now…”, Eric smiled, his eyes digging even deeper. I frowned at him. “I said no!”, I sneered. The tall vampire seemed taken aback, and Bills eyes widened. “Ok… I’m just gonna go”, I said.

Bill followed me all the way over to my car, and held the door for me as I climbed in. I opened the window to let some air into the cabin. “Drive safely now”, Bill said. “See you at 8 tomorrow. I’ll give your regards to Sookie”. Eric smiled at me. “It was nice meeting you, Liv”, he said. “Until next time”. His intense gaze made heat pool in my lower stomach, and I had to consciously tell myself to put the key in the ignition.

I drove home to my one-bedroom rental feeling happy that I’d nailed my job interview; and stirred from meeting Eric. I supposed he always had that influence on people; Bill probably just turned his mojo down, because he had Sookie, and didn’t need to impress people in the same way. Bill was the second vampire I’d met that I’d actually spoken to, since they came out of the coffin. Eric was the third, so I didn’t have much to compare him too; but I read magazines as much as the next person.

When I got inside, I took a cold shower; trying to shake the meeting out of my system. Before I climbed into bed, I checked my messages, and saw that Sookie had sent me a text, congratulating me on my new side-gig with Bill. I sent her one back, thanking her for hooking me up with the interview.

Sookie had been a good friend every since I got to town. I’d been down on my luck since leaving San Diego; but Bon Temps had been good to me so far. I had a waitressing job at Merlotte’s, on top of the one I’d just gotten with Bill – taking care of the things he needed done during the daylight – and some good friends in Sookie and Bill; and even my other boss; Sam. I’d even go so far as calling Sookies brother, Jason, a friend – even if he did try getting me into bed with him, whenever he could. I think the fact that I was so fervent in my dismissal of him, made him have some weird kind of respect for me. I was happy – settled, even. The last thing I needed was some blonde hottie trying to get in my pants; it didn’t matter if his name was Jason Stackhouse – or Eric Northman for that matter.

---

I slept in the next day, as my meeting with Bill had been quite late – or should I say, early, as I’d not been home until 3 am. My shift at the bar was a slow one, which was good for Terry, who was having one of his bad days in the kitchen. All 6 hours dragged along in a manner so boring, it was a relief when 7 pm. came along, and Arlene came to take over from me.

Arriving back at the Compton house, I was met in the door by Sookie. “Hey, Liv! Come on in!”, she grinned. “Bill’s in the living room”. “Is it your night off, Sook’?”, I asked. “Uh huh”, she said. “Bill’s taking me to dinner”. We walked into the living room, where Bill was waiting, with a somber look on his face. “Liv… I would like to apologize for Erics behavior last night”, he said. “He didn’t do anything wrong”, I said. “It’s not the first time someone’s flirted with me”. “Eric Northman flirted with you?”, Sookie chuckled. “And you didn’t end up with your legs around his waist?”. I mock scoffed. “I am a lady”, I said. “I tend to throw them around a man’s neck first”. Sookie punched my shoulder. “Slut!”, she grinned.

Bill looked very seriously at the both of us. “This is no laughing matter, ladies. Eric glamoured you!”, he said. I shook my head in confusion. “He didn’t…”, I said. “I saw him… He was using his glamour on you”, Bill repeated fervently. “I really don’t think he did. At least I didn’t feel anything happening”, I tried again. “Jeez… I worked for you for five minutes; and you’re already acting like my daddy”, I said.

The vampire looked confused, but Sookie broke the tension, by reminding him they had reservations. “You’re right, of course; sweetheart”, Bill said, and took a piece of paper from the coffee-table. “I made this list for you. On the top here is making an appointment with an electrician. I’ve been having some flickering lights in the kitchen. Of course, I don’t use it much, but I do want it working… Then there’s this case of TruBlood O-neg. The all-night supermarket won’t be getting another shipment for at least a week, and I can’t…”. “Honey? We’re late!”, Sookie sighed. “Where are you going?”, I asked. “A place in Shreveport. Ky-auntie”, Sookie smiled. “Chianti”, Bill said. “And you’re right. Let’s go”.

We all left the house, and walked to our respective cars, when I remembered something. “Hold up!”, I called out. I ripped some of the paper from the list, and quickly wrote down my phone number with an eyeliner from my purse. I ran over to Bill with it. “Here. You never got my number. Just in case anything else comes up”, I said. “Thank you”, Bill smiled. “Any big plans for you tonight?”, he asked. “I have a date with my neighbor’s cat. At least I think he belongs to my neighbor. He might be a stray… We eat tuna together on Thursdays”, I sighed. “I thought you were allergic to cats”, Sookie said from inside the BMW. “Our love is complex… and I take pills”, I said. “Go on now. Have fun”.

I waved them off, as they drove away; and got into my own car. It stalled a few times, before finally starting up, and I could drive home – just in time for my date with Mr. Whiskers. He was only mildly annoyed when I came out the back door 3 minutes late, with his bowl. “Sorry I’m late, honey”, I said. “I had a vampire to tend to”. The cat wailed at me, and attacked the tuna like it hadn’t eaten in weeks.

I lit a cigarette, and sat down on the steps, leaning against the screen door, reading a magazine. Some of my neighbors were having a party, and I enjoyed the music coming out of the window. It was a warm night, but not many mosquitos around. I was happy to be left alone from the little bloodsuckers, when my phone vibrated, and I found myself summoned by a large one. - Need you in Shreveport asap. Bill

I frowned at the phone. - I’m your day person. Nights are off limits.

- Fangtasia. Be there in an hour.

- Remind me to ask for a raise BOSS!, I replied; stomped out my smoke, and went back into the house to look up the address of whatever the hell Fangtasia was. Google let me know it was a vampire bar. Dinner must have been over quickly, and Bill had probably taken Sookie for a drink. I looked down at the attire I was currently wearing, and decided that if Bill insisted on being a jerk-boss, I’d be a jerk employee; and show up in cut off shorts, and ABBA t-shirt – that was fifty sizes to big, and hung off my shoulder – hopefully embarrassing him in front of his friends.

I cursed at Bill all the way to Shreveport. “Stupid vampire, ruining my date with Mr. Whiskers”, I muttered to myself, as I parked my rusty car next to a flashy convertible on the parking lot of the bar. There was a line down to the door, going all the way around the corner of the building. A blonde woman with a bored expression on her face stood at the entrance, turning away anyone she didn’t see fit for entry. I sent Bill a text, letting him know I was outside, and had no intention of waiting in line. He’d have to meet me in the lot.

I leaned against my car, kicking at a stray paper cup on the ground, when a cold finger poked my shoulder. I looked up into the face of the blonde woman. She was striking up close. “Liv Sunday?”, she said, sounding as bored as she looked. “Yeah?”, I said. She gave me an insincere smile. “Follow me…”.

She led me to the entrance of the bar, and a burly doorman lifted the red rope for us so we could walk inside. A song with heavy bass was leading some scantily clad dancers on podiums, and the air was heavy with cheap perfume and sexual frustration. The blonde led me to a table, and waved over a black clad waitress. “Order whatever you want on the house. Ginger will sort you out”, she said. The waitress smiled brightly at me. I shook my head. “No, I’m here to meet Bill”, I said confusedly. The woman rolled her eyes, and walked away. I would have given her the finger, if I wasn’t worried, she’d bite it off. “What can I get you?”, the waitress, Ginger, asked. “The most expensive thing you have that isn’t blood”, I sighed. “Long Island Ice Tea, coming right up!”, she grinned, and walked away; tugging at her tiny top as she did.

I took my phone out of my pocket, and saw I had a new text from a number I didn’t know. - Hello Liv. This is Bill Compton. I would like to extend my gratitude to you for accepting the position as my assistant. I’m writing this as Sookie is powdering her nose; as to not interrupt our evening together. Could I please ask you to add to the list, that I need to get in touch with a florist who knows where to get some sunflowers? Sookie likes them. Thank you very much.

I was deeply confused at this point, and not a little worried. If Bill hadn’t been the one to summon me to Fangtasia, then I was currently in a strange bar, surrounded by vampires, without a companion; just sitting around like a delicious crab leg on a buffet table. Sure, there were humans around, but they all seemed more focused on getting the attention of vampires, than helping me out, if needed be. I texted Sookie. - What’s Bills number? I think someone texted me, pretending to be him.

She responded quickly. - Who? Are you ok? Where are you?

I wrote back. - No idea. I’m in some place called Fangtasia.

I was still holding my phone, when Ginger returned with my drink, and set it down. She seemed about to say something to me; when suddenly she bowed reverently. “Master…”, she said, sounding like she was having a strange sort of orgasm.

I looked up, and saw that Eric Northman was standing by the table, with the blonde female vampire next to him. He gave me a slight smile, and sat down across from me; relaxing against the backrest of the chair. “Jag är inte din budbärare, bare för at du vil knulla en liten människa!”. The blonde seemed annoyed, but I didn’t understand her words. “Slapna av, Pam. Det här är annorlunda”, Eric said. “Fika på hende, då. I don’t give a shit. Just don’t ask me again”, she snarled. ”Pamela!”, Eric said firmly. “Leave us”.

“What’s up her ass?”, I muttered. “Pam doesn’t take it up the ass; she gives it”, Eric said matter-of-factly. I narrowed my eyes at him. “You texted me…”, I said. “I did”, Eric said. “Go away, Ginger”. The waitress backed away, her eyes still on the floor. “Master. Yes, master”. I raised my brows. “Wow…”. I met Erics eyes hesitantly. “Why am I here?”. “Because I wanted to see you…”, he said. He dipped a finger into my drink, and licked it. “Don’t drink this. Someone put drugs in it”.

I swallowed hard – a sudden flashback striking me, taking me to a place I didn’t want to go. “Liv?”, Eric said. “What?”, I snapped. The vampire seemed taken aback. “You’re very brave”, he said. “I don’t know what you mean”, I muttered. “Speaking to me like that… and the text you sent me back, when you thought I was Bill. You obviously don’t know a lot about vampires”. I shrugged, trying my best to seem at ease with the conversation.

“How did you get my number?”, I asked; pushing the drink away gingerly. “I’m not listed”. “I flew over Bills house, as you wrote it down”, Eric said. “I have very good eyesight. You used a .01 Ultra Black eyeliner”. “That’s kind of creepy”, I said. “You’re a flying, creepy guy”. Eric laughed heartily, the sound coming from deep within his chest. “You’re funny”, he said. “It’s like you have no sense of self-preservation”. “Well, I figure you didn’t go through all the trouble of flying over Bills house to get my number; just so you could kill me”, I said. “At least… I hope you didn’t”. Eric looked towards the bar, at the tender behind it. “Chow, get her a fresh one. Make sure it’s drug free”, he said, so quietly, I almost didn’t hear it. I realized the bartender must be a vampire as well; that was the only way he’d be able to hear him. “You don’t have to… I’m fine, really”. “It’s no trouble", Eric assured me. “This is my bar after all. It’s in my interest to keep the patrons happy". “I’m not a patron…”, I said.

Eric ignored my words. “Your t-shirt… I like it”, he said. “I’m related to the blonde, you know…”. “You’re Swedish?”, I asked. A fresh drink appeared in front of me, and I looked at it hesitantly. “It’s safe”, Eric said. “Yes, I’m originally from Sweden…”. “So, you were speaking… Swedish, before?”. Eric nodded. “You name, Liv; it’s actually the Swedish word for life”. “Huh…”, I muttered. “I always thought it was kind of geriatric”. Erics eyes lit up with a mischievous glint. “Quite the opposite… It suits you. You seem full of life”. I cleared my throat uncomfortably, and took a sip from the straw. The drink was delicious. “And… when are you from? If you don’t mind me asking”. “Are you asking how old I am?”, Eric smiled. I blushed, and took a second sip. “I am a little over 1000 years old”.

I choked on my drink, and suddenly, Eric was next to me; gently patting my back with one hand, and holding mine with the other. “Are you alright?”, he said worriedly. “Yeah, I’m fine”, I croaked. I looked up into his eyes, and saw true concern. “Really”, I smiled. Eric sat back down on the chair opposite me; still holding on to my hand. His own was cool, but not cold. I guessed he’d recently fed.

I bit my lip. “Are you really 1000 years old?”, I asked in a whisper. “Yes”, Eric confirmed. “I was a Viking”. My eyes widened. “Like with the… pillaging, plundering and… raping?”, I said. Eric smiled smugly. “I didn’t need to rape to bed a woman; or a man for that matter”. “Huh…”, I said; and took a deep sip from my drink. “Well, you do have that tall, blonde and handsome thing going for you”. He ran his thumb over my knuckles. “You find me handsome?”, he said. “Every person in this room finds you handsome”, I retorted; rolling my eyes. I looked towards a nearby table, where a young woman with obviously dyed black hair was starring at us. When her eyes darted towards me, she looked like she wanted to scratch my eyes out.

“Tell me about you…”, Eric said. “Why?”, I asked. “Because it’s only fair”, the viking-vampire said. “In the last ten minutes, I’ve told you my age, occupation, sexual orientation; and I’ve saved you from getting drugged". I was painfully aware that Eric probably had a million different ways of getting what he wanted from me, but for some strange reason, I didn’t think he’d use any of them. Not yet anyway. None the less, I still didn’t see his reason for wanting to know. “I meant, why are you asking?”, I said.

Eric played absentmindedly with my fingers – or maybe not so absentmindedly; as he seemed to know exactly where and how to stroke my fingers in a way, that sent signals straight to my core. "You’re interesting“, he said. “And Bill interrupted me before I could finish my glamour on you, to get you to tell me". I chuckled softly. “You didn’t glamour me", I said. “Of course I did", Eric retorted. “Sorry, but I think you have little too much faith in your own abilities“.

He let go of my hand, and sat back straight in his chair. For a long time, he didn’t speak, just starred at me, before his pupils suddenly dilated, and a tranquil and yet almost flirtatious expression spread over his face. “Liv…”, he said softly. “Tell me; what’s your favorite sexual position?”. My jaw dropped. “That’s absolutely none of your business!”, I growled. Eric looked completely confused, and even paler than his usual pasty shade. He furrowed his brows, and moved his head forwards; almost crouching in his chair, as to reach my eye-level. “You want to tell me, Liv", he said, his voice alluring. Abso-fucking-lutely I wanted to tell him; but not under our current circumstances. As it was, Eric was being completely inappropriate, and I had no intention of continuing our conversation. I stood up. “Thanks for the drink. Now, if you don’t mind, please go to hell".

I walked towards the door, and made it halfway through the crowd, when suddenly, Eric was standing in front of me. He looked almost enraged, and towered over me menacingly; starring into my eyes so hard, I could almost feel it physically. “Liv. You want to tell me about yourself", he boomed. “I want to go home!”, I hissed, trying to pass the imposing vampire. He moved slightly, making me have to brush against his chest with my shoulder. Eric’s hand was suddenly on my upper arm. I froze in place, as he lifted my hair slightly, breathing in my scent. “What are you?”, he asked in a low voice, his cool breath sending annoyingly pleasurable shivers down my spine. I looked up into his eyes again; and jumped a bit, when his fangs popped out. The deepest, darkest part of me wanted to put my finger to one of them, and see how sharp they were.

“Eric!”, Bills voice boomed over the music. Sookie came out from behind him, walked straight up to the 6’4 inches vampire, and hit him over the shoulder with her purse. “Looks like that’s two dates you’ve ruined tonight”, I said. Eric smiled. “But ours was going so well”, he said; his fangs retracting again. “This wasn’t a date…”, I said. “This was you tricking me into meeting you”, I hissed. “You had another date tonight?”, he asked, darkness ghosting his face. I gave him a sarcastic smile, and pulled my arm out of his grasp, stomping out of the club, past Pam. She looked amused at the situation, and stepped back to let me get to the parking lot.

With shaking hands, I opened my car door. Bill and Sookie weren’t far behind me. “I am very sorry, Liv”, Bill said. “Had I known there was a chance Eric would…”. “Forget it, Bill”, I said. “I’ll take care of the things on your list tomorrow. Right now, I just want to go home… I’m sorry I ruined your date”. “It’s not your fault”, Sookie said earnestly. “Do you want us to follow you home in Bills car?”. “No, I’ll be fine… Just, go salvage whatever you can of your night”, I said. I gave Sookie a half hug, and nodded at Bill.

Eric was staring at my car, as I drove away. I saw him exchanging a few words with Pam, before he went back inside Fangtasia.

---

I had the next day off from Merlotte’s, and after I – once again – slept in, I had plenty of time to take care of my errands for Bill. When I got back home from having dropped of a case of O-neg on his porch, I texted him the info of an electrician and a florist who could help him out with his other requirements.

My mail had arrived while I was gone, and as I got ready for a night of serving beer, I looked through the bills and catalogues; finding among them an envelope without sender. Inside was a picture of a young woman in a seductive pose, wearing very little. I recognized myself immediately. It had been taken my last night at my old job at Sugar and Spice – a night I didn’t remember much from, due to a drink I should never have accepted. I almost fell into a kitchen chair, and shuddered. I put my hand to my chest, remembering the wound I’d earned that night.

He’d found me. I wasn’t surprised. Though my number and address weren’t listed, if Thomas wanted something, he’d get it; he had a way of talking himself in to things. Either that, or he’d use brute force. The thing that made me confused, was the fact that Thomas wasn’t even supposed to remember me. I was supposed to be just another dancer he’d taken pictures of, at the club.

I was startled when my phone suddenly rang. I picked it up, when I saw it was Sam. “Hey…”, I croaked. “Hey, Luce’… I’m really sorry to ask you this, but Coby has the mumps, and Arlene needs to…”. “You need me tonight?”, I asked, almost hopefully. I didn’t want to be alone. “You’d be doing me a big favor…”, Sam said. “I’ll be there”. “Thanks, cher’. I’ll give you tomorrow off instead”, he replied in a relieved voice. “No problem what so ever”, I said. “I’ll be there in a few”. I hung up, and hurried getting ready for work.

Merlotte’s was full of people; which was pretty typical for a Friday night. The tips would be pretty good, and I wouldn’t have to be alone with my thoughts. Sookie handed me a clean apron, and I tied it around my waist, avoiding her gaze. “You seem out of sorts”, she muttered, as I tied up my hair in a bun. “Seem? Or are you listening in…?”, I said. She looked suddenly sad. “I’m sorry, Sookie… It’s been a hard day”. She smiled a little. “I can’t read you as well as I can some other people, you know”, she said. “Whatever comes through, is usually just colors and emotions. But they’re pretty intense, so I try to avoid them”. “Why?”, I asked. “I don’t know”, she shrugged. “It’s just like that with some folks… Makes it easier to be your friend, though”. I squeezed her hand, and walked out to take some orders.

Hoyt and Jason were nursing beers in a corner, and I walked over to check on them. “Everything good here?”. “Much better, now you’re here”, Jason winked. “You know, I saw your car out back. It ain’t looking good. I’d be happy to give you a ride, when you clock out”. “I’m sure you would, but I’m not in the mood for crabs tonight”. Hoyt laughed heartily, and Jason smiled and shook his head. “Any food for you gentlemen?”, I asked. “LaFayette has some gumbo cooking tonight”. “Sounds good. Hoyt?”, Jason said. “Two bowls, then”, Hoyt smiled. “Coming right up”, I said, and took their order to the serving hatch; winking at LaFayette in the kitchen.

For the next few hours, I pushed away all thoughts of possessive men, and focused on earning my wages. Bill stopped by to give Sookie a kiss, and thanked me for my help so far; leaving me another list. “Just some time next week, will be fine”, he said. “You’re welcome to text me, Bill”, I said. “I dislike using the keys to type”, the vampire grumbled. “I prefer the old-fashioned way of writing”. “Did you use a quill?”, I asked, giving him a sly smile. “Just a no. 2 pencil”, he retorted. “And once again; I’m sorry…”. I groaned. “Please, stop… Nothing happened. I’m perfectly fine”.

Sookie gave me a slight look, which Bill caught immediately. “You’re not. What is wrong?”. “Sookie!”, I sighed. “Sorry! You’re pretty much radiating fear, honey”, she said. Bill looked at me earnestly. “I will do my best to keep you safe from Eric”, he said. “I don’t want you to worry about him”. “I’m not scared of Eric… No more than the next person, anyway”, I assured him; and walked towards the bar, to grab a tray of beers. Sookie followed me there. “What, then?”, she asked. I clenched my jaw. “Could you give this to Jane Bodehouse? I’m gonna go take my break”, I said.

I almost ran out the back door, and lit a cigarette. Sam was putting a bag of trash in the container, when I got there. “Everything alright?”, he asked. “Why is everyone asking me that?”, I almost snarled. Sam seemed taken aback. “Sorry… I’m just… It’s been a day”. “We all have those”, Sam said. “You want to talk about it?”. “Not really”, I said.

Sam scratched his head. “How’s it going, working for Bill Compton?”, he asked. “Fine, so far. It’s an easy gig”, I said. “Don’t worry, it won’t get in the way of my work here”. “I know. I just worry about you, is all”, he said. “You’ve had a strange look on your face all night”. I sighed deeply, not wanting to give away too much. “I got word from an old… acquaintance”, I said. “I’d hoped to avoid it”. “Ex?”, Sam muttered. “Not really…”. I swallowed hard. “Sam… If I… If some day I don’t come in to work… It’s not because I’m playing hookie”. “That sounds ominous…”, Sam said. “Just… I like this job. Bon Temps”, I said. “I’m happy here. So, if suddenly, I’m not around… I didn’t just skip town, ok?”. Sam walked up to me, and put a hand on my shoulder. “Liv, talk to me. What’s going on?”. Sookie stuck her head out. “Sam, we need to call Jane’s son again. She’s passed out on the pool table…”. Sam rolled his eyes, and went back inside, leaving me to smoke in peace.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. I had a text; from Eric, of all people. - When can I see you again?

I rolled my eyes. - How do I know you’re not watching me now?

The reply came within seconds. - You don’t. But I’m not. Do you want me to? I decided against replying, and went back inside – chiding myself for indeed wanting that.

When I got back home, I collapsed on my bed fully clothed – but not before having checked to see if all windows and doors were safely closed and locked. Even without A/C, I’d rather sweat than risk someone coming into the house while I slept.

My phone vibrated, and when I saw who was calling, I picked it up. “What?”, I said. “Why haven’t you replied to my messages?”, Eric said. Loud music was thundering in the background. I looked at the screen of my phone, and saw that I had multiple unread texts. “Because I was working. And because I didn’t want to”, I said. That last part was a lie. “What are you wearing?”, he asked. “A leather garter belt, and a top hat”, I sneered. “Really?”. I could hear his smile. “No. Goodnight, Eric”. “Read your messages”, he managed to say, before I hung up.

I more or less had to pry my eyes open to read the messages the vampire had sent me. - I’m not used to have my messages ignored. Well, get used to it, I thought. - I could come by your job. Just say the word. - I want to see you soon. When? At least he was asking, and not telling me. That was a step up from what I was used to. - Please. That one must have hurt. I sent him a message back. - I’ll let you know. And if you insist on texting more than a teenage girl, I’ll reply like one. Ttyl lol rofl xoxo

As soon as I’d dropped my phone on the bed, I smacked my forehead. I’d written xo. That thought kept me awake for hours, and I didn’t fall asleep until the sun was almost up again.

---

As soon as I woke a little after noon, I rushed out to handle Bills errands. He’d given me until the week after, but as I saw the picture sent to me laying on my kitchen table, I didn’t want to spend a moment longer in the house. I even called Sam to ask if he was absolutely sure he didn’t need me at the bar; but he all but told me that if he saw me anywhere near Merlotte’s, he’d throw me over his shoulder, and carry me home, so I could enjoy my day off.

A little after sunset, there was a knock on my door, and I was slightly startled to see Eric on my small porch. I swallowed hard. “What are you doing here?”, I asked. “I was in the neighborhood; and thought I’d save you the trouble of texting me, when you’d be able to see me”, he said. “Besides, I don’t want you driving that rust bucket all the way to Shreveport again. It’s a death-trap”. He looked towards my car, in the driveway. “You can see me now”, I said. “Wonderful”, he said, and once again dug his eyes into mine. “Invite me in”. “No…”, I said. He once again looked confused. “Why can’t I glamor you?”, he asked. “I don’t know… Maybe you’re impotent”. Eric barred his fangs; making me jump slightly. He looked dangerous. “Not nearly”, he said. “You shouldn’t test me”.

Not wanting him to think he’d scared me too much, I took a hesitant step out of the door, putting less than a foot between us. Eric smelled like nothing I’d ever encountered before. It was crisp, and yet warm; like expensive aftershave and salt water, with an undertone of something I couldn’t define – something musky.

“I don’t understand why you keep wanting to talk to me”, I said. “I get it, I’m human. Blood and sex, and all that… But you have a club full of willing participants to whatever it is you wanna do”. Eric nodded. “I know. It’s infuriating that I feel the need to be here”, he said. “But I think I found a fix for it”. “Oh?”, I croaked, doing my best to ignore the fact that a man, that looked more or less like a GQ model, was currently reaching out his hand to stroke my cheek. As his fingertips touched my skin, my breath hitched. “Yes. See, when I have sex with a human, I usually bore with them pretty quickly”, Eric said. “I thought we should just get it over with, so I can move on”. I took a step back, and my back hit the screen door. “I don’t want to have sex with you!”, I lied. “Of course you do. I’m a very good lover”, Eric smiled. “Now, invite me in, and I’ll undress you”. “Shove it up your ass!”, I said. Eric raised a brow at me. “Well, it’s been a while, but I’m up for it if you are”.

I scrambled to open the screen door, and get back inside the house. My body was screaming at me to give in to the sensation in my lower belly, but I told myself that I had to persist. “You should… go now”, I said. Eric stepped closer to me, and I felt his firm chest against my back. “Why?”, he asked, sounding genuinely confused again. “You’re… imposing”, I croaked, and turned to meet his eyes. They were piercing mine, sending tingles down my spine. “Stop trying to glamour me” “I’m not. It doesn’t seem to work on you”, he said; a hint of regret in his voice. “Though I wonder… would you let me test a theory?”. “What theory?”. Eric smiled. “Just humor me. Pam?”.

I nearly jumped out of my skin, when the blonde female vampire suddenly stood next to Eric; and hurried over the threshold, so neither of them could reach me. “What the hell?”, I said. “Yeah, Eric. What the hell? I’ve been waiting behind that tree forever. In my new Jimmy Choo’s”, Pam said. “Be nice, Pam”, Eric said. Pam drew her lips back in an insincere smile. “Hello, Liv. I am very glad to see you”, she said. “Happy?”. She looked out the corner of her eyes at Eric.

Eric gave her a look, and something unspoken passed between them. Pam seemed to shrink in front of me. “Liv, I would like you to let Pam try to glamour you”, he said. “What? No!”, I exclaimed. “I want to know if it’s…”. “Just you?”, I said. For the first time, Eric wouldn’t meet my eyes. I took a deep breath. “Fine. But I’m not coming outside”. Eric nodded. “Pam, try to glamour her. But don’t ask her to come outside where we can reach her”. He was trying to make me feel safe – it was almost endearing.

Pam took a step forward, and looked deep into my eyes. Her voice was soothing. “Liv… You want to invite Eric inside. You want to have sex with him”. I shook my head. “No… Not happening”, I said. She narrowed her eyes in confusion. “You… want to invite me inside… Have sex with me”. “No thank you”, I snarled. Pam stepped back, and began laughing. “What the actual fuck?”, she guffawed. “What are you?”. Eric stepped in between us, his back to me. “Thank you, Pamela. You can leave now”, he said. “Eric! She’s…”, Pam began. “Now!”, Eric growled. She disappeared as fast as she’d come.

Eric stood there for a moment, not turning to face me. I was about to close the door, when he spoke again. “I’m making you mine… And getting you a better car”. “The hell, you are", I sputtered. He spun around with wide eyes. “You’re saying… no?”, he asked bemusedly. “I’m not anyone’s; let alone yours”. Eric chuckled at me. “I just claimed you”. “Well you can shove that claim up your ass, as well”, I proclaimed. “You wanted me to tell you about myself”, I said. He didn’t respond, simply stood still and never diverted his eyes from mine. “I left San Diego to get away from a guy who couldn’t take no for an answer… I’m not about to throw myself into the arms of another one who does the same”, I said. “This… guy”, Eric said. “Did he hurt you?”. There was an angry edge to his voice. I looked down, and crossed my arms in front of me. “He did… It’s over. But only because I ran away”, I said. “He… It doesn’t matter. I just don’t want that again”.

For a long moment, he just looked at me; making me swallow to wet my dry mouth. “Alright”, he finally said calmly. “Are we finished?”, I asked, almost in a whisper. “We’re finished”, he said. “For now”. Eric lowered his head, looking earnestly at me. “As long as you say no to me, I won’t do anything”, he said. “I will not force myself on you, Liv”. “Why?”, I asked, genuinely surprised. “Do you want me to? I don’t mind playing games…”, Eric smiled. I shook my head. “Never mind. I thought we were having a moment here, but it’s gone”. I went to close the door in his face. “Liv!”, Eric said; his voice imposing. I halted, and looked at him again. “I don’t know why… But I will not”.

He turned around, and walked down the steps from my small porch. I took a deep breath, before running after him. He heard me coming, and turned around. “Thank you… For at least kind of taking no for an answer”, I said. I tugged at his jacket, to get him to lower his head, and I got on my toes; placing a kiss on his cheek. Once again, I was surprised to find his skin not icy, but simply cool; and I let my lips linger for a moment.

I was about to turn back, when Eric put both his hands on my shoulders, and looked me square in the face. I could tell he wasn’t trying to glamour me. “Be mine”, he said. My breath hitched, and everything in me screamed say yes!. “N-no, Eric… No, I can’t do that”. Eric looked as if I’d slapped him. My phone vibrated, and I took it from my pocket, looking at the screen. “It’s Bill… I have to take this".

Erics face dropped, and he let go of me. “Goodnight, sunshine”, he said, and walked away into the darkness. “Eric!”, I called after him. “I regret picking up your keys for you”, Eric replied, his back still to me. “I would have loved to see you bend over”.

---

#eric northman #eric northman fic #eric northman x oc #true blood #bill compton

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pinkjeanist · 5 years ago

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“rollercoaster” || denki kaminari

desc.: You worked at the hot dog stand. He worked at the Cosmic Arcade. What else is there to say? [2k words - f!reader]

a/n: this song goes so hard. it’s one of those songs that just feels like summer!! [navigation]

Summer break meant new opportunities, new experiences, and apparently for you, it meant hot dogs, too. You’d considered applying for a job at your local supermarket or fast food restaurant, but you heard about the three-free-rides-a-week discount at the nearby space-themed amusement park, so of course you were gonna apply for the job that paid significantly less (but gave you so, so much more). You never had much energy left in you to go on the rides after your shift, but just having the discount was enough.

You’d nearly worked in the Play Area 51 before it dawned on you just how much little kids tend to vomit, especially directly into the ballpit, so you instead decided to work at one of the many hot dog stands- one that was frequented by less-vomiting-more-screaming children, middle-aged women complaining about how they “asked for extra ketchup,” and surprisingly, really cute boys. Especially the cute boy that worked in the Cosmic Arcade.

He looked exactly like someone who’d spend his time playing laser tag or driving bumper cars, but didn’t at all seem put down by having to operate them, instead. You couldn’t remember a time you’d seen him without a smile on his face. You also couldn’t remember a single day he hadn’t bought a hot dog on his break since the day you started working at the stand.

You’d never really talked beyond taking his order and him insisting that you “put more ketchup on the hot dog please, I’m going for a world record,” and you insisting that “we don’t have enough ketchup to satiate your strange desire to consume an ungodly amount of an already-unholy condiment,” and to be honest, you were tired of simping from afar. But alas, you were but a simple hot dog merchant, and he worked ten minutes away at the distant Cosmic Arcade.

However, it was him that eventually spoke first to you nearly three weeks after getting hired: “You know, the most expensive hot dog ever sold was one hundred and sixty nine US dollars.”

You stopped as you were about to give him his food. “Is this you telling me that you wanna try to break another world record?”

“Perhaps. What are you sellin’ for?” He smirked, crossing his arms on the counter and leaning in closer. You put your hands on your hips and looked around.

“I mean, the most expensive thing I can give you is, like, five bucks in US dollars, so you might be in the wrong place to break your record, buddy.”

“I thought this was supposed to be the best hot dog stand in the world.”

Your brows raised. “Who said that?”

“Me.”

“Yeah, but why?”

“Well, it’s got some pretty good hot dogs, but it’s also got this smokin’ hot chick working there, so it’s really at the top of my list.”

You flushed, and he winked at you. You couldn’t help but smile. “Well, if it’s really so good, you should probably get a hot dog. There’s a line.”

He turned to the line behind him and spun back around even faster. “Oh fuck. Can I get a hot dog please?”

“Of course,” You laughed, taking his money after he dug in his pockets for it. “How much ketchup?”

“Too much. Just pile that shit on there!”

“I’ll see what I can do.” You actually giggled as you said it. You couldn’t stop your heart from pounding in your chest as you fixed his hot dog. He was really cute, and really funny, and also acted a little stupid, which you admired in a man. You could do without all the ketchup, though.

You handed him his hot dog with a smile, genuine only for him. “Have a nice day!”

“My day’s already perfect for getting to talk to you!” He beamed, speeding off before you could respond. He ran to one of his far-away friends waiting in line at the funnel cake stand and started bouncing up and down as he talked. You hoped he was talking about you.

When he came back the next day, you asked: “Don’t you ever get tired of hot dogs? You come here every day.”

“I’m not just here for the hot dogs, honey. Speaking of which, can I have a hot dog?” He rested his elbows on the counter and put his cheeks in his hands as he smiled at you. He’d already set his money on the space in front of him.

As you were making his hot dog, he asked you: “What time do you get off of work?”

“I’m getting off at eight today. Why?” You lathered his hot dog with as much ketchup you could give him without getting in trouble.

“Can you meet me at that rollercoaster after you’re done?” He pointed to probably the largest and most terrifying ride in the entire park in the distance, and for a moment, you couldn’t respond. You’d never even thought to try it out, but now, you had to reconsider.

“I mean...I can’t guarantee I won’t vomit all over you when the ride’s over, but sure.” You handed him his hot dog, and he gave you the biggest smile you’d seen from him yet. Just the sight of it made your stomach leap and blossom into a thousand little butterflies. Or maybe that was just the burrito you had for breakfast. Either way, you already knew that you would die for this boy.

“Hell yeah! We can be vomit buddies!” He stuck his hand out for a high-five, and you accepted it with a laugh.

“That’s definitely not the cutest term to use, but okay!” He gave a quick goodbye and ran off again.

The thought of meeting him sped through your mind until you were finally off work, and you made sure to grab your three-free-rides coupon along with your things before making your way to the rollercoaster. The sight of it was daunting, but your need to see that boy again overcame your dread.

When you got there, he was already waiting for you by the ticket booth, and waved to you as your eyes met. You hurried to his side.

“Hey! I was really hoping you’d come!” His hand came to rest on your arm, but you didn’t feel the need to move it in the slightest.

“You thought I wouldn’t?” He took your coupon and gave it to the woman in the booth.

“Kinda. It’s not every day I get to go on rides with pretty girls!” You flushed again and laughed. He turned to the woman in the booth. “Do you think you can get us to the front of the line, Mina?”

“You ask that every time you come here. The answer’s still no, dingus.”

“Dang. Always worth a try.” She gave you your tickets and handed you back your coupon, which you were sure you would lose on the rollercoaster, but you tucked it into your backpocket anyhow. He led you over to the line.

“I thought you’ve never been on this ride before?” You asked. He stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Oh, no, I come here all the time with the boys.”

“Are they busy right now or something?” You asked, your self-doubt slowly gnawing at the butterflies in your stomach.

“Huh? No, I just wanted to go on it with you! Silly goose.” He bumped his hip softly into yours, and you smiled at the ground. He chatted with you for the few minutes it took to get to the front of the line, and you felt your stomach drop as you were ushered into the spot next to him on the rollercoaster. He seemed to sense your doubt and slipped his hand into yours after the heavy restraint was secured over your torsos. It only helped to calm your nerves until the ride started moving.

You took a deep breath. You had your cute boy next to you, how bad could it be?

You pulled your head up from vomiting in the trash can. “I am never doing that again.”

“But it was fun, right?!” He beamed, holding your hair as your head dipped again. You finished spilling your guts before he handed you a napkin to wipe your mouth. “Come on, I’ll buy you something to get that taste out of your mouth.”

He bought you a soda, and for a moment you walked with him pondering if you were supposed to say goodnight, but he put his hand on the small of your back and asked, “How about one more ride?”

“I’m not going on another rollercoaster ever again, dude.”

“Nah, I was talking about the ferris wheel!” He pointed to it where it loomed behind the sunset in the distance, and you felt your heart speed up in your chest. “It’s a really nice night. I think you could use something to calm you down, yeah?”

You smiled and nodded up at him. Your body was begging to go home and go to bed, but that could wait.

You finished your drink and got in line, trying not to scream like your heart wanted to when you slid into the cart seat next to him instead of the one across. He didn’t seem to mind the closeness, though, as he draped his arm over your shoulders. It occurred to you then that you’d only talked to him for two days. Oh well.

For a moment, you both fell silent as you began to ascend, staring out the window to the orange and pink-stained sky and letting yourself melt in his presence. He turned his head to look at you, and when you turned to him, you realized just how close your face was to his, but neither of you moved to distance yourselves.

After a long moment, he said, “I really wanna kiss you.”

You swallowed. “I mean. We’ve only known each other for like, two days, but...I really wanna kiss you too.”

“I’m gonna kiss you,” He whispered, his other hand moving to rest on your leg.

“You’re gonna kiss me…” And then he did, which you didn’t know why you were so surprised, but you felt your entire body sigh under his touch. It felt like happiness, and sunshine, and your first time breathing. It was like you’d been pining after him for centuries and finally got your first taste. With the way he gripped your side to pull you closer, you could feel that same desperation.

When he finally pulled away, you both took a long moment to breathe and bask in the light of it all before he said: “You wanna know something crazy?”

“Is this another fact about hot dogs?” You smiled, arms moving to wrap around his middle.

“Nah. I just realized that I don’t know your name.”

You blinked. You didn’t know his name, either.

“I mean...what’s your name, then?” You asked after the fact.

“Kami. What about you, sweetcheeks?”

“Y/n is fine,” You laughed, and he smiled with flushed cheeks. “Will you still come see me at work tomorrow?”

“You know it! I better get your number first, though…” Kami pulled out his phone and you punched your number in as he did the same on yours. By the time he handed your phone back to you, the ride had already circled back to the bottom. He talked and laughed with you as he walked you back to the parking lot, his hand laced in your own, and kissed you again before saying goodnight.

Summer break was a funny little time. For you, it meant hot dogs, yes, but it also meant meeting cute boys, and selling said cute boys hot dogs before falling in love with them. And maybe there was some sort of deeper meaning to the enigma that is the hot dog. Whatever it was, it was giving you some hella good luck with three free rides a week and a new boyfriend, so you’d stick around for now.

taglist: @keigos-dove @knifeewifee @hanniejji @bvnnyclouds @katsukis-sad-angel @wesparklebitch

- dm or inbox to be added/removed from a taglist.

#denki kaminari #denki kaminari x reader #Kaminari Denki #denki kaminari imagine #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #reader insert #bingo event #bnhabookclub

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rewritingthefictional · 5 years ago

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home | embry call

Summary: you’re away at college and decide to take a trip home to surprise embry

Requested: idk how this ask stuff works lol. also I love your writing❤ I kinda had an idea. I was wondering if you could do a little fluff with embry call? the reader is away for college and comes back for breaks. how hed react to the reader suprising him and what they'd do when the reader came home? I'm having a hard time finding any college imagines for literally anyone. + oml I forgot to say in the last ask that the reader would be embry's imprint. I'm so sorry.

Appearances: Emily, Jared, Quil and Paul

A/N: hiii, requests are open at the moment, and i’m doing requests the order they come in, so if they don’t come fast i apologize. I’m spending a week at least per request because i work and school as well. Thanks for all the support!

Word Count: 1.3K

Female!Reader x Embry Call

Masterlist

It was safe to say that Embry missed you. So much so, that he felt like he was going crazy without your presence.

He had missed you talking about your day. He missed your smile. He missed your laugh. He missed your eyes and the way you seemed to come alive when surrounded by his family. He missed being able to lay with you but most importantly he missed having you in his arms.

He’d make sure to see you every other weekend but it wasn’t the same as being with you every day. Eventually the two of you had to go back to reality. You had classes and he had to go back to the rez.

Embry just wanted you to be done with school already so you could be home with him. He didn’t know what to do with himself without you there.

You weren’t any different. You spent most of the weekday’s thinking about the weekend when you would have Embry in front of you again. You called him every night just to hear his voice and your heart ached every time you thought about the distance between the two of you.

You didn’t plan on meeting Embry. In fact, the two of you had met accidentally. You had gone to the movies with one of your best friends and Embry was with Jared, Paul and Quil. The whole movie theater was packed and the only two seats left were next to the three rowdiest boys you had ever met. You ended up dozing off during the movie, your head accidentally falling on to Embry’s shoulder. You looked so peaceful that despite not knowing who you were Embry didn’t want to disturb you.

When the movie ended, he woke you up and that’s when the two of you locked eyes and sealed your fate. When he first told you about the imprint and his shapeshifter abilities you thought he was crazy and refused to speak to him. Though your heart ached to be near him you couldn’t understand anything he was telling you. Two days later, Embry appeared at your doorstep insisting you hear him out. Unable to resist those beautiful brown eyes of his you complied. Lacking any confidence to form words around you, he shifted, nearly scaring you to death. Needless to say, you believed him after that.

What you never expected was to fall for him so fast, but it was hard not too. Embry was loving, caring, honest, loyal and quite possibly the most adorable person you had ever met.

Embry had always made it a point to surprise you at school but this time you thought it was your turn. You had a week break and you decided not to tell Embry so you could see his look of surprise when you showed up on the doorstep.

Pulling up to Emily’s home you could practically feel your heart racing with excitement. You just missed him so much. You watched Emily’s head look out from behind the screen and you saw her eyes widen.

“No way! Y/N? I can’t believe you’re here!” She pulled open the door to run out to you.

“Hi! Yes, I’m here, in the flesh,” you pulled her into a hug and sighed in content at the embrace.

“God we miss you around here, it’s been two months. Graduate already please,” Emily begged and you chuckled.

“I’m almost done I swear, soon I will be here and then you really can’t get rid of me.”

“Trust me, I won’t try.”

“Where’s Em?” You asked and she gave you a knowing smile.

“He should be here soon, he went to the supermarket with the rest of the guys. Does he know you’re coming?”

“Not at all, I thought I would keep it a surprise,” she squealed and pulled you into the home to catch up all the things that have been happening for the last two months.

As Embry was at the store he mind started to wander with thoughts of you again. He couldn’t help it, he just needed to be around you.

“Oh look, Embry is daydreaming about [Y/N] again,” he heard Jared snicker and he turned to glare at him.

“Not funny.”

“Oh please it’s very funny, that’s all you think about,” Paul commented.

“Hey, I have a right to always think about her she’s so far away. At least your imprints are here with you.”

“Relax Em, she’s almost done with school,” Quil informed him and he rolled his eyes.

“I’m done with this conversation.”

The three boys laughed and walked toward the register to pay for the items. Embry’s mind filled with thoughts of you again as they walked back to Emily’s. He wondered what you could be doing, how you could be feeling. Whether you decided to go to class today in pjs or if you actually woke up and got yourself ready. A smile was brought to his lips when he imagined you falling asleep at your desk, drool seeping into the textbook you used for class.

When they got closer to the house, the smell of brownies instantly overloaded their senses.

“Emily’s baking again, today truly is amazing,” Jared commented with a sigh.

Embry could smell something else, something familiar, something like … home. Suddenly it dawned on him, he could smell your scent but he was confused. You weren’t supposed to be here. Coming to an abrupt pause in front of the house, he focused on the scent, trying to see if his mind was playing tricks on him.

“You okay Em?” Quil asked coming to his side.

“[Y/N]...” he whispered. As if you could sense him, your face appeared behind the screen.

“Hey hey hey, look who it is!” Paul yelled happily. You walked outside and immediately Embry dropped the bags and ran to your side pulling you in a hug. He kissed your head, he kissed your left cheek, he kissed your right cheek, he kissed your nose and suddenly he was kissing your lips. You heart did flips, once again feeling complete. This is what home was. No, this was who home was.

“I want a hug too Embry, she’s not just your girl!” Jared joked and Embry sent a glare his way. The three boys laughed and walked inside to give you a moment alone.

“Baby, I missed you so much,” he said kissing your lips again.

“I missed you too,” you responded pulling apart.

“What are you doing here? Not that I’m complaining but shouldn’t you be in school?”

“We had a break, I decided to come see you instead of staying on campus.”

“I could’ve come to you,” he responded cupping your cheek in his hand. You applied more weight to his hand, wanting to feel his skin again yours.

“No I wanted to come,” he kissed you again. You loved this feeling. You loved him.

“How about we ditch these lame-o’s and go home to have a marathon?”

“WE CAN HEAR YOU! STRONG WOLFY HEARING EMBRY!” Jared yelled from inside the house causing you to laugh.

“I would like that,” you whispered to him and he pulled you into a kiss again. You chuckled, he was kissing like he would never get to kiss you again.

“Are you going to kiss me after everything I say?” you asked.

“Maybe,” he responded while giving you another kiss.

“Come on,” you directed interlocking your hand with his.

When the two of you reached Embry’s house you had already figured out what movies you wanted to watch, starting with your favorite. Embry picked you bridal style making you scream, he laughed as he walked the two of you into the house.

“What was that for?” you asked punching him in the chest as he placed you on the sofa.

“Just practicing for the future,” this time it was you who initiated the kiss. He took a seat beside and you cuddled up into his arms.

“I’m so glad you’re home,” he told you.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

“So, movies?”

“Definitely movies.”

You smiled contently. You couldn’t have asked for a better life, for a better guy. To be in love and loved by Embry was everything and more. There was nothing you would ever change about it.

It was just meant to be.

#embry call #embry call imagine #embry call x reader #embry call x y/n #embry imagine #twilight #twilight imagine #paul lahote #jared cameron #quil ateara #emily young #twilight series #imagine #y/n #softboybrock #softboybrock imagine

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chimmyboii · 5 years ago

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The Story of Us - Part 1

Masterlist

Summary: He was a bright orange flame and I was the moth attracted to his light.

* D/N = Dad’s name!

AN: So this is a fic i’m currently working on, not really sure how many parts there will be but stay tuned!! Feedback and criticism is welcomed!! :)))

Enjoy!

Part 1

The sound of the TV blaring was enough from me to know something wasn’t right. I took off my shoes quickly and peeked my head through the crack of the living room door. Dad was laying passed out on the couch, snoring like a pig. Empty beer bottles were scattered on the coffee table, one had fallen on the floor spilling on to the carpet. Sighing, I entered the room and walked to his sleeping figure, I tug the remote from his grip gently as I could in hopes of not waking him. I press the red button, shutting the TV off.

Just as I’m about to grip the empty bottles, Dad sits up with a gasp. His blurry eyes look at me, his lips turn down in a frown.

“What are you doing?” I inhale slightly, continuing to tuck two of the bottles under my arm before I grab the rest.

“Cleaning up,” I answer before walking into the kitchen and placing them into the bin.

“Well leave them,” he slurs out, taking the remote and turning the TV back on. I growl under my breath. I go back into the living room and go to grab the rest of the bottles when Dad grips my arm, I wince.

“I told you to fucking leave them, what part of that don’t you understand Y/N!” I pull my arm from his grip; tears slip from my eyes. I hurry back into the kitchen out of his way. I hear him stomp up the stairs to the bathroom. In the kitchen, I let out a sob, rubbing at my arm that I’m sure will bruise. Sniffing, I decide to make myself something to eat, grabbing a lot food to hide in my room to avoid coming out. As I’m cutting my sandwich, Dad comes stumbling into the kitchen. He ignores me and reaches into the fridge and pulls out another beer.

“Dad, you’ve got work tomorrow,” I remind, gently. He barks out a laugh before slamming the fridge shut, causing the contents to rattle inside and me to flinch. “That fucking Joe prick fired me this morning,” he laughs bitterly, “thinks I’m not capable for the job,” He walks over to the drawer and pulls out the bottle opener.

“What?” I whisper, my palms become clammy. “But we’re already late on this months’ rent,” Dad ignores me and continues to struggle opening the bottle. I grip the counter tightly as I begin to feel breathless, a surge of panic overwhelms me. “What are we going to do?” I ask him, voice high. Dad finally pulls the metal cap from the bottle and shrugs at me before taking a large gulp.

“Fuck ‘em,” he slurs walking back into the living room. Tears slip down my cheeks once more.

I stand there for God knows how long, just inhaling and exhaling. The tears had finally stopped. I reach and pull out my phone, looking at email of acceptance from the University, I sniffle before typing in the contact number. It rings four times before a female voice answer.

“Hello, I’m Y/N L/N, I’m calling to withdraw my application,” my voice croaks. The phone call lasts all of three minutes. It took three minutes to cancel my dream. I cry as I look at the mess of the kitchen, my blurry eyes look to the living and see my drunk Dad singing tunelessly to the music on the TV. This is my life now; I’m trapped here with this.

- I walk to the supermarket in town, since we don’t own a car and I don’t have enough money for bus fare. It takes me half an hour to get there and I’m sweaty from the walk. Smoothing back my hair, I walk in and go straight to Customer service. The woman behind the counter eyes me for a moment, taking in my flushed complexion and old clothing. I see the pity in her eyes.

“How can I help you, sweetheart?” I clear my throat.

“Are there any jobs going here?” I ask, trying hard not to sound hopeful. She shrugs.

“Not sure, honey. Hold on while I phone the manager,” I nod rapidly. She punches in the numbers on the phone before pushing the phone against her ear.

“Hey Bob, I got a kid here looking for a job. Can you come down?” She ‘uh-huh’ a few times before she turns to me. “How old are you, honey?”

“18,” She tells this to Bob on the phone. She mutters a few sentences which I don’t hear then hangs up.

“Bob will be with you in a moment,” I nod and move to the side, allowing customers to be served.

A bald man with dark glasses comes down the escalators, he holds a clipboard and I assume he is Bob. I stand straighter as he comes towards me. He smiles politely at me and reaches out a hand to shake.

“Hello, I’m Bob Young. So, you’re looking for a job?” I nod eagerly, Bob looks back at his clipboard. “Well we have some job openings; did you bring an application form?” I reach into my bag and pull out my CV. Bob reads it over. “Well you have good grades, all As and Bs.” He hums for a second. “You don’t have any experience though,” I feel a surge of panic.

“I’m a fast learner, I promise. Whatever job you give me I promise I will do my best and more!” I burst; Bobs eyes widen at this.

“I see,” he says almost wearily. “We have a job opening for 8 hours,”

“Umm… are there other jobs going with more hours?” I interrupt, Bob stops and looks at the clipboard once more.

“Well there is a job that just opened yesterday with 25 hours a week but-”

“I’ll take it!” I almost squeal. Bob lets out a chuckle and considers me a moment.

“25 hours a week is hard work, kid, are you sure your up to it?” I firmly nod. “Okay, well the job requires you to; stack shelfs and serve customers. However, I must tell you these shifts are night shift only.” Night shift is perfect actually, I’ll be gone when Dad arrives home hammered from drinking in the pub.

“That’s fine,” I confirm. Bob talks me through the rest of the responsibilities and tells me I’ll be required training which will start next week. I feel excited for the first time in weeks. He then gives me a tour of the shop, showing me where the fire exits are where the employee cloak room is.

“This is a bit informal,” Bob admits, “Normally, people apply for the job online and we reply via email for a job interview. But I know who you are kid, you’re D/N’s* daughter.” I look down feeling ashamed. In this small town, everyone knows your business. “I’m guessing your dad lost his job?”

“Yeah,” I whisper and Bob nods.

“Well, welcome to the team, Y/N,” He pats my back and flashes me a bright smile before leaving.

The till training took an hour and consisted of shadowing another member of staff. I was then placed at the customer service desk, ironically and this has been my position for the last two weeks. Since the supermarket is open 24 hours, it’s important to have staff on at the desk throughout the night. However, at night the shop is quiet and boring; there are barely any customers out after nine o’clock. I lean against the desk, doodling on a piece of paper. It is just me at the desk, my colleague Heather had been asked to give a hand stocking shelfs. I bin the piece of paper and lean my head against my hand, looking out at the dark car park. The desk is situated right by the main entrance which allows me to watch customers come and go. I watch as a black pickup truck pulls up outside the car park. Squinting, I spot what appears to be four boys jumping on the cargo bed. I watch as the boys jump from the back of truck and more exit the vehicle. They make their way into the supermarket, whooping loudly and pushing each other. I cringe at the sudden loud noises. There are seven of them, I note. Security is going to have fun with them. I continue to watch two of the boys laugh and push each other, when a bright flame comes into my view. He looks over at me and I see his lips curve into a small smile.

His hair is bright orange, hard to miss. The turquoise leather jacket he wore complimented his hair, surprisingly. We continue to stare at each other, his smile growing wider until one of the boys nudges him which causes him to look away. I pull out my phone from under the desk, ignoring the boys completely as the walk past the desk into the aisles, disappearing from my view completely and a small part of me feels deflated. I continue to play the game on phone when a bang is sounded in front of me.

“Shit!” I yelp, almost dropping my phone. In front of me, the orange hair boy pushing a blue basket of shopping towards me. He has a large grin on his face, and I notice one of his front teeth is crooked. I gulp, placing my phone back under the desk. I take a bottle of Coke from the basket and scan it under the red light until it beeps.

“Hello,” he greets, his voice is smooth and has a nice pitch – its sweet and low at the same time. I nod at him with a small smile. I grab a bag of sweeties next and scan them. “How are you?” he asks.

“I’m fine,” I mummer, feeling a bit shy under his gaze, the smile still on his lips but has grew softer. I grab another bag and scan it, but it doesn’t scan, I try again still nothing. I look at him, “umm…just a second,” He nods, and I move over to the other till to see if it scans there and it doesn’t. I curse quietly under my breath, unsure on what to do.

“Maybe try putting in the barcode manually,” the orange-haired boy suggests. I frown at him, walking back over.

“What do you mean?” He smiles softly at me and reaches his hand out for the bag of sweets; I give them to him. He points to the barcode at the bottom of the packet.

“See these numbers?” I nod, he continues, “You should be able to type them on the till.” I let out a ‘ohhh’ before taking the packet back and began to type the numbers on the till, when I press enter the name of the sweets came up along with the price.

“Yes!” I exclaim and the boy let out a laugh. I giggle slightly out of embarrassment, “Sorry, I’m still learning,”

“Ahh, you’re new,” I nod, cheeks feeling hot. “When did you start?”

“Two weeks ago. They never told me I could type the barcodes though. How did you know?” The boy points his thumb behind him, I spot the rest of his friends outside by the truck.

“One of my friends works in retail. He broke the scanner, so he had to type manually for a while,” I smile at him before grabbing the rest of his items without a problem. The last item was a bottle of soju.

“Umm… c-can I see some ID, please?” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, he rustles around before letting out a sigh.

“I’ve left it in the truck, can you give me a minute?”

“Yeah that’s fine,” He shoots me a smile before rushing out the door. I watch him quickly dive into the front seat, his bum wiggling slightly as he rustles though the truck. One of his friends kicks his butt which causes the orange haired boy to reach back and rub the area. I let out a laugh at the sight. I frown confused when I see him lean over the dash and from what I can see, scribble something down a piece of paper before slipping it in his turquoise jacket. I jump when leaves the truck slamming the door and running back into the store. Looking at the till, I pretend I’m looking over the items.

“Here you are,” he announces handing me his ID.

Name: Park Jimin Date of Birth: 13 October 1995

He was older than me by two years, I notice. I nod happy he was the legal age and hand him his ID back. I scan the soju and click enter on the till; I turn back to the orange haired boy – Jimin. I open my mouth to speak but he beats me to it.

“My name is Jimin!” he blurts, “You already knew that because of my ID…uhhh shit,” he whispers shaking his head and I giggle. He was cute, I’ll admit.

“I’m Y/N,” I tell him, reach my hand out for him to shake. He clasps my hand and shakes it, the smile back on his face. “Do you need bag for your items, Jimin?”

“Yeah, please.” I nod and begin to bag his items when Jimin hand shots out, pushing a piece of paper under my nose. I frown at it but take it away. The paper is receipt from somewhere and has a number written in blue ink on it. I look back at Jimin whose cheeks are flushed pink, he runs his hand through his hair.

“I-I was wondering i-if you would like to go out sometime…umm, with me?” he stutters, and my eyes widen. “That’s my number,” he nods to the receipt I’m holding.

“Oh,” I mutter looking down at it. My heart is thumping loudly in my ear. “I-I can’t, I’m sorry,” I watch Jimin’s face fall, his brown eyes make contact with the floor. “I’m flattered, honestly, but I’m just not interested in a relationship,” I lie and Jimin just nods. I go back to packing the rest of his items before looking at the till. “That’ll be 24.25, please.” Jimin pulls out his card and taps it on the contactless screen before grabbing the bag and speed walking off.

“Wait!” I yell, Jimin stops abruptly and turns to me. I grab the receipt that has printed off and wave it at him. “Do you want your receipt?” Jimin shakes his head before practically running out the store.

I sigh as I look the receipt which had Jimin’s number. He was cute, I thought with a small smile. I eye the paper once more before folding it and tucking it in the pocket of my trousers.

18 notes · View notes

sprnklersplashes · 5 years ago

Text

not beyond repair (9/?)

AO3 warning: mention of violence

September bleeds into October, nights grow longer, skies grow darker, and for the students of Westerberg high school, class gets tougher. Homework piles up and every class ends with a reminder that an essay is due on Friday or their test is next week. Stationery shops are restocking as fast as they can, the school aisles of supermarkets and department stores almost bare. Everyone from the freshman wanting to make a good impression on their parents to the seniors worrying about meeting the requirements for college are feeling the stress, along with the heavy fear sitting in their guts that this is only the beginning.

Which is how Veronica ends up lying across her boyfriend’s bed, her study notes abandoned on the floor, JD rubbing circles on her bed, which turns into a full blown massage relatively quickly, his fingers working against the knots in her back and neck. It’s not exactly what she’d like him to be doing to her in his bedroom, but it does feel like heaven, and it’s exactly what she needs right now. She reaches down and turns another page, staring blankly at a diagram of the human heart, jabbing at each section with her finger.

“Left atrium, acts as a holding chamber for blood coming back from the lungs,” she announces, closing her eyes tightly so as not to peek at her notes. “Right atrium does…. Something… which I can remember…” She clenches her fist so tightly it begins to shake, as though she can will the answer right into her hand.

“Receives deox-”

“Deoxygenated blood through the vena cava!” she shouts, her head snapping up, only to be met with a pain her neck from hanging over the side of JD’s bed for more than half an hour. She pouts and rubs at the sore part while he runs his fingers down her spine.

“I think someone’s a little sleep deprived,” he teases while reading over his messy notes.

“I’m a little everything deprived,” she admits, sitting up, her back groaning in protest, and pulling her knees against her chest and resting her cheek on his shoulder. She half-reads over his sprawling handwriting on his book, the black ink occasionally interrupted by green or red. His hand comes up her back and tangles in her hair.

“Why don’t we take a little break?” he asks gently. “Go for a walk, get some food, let you see the sweet light of day again-”

“Believe me when I say I’d love that,” she sighs. “But I can’t.”

“Yes you can,” he insists. “I see how hard you’re studying. We have study hall together remember?”

“Yeah, how hard I work when you aren’t there to distract me,” she says playfully, tapping his nose with her finger. It’s true, more often than not they sneak off to the “bathroom” together, one leaving thirty seconds before the other, and end up sitting against the window together, toes just barely scraping the floor.

“I’m just making sure you take breaks,” he says, kissing her head. “Pace yourself.”

“If only Harvard, Duke and Brown were letting me pace myself,” she sighs, lying back on his bed. He follows her, laying on his side, his hand intertwining with hers and resting on her stomach. “I still need a recommendation letter.”

“I can write one,” JD offers. “Veronica Sawyer, excellent student, perfect friend, wonderful girlfriend. Special skills include doodling and breaking into houses.” Veronica sniggers. “Or Claire can, given how much she adores you. She might end up trying to foster you as well as me. Besides, why are you worrying? Didn’t you say the deadlines are in January?”

“Yeah.”

“Veronica… it’s October.”

“I know,” she sighs. “But I don’t want to leave things to the last minute, you know.” He hums in acknowledgement, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of her hand. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“I haven’t even asked, where are you applying?”

“Oh. That,” he says, heaving a sigh and shifting until he lies on his back. “I haven’t really thought about that. To be honest, I’m not sure I’ll bother.”

“You won’t?” she asks, propping herself up on her elbow. She wants to ask why not but sees the wall her boyfriend builds around himself and isn’t sure she’s daring enough to climb it. He looks down at their intertwined hands, moving them back and forth playfully.

“Nah,” he says. “I mean, I just don’t think it’s for me, you know? Just stay here, get a job somewhere.” His tone is flippant, casual, as though his future’s too far away to even think about.

“You think you’ll stay here?” she asks him. She hadn’t given it much thought; all she knew since she was 15 was that she was leaving Sherwood, Ohio in the dust, and when JD came along, she had assumed she’d take him with her, in the rare time it ever crossed her mind.

“Probably,” he says, a familiar coy smile on his face. “Maybe, maybe not. Wouldn’t be so bad, I guess.”

“It wouldn’t?” she asks. He shakes his head just slightly, pursuing his lips. He looks up at her and quickly moves and plants a swift kiss on her lips. As usual, she smiles against him, butterflies briefly taking off in her stomach as her fingers curl into the fabric of his covers. “What was that for?”

“To tell you not to worry,” he tells her. “I’ll always come up to see you at Harvard. Or Duke. Or Brown. Wherever you end up.”

“If I get into them,” she sighs, scooting closer and tangling her legs in with his. She blinks heavily and under different circumstances, she could fall asleep here.

“Oh, you will,” he assures her. “Of course you will.”

“Not at this rate,” she says, sitting back up and picking up her notebook off the floor. “I can’t get another B in biology.”

“You won’t,” he says softly, hugging her around her waist. “But maybe if you took a day off…”

“You’re sweet,” she says. “I’ll think about it.” She looks over JD’s shoulder, the red numbers on his alarm clock coming into focus, making her jump off his bed. “But not now, because I have to go. I have to be home in ten minutes.” She sets about shoving books into her bag without any real rhyme or reason and picking up her jacket.

“Hey, I can ask Claire if she can give you a ride back,” JD offers, following her down the stairs.

“No, it’s fine,” she says. “If I run, I can make if before my parents get mad.” She turns just as she reaches the front door, leaning against the wall with her hands behind her back and JD barely two inches away from her. “I’ll see you on Monday?”

“See you Monday,” he agrees, kissing her forehead. “And for God’s sake, take a break!”

“I will.”

“You better.”

“Or what?” she teases, grasping his shirt and pulling him towards her. He left his coat discarded upstairs in his room, now just in a grey t shirt and blue shirt. She wonders if he knows how different he looks without it.

“Or I’ll come into your room and sit on you until you take a nap,” he deadpans.

“You know I weirdly don’t mind that idea.” She grins as he moves closer, her hand still buried in his shirt. He moves in and kisses her, slow and soft. She wraps her arms around his neck, taking a deep breath in as she kisses him again, grinning against his lips. She chases his lips as he moves away, his fingers trailing along her waist. She pouts at him until he nods in the direction of the hall, and she finds Claire standing with a mug of coffee in her hand and a pink hue to her cheeks, matching her sweater.

“Don’t mind me,” she says. “Just going to the living room. Pretend I was never here.”

“The implications in that are kind of gross, to be honest,” he shouts into the living room. Veronica chuckles into his shoulder.

“Okay I should really go now,” she says as he steps aside and lets her get the door. “I’ll see you later.”

“Take a damn nap,” he tells her as she leaves.

“Do your damn homework,” she replies, giggling on his porch, the cold October air raising goose bumps on her legs.

“Do you need my jacket?” he asks.

“Gentleman. I’ll be fine,” she assures him. “Good night, JD.”

“Good night, Ronnie.” He closes the front door, his silhouette still in the lit window. She gives him a small wave, unsure if he’ll see it, and turns down his path and down the street to her house. It’s darker than she thought it would be, yellow glow from the street lights guiding her back home. She comes to the realisation that it might be time for her to put the short skirts away, or maybe invest in a few pairs of tights. She won’t admit it to the Heathers, but she’s grown quite fond of the style. It might be the only thing she keeps from them.

Even if she goes miss the comfort of her oversized sweaters and denim jackets.

“I’m back,” she calls as she opens her front door.

“Hi sweetie,” her mother says as she steps into the kitchen. “How was studying?”

“Hard. Long. Boring,” she sighs, slipping her bag off her shoulder and rolling it around, wincing as pain shoots through her.

“Aw, honey. It’ll all be worth it in a few months,” her mom assures her, pushing her dark hair that’s so similar to her own off her shoulder. “You know this time next year you could be eating dinner in your dorm at Harvard.” Her mom’s voice breaks and Veronica fights the urge to roll her eyes. At least it’s better than with the Heathers; back then she kept her face stoic and her arms fidgeting by her sides, sometimes being permitted a cruel smirk or a raised eyebrow.

“Don’t get sentimental on me, Mom,” she says. “You know I’ll come back.” She means it, even if the words feel heavy in her mouth. Sherwood, Ohio is going to follow her around for the rest of her life, dragging herself back for Christmas and Thanksgiving and birthdays. At least twice a year she’ll have to trade the bright city lights she’s dreamt of since she first realised she could go for a small town she knows like the back of her hand. JD would say, and he has said, that she’s lucky to have somewhere she can call a hometown, shrugging as he says he can’t even remember where he was born or where his first school was. Maybe he’s right, but that won’t stop her from building a life far away from here and seeing the rest of the world.

Okay, she thinks as she watches her mom cooking, maybe that’s a little harsh.

“Are you hungry?” she asks.

“Yeah.” All she had eaten at JD’s was the candy they’d bought at the little store on the way to his house and an apple.

“Okay, this will be ready in a few minutes. Which friend were you with again?”

“JD,” she says, looking in the fridge for a drink.

“Nothing sugary, not before your dinner,” her mom reminds her. Like she could forget. “So, which college is he planning on going to?”

“Um, he isn’t exactly sure yet,” she says, closing the fridge, the pitcher of juice in her hand, and pouring out a glass for herself. “He might wait a bit, you know.”

“Well, whatever suits him,” her mom says. She pauses putting pasta bake on the plate, frowning slightly. “Ronnie, didn’t you have a friend called JD when you were a kid.”

“Yeah, for a bit.”

“Hm. What are the chances of that? It’s an unusual name.”

“It’s a nickname,” Veronica explains, taking a full plate from her. The mere sight of the pasta, white sauce leaking out of it, is enough to make her mouth water. “His full name’s Jason Dean.” She sits herself at the table, scooping pasta up with a fork. “And anyway, it’s not that weird. They’re the same person.”

“It is?” her mom asks, setting the spoon down. “This JD is the same JD you were friends with as a kid?” Veronica nods, her mouth full of pasta. Her mom wrings the towel in her hands for so long that Veronica frowns.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” she says, smiling even though it doesn’t quite meet her eyes. “That’s odd, that he ended up coming back here.”

“I guess,” Veronica agrees, pushing her pasta around the plate. “Just one of those big coincidences.” Her mom hums in agreement and turns her back to her and Veronica shoves more pasta in her mouth, wishing that she could go just a week without the feeling that there’s something she’s not getting; a puzzle piece that’s missing in her life and leaving a hole, however small, inside her.

“Evening, Ronnie,” her dad greets as he comes in, carrying his jacket in the crook of his elbow and his briefcase dangling from his hand. “Oh, that looks good, hon.” He kisses her on the cheek and takes a plate to the table, sitting across from her, and her mom follows. “Oh hey honey, I got a little something.” Veronica watches as her dad pulls a white envelope out of his jacket and hands it over to her mom. “While in the office I got a call from Uncle Rodney. His wife’s finally pregnant!”

“Aw, how lovely!” her mom sighs. Her mom has a thing for babies, as evidenced by the numerous photos of Veronica as a baby hanging around the hall and along the stairway like Hansel and Gretel’s breadcrumbs, despite her pigtails and PB&J years being long behind her. Veronica realises how glad she is that she hasn’t brought JD home yet and wonders if it’s at all possible for her to keep him out of her house forever. The last thing she would want is for her mother to be showing off how cute her little one year old diaper less booty looks in her photos. “They’ve been trying for so long. They must be so happy.”

“They are,” he agrees. “So much so that they’ve invited us to their baby shower. I wrote down all the details in there.” Her mom opens up the envelope, her face falling as she reads it.

“Their baby shower in Nelsonville,” she says with a resigned sigh, showing her dad the envelope. “That’s three hours away. There and back. We’ll have to leave early…”

“Well, they have offered to put up anyone who would need to stay overnight in a hotel,” he offers. “And it’s a really nice hotel!”

“I don’t doubt that,” she says, frowning slightly. “And you know how I love Rodney. And Lizzie. But staying overnight… Well, Veronica I guess you’ll have to come with us.”

Oh God please no is all Veronica can think. The last thing Veronica needs right now is a family getaway. For one, it would be next to impossible to study in a car, or in the middle of a baby shower full of relatives she hasn’t spoken to since… probably Uncle Rodney and Aunt Lizzie’s wedding when she was eleven. Then there’s the other part which is that she doesn’t feel like spending a Friday night around people who last saw her when she had braces and pimples. She might be a loser again but she’s not that much of a loser. She hopes.

“Come on, honey, Veronica’s seventeen. She’s old enough to hold down the fort by herself for a while, right Ronnie?”

“Yeah,” she agree in a flash. “Yeah, I can stay here by myself.”

“I don’t know,” her mom sighs. “You’re still just a kid.” Veronica bites back the fact that Heather Chandler’s parents and Ram’s parents and Kurt’s parents and Heather Duke’s parents all trust them to stay at home alone. Granted, they’re pretty terrible examples, given that at the one sleepover she had been to at Heather Chandler’s house, Duke got very drunk and vomited in Chandler’s bathroom and then there was the Party That Shall Not Be Named at Ram’s house (as JD had taken to calling it, rather dramatically, but she barely minds).

“Mom,” she says instead, choosing her words carefully. “It’s just one night.”

“And she’s nearly eighteen,” her dad agrees. “And she’s responsible. You won’t do anything we’d disapprove of, right sweetheart?”

“Of course not,” she promises. Her mother keeps frowning, so much so that Veronica wonders if frown lines will permanently etch themselves into her mom’s face. Chandler had told her that happens when she had seen Veronica frowning at… well, at something. Veronica sends her a silent look that hopefully conveys the message she wants it to, mainly please trust that I am a responsible adult who can take care of this house for a whole 48 hours.

“Oh, all right,” she sighs and Veronica breaks out into a grin, her fist punching the air under the table. “But we’re laying out a set of rules, young lady. And we’ll be checking in on you.”

“Done. Yes, whatever you say,” she says almost breathlessly. “Thank you, thank you!”

After dinner and homework and late night TV, Veronica sits against her headboard with her diary sitting out on her lap, biting her lip and wiggling against the pillows, her toes curling into her sheets as she writes that night’s entry.

Dear diary,

I haven’t reached 18 yet but uncork the champagne I’ve reached adulthood!

Wait that’s 21. Never mind.

Point is my parents are letting me have the house to myself for a night while they go off to some baby shower across the state. And I can make my own dinner and turn off the lights before going to bed and lock the front door.

Wow that sounds really boring when I write it down like that. But I guess it’ll be good practice for college. And it’s just good to know that they (eventually) trust me enough to stay at home alone. And it’s also nice to know I don’t have to hang out at a baby shower.

If I was Heather, or even still A Heather I guess, I’d probably end up throwing some huge party here. With alcohol and probably weed and around 20 people ending up passed out in the back yard. Maybe I’ll finally get some of that English studying done. Or maybe I can get JD to come over and maybe end up making sense of it all.

Before the ink has even dried on the page, an idea pushes its way into Veronica’s mind. One that almost makes her drop her pen, her mouth hanging open half in shock and half in excitement, with a little bit of she doesn’t even know what. She can picture the lightbulb going off above her head.

Or maybe if he came over we could… not exactly study?

She knows her parents wouldn’t approve of it. But then again, they don’t necessarily need to know. Hell, they don’t even know he’s her boyfriend. And in her defence, this is tame compared to what she’s done recently behind her parents’ backs. They still don’t know about the weed she smoked at Ram’s party. Or the exact circumstances of how she and JD met. Compared to that, what’s a movie night (possibly, no, definitely, Halloween themed) with her boyfriend?

Dear diary, is this my life now? I’m not exactly complaining, but hot damn.

******

For the first time, Veronica catches JD; it’s too cold to sit outside and wait for him, so she heads into the school as soon as she passes the gate, where she finds him at his locker, lost in some book backed in brown paper. She slows down her pace, her heart fluttering as she creeps along the hall, her hands curling, bending just slightly, ready to pounce, all the while her boyfriend remains lost to the world, stuck in the pages of his book.

So cute, she thinks.

“Boo!” she shouts, jumping behind him and grabbing him by the shoulders. And if that wasn’t enough to make her laugh (read: cackle), his reaction sure is; he jumps out of his skin, his book clattering to the floor as he whirls around, coat flying, to see her. He’s even slightly out of breath; you could think he had just come out of PE rather than had his girlfriend give him a bit of a scare.

“Mean,” he says, jabbing his finger lightly into her chest. “Very, very mean, that’s what you are, Veronica Sawyer.” She giggles and grabs his hand, lacing her fingers through his and swinging them lightly. “And in a very good mood. Anything in particular?”

“Yep,” she says, stepping forwards and closing the space between them. His arm comes around her shoulders and squeezes gently. If other people are watching, she finds she doesn’t care. “So my parents are going out of town next weekend… and I thought you could come over? We could watch movies, eat popcorn, watch more movies…”

“Maybe a little more than watch movies?” he asks cheekily, grinning down at her. She stands up on her tiptoes to look him in the eye, and in anticipation of something she guesses (hopes) is coming her way.

“Depends if you’re a good boy,” she replies, brushing her nose against his, then her lips, then kissing him in the middle of the hallway, her hands trailing along his waist, burying in the fabric of his coat. His lips are impossibly soft against hers, moving seemingly at her command.

“Miss Sawyer!” a shrill voice snaps from behind them. Blushing furiously, Veronica turns around to see Miss Fleming glaring daggers at the pair of them. “Mr Dean. You should be aware by now that there is a school policy against public displays of affection as such.”

“Yes ma’am,” JD mutters, his fingers wrapped around Veronica’s wrist, his thumb running against the side of her hand. “Sorry ma’am.”

“It won’t happen again,” Veronica promises.

“I should hope not,” Miss Fleming warns. “Otherwise it’s a detention.” She casts another disapproving glare at them before hurrying away, her long green skirt billowing above her brown boots.

“Can she really give us a detention for kissing?” JD asks, smirking slightly.

“Probably,” she replies. “I’d rather not risk it.”

“As you wish.” Veronica giggles, remembering her conversation with Martha over the weekend. She pictures him in a Westley costume and it’s a very, very nice thought. JD frowns at her grin, his fingers brushing over her cheeks. “What?”

“Nothing,” she says. “Just… One of the movies we watch needs to be The Princess Bride.”

“Isn’t that that movie Martha loves?” he asks.

“It is a very, very good movie,” she tells him.

“If you insist. Although I think in the spirit of Halloween, there should be at least one scary movie on the list.”

“All of them can be scary movies,” she promises. “With the obvious exception of The Princess Bride.” Their hands join as he walks her to her homeroom, their steps deliberately slow. The closer they get to her homeroom, the more Veronica cringes, Fleming’s disapproving look clear as day in her mind. “Hey… Can we go somewhere else?”

“Not up for homeroom right now?” he asks. “Don’t blame you. Come on.” She secretly wants to ask if they can go out to the garden-their garden, she nearly naively calls it, but by the time they get there they’d have hardly any time at all. Instead she lets him take her up the stairs and he sits up on the windowsill, the huge window overlooking the front courtyard. She sits down next to him, their knees touching.

“I also think that in the Spirit of Halloween, we should dress up,” she says. His laughs seems to ring off the walls as his smile lights up his face.

“Wish you’d given me more notice,” he sighs. “I could have put something really scary together if I had had more time. I’d have made you scream your little socks off.”

“You mean what I did to you just two minutes ago?” she teases.

“Okay, fair,” he admits. “But I’m sure I can whip up something equal parts scary and sexy for this weekend.” Veronica laughs, watching his face; he moves his lips with no sound coming out, like there’s a whole story waiting to be told. She brushes her elbow against his, hoping to coax whatever it is he wants to say out of him. “I used to be real good at Halloween. One of the old places I lived in, there was this costume contest in town. I was 15. And I won. Dressed up as Dracula. I spent weeks rereading the book to make it accurate.”

“Oh,” she groans. “That is just so nerdy.”

“Look who’s talking, little miss study cards,” he says, realisation dawning on him. “Wait is this your way of taking a break?”

“A little,” she confesses. “Just you know… maybe you kind of had a point.”

“I did,” he says, smirking. “And I’m glad you took it, baby.” He presses a tiny whisper of a kiss to her temple.

“So they’re leaving on Friday morning… so maybe we could walk home together? Grab a stash of candy from the store.” At the mention of Friday, his face falls slightly before he tries to cover it up with his usual disarming smile. Veronica really loves that smile, the dimple in just one of his cheeks, the way he raises his eyebrows slightly. It makes her giddier than she has any right to be, but she can’t help but be concerned with it as well. Over the weeks, she’s come to realise that it can-and nine times out of ten does-mean he’s hiding something from her.

“I don’t think I can,” he says, threading his fingers through hers. “I have a thing after school on Friday. With Claire. She’d kill me if I missed it. What if I just meet you at your place instead? With candy in hand.”

“Sounds great,” she says, scooting even closer to him and resting her cheek on his shoulder.

“So what are your folks leaving for?” he asks.

“My uncle and aunt’s baby shower,” she replies, pulling a face.

“And they trust you to not burn the house down?”

“Are you surprised?” she asks, giggling slightly. “You think I’m going to burn the place down?”

“Of course not,” he says with a smile. “I just think it’s impressive that they trust you so much.”

“Not too much,” she sighs. “There was a bit of grovelling and begging on me and my dad’s parts. And they said they’re going to write out a list of instructions for me. And I’m pretty sure my mom is freezing pasta bake and lasagne as we speak.”

“So she’s a fan of Italian food?” Veronica snorts and nudges him in the chest with her elbow.

“It’s just… I can cook myself.” JD raises an eyebrow at her. “Okay kind of. Sort of.” He raises his eyebrows even higher. “I can make burgers! Case in point, I do not need my mom making me some and freezing it! Or telling all our neighbours that I’m home alone so they can check up on me.”

“She’s just looking out for you,” he tells her softly. “You know? You’re her little girl and all that.”

“Okay, now you sound like her,” she says. “She’s also writing out a list of rules that she’s going to pin to the fridge.”

“Is ‘no boys’ one of those rules?” he asks. “Because if it is, I may have to side with your mom on this one.”

“Oh, Mr Rebel over here is going to give me a rule following lecture,” she says, poking his cheek to show she’s not serious. He pulls a face at her; closing his eyes and scrunching up his nose. “And it would be, if they even knew that you’re… you know…” She waves her hand around in the air as JD looks on amused. “My boyfriend. Although it still might be.” She used to talk about Ram and Kurt and they knew she had gone to their homecoming party. Realisation slowly dawns on her that her parents might actually suspect she might be dating one of them and it’s enough to make her shudder.

“So as far as your parents are concerned, I’m just a really good looking friend in a big coat who sometimes walks you home from school?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she says, biting her lip as anxiety begins creeping into her gut and sinking its claws into her. “I promise I’ll tell them, it’s just…”

“Hey, Nica,” he interrupts in an easy voice, cupping her cheek. “Don’t be sorry about it. Take all the time you need.” She puts her hand over his on her cheek, sighing as the storm in her mind calms.

“Thanks,” she says. “I just want to keep them out of this for a little longer. Once they know I have a boyfriend…” She rolls her eyes. “They’ll be all over us. At least Claire’s calm about it.”

“You only think that because you don’t live with her,” he tells her. “And don’t have to drive in the same car with her where she sits with that dumb ‘I know exactly what you’re doing and think you two are super cute together’ face.” Veronica snorts again and even JD manages to smile, fighting against his cool, slightly irritated exterior.

The bell for homeroom rings through the hallway, attacking their ears. Veronica wrinkles her nose and groans as she and JD jump off the wall. She still blushes at the idea of having to face Fleming. At least no one else in her class knows, but she knows and that’s enough to make her stomach drop every time she thinks of looking at her. Still JD kisses her head and bids her goodbye before walking up to his own homeroom, so that softens the blow. Sort of.

She looks out the window and sees the red and brown leaves falling off the trees and scattering across the wall. September’s gone and past now and they’re well into October. And with Halloween looming, November is approaching fast. Almost two months of senior year down, she realise, and eight left to go.

*****

On Thursday afternoon, JD offers to walk Veronica some of the way home from school. He gives her a red liquorice from a white paper bag in his pocket and she takes it, letting it dangle out of her mouth or from her hand as they walk through the chilly streets of Sherwood. Veronica thanks God she had the good sense to dig out a pair of black tights from the back of her wardrobe. Still, the cold is an excuse to cuddle into her boyfriend, who seems to never leave the house without that black trench coat. She wonders if he’ll still be wearing it during the summer. He kicks up a pile of leaves as they walk, making her laugh as they rain down on her. She runs her hand through her hair, hoping she got them all out. He doesn’t make an effort at all, and so there’s a red leaf stuck to his dark curls. She decides she won’t tell him; he looks cute that way.

“Hey, look,” she says, pointing at one of the houses they pass. The front porch is adorned with four pumpkins; one that’s probably meant to be the “Daddy” pumpkin complete with a moustache, a “Mommy” pumpkin and two little baby pumpkins. Aside from that, there’s a scarecrow, with an emphasis on ‘scare’, in the front yard; his head cocked to the left at an unnatural looking angle and a wide grin. Fake cobwebs hang from the awning, as do large fuzzy spiders. To top it all off, there’s four little broomsticks propped up against the wall.

“Wow,” he says, letting out a low whistle. “Someone’s going all out for Halloween.”

“That’s the Addamses,” she explains. “They go all out every holiday, but for some reason they put extra effort into Halloween.” She tugs on his hand and they keep walking so that her neighbours don’t call the cops on them. “When I was a kid, I was so jealous that they got all the cool stuff.”

“You wanted a big creepy scarecrow?” he asks, wrinkling his nose.

“Yes!” she squeaks. “Okay, maybe not the scarecrow. But all the broomsticks and crap. My parents don’t have any of that. We’ve got a spooky banner and a toy bat sitting in the window. And a pumpkin that needs carving. But they’re leaving before we can get it done.”

“Is Veronica Sawyer a Halloween nerd?” he teases, making her roll her eyes fondly. “If you want, we can carve the pumpkin tomorrow night.”

“Really?” she asks. “You want to spend your Friday night carving pumpkins with me?”

“Why not?” His smile dips slightly, his hand tightening around hers, and Veronica feels her heart clench in her chest. She can read him by now, and she knows that this is a warning sign. “Speaking of tomorrow…” He can’t come, he’s ditching because he doesn’t want to spend his Friday night with me on my couch watching movies. “Can I make a request?”

“Sure.”

“Whatever movies we watch… can we try to make sure there’s not a lot of explosions?”

Oh. That’s different.

“I know it’s a weird request, I know. It’s just… um explosions kind of make me…uh…” He talks quickly, avoiding her eye. “I just don’t like them and um-”

“Hey.” She steps closer to him, cupping his face with her hand. “It’s okay, J. You don’t want explosions; we won’t watch anything with explosions.”

“Really?” he says, his voice thin and breaking, his eyes wide.

“Yeah. Really.”

“Thanks, Ronnie.” He leans in for a moment, his arms moving around her waist, and she opens her mouth just slightly, her toes curling in anticipation until he stops at the last moment, pulling himself back. “Thanks.”

“Of course.” The rest of their walk back to her place is fine, full of easy and light chatter and flirting and a whisper of a kiss on her head as he leaves her just before she reaches her gate, but as she watches him walk away, she gets more and more worried about him.

Dear diary, she writes that night as her parents get ready for their trip.

I know JD has his secrets. But is it wrong that I want him to open up to me anyway? I know it’s none of my business why he doesn’t want to watch anything with explosions but I can tell he’s hiding something from me. And I know he’s allowed to do that-heck we’ve only been together for a month-but… I don’t like him not telling me something, even if I shouldn’t feel that.

Maybe I want to take care of him. Maybe I want to be his shoulder to cry on.

Jesus, she realises with an impending sense of dread weighing down her stomach I sound like Fleming.

After school on Friday, Veronica runs through the candy aisle of the local supermarket with more enthusiasm than should be allowed given her age. She swings a basket in her hand and holds a twenty dollar bill in the other, trying to work out the right amount of candy needed to keep her and JD happy and also keep the little trick-or-treaters of her neighbourhood satisfied. She’s seen what happens to houses who don’t give little 13 year old boys enough candy to see them through to December, and she’s determined not to fall victim to them. Climbing up a tree to remove toilet paper from the branches or wiping egg from her living room window don’t sound like very romantic activities.

She drops a bag of fun size mars bars into her basket, then another bag containing bags of M&M’s, sitting alongside a packet of fun size store brand chocolate bars and a bag of Chupa Chubs. She taps the plastic basket against her leg, cocking her head to the side and mentally weighing up the pros and cons of Snickers versus Skittles and trying to reason with the little voice telling her to get both. JD had told her to just “get whatever” when she had asked him yesterday, playing with her hair and telling her that he trusts her judgement. It makes her smile, really, to hear that. But it also makes her wish he was here so she could smack his head against the wall and make him pick a god damned candy. Rather than be at his mystery appointment he still won’t tell her about.

She shakes her head, banishing that thought from her mind, pushing away the anxiousness that had started slithering into her stomach. For tonight, all she will allow herself to worry about is whether or not she has enough candy and if her video player will eat the videos that she still has to rent.

She frowns at the basket, noticing how there seems to be one gap in her little sugar-filled metropolis. Surely one more little bag wouldn’t do anyone any harm, right? She looks around at her options before her eyes are drawn down the aisle, away from the packaged candies with brands she could recite in her sleep. A large orange plastic sign hangs over a shelf near the end with black, shaky lettering and cobwebs drawn in thick lines advertises a special deal; half price for any of the Halloween themed cookies. Veronica chuckles to herself, picking up two boxes, one containing shortbreads shaped like ghosts, complete with black-icing eyes and open mouths, and gingerbread ones shaped like grinning pumpkins. After some deliberation, she puts the pumpkin shaped ones in her basket, hoping to match the pumpkin in her house, and her mouth watering at the thought of warm gingerbread.

Two hours later, she realises she made the right decision when her and JD are munching on those gingerbread pumpkins while carving a pumpkin of their own. Well, co-carving. Well, if she’s honest, he’s doing a lot of the carving. But she drew the face, so she decides it was a team effort.

What wasn’t a team effort was their costumes. She had just pulled a black dress out of her closet, drawn on some whiskers with eyeliner and put on a pair of black cat ears she picked up while candy shopping and renting videos, not thinking twice. JD, on the other hand, probably thought more than twice. She opened the door to him leaning against her doorframe in a pair of tight leather trousers and a slightly-open white shirt with sleeves, a black waistcoat with gold buttons and gold thread weaving an intricate pattern around them. Even his trusty trench coat that she could use as a way to find him in a crowd was gone, replaced by a black cape (lined with red) he had since draped over Veronica’s own shoulders. To complete the look was a black mask around his eyes, and a red neckerchief sitting under his chin.

“Stand and deliver, your candy or your life!” he had declared when she opened the door, stepping inside as she fall against the wall giggling.

“Wow,” she had said, taking in the entire ensemble. Seeming to read her mind, he gives her a spin to show it all off. “That is quite the get-up. Let me guess; Dread Pirate Roberts?”

“No,” he had replied, looking slightly offended. “Dick Turpin. Famous 18th century highway man? Ended up being hanged for his crimes?”

“Dick Turpin,” she had said, the name sparking something in her mind. “Didn’t he have a horse called Black Bess or something? And was meant to be like, really hot.”

“He probably did have the horse,” he had told her. “But she wasn’t called Black Bess.”

“Well, at least you’re still hot.”

Now she kneels on one of the chairs surrounding her kitchen table, watching the intensity in his face as he carves out the face in the pumpkin. With the coat gone, she can just about see the muscles in his back moving beneath this shirt. His tongue sticks out of the corner of his mouth and he makes no effort to push back the hair that falls in front of his face.

“What?” he asks, his eye catching hers and realising she’s been watching him rather than his pumpkin.

“Nothing,” she says. She jumps off the chair and comes up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and kissing his shoulder. She rests her chin on his shoulder and looks at his half-finished pumpkin. He’s carved one eye and half a mouth so far. “I’m just really glad my parents went away for the weekend.”

The fully carved pumpkin sits next to the fireplace in Veronica’s living room, a candle glowing inside him (JD insists it’s a him and also insists that his name is Wilbur Dean-Sawyer, first of his name). Veronica and JD place an overflowing bowl of candy in between them and a stack of videos at Veronica’s feet. JD opens a packet of M&Ms and throws one in the air and catches it in his mouth with a wink. If he was trying to impress her, he did succeed. Veronica leans against him as the opening credits of Nightmare On Elm Street come on.

“Have you seen this one before?” she asks as his arm comes around her.

“I saw it when it came out,” he says. “One of the bigger kids snuck me in.”

“So you illegally saw it?”

“Oh are you a cop?” he jokes, planting a quick, candy-flavoured kiss on her lips. “Don’t worry, it’s not too scary.”

“Are you kidding?” she asks. “J, I’ve watched this it’s so scary.”

“Aw don’t worry, Nica,” he says gently, rubbing his cheek against her hair. “I’ll be here to protect you.” Veronica nuzzles ever closer to him, as his knuckles run up and down her spine, his cheek resting on her hair. He tightens his grip on her in the scene with the girl in the boiler room. She figures she must look more scared than she actually is, although there is something in the way that he holds her that sends her the message that it might be the other way around. From where her head is on his chest, she can’t see his face, but she thinks she could guess what it would say if she could. Or she could be overthinking things.

She plants a soft kiss to his hand, just in case.

Around the third movie, which ends up being An American Werewolf In London, Veronica begins feeling the sugar rush slipping off her. She rolls a Snickers between her fingers mindlessly, the paper crackling beneath them as her body weight sinks further and further into the sofa. She has no intention of eating the thing, her stomach full enough and squishing and groaning slightly She blinks heavily and murmurs involuntarily, the soft noise escaping from the back of her throat. The weight of JD’s arm against her chest is better than any blanket, and her side has been pressed against his for so long that she imagines them sewn together. Any attempt to break it would be complicated and messy, so why bother? She rubs her cheek against him as drowsiness begins to settle into her bones, all the while watching the movie unfold before her.

That is, until the kitchen phone rings and sends a shock directly to her heart.

“Fuck!” she yells, jumping away from JD. The break in contact makes her feel cold and clammy on that side, her body wanting nothing more than to melt back into him. Her brain still feels fuzzy and disoriented, like a TV on static, and her heart has jumped from pumping at a soft gentle rhythm to going at probably a hundred miles an hour. She runs a hand through her hair and over face, groaning as the phone continues ringing through the hall. “This better be important. Otherwise I’m going to flip.”

“Was it interrupting something important?” he asks, leaning heavily on the arm on the sofa and smirking. She chuckles and presses a kiss to his hair.

“Very.” The phone keeps ringing, pounding against her brain, and she wants to scream. “Can you pause the movie for me?”

“Sure.”

Veronica half-walks, half-stumbles into the kitchen, the phone continuing to ring and ring and ring like a nagging kid tugging on her arm until she gives it her attention.

“Hello?” she asks into the receiver, leaning against the cold white wall.

“Veronica?” a small voice asks on the other end. Veronica pushes herself off the wall and stands on her own two feet. She recognises the voice, of course; only Heather MacNamara could have a voice so small and so delicate. Except it’s also thick and shaking and she can hear her breathing heavily on the other end and that’s so far from what she’s seen of her so far, the small storm clad in a yellow skirt. The one with a kind smile but a cruel steel underneath. “Veronica?”

“Heather?” she asks. She turns slightly and sees JD leaning against the doorframe, frowning.

“Veronica, I need help,” she says. “Can you come pick me up?”

“Pick you up?” She turns and glances at the kitchen clock. “Heather, it’s almost 11:30.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” She gasps on the other end of her line, dissolving into snuffles and sniffs and tiny wet coughs that make a lump form in Veronica’s throat. “I just need help right now.”

“Okay, okay,” she says gently. “Slow down. Where are you?”

“I’m… I’m near Ram’s house. I’m at the end of Ram’s street. You know where they payphone is? Outside the Chinese take-out place. There.” Veronica visualises it in her mind, vaguely remembering passing a take-out place on the way to the Homecoming Party of Death. She concentrates harder, trying to force herself to recall any detail that might make it clearer.

“The one with the cat in the window?”

“Yeah. Yeah I’m there can you just please come and pick me up? I know you’re probably busy and all I just, I need help.”

“It’s okay,” Veronica assures her. “It’s okay. We’re on our way, we’ll be there as soon as we can. Just hang tight. I don’t have car, but can you walk back to my place?”

“Yeah, yeah I can do that.”

“Okay, well just hang tight and we’ll be there really soon to get you, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you.”

She hangs up, her breathing shaky, and turns to JD, who is in turn biting his lip, his face a shade paler.

“That didn’t sound good. What was it? Who was it?”

“Heather,” she says. “Heather Mac. I don’t know she just-she sounds like she’s in trouble and she needs help.” She makes for the front door. “I’m going to pick her up, my parents took the car and even if they didn’t I can’t even drive. I’m just going to walk her back here. It’s not even that far. You can just stay here and-”

“Are you out of your mind?” he asks, draping her coat around her shoulders and holding his own in his hand. “Veronica, I’m not letting you walk around alone at this time. There’s all sorts of creeps and weirdos out there. Plus, Heather might feel safer with two of us there rather than one.”

Despite everything, Veronica smiles and reaches up to kiss his cheek.

“Thank you.” She puts on the coat properly and opens the door, lifting her key from the rack. “Now come on. Sooner we leave, sooner we can come back.”

It’s not difficult for them to spot Heather. In her yellow minidress (emphasis on mini) and matching bunny ears, she stands out amongst the dark sky and silhouettes of houses. Her slight frame is curled in on itself, and when they get closer Veronica can see her hugging her elbows. It’s only when they’re next to her that she sees the violet bruise below her eye, the scarlet scrape on her chin and the mascara-tinged tears over her delicate cheeks that Veronica feels the candy she feasted on earlier turning sour in her belly.

“Heather?” she whispers gently. Her breath forms smoke in the glow of the streetlight. “Heather?” Heather makes a meek noise that Veronica takes as a response. Her hand sits in front of her, halfway between her and Heather, feeling cold and clammy and dead at the end of her arm, unsure of what to do. “Heather, it’s Veronica.” Heather’s head turns to her, the bruise catching the light.

“You came,” she states in a small voice.

“Yeah,” she says softly. She decides to take a delicate approach, like Heather is a small wounded animal. She gives JD a nervous glance and he nods, his eyes still fixed on Heather, his expression still confused and shocked, but somehow it makes her feel less wrong. “Come on. We’ll walk you back to my place.”

“We?”

“Yeah, JD’s here too.” Heather turns slightly and looks at him, probably just seeing him for the first time.

“Oh,” is all she says.

“It’s just us. We’re going to talk you back to my house and then we can work something out okay? You can call your parents to come pick you up or something? Sound good?” Heather nods, her movements so small Veronica is sure she wouldn’t have seen it if she hadn’t been standing so close to her. “Okay, let’s go.”

Behind Heather, JD takes his cloak off and drapes it around her shoulders. Her face remains a fixed, stony mask, her eyes empty and faraway, but her fingers, decorated with yellow nail polish, grasp the edges tightly, her shoulders burying into it. Veronica gives him a grateful look, to which he responds with a quick half-smile, before they start walking back home, Veronica in front and holding her hand, JD behind her with a slight grip on her shoulders, and sometimes acting as Veronica’s eyes when she’s too nervous to take her own on Heather.

Getting home easier said than done, especially with seemingly shell-shocked Heather in tow. Her steps are small and slow and she wobbles in her kitten heels, which is odd for her. Veronica has witnessed first-hand her trotting around school in similar little shoes, never having to look down to check, gliding around as easily as Veronica would in her slippers. She doesn’t look drunk and there’s no smell of alcohol on her, but she can’t help but wonder. A single tear runs down Heather’s face and she sniffles gently, accompanying the sounds of a party going on not too far from them and a fireworks display going on, the sparks lighting up the sky.

Selfishly, she wishes she was watching fireworks with JD instead of doing this. And then she hates herself for thinking that.

When they get to the house, JD runs ahead and opens the door for them as she helps Heather in. The TV is switched off, an open, empty video case lying on the carpet and their candy abandoned in the bowl. Their pumpkin lantern has gone out now and the cushions are sitting askew from when Veronica pulled her legs up on the sofa and kicked them around as she tried to get comfortable.

Veronica helps Heather sit down. She seems slightly better now; her breathing more regular, her hands no longer shaking, but they still grab onto Veronica for dear life, like she’s the last lifeboat on the Titanic. JD taps Veronica’s shoulder lightly before disappearing out the living room door, heading in the direction of the kitchen, where she hears the sound of the tap running.

“Heather,” Veronica asks, focussing on the girl in front of her. “Heather, what happened?”

“I-it’s nothing,” she mumbles, looking down at her hand. She gasps suddenly, her head snapping up to meet Veronica’s eyes with such ferocity Veronica can feel her own neck cracking. “I’m so sorry. I ruined your and JD’s night and you had to walk all the way out there in the cold and it’s over nothing and I should just-”

“Heather. Heather!” Veronica tries to keep her voice as calm and quiet as possible, but it’s hard when Heather is frantically talking over her and her shoulders are squirming beneath her hands as she tries to leave. “Heather, please. Just tell me what happened.” Heather falls still just before they reach the door and Veronica’s glad for it; she really didn’t want to have to man handle Heather onto the couch. Her little pink mouth opens and closes like the goldfish Veronica had when she was a kid.

Behind her, the door creaks open and JD sidesteps around her.

“Here,” he says, handing her a glass. “Got you some water. And these,” He waves a bag of frozen peas. “Found them in the freezer. That’s not too bad but it’ll still need some ice.”

“Not too bad?” Heather asks, hope lining the edge of her voice as she takes the bag.

“I’ve seen worse,” he admits with a shrug. “I’ve had worse.” Heather huffs a laugh, probably thinking he’s joking. Veronica on the other hand turns to look at him, her fingers brushing against his. If they didn’t have more pressing issues, she would definitely be digging into that.

“Heather,” she says instead. “What happened?”

Heather looks down, her lower lip beginning to tremble. All sorts of horror stories fill Veronica’s head as she looks at the bag of peas held against Heather’s eye. Anyone who was anyone at Westerberg was at that party and that leaves a wide range of suspects. Including one mythic bitch with a red scrunchie. Veronica scolds herself, telling herself that while Chandler’s bad, she can’t be that bad. Right?

“Kurt,” she says eventually. “Kurt happened.”

“Somehow I’m not surprised,” JD mutters.

“It was… we were at the party,” she explains. “We were dancing, having fun. And Kurt and I started kissing a little-sorry you didn’t need to know that.” Her cheeks turn pink at her admission. “Anyway, I got bored fast. I stepped back; said I needed some air. And I wanted to get another drink. Really I just wanted to stop kissing him. And he didn’t really like that.”

Veronica feels as though her chest is collapsing in on itself and her skin is crawling with ants. A shiver runs down her back and JD wraps his arm around her waist. She leans into the embrace, more grateful than she could be able to say right now. She’s not sure she can speak at all.

“So I walked away and he grabbed my hand. Asked for just a few more minutes.” She takes a big gulp of water. “I said no. I pushed him off and went to find Heather. Or Heather. Or just… anyone. Then he started yelling stuff at me.” She frantically wipes tears away from her face. “I didn’t listen. I knew if I just ignored him he’d stop but then- then he pushed me.” Veronica flinched, feeling an invisible punch in her stomach. Heather herself winces, at the pain from the cut or bruise, she doesn’t know. “That’s how I got these. And everyone was looking at me. And then Heather-Heather Duke came over and told me to go clean up. And they were all staring and people were pointing and my heart started beating real fast-” She gasps loudly, her shoulders shaking as she cries. “And I just knew I had to leave!” She takes another long drink of water, trying to calm herself down. “And I didn’t know who else to call but you.”

Veronica doesn’t know if she should feel flattered or scared or outright furious. JD seems to be furious enough for the both of them; his hand curls into a tight fist at his side and his mouth is set in a thin line, his breathing coming out shakily and his shoulders tight and tense.

“Heather… I’m so sorry,” she whispers. “Kurt… he’s a jerk. He’s such a jerk.” Heather nods quickly, trying and failing to compose herself with deep breaths. Veronica tries to think of some logical course of action, the heavy responsibility pushing down on her shoulders. “Um, maybe we should call your parents? Get them to pick you up?”

“Yeah,” Heather says, nodding. “Yeah, yeah. Um, can I use your phone?”

“Of course.” Veronica leads her into the hall, flipping the light on so she can see better. It’s the only light they have on in the whole house and it makes her blink a few times and Heather squint and nearly fall into the wall. She makes to walk back into the living room, but her feet stop in the doorway instead and her body leans against the doorframe as she listens to Heather dialling the phone.

“Daddy?” she hears her ask. She winces at how impossibly small she sounds; how much she sounds like a kid and unlike the tempest she is at school. This doesn’t sound like someone who would eat at the Heathers’ table it sounds like someone Chandler would spread nasty rumours about. “Daddy, can you come pick me up? I’m at my friend Veronica’s house. No, I just left the party early. Nothing happened.” The lie sends a shiver running down Veronica’s spine. “The address? It’s um, 6-”

“652 Wilbert Way,” Veronica whispers into the hall.

“652 Wilbert Way,” Heather repeats into the receiver, shooting Veronica a grateful smile. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. Thank you, Daddy.” She hangs up quickly and leans her forehead against the plastered wall, letting out a long breath. Veronica wrings her hands, feeling like a dead weight in her own home. Heather approaches Veronica slowly, her brown eyes wide and afraid. “My dad said he’ll be here in ten minutes.”

Those ten minutes may just be the longest of her life. JD puts the frozen peas back in the fridge and asses Heather’s eye under the hallway light, telling her it’ll be gone within a few days. “Just put some make up on it” he says, “Concealer and a little setting powder.” She doesn’t ask how he knows that. Heather stands in front of the window, picking at her nails and jumping at ever car that passes while Veronica sits on the sofa, gripping the edge so tightly she wonders if she’ll leave a permanent dent. JD comes back in and sits beside her, running his hand up and down her arm. She leans into it just slightly and even then she feels bad about it. She’s far from the injured party here, but that doesn’t take away the feeling like there’s a heavy, cold weight sitting in her chest, dragging her whole body down. And the longer she looks at Heather and that bruise on her eye, the further down it takes her.

Heather jumps away from the window as a pair of bright white headlights approach, turning to Veronica, who takes it as her cue to stand. She rushes over towards her with her arms out and Veronica expects a hug only for her to stop that the last minute.

“Thank you,” she sighs. “Thank you so much. You didn’t have to-”

“It’s okay,” she replies. “You’re welcome, I mean. I mean, I did have to.” Heather looks like she might burst right here in the living room, giving a small smile and letting out a short breath.

“Thank you,” she says again. Veronica walks to her to the door and doesn’t stop watching her until she gets into her dad’s car and the car peels out of her driveway and down the road, back to their nicer neighbourhood and their bigger, cleaner house.

And then she lets herself fall apart.

When she stumbles backwards, she isn’t even surprised that JD is there behind her, wrapping her in an embrace and kissing her head. He reaches over and closes the front door before leading her into the living room, his arms wrapping around her shaking shoulders.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.

“They’re such assholes,” she whispers, shocked at the venom laced in her voice and then she realises she isn’t upset or scared-at least not as much as she thought she was. She’s angry. “Kurt. Ram. Heather Chandler. Heather Duke. They’re all fucking assholes.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice,” he agrees, kissing her head once, twice, three times like each kiss can calm her down.

“I just want-” It doesn’t matter what she wants, she realises. She might never see it. JD wraps his arms tighter around her and kisses her neck, sighing against her skin. “I just want high school to be a nice place. I want people to talk to each other and I want everyone to get along and I don’t want stupid cliques and football players who slut shame girls and slap them around for not kissing them!” She realises she’s screaming by the end, so hard her throat is getting raw. She curls in so that all of her fits into JD’s lap and her head is under his chin. Her cheeks flush red and she wants to get up and straighten herself out and stop crying over something so stupid, but with JD’s arms around her and him kissing her head, she’s not sure she can. She feels every bottled up emotion and flicker of pain she’s felt watching this happy kids turning into vindictive monsters over the course of four years finally build up and release all at once. “They weren’t always like this.”

“Oh?”

“They weren’t.” She shakes her head against his chest. “Back in kindergarten, they weren’t like that. Kurt, Ram, the Heathers… none of them. We just got along with each other; you know. We were all friends.”

“Then what happened?”

“High school,” she grumbles into his shirt. “We all got bigger and everything went to hell.” She draws circles on his shirt, her cheek pressed against his heart. “Can you stay over?” She presses a kiss to his chest. “I’m sorry, but I just don’t want to be alone right now. Not after-after that.”

“Fairly certain this goes against all your parents’ set rules,” he teases, kissing her hair. “Let me call Claire.” They keep a tight grip on each other’s hands as they wander into the hall, the light still on from when Heather had called her dad, and JD dials the number with one hand. He swings their hands gently as they wait, coaxing a small smile out of Veronica.

“Hello there, it’s me,” he says into the phone. “Hey Claire-yes I know-just, can I stay over at Veronica’s?” He rolls his eyes as Claire talks on the other end. “No, I know what you said just… look Veronica doesn’t want to be home alone right now?” He takes a small glance at her, mouthing ‘I’m sorry’.

‘It’s fine,’ she mouths in reply.

“Something happened and she doesn’t want to be left alone. No, her parents aren’t home, I told you they’re out of town.” Claire says something and JD bows his head and rubs his forehead looking over at Veronica anxiously.

“J, if you can’t stay, it’s okay,” she whispers. “It was stupid to ask; I’ll be fine on my own.”

‘No,’ he mouths, shaking his head. ‘It’s fine.’

“Claire, I’ll take them first thing when I get home…. Okay fine, home before ten. Thank you.” He hangs up the phone and turns to Veronica with a grin. “I’m all yours baby.”

In other circumstances, Veronica would love hearing those words. He’d say that and she would probably grin wickedly and close any distance between their bodies. She’d press a kiss to his lips, tangling her fingers in his dark locks before taking him upstairs and making every part of him hers. That’s what she’d probably do, if she were hearing those words in an ideal situation.

Instead she stumbles forewords into his arms, wrapping herself around him. She blinks heavily, both drying her tears and fighting her own exhaustion, and mumbles something incoherent against his shoulder.

“I think it’s time to call it a night,” he says gently. He doesn’t have to tell her twice. His arm comes up under her legs and he lifts her up, carrying her up the stairs.

“So chivalrous,” she jokes as they climb the stairs together, but her laugh is empty. Despite him carrying her, she doesn’t feel helpless like maybe she should.

He kicks open her bedroom door and she wriggles out of his arms and climbs onto her bed, slipping out of her dress and pulling on her pyjamas. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees JD looking out the window as she changes, apparently fascinated by her mother’s flower beds.

“It’s not like you haven’t seen me naked,” she teases. He looks back to her, with a chuckle.

“No, but like you said, Ronnie, I’m chivalrous.” She grabs the front of his shirt and pulls him down on top of her, tickling his nose and mouth with tiny kisses. They come to a comfortable position with her right on top of him, her head in the crook of his neck and her legs in between his and her arm flung across his waist. He keeps his fingers running through her hair at a steady, soothing rhythm which does nothing to help with the fatigue that’s weighing her down and making her sink into her bed. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I just want everything to go back the way it was,” she sighs. “Before high school. Before middle school, even. Before we all decided that being popular and pretty and rich was more important than being a good person.” She groans into his chest, cringing at herself. She made that decision once herself and she can’t forget it. “I know how stupid I sound.”

“You do not sound stupid,” he assures her.

“Things were just better back then,” she goes on. “And I keep thinking maybe we can be like that again. Maybe. And then stuff like this happens and the real world comes in.” A faint blush creeps over her cheeks. “Sorry for unloading this all on you.”

“Don’t be,” he tells her. “What else are boyfriends for?” She smirks against his chest and blinks rapidly. She feels the pressure of a kiss against her head. “Now go to sleep, Ronnie.”

She snuggles into him, one arm coming around his back and holding him tightly as her breath starts to even out and she treads the fine line between awake and asleep. Somewhere in her tired, drained mind, she realises that in a few short days, October will turn to November and she’ll have two months of her senior year, her last year in Sherwood behind her. Slivers of different emotions and trains of thought begin to trickle int other mind and nearly wake her, but she pushes them away, in part due to her overwhelming tiredness and also, she suspects, to the light feeling of her boyfriend’s fingers on her back. She gives into it gladly, falling sleep with his fingers in her hair, letting out a small whimper as she curls up into some sort of ball, with no assholes jocks or mean girls or crying ex-friends able to scare her or freak her out in here.

So much for her night off.

#jdronica #jdronica ff #heathers the musical #jason dean #veronica sawyer #fic: not beyond repair #woo mama this was long #i think this was the longest chapter of this fic so far

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kaileah-kat · 6 years ago

Text

I’M ALIVE

Listen, school is t r a s h. It takes my free time and my motivation to do anything, hence why this took so long.So, without any further ado, please enjoy part two of the supermarket!au drabble.

Here’s part one

Word Count: 2,574

Pairings: None

Characters: Virgil, Emile, Logan, Belial (Deceit), and my character. His name is Kyle :,)

Warnings: UNSYMPATHETIC DECEIT! HE REALLY SUCKS! Narcotic mention, general stupidity, swearing... I think that’s it?

Tagging of the peeps: @bunny222 @unknownsandersfan @confinesofpersonalknowledge @spectacled-renegade @roman-is-a-gay@fearfilledvirgil @tisithelittleelephant @altruistic-skittles @kittyinthemoon @virgilcrofters @arnyanimaltrash156 @wildheart49 @an-ace-up-my-sleeves @cyberpunkjinx @phlying-squirrel @jay-son-toddler @romanthroughthestars @samathekittycat @rockypond101 @purplepatton @luckybanana948 @metaphoricalpluto2 @lukatheignoramus @that-one-invisible-chick

Virgil was going to kick Kyle's ass.

He loved his best friend, don’t get him wrong, but sometimes Kyle was just too much for him to handle. It was just like watching a small child, making sure they don’t kill themselves as they run around in circles in the living room.

This just happened to be the one time Virgil wasn’t watching him carefully.

So as Virgil entered the store, rather sneakily to avoid anyone with remotely any authority, he made his way back to the dairy cooler where he found Kyle starting to eat a mango yogurt.

“You know that’s illegal, right?” Virgil questioned as the door to the cooler shut.

“Not if it’s a day before it expires,” Kyle stated in a matter of fact tone as he continued to eat the yogurt. Virgil just stood there in disbelief as he watched his friend.

“... You disgust me, but I need to talk to you.”

“Spill the tea!” Kyle said enthusiastically as he threw his, now empty, yogurt container into the trash can. Virgil could also hear a faint “yeet”.

Virgil hugged his body and let out a deep sigh. He wished he had worn his hoodie, not only for warmth (because damn, it was cold in there), but because he felt like he needed some form of safety and security around him.

“Why’d you put sleeping medication in Belial’s coffee?” Virgil's voice wavered between annoyed and confused. He noticed Kyle's' eyes go wide for a split second before they went back to their normal size. Kyle plastered on a wide smile before he answered.

“Technically, Kane did the heavy lifting-”

“Kyle that’s not the fucking point,” Virgil interrupted with a groan, “it was clearly your idea and I want to know what in the actual hell would possess you to do something so stupid!”

Kyle sighed as he brought his hand up to start rubbing the back of his neck, searching for any explanation he could possibly give his friend.

“Well, I figured if he was asleep for three and a half hours he couldn’t bother you,” Kyle began, dropping his hand back down to his side, “I know you don’t like him, and he enjoys being a dick. I also knew you’d already hate taking my register shift. So, I wanted to get rid of one thing you hate about being up there.” Once he was finished he gave a small smile.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Virgil thought to himself. Why did Kyle have to have a heart of gold but the brain capacity of a goldfish?

“Kyle I appreciate the thought of that, but you could’ve got in serious trouble!” Virgil started to raise his voice. “You could’ve got suspended, or fired! Don’t you realize that?! Probably not, because sometimes you just don’t use your brain!”

Kyle’s small smile tightened into a flat line. He didn’t want this to happen, honestly. He just wanted to make Virgil's night a little more bearable. He seemed to do the exact opposite.

“Honestly, it doesn’t even matter because you’re off of the hook anyway,” Virgil finished, lowering his voice to now practically a whisper. He sighed deeply as Kyle’s face shifted from disappointed to terribly confused.

“What do you mean?” Kyle began, “How am I ‘off the hook’?”

Virgil opened his mouth, but the sounds that followed didn’t come from him. They, instead, came from the intercom that almost wasn’t able to be heard in the cooler.

“Virgil to the HR office, please. Virgil to the HR office.” Belial asked, ever so nicely.

He was screwed.

With a sigh, he uttered a “That’s how.” to Kyle before exiting the cooler and immediately feeling goosebumps appear throughout the surface of his arm.

•••

Virgil made his way to the front of the store as slowly as he could possibly manage, only putting off the inevitable. Silently cursing his past self for letting Patton and Kyle convince him to apply at Rainbow Mart. “If I didn’t listen, I wouldn’t be in this situation right now.”

However, that didn’t really matter right now. What did matter was that he needed to take the fault for his friend. Kyle was the only person persistent enough to ever want to be his friend, so he figured taking the blame would not be that bad.

He then went through every possible scenario in his head.

“Well, I could get fired, for starters. With that comes not only ruining my own reputation but also Patton’s. Mom and Dad would also be disappointed, I’d prefer that didn’t happen. Maybe they’ll just suspend me, I could deal with that. Sure, that means I don’t get paid for a period of time, but at least I’ll keep my job. They could kick me out of grocery and put me back on front-end for the rest of time. In that case, I’m probably better off quitting. But-”

Virgil's train of thought was brought off course when he saw the door with a familiar stitch magnet on it, already hearing some bickering on the other side. He took a grounding breath-in for four, hold seven, out for eight-before knocking on the door.

The door opened and he was greeted with an ever-smiley Emile. His hair was a brighter pink than the last time Virgil saw him, therefore it must’ve been re-dyed.

“Virgil!” Emile greeted, stepping out of the office and shutting the door. For that brief moment, Virgil could clearly hear every word that was being said and before the door was shut Logan could be heard saying “You son of a-” before being cut off. Emile stood there for a second, his mouth in a flat line before he said, “I think it might be wise if we give them a second.”

“That works for me,” Virgil gave a half-hearted chuckle, wishing he had the safety of his hoodie. It was warm and safe and right now he just felt too exposed. Like Emile could see the secret he was keeping.

He won’t be able to tell. It’ll be fine

“Good! Good, because I know you didn’t do it.” Emile stated, crossing his arms knowingly. Virgil's eyes went wide and he swore his heart did some sort of jump thing.

Fuck, he’s on to me.

“Pffft. I mean- you don’t,” Virgil scratched the back of his neck as he remembered how to formulate words that are comprehensible in the English language, “you don’t know that for sure.”

If he wasn’t on to me before, he certainly is now.

Emile raised his eyebrows in disbelief, “So you’re saying you ruined your perfectly clean track record and put a narcotic in Belial's coffee?”

No.

“Yep.”

Perfect.

Emile brought his head forward and sighed as he uncrossed his arms to open the door behind them, with the two men inside still bickering like siblings. Silence followed when Emile’s presence was noticed.

“Alright kids, how about we get this thing rolling?” Emile opened the door nice and wide and walked in, leaving Virgil to trail behind him. Once they were in, Emile shut the door and Virgil positioned himself so that he was standing in front of the door as Emile grabbed a couple of papers from his desk. Belial and Logan were sitting at the circular table in the center of the office, on opposite sides of one another.

“I still don’t see why we’re going through with this,” Belial began as he rolled his eyes, “he’s guilty! Let’s just fire him and move on.”

Logan pushed his glasses up and pinched the bridge of his nose as he sighed, “I’m going to ignore everything you just said, especially since none of it was backed up by actual facts and that there is clearly a stick up your-”

“Boys!” Emile hastily interrupted and the room was silenced once again.

Emile continued as he walked to the table and sat down, “I know we all don’t exactly get along but maybe we can all work out our differences and no one has to get fired.”

With that, Virgil released a breath that he didn’t know he was holding. He won’t be fired, meaning life was good. He’d probably just be suspended. At this point, he’d take anything that didn’t involve him losing his first job. He made his way over to the table and sat down, slouching a little, wanting to become as small as humanly possible.

“Now,” Emile began as he folded his hands on top of his papers, “have we thought about going to Remy?”

“Though that would solve all of our issues, considering he has the key to the asset protection office, Remy is currently MIA. I’m sure he’s asleep in the conference room again.” Logan said as he adjusted his position in his chair.

Emile looked at Logan blankly, blinking a couple of times to show his confusion.

“And you’re just going to leave him there?”

“He’s not any use if he’s half awake while trying to operate the store cameras, Emile.”

Emile rolled his eyes, for his brother was somewhat correct (like usual). Emile turned to his left to look at Belial, who currently had his arms crossed, and asked, “Are you okay with leaving Remy out of this?”

“I would really prefer if we just got straight to the part where we discuss what do with the grape sitting next to me,” Belial grimaced, “I don’t think we need a Starbucks addict to do so.”

The other three men in the room felt the tension quickly increase with Belial’s statement, and Virgil could be seen trying to attempt to shrink into the seat more than he already had.

“Alright then,” Emile started with a sigh, “If this is what we want then Virgil will just have to, truthfully, admit to what happened.”

Virgil’s eyes widened as he realized the others were now looking at him, clearly waiting for some sort of response. He sat up straight and put his hands in his lap, beginning to fidget with the hem of his polo. He looked up at Emile, who had this sympathetic look that said: “I know for a fact you didn’t do it, so don’t take the fall.” He looked over at Logan whose face said the same thing, but more serious than sympathetic. He didn’t bother looking over at Belial because he already knew he had a grin on his face that said: “I won.”

Virgil opened and closed his mouth, torn between telling the truth or lying to spare his best friend. It felt like his vocal cords where stuck, not wanting to produce any noise. (The fact that Belial was in the room also wasn’t helping the situation.) His lips pressed into a flat line and he decided to speak… just not in a way that the others would understand.

“I’m not guilty, but I’m fine with Belial thinking I am.” Virgil quickly signed as the others just blinked in confusion. He hoped they would just forget about it and move on, but no. Belial, just took the opportunity while he had it.

“Well, he just admitted he did it! Case Dismissed!” Belial stood up and headed for the door before being interrupted by Logan.

“You don’t even know what he said!” Logan raised his voice in annoyance, “Any time Virgil ever signs something you sigh because you don’t know what’s going on.”

“I have to agree,” Emile started as Virgil frowned, seeing his attempt for freedom slowly fall to pieces, “this isn’t fair since we all have no clue what Virgil just said.”

Virgil slouched back into his chair as Belial turned back around the face the group. He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Well then,” Belial began, “what now?”

“Simple,” Logan got up from his chair and went to open the door. Once opened, he shoved Belial out of the office, “you grab Kyle Hurst from the dairy department. He knows ASL and can translate.” Before Belial even had the chance to debate, the door was shut and Logan started to make his way back to his chair.

Virgil shut his eyes and quietly sighed at the mention of his friend's name.

Fuck.

~~~~

Belial soon returned with a smiley Kyle, shutting the door behind them. He sat back down in his seat and Kyle just stayed close to the door.

“What’s up?” Kyle asked innocently in order to break the silence of the room.

“Kyle,” Logan began, pushing up his glasses, “you speak sign language, correct?”

Kyle smirked and brought his hands up, signing a “yes” while also saying the word verbally.

“My older brother is deaf.” Kyle explained, moving closer to the table.

Emile smiled at Kyle. “Awesome!” He began enthusiastically, “Because we really could use some help translating.”

Emile quickly looked over at Virgil before turning back to Kyle. Virgil also decided to look up. He made eye contact with Kyle and he gave Virgil a small smile. Virgil smiled back, before signing a “Let me have it. Don’t be stupid.” while the others weren’t paying attention. Kyle nodded and decided to pull up one of the other chairs that were at the edge of the room and sit next to Virgil.

“Alright Virgil,” Emile said, “want to repeat what you said earlier?”

Instead of repeating exactly what he said, he signs, “I put the narcotic in Belial’s coffee.”

Kyle nodded and the others looked towards him in anticipation.

“Well?” Belial said, impatiently.

“He didn’t do it.” Kyle straightened his posture and Virgils eyes were wide and full of disbelief.

This motherfu-

“I knew Virgil didn’t,” Logan interrupted Virgil’s thoughts, “but who did?”

“Kyle I swear to God you better take that back or I’m going to break your legs.” Virgil signed rapidly to Kyle as the latter just smirked.

Don’t do it. Don’t do it Don’t do it. Don’t-

Kyle turned to the others at the table, with a smile still on his face. The others sat waiting, some more impatient than others.

“I put the pill in Belial’s coffee.”

God damnit.

~~~

Virgil was going to kick Kyle’s ass.

Sure, he wasn’t in trouble anymore. But did Kyle really have to be a good person and take the blame for something he did? Virgil didn’t think so.

So here he was, briskly walking through the hallway as he pushed pass the mass of people to get to Kyle’s locker. Once there, he shut said locker, grabbing Kyle’s attention.

“Is this where you ‘break my legs’?” Kyle smirked playfully as he leaned against his, now closed, locker. Virgil smacked him in the arm and Kyle let out a tiny “ow”.

“I could have taken it!” Virgil screeched, “I told you to let me have it!”

“Yeah, but that’s not fair to you.” Kyle sighed and re-adjusted the bag that was on his shoulder. “You were right when you said that I don’t use my head. Next time I will definitely think before I do anything remotely stupid.”

Virgil gave a small chuckle, “I’m sure you will. Does this also mean less time in detention?”

Kyle gave an inward hiss and he shook his head, wrapping his arm around the smaller ones shoulder and started walking in the direction to their English class.

“I can’t make any promises,” Kyle said, receiving a sarcastic groan from Virgil, “I can think about it though.”

“Well, that’s all I’m really asking for.”

#thomas sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #deceit sanders #emile sanders #remy sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides au #supermarket!au

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chakazard · 8 years ago

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In Which I Get Real

So here is where I talk about my mental issues and where I stand. You certainly are not obligated to read it so only click if you wish to proceed.

I never talk much about my mental illness (I’ve been diagnosed with a few but for the sakes of simplicity and familiarity let’s call them depression and anxiety). Never denied it or tried to hide it but it’s never my main topic of conversation. This is for a few reasons, maybe. I don’t want to bring people down. I don’t particularly want attention. I don’t want to become identified as Mental Problems Person in anyone’s mind. And the illness makes it hard for me to talk at all.

I’ve known I had depression for as long as I’ve known what that word meant. Before that I guess I thought I was just unlikeable and that’s how life was. I can remember being a teenager when anyone who claimed to be depressed was “just looking for attention” and I'd spend hours in my bedroom questioning if my feelings were real. Then many more hours wondering how anyone could doubt something so heavy and intense.

More recently (and time has barely seemed to move in the last decade, so I’m not sure if it was 3 years or 10) I’ve found I had anxiety (a panic attack in the supermarket opened my eyes to that) and the more I learn, and the more I remember, the more I’m sure I’ve always had it as well.

A friend (Kevin, one cool guy who is very brave regarding sharing his issues) posted this and I was inspired to put some words down for real.

Again, I’m not so comfortable talking out in the open. It’s easier to write poetry (which is the best word we have for “trying to find words that sound like my feelings”) than leaving myself open and exposed as a person overpowered by their flaws.

Going back to the list. I found 17 of the 23 applied to me. The ones which particularly resonated are #1 (Their Routine is Empty), #6 (They ‘Go With The Flow’), and #19 (They’re Someone No One Knows).

#1 has been bothering me for a while, but I thought it was just a symptom of growing up and having to support oneself in this particular society. I could go on quite a rant about this society, but I am very afraid that anyone who does not totally agree with me will write me off as either very stupid or very crazy. You see what has happened to my self esteem. I am terrified that any deviation will get me even more exiled and isolated. Therefore I “go with the flow.”

#6 is, in most situations my default behavior. I’ve nodded along with opinions I detest. I defer to anyone else in any situation possible. I always feel like my opinions are very personal and particular and since most of my preferred past times are or can be solitary activities, that more often than not I feel like my suggestions are not appreciated. So I don’t offer any, just look for a lead to follow. Also maybe because I didn’t start socializing until years after everyone else did so I didn’t know anything and I liked being shown stuff other people thought was cool and I never felt like I had much to offer. There used to be people and situations in which that could change but it’s a muscle you lose. My work/daytime/blank personality started overwriting the chAka I worked so hard to become.

Which leads us to #19. I've been someone no one knows for a very long time. It doesn't feel like it but the calendar doesn't lie. It became harder and harder for me to answer any questions about my life. It’s hard to ask questions because I don’t want to be prying or annoying. I stopped going out. I stopped calling people. I couldn’t handle the pressure. When I did, I had to hide behind Ange for support. That eventually limited me to people and situations in which she’s comfortable. It got harder for me to feel like an individual and I started resenting having to rely on her, which made those situations difficult for me too. Once in a while something magical would happen and I’d have a good time with someone. Then, if I reverted a week later, I’d plummet further and faster than the last time.

So for the most part nothing ever seems worth doing, and I’m convinced nobody wants to see me, and when I try to find myself nobody’s there and wouldn’t it be easier to just forget it and have a normal day like all the other that blend together into weird gray dull pain, and endlessly play sad songs so I can cry and feel something at least? Recently, though, it’s been getting better. I’d been making some progress in therapy and I was feeling more open and present. I really tried to get in touch with my mind. That mental ability to reach out, though? Still not there. I’ve consistently been hoping someday I’d make a connection, call someone, talk from the heart about anything, be more to someone than a collection of bad jokes and headaches or at best the silent partner in a couple. Even though I’d been making progress to the point that I could feel my therapist was right, I still couldn’t manage it. If I took my phone out and went to call or text someone the anxiety was unbearable. I’d had it.

I don’t know why I’ve never thought this before.

I googled “overcoming social anxiety.” Result.

I never thought this problem was something I’d be able to work to overcome. I thought if I did the right number of hours of therapy, or focused on the right meditations, or listened to the right inspiring music, or had the right night with the right people, it was just going to disappear and everything would go back to that brief period when it was ok. Maybe that was a stupid thought. Maybe as stupid as avoiding everybody else so I wouldn’t have to face something inside of me.

So I’ve picked up a couple of books on overcoming anxiety. I’ve got some optimism and some momentum. Even reading that list from earlier kept my optimism going because despite how many red flags I exhibit I’m still fighting and I’m still getting better.

One of the biggest shifts in my mindset is I no longer believe I need to hold off until I’ve beaten this disease before I can be someone. I may never beat it. It’s here. It’s part of me today, but acknowledging that makes it a smaller part than it was a month ago, a year ago, five years ago. Letting it turn me into nobody is so much more painful than feeling the deep dark shakes and the constant crying and still being myself. I know I have a long long way to go. I may never repair the social life that’s become a blank page because I’ve been hiding from everyone and everything I’m not pushed into. I’ve been looking for a fresh start. I’m a person ruled by emotions drawn to extremes. If I can’t have perfection I’ll take garbage, or nothing, before going partway (by instinct more than choice. maybe.). I can’t do that anymore. I have to try something else.

So I may not tear down the wall. But I’ll fucking claw at this one brick until it’s loose. I may not get better. But I’m not dead yet!

#depression #anxiety #mental health #overcoming anxiety

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foxcroft-rpg-blog · 8 years ago

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Congratulations, Janelle! Wow it’s almost like you’ve already been playing Willa ??? Wow how did you do that? Oh, yeah, you’re the admin.

Thanks again for applying! Please create your account and send in the link, track the right tags, and follow everyone on the masterlist as soon as you can. Welcome to Foxcroft!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name: Janelle

Age: 21

Preferred pronouns: she/her

Time zone: PST

Activity: I mean I run this… so I’m on as much as I can be. Getting off early in the mornings means I have a lot of free time.

Anything else?: N/A

IN CHARACTER

Full name: Willa Lorraine Potter

There was a time when Willa’s mother hadn’t settled for the life of the housewife. Her hair was long and untamed. She was the kind of girl who followed her favorite band up the coast, the kind of girl whose smile was welcoming and warm and made her seem like she was within your grasp, but in reality she was oh so unattainable. The only traces left of that girl lie in her daughter’s name. She wanted to name her Willow, but Willa’s father wouldn’t allow it. Finally, the settled on Willa. It was respectable, but still a nod at her mother’s carefree past.

Her middle name was her father’s doing. Lorraine. It’s the name of her paternal great grandmother. Willa never met her. She died just before she Willa was born. Named after a woman she never met, it was her father’s way of honoring the woman, but not knowing her herself, Willa didn’t put much weight in it.

Date of birth: 11/24/1992

How long have they been in Foxcroft:

Endless white picket fences, cars pouring in and out of the suburbs just before 9 a.m. and just after 5 p.m. every Monday through Friday, tupperware parties. Foxcroft’s suburbs have played like old black and white television reruns over and over again, day after day, ever since Willa was born. The episodes change, but still everything seems the same, like a played out catch phrase or a tired show opening – Willa hated it. At the young age of fourteen Willa found herself jaded with conversations of whether to paint the cabinets eggshell or cream, and predictable played-out routines. From that point forward, Willa vowed her life would be interesting, damn it. She’d lose her mind if she ended up like her mother.

Sexuality:

DEMI-ROMANTIC PANSEXUAL. She was the girl who fell in love with your mind, with the way you smiled at her, with the words you spoke. Gender didn’t matter. It was about the way you made her feel. But opening her heart was a challenge. She wasn’t cold, just closed off, too caught up in herself, in her thoughts and feelings — like the way vodka burned her throat as she drank until she couldn’t drink anymore. Or the way the fire warmed her fingertips when she struck a match. No, Willa felt everything. Loved everyone. She was just too scared to show it. Sex, on the other hand, was just another way to feel something without giving up too much of herself. It didn’t mean anything, but god did it make her feel alive.

FC change: lol no thx i basically have a shrine to phoebe tonkin she’s my tru god

How do you interpret this character’s personality? How will you portray them? Include two weaknesses and two strengths.

For Willa, there is before and there is after Adam’s death. The one constant is how tired she feels about her life. Adam and Neil made things feel easy. They howled at the moon, they stole six packs and chips from the local supermarket for kicks. Time stood still when the three of them together and it was as if they’d live forever. Immortals weren’t supposed to die — but Adam did.

When Willa found out about his death, time didn’t start again, it continued to stand still, but instead of feeling free, Willa felt trapped. It was as if the metaphorical walls of Foxcroft were closing in on her and she wasn’t strong enough to push back anymore. The free spirit that once was hadn’t died, but had been buried along with her friend’s corpse. Still, Willa endures, and her free spirit manifests in impulses. It comes when she jumps off the top of the ladder on the water tower, not entirely sure if she’ll make it to the ground alive. It comes when she picks fights with drunken patrons at Absinthe Minded who are much bigger and stronger than she is – but they don’t know Willa’s lost her last reason to give a damn. It comes in screams and broken mirrors and empty bottles of vodka. When Adam died, Willa lost her best friend, and when Neil went missing she lost the only person who could have anchored her, but he left, and she went off the rails.

Behind the impulses is a girl who’s terrified. She’s terrified of this town, terrified of losing the friend she’s pushed so far away, terrified of her own life. She could tear the skin from her bones if it meant escaping this prison. All she wants is to get out, but she doesn’t have a clue how. Willa lived for the interesting, to be free, but despite that philosophy she still had no idea what she actually wanted.

POSITIVE: free spirited, loyal, lively, protective

NEGATIVE: impulsive, uncertain, stubborn, immature

How did this character react to the death of Hazel Abrams? Adam Foxcroft? (1+ paragraphs)

Willa would never admit it, but she wasn’t really affected by Hazel’s death. She wishes she cared more, wishes she cried for her best friend’s lost lover, wishes she felt an absence in the group, but she just didn’t. For Willa, it was Adam, Neil and her against the world. Willa never felt like Hazel was truly a part of their little group, she was never really a Bad Kid. She was tacked on, and trailed along because of Neil. They were her boys, not Hazel’s.

Adam’s death, on the other hand, completely changed her. Every smoke she lit up, every glass of whiskey, every firework, every full moon, every star – it was all tainted. Everywhere she looked in the tiny town reminded her of Adam. Absinthe Minded, where they’d drink and sing along to The Clash until they wouldn’t remember it the next day. Rudford’s, where they ended up after a late night of setting fireworks off from the top of the water tower. Foxcroft was their little kingdom, but the king fell, and now all Willa sees is an empty throne.

How do they see the town and its people? Think about the different groups of people and prejudices the town holds about them. (1+ paragraphs)

Socially, Willa is free of many of the prejudices held by the people of Foxcroft. She grew up in the suburbs with a painfully middle class family. They weren’t religious, so Willa didn’t feel the stares that many people in Foxcroft felt as they drove down Sweetwater Road to Sunday service. Willa could have slid by unnoticed, but she was friends with a Foxcroft, and the town loved to gossip about the founding family.

Stealing from liquor stores and grocery stores didn’t help her case much. Willa became a bad example, a criminal. Unlike most people, she reveled in it. Being a delinquent, being a member of the bad kids club gave her something to be. She wasn’t the daughter of suburbia, she was the kind of kid your parents warned you about. In the light of the bonfires they put on at Foxcroft Cemetery, in the bottom of a bottle and the butt of a cigarette, Willa found herself. She didn’t care what anyone in Foxcroft thought of her. She never did.

For non-human characters: What does this character know about what they’ve become? Have they had any experiences that made them aware that weren’t exactly human? Elaborate. (2+ paragraphs)

The night Adam died changed everything for Willa, not just in how she felt, but who she was. Willa was with them, and then she wasn’t, the world in front of her disappeared into nothingness. Was she dead? Was she dreaming? Willa still doesn’t know. All she knows is she woke up in the middle of the swamps the next morning and that’s when they found Adam’s body. The headlines all said Neil did it, but Willa couldn’t help but feel some sort of guilt for what she’d seen. Had she been responsible?

Willa tries not to think about that night, tries not to relive the night her best friend died, but she knows that something changed that night inside her. She’s just too terrified to seek it out.

Please include 1-2 possible plots your see for this character (1 paragraph brief explanation for each)

WRITING SAMPLE

There are two options here, and you only need to complete one.

Sample #1: This is a starter for Marlene McKinnon in an AU Harry Potter roleplay.

Sample #2: This is a self para for my character, Matthew Quinn, a thirty-year-old werebear who was infected with the lycanthropy strain. Here he’s visiting his ex-girlfriend’s grave, who he killed when they both shifted and he discovered she was a weredeer. Basically he ate her.

EXTRA [THIS SECTION WILL NOT INFLUENCE ACCEPTANCE]

How would you feel about this character dying?: She’s trying real hard to live, but ironically that puts her closer to death. She’s scared of what she thinks she can do right now, but I could see her maybe getting into things too deep eventually and it backfiring on her. Death is definitely a possibility for Willa.

Why did you choose this character?: Phoebe Tonkin. DREAMS. Lost babe trying to feel something and live an interesting life. PAIN. Sign me up.

Extras: pinterest board.

How did you find us?: I run this shit.

#accepted #willa potter

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joeynation · 5 years ago

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COVID-22: A short story

March 26, 2022. Two years ago we were told the country was going into lockdown for 4 weeks, to stick with our “bubble”, limit our outdoor exercise & fresh air, and only go on essential grocery trips. The government hatched an ambitious set of finance packages to combat the economic impact and to protect those who had lost their jobs. That’s what we were told.

The expectation was that after a month we would start to see the containment of the highly contagious virus that was infecting the world. But we didn’t.

Despite the imposed quarantine and strict rules, enforced by both police and military, people continued to defy the law, and began to act increasingly unusually. We at first rolled our eyes. We knew there’d be shenanigans from the usual hooligans and people who think the rules don’t apply, but then things got weird.

A few weeks into the quarantine I was out for a quick walk around the waterfront by my house, careful to uphold the 2m separation rule. A disheveled man was out running, but not in the relaxed style of a jogger, he was dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt, but his beard and hair were unkept and he was shoeless. He looked manic and frightened as if there were someone chasing after him with a knife. As he ran toward me I realised his path was leading directly to me, and his eyes were set on me as well. To avoid the collision I quickly stepped to the right, separating us with a bench seat bolted to the ground. The man, with his eyes still fixed on me, altered his path to sprint directly toward me.

He ran directly into the bench seat at full running speed, as if he hadn’t even seen it, smashed his legs into the wood and his whole body flipped over, smacking his head into the concrete with a walnut-crunching smash and lay there deathly still, his head oozing. I screamed, yelled out for help and a passerby said they were calling 111. I could sense the twitching of curtains by the parade alongside the waterfront, apartment buildings suddenly animated as curious faces peered down from their glass barriers, morphing into horrified, clawed expressions.

A small collection of pedestrians stopped horrified, some even took photos on their phones. Eventually an ambulance arrived, sirens blaring and with a loudspeaker announcing for everyone to stay well clear. Two workers in white hazmat suits emerged and hurriedly arrived to size up the lifeless, gruesome scene that lay sprawled on the concrete before us. After checking his pulse they instructed everyone to leave, I backed away down the path and curiously peered back to observe the morbid placement of the body into a black body bag, zip it up and load it into the ambulance. A short while later a fire engine arrived to blast the blood away with high powered hoses, leaving the scene bordered with “do not enter” hazard tape.

I recounted what had happened to my friends and colleagues via video calls and we all spoke about it in similar fashion. He was a “mad man”, someone who’s truly “lost his marbles” what with the restrictions of self-isolation and fear of viral infection. But this wasn’t a one off.

There began to emerge numerous reports on social media of people purposely running into others, body slamming them, spitting on them, getting as close as possible to people to lick, cough on, sneeze on and even bite them. “Absolute vile mongrels” we called them. “Bring back the death sentence!” faceless online commentators called for.

One day a breaking news story popped up about a police station that had to close down suddenly due to a mass COVID-19 outbreak. It turned out to have been caused by an infected policeman spitting in the station’s communal coffee machine’s water supply. Finally we were learning that the infected had begun to purposefully spread the virus. What we learned, too late however, was that the virus affected people’s brains and in some ways controlled how they acted. It forced their impulses and made it their living drive to infect others.

Then everything changed. Suddenly being infected was a death wish and we couldn’t take any chances. The military began to round up the infected and take them to designated, remote quarantine zones, to “guarantee isolation and abidance.” However, no one ever seemed to return from then.

The nation was ordered to stay at home at all times, essential service workers were provided accommodation on premises. Food packages were dropped on doorsteps; weird collections of supermarket leftovers - box soup, crackers, canned soup and vegetables, napkins, vegetable oil, flour. Social media was abuzz with horrifying, unbelievable stories of medical staff forced to sleep in onsite garages, low-quality tents erected in car parks and to work in shifts for months without days off. Soon enough we stopped hearing almost anything from the media or social media at all. The government seemed to want to curb all negative chatter and to quell rumours of what was really going on and with how deeply uncontained the virus actually was, as if we couldn't tell.

Eventually these packages stopped arriving and shortly after, things became well and truly feral. The looting began. Neighbors holed up in their homes suddenly had to fend off unwanted guests and there were blood-curdling shrieks on the streets, a clear-cut sign peaceful solutions weren’t being met.. At this point I became really scared. It felt like the end of days and like it wouldn’t be too long until someone would arrive at my doorstep, desperate, hungry and willing to do what it takes to survive.

Fortunately I live in a 3 story apartment building with a gated entrance, a backdoor to the garden, and with each floor as its own apartment. Living on the second floor I was used to hearing noises from above and below, but I hadn’t heard any movements or noise in the stairwell for a long time. I dared not check on them in person, and they hadn’t responded to my messages or phone calls. As far as I knew, I was alone in the building. People had definitely tried to break in, but we had long ago locked the garage doors and barricaded them with additional furniture.

I began to keep the lights off at night so no one would know I was home, and I kept the curtains drawn during the day so no one could see my movement. Eventually the electricity stopped running, and I had to very conservatively use my small camping stove to heat meals. I was running out of supplies - my canned goods were littling down to rations of mouthfuls a day and I could feel my body degrading as a result. Less strength, more tired, my brain less snappy. I knew I needed to leave the house and get supplies, but I was terrified of coming across somebody else, of infection, and of what I might find inside quiet homes.

After a few days of planning, I gingerly emerged from my building in a make-shift hazmat suit consisting of various torn pieces of plastic, sunglasses, torn material and kitchen gloves taped to my sleeves. I’d planned to pilfer from my neighbors’ houses, and I had a chopping knife at the ready - not that I really knew what I’d do with it should the moment arise. Slash? Stab? Wave wildly in hopes of threatening? I knew nothing would stop a late-stage infected from charging at me with all their might no matter what I did, so this was definitely a last resort.

The first two houses I checked out had broken locks and had already been well pillaged. It occurred to me I need not bother searching the homes close to the main roads. Therefore I began tip-toeing through backyards, jumping over fences and clambering past spiky bushes in search of promising resupply potential. I eventually found a 2-story house that looked untouched, and was certainly quiet, my summations from my peering through windows and cautious ear-pressing against walls.

With futility I tried the front door to confirm it was locked, which was actually a really promising sign - maybe this place hadn’t been raided! I ventured around the house and tried all the windows, all firmly shut, and the backdoor was firmly locked also. There was only one thing for it I thought, hurling a decorative garden rock painted as a frog through a window. The shattering glass caused an enormous racket, as did the rock hitting a wooden floor inside, and the tinkling sound of glass falling both inside and out cascaded for a deeply unnecessarily drawn out moment. I kept my distance for a good five-to-ten minutes, keeping well out of sight behind a hedge. I pondered going home and returning in a few days time, but the prospect of re-adorning my protective wear and suffering more days without a proper meal was too much to bear.

Pushing the remaining jagged glass edges inwards, onto the floor, I scampered up onto the window ledge and ungracefully plonked myself inside, careful not to put my hands down so as not to cut my gloves or my hands. The house was plush and tidy, adorned with floor length drapes, and prim and proper wooden furniture. I realized I was in what had been an office, but with a thick coating of dust it’d clearly been out of action for quite some time. I began searching. The pantry was fairly barren, and the drawers were empty and I was quickly losing hope. I began to search more frantically, and once the kitchen search proved fruitless other than a packet of spiral pasta and a mostly used bottle of soy sauce, I headed to other rooms. Swinging open cabinets, ripping open drawers and pulling the lids off of containers.

I charged upstairs and started going through the bedrooms, checking under the bed, raiding en-suite medicine cabinets, pulling open closets. I threw open the master bedroom door in my futile search and got the fright of my life - an old woman lay on the bed, wearing a white nightgown, her tiny emaciated body barely providing form to the lengths of fabric swamping her. Her wide, hollow eyes were staring at me in shock - at first I thought she was dead, but I realized she was blinking and trying to speak. Her eyes were darting from me to her bedside table and back again, and I figured she was wanting me to get her some water to fill the empty glass beside her. I grabbed the glass and took it to the en-suite bathroom, examining my ridiculous appearance in the dusty mirror - sunglasses, a face mask constructed from torn pieces of fabric, a haphazard head wrap made from pieces of plastic and glad-wrap. I drank the water from the tap, careful not to touch the tap with my mouth, before filling up the glass and kneeling beside the bed to hand it to the woman. She just looked at me, a pained expression in her eyes - she was clearly very near death, whether from the virus, malnutrition, dehydration or just old age, I couldn’t tell. Feeling terrible, I placed the glass on her bedside table, apologized, and left, closing the door behind me. As I sneaked home through the neighborhood’s properties I felt such an overwhelming sense of sadness. Despair for the state of the world, and guilt for my own actions in not staying by this woman’s side for what surely must have been her final days. Hell, they’ll probably be my final days.

Over the next few days I attempted a few more loots but they were each unsuccessful, my neighborhood had been well and truly plundered. At best, my rations would last me the rest of the week and from there I’d be left with running taps as a food source. I made a decision simply to have one last “real” meal, and I soaked all my pasta to soften it, tipped the remainder of my canned tomatoes into a bowl and combined them with my soy sauce. A feast, which I scoffed in one glorious swoop. It wasn’t an enormous meal, but given the meager portions to which I was now accustomed it was satisfying. Immediately I doubted and questioned my own decision, but deep down I knew further rationing was prolonging the inevitable.

Today is 2 years to the day since the COVID-19 lock down began. Those “four weeks” we could barely bring ourselves to commit to, the rules being flouted on the first day. Groups of people resting on park benches, chatting, leaving and a new group of people replacing them shortly after, placing their hands on the bench as the people before them did, and the people after. We didn’t grapple with the immensity of the situation, and for that we fell.

It’s been nearly two weeks since my last supper and I’m bed bound, I feel drained, weak and tired. My bathroom is only around five metres from my bed but to get myself there to fill up my water bottle this morning left me dizzy and barely able to keep down the water I managed to drink. I feel utterly spent and completely on my last legs. I recall a line from The Fellowship of the Ring, “like butter scraped over too much bread.” That’s how I feel. I know this is just about it, I haven’t heard a sound other than the wind and rain for nearly a week. I guess this is the price we pay, the great universal decider, a disease spread by the rich flying around the world killed millions of the poorest first. Holed up in their mansions with security guards and enormous resources stockpiled, they thought that their greed wouldn’t come back to bite them, and it only prolonged their inevitable fate.

As for me, I’m now the striking resemblance of the old woman I encountered in the neighborhood house I tried to loot. In the fetal position on the floor by my bed, I’m so hungry, my vision is blurred, my stomach is cramping, my head is pounding. I can see the shadow of birds on the windowsill outside, their shadows only through the newspaper covered windows. “Quoth the Raven, nevermore.”

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michaeljtraylor · 6 years ago

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Ramblings from my latest Minimum Spend rush

I’ve happily moved away from almost all manufactured spend, but recently found myself with a somewhat pressing need to meet some hefty minimums. I learned some good lessons here, that perhaps will help. One thing I’ll suggest is that if you’re currently happy with doing giftcards/money orders or have some other gigs running, it might be harder to get onboard with what I’ve been up to, so put it in the someday/maybe file.

Need Requirements

Before Spend Requirements was need. I needed 6 nights (2 nights then 4 nights) of hotels (nice ones, because I’m valuing vacation time very highly right now) and I also needed to finish a full $1K of spend on a recent AS card application (acquired with pure speculation in mind).

Spend Requirements

I identified a great SPG property that was 10K per night ($380 cash price) that worked for the first two nights. $5K Spend

I identified a 5 star hilton for 50K per night, or a 4 star DoubleTree for 20K per night. Haven’t decided on which one I will go for yet. $3K Spend.

That AS card.. $1K Spend

All in, $9K spend required, and I need it fast because I want the hotels locked in.. we’re talking first 1-2 weeks of card ownership to hit these.

The Strategy

I held both the SPG and AS card ($6k Spend) for a week or so before executing spend. This allowed me to finish off spend on the other AS card I got (His/Hers) before focusing on the next ones. I decided that I would use a recent (future at the time) cruise to meet min spend, unfortunately I didn’t identify and execute the Hilton points (100K Surpass offer) until a day or so before departure, so it didn’t come along for the ride.

As an aside, I try to work on a dual ‘Speculative Points’ like the AS ones, and ‘Target Points’ like the SPG ones wherever possible. This is a shift from where I was something in a lull and avoided all speculative applications.

Paying a Premium

After several years, and 11 free cruises, I’m starting to fall out of favor with NCL. The swine. For the first time, they set me at a tier level that doesn’t include free casino advances. I tried to quickly engineer that, and have them re-evaluate, but didn’t like the attitude of the person I was working with, and rather than ‘HUCA’ them I decided to just ignore the loss and grab a Margarita and hit the pool instead. That cruise the casino still gave me $200 of free money in addition to the cruise, so whatevs.

I put the SPG card as the credit card on file for the cruise (this one scoops up all expenses) and pulled out about $6K from the Casino at 3%. I then visited the front desk of the cruise and asked to make a partial payment of $1K on the AS card. All in, $180 to meet the spend, in exchange for straight cash.

I’d lie if I said it was instant. The line in the cruise front desk is akin to walmart, albeit a little shorter, but the key difference being that I was able to sip on a Pina Colada while waiting in it.

First Lesson

Paying cash to meet spend, at $30 per $1,000 makes you appreciate that the amount of min spend required to trigger a bonus matters. It was starkly obvious when dealing with the extremes of a $5K card and a $1K card. I do wonder if I would have noticed this difference if both cards were at $3K. Previously, when MSing it’s something I’ve never really cared about at the $0-$5K min spend levels, but it does make a difference in both cost and time. For the MSer’s, many times you cannot buy either the GC or the MO at that level in a single transaction, but you ignore that you are doing multiple trips to make spend because it is ‘free’.

The fee for gaining 30,000 SPG (25+spend of 5) was $150. This means that my hotel cost $75 per night, and I have 10k leftover. 10K SPG is a solid night ‘somewhere’ but I still value these as ‘orphaned points’ because I have no pressing need for them right now.

Luckily for me year 1 fee is waived, but frankly, if the card had $95 fee attached too, I would have still spent $245 for the bonus because it involved such a low level of friction to my daily routine. However, it reinforces that ‘travel is rarely free’ and instead pushes the notion of ‘deeply discounted’. I think that the willing acceptance to pay $150 to gain the bonus, vs run around town with giftcards and money orders is a big step.

My takeaway from this is that I’m more than happy to pay $150 (or $245) for the two nights in the hotel that I wanted, even if I could have spent about $30 to do it for free, via several visits to Walmart…

Fancy enough for $75 a night, and I’m a loyal SPG Gold, don’t you know?

So my first lesson is that min spending even with a 3% surcharge is a good deal for me.

The next step of that was the Altitude Reserve.. while I didn’t do it this trip (more out of laziness than anything) I’m also happy to ‘Invest’ in Altitude Reserve points, with some caveats….

An Altitude Reserve point is worth 1.5 cents, and earned at 3x on travel. Therefore, even without chasing a bonus, paying $30 for $45 of hotel travel is a good deal to me. It is an investment, because I would move asset class from cash, to funny money. I would hesitate to do this too far into the future speculatively due to the risk that the Altitude Reserve is not backed by Silver, like the USD, but I would move in a certain amount of points in order to cover my immediate 6-12 month travel.

Back from the Cruise

Two cards down, but $3K on the Hilton Surpass to go and a goal of 7 days to meet spend. My first thought was Kiva. I like using Kiva for lazy ‘MS’ it has no fee to fund, but it has two downsides:

Risk of Loss (I lose money on Kiva, but it still has worked out less than 3% via luck and diversification.

Time to repay (lock up of float for 6 months or longer has a price, vs getting cash from Walmart which can actually work out as a free loan..)

My mind went then to the IRS. I expect another refund this year, and we haven’t paid any tax yet so in theory I could give them a loan and get it back. I generally don’t advise messing with the IRS though, and like Kiva, it has two downsides:

A fixed fee to fund via credits card (less risk of loss, more guarantee of loss)

Time to repay (3 months vs 6 months, but still a lockup period)

Then I started thinking ‘outside the box’…

Second Lesson

After a while, It can be very easy to forget about real spend. Personally, for the last 2-3 years I’ve been doing min spend in 1 transaction in most cases, but since my time became limited, and options closed, things have changed. I rarely think about using a card for ‘real spend’ as I have a few that I use for this. With fewer options, I started looking around for real expenses that were close, and see if I could ‘Forward Shift’. I managed to apply about $1400 here via reimbursed business expenses. I generally avoid this also, because it is a PITA to track, but since the year is almost over, and I have good accounting software, I went for it.

In addition, I was able to look forward to November/December and find items like our Car insurance payment, and was able to send in the funds a bit early.

In terms of a relatable example, Resellers have a great option here, because if you buy $1K of inventory on a personal card, you can reimburse it instantly, even if it takes 6 months or more to sell. For me, it was mainly licenses and renewals for various professional organizations.

One thing that caught me was ‘Swap Spending’ or the destruction of priority. With this, I mean that when my goal is 100% fixated on meeting $3K spend naturally, without ‘wasting’ 3% on a transaction fee, or locking up money for the IRS, I would forget the opportunity of the transaction.

The Surpass was a bad example of this, because it offers some multipliers for Dining and Supermarkets, but I would typically use a OBC for Supermarkets (not MSing) for 5% and at least 2x to 3x points Dining card (TYP Premier, or other) those points further being uplifted by 25% or more at spend stage.

The lesson I picked up here was that by shifting natural/organic spend to the card of the day, slipping a $100 grocery bill onto the new card vs the 5% card came at a cost. Often times that cost could be 3%, if you value the points (not the bonus) at 2%. So it might be better to stick with the old 5% transaction, and pay 3% out of pocket to build the $3K minimum.

Interestingly, the Surpass could be a good argument for, or against this lesson. On the one hand, at 6x you could argue a full $3000 of Grocery spend being valued at 18,000 could be another night, or almost two, if you can find a property that fits. Alternatively, you might find that 18,000 points are orphaned in your account for years, and have no value.

So what did I learn?

I’m fine paying 3% transactions fees. I’d pay more than 3% if I can profit.

I like profit.

I’m OK with fancy hotels.

Even if all MS dies, right now we’re looking at perhaps a 50% uplift from certain programs, which in some alternative universe, or dystopian future, is still epic. Especially if it involves less work than the glory days.

(PS the USD dollar is fiat currency, it is backed by the US Government, which is supposed to be more stable than the Altitude Reserve, but who knows…)

(PPS I now get all my referrals, wherever possible, from fellow humans. For a while I tried to support a few blogs that I like, but I really think that there’s a nice touch in getting a personal referral, so thanks to Amol for the SPG and to Brandon for the Surpass)

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* This article was originally published here

from RSSMix.com Mix ID 8312273 https://proshoppingservice.com/ramblings-from-my-latest-minimum-spend-rush/ from Garko Media https://garkomedia1.tumblr.com/post/183979236309

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garkomedia1 · 6 years ago

Text

Ramblings from my latest Minimum Spend rush

Need Requirements

Spend Requirements

I identified a great SPG property that was 10K per night ($380 cash price) that worked for the first two nights. $5K Spend

I identified a 5 star hilton for 50K per night, or a 4 star DoubleTree for 20K per night. Haven’t decided on which one I will go for yet. $3K Spend.

That AS card.. $1K Spend

All in, $9K spend required, and I need it fast because I want the hotels locked in.. we’re talking first 1-2 weeks of card ownership to hit these.

The Strategy

Paying a Premium

First Lesson

Fancy enough for $75 a night, and I’m a loyal SPG Gold, don’t you know?

So my first lesson is that min spending even with a 3% surcharge is a good deal for me.

Back from the Cruise

Two cards down, but $3K on the Hilton Surpass to go and a goal of 7 days to meet spend. My first thought was Kiva. I like using Kiva for lazy ‘MS’ it has no fee to fund, but it has two downsides:

Risk of Loss (I lose money on Kiva, but it still has worked out less than 3% via luck and diversification.

Time to repay (lock up of float for 6 months or longer has a price, vs getting cash from Walmart which can actually work out as a free loan..)

A fixed fee to fund via credits card (less risk of loss, more guarantee of loss)

Time to repay (3 months vs 6 months, but still a lockup period)

Then I started thinking ‘outside the box’…

Second Lesson

In addition, I was able to look forward to November/December and find items like our Car insurance payment, and was able to send in the funds a bit early.

So what did I learn?

I’m fine paying 3% transactions fees. I’d pay more than 3% if I can profit.

I like profit.

I’m OK with fancy hotels.

(PS the USD dollar is fiat currency, it is backed by the US Government, which is supposed to be more stable than the Altitude Reserve, but who knows…)

The post Ramblings from my latest Minimum Spend rush appeared first on Saverocity Travel.

* This article was originally published here

from RSSMix.com Mix ID 8312273 https://proshoppingservice.com/ramblings-from-my-latest-minimum-spend-rush/

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garkodigitalmedia · 6 years ago

Text

Ramblings from my latest Minimum Spend rush

Need Requirements

Spend Requirements

I identified a great SPG property that was 10K per night ($380 cash price) that worked for the first two nights. $5K Spend

I identified a 5 star hilton for 50K per night, or a 4 star DoubleTree for 20K per night. Haven’t decided on which one I will go for yet. $3K Spend.

That AS card.. $1K Spend

All in, $9K spend required, and I need it fast because I want the hotels locked in.. we’re talking first 1-2 weeks of card ownership to hit these.

The Strategy

Paying a Premium

First Lesson

Fancy enough for $75 a night, and I’m a loyal SPG Gold, don’t you know?

So my first lesson is that min spending even with a 3% surcharge is a good deal for me.

Back from the Cruise

Two cards down, but $3K on the Hilton Surpass to go and a goal of 7 days to meet spend. My first thought was Kiva. I like using Kiva for lazy ‘MS’ it has no fee to fund, but it has two downsides:

Risk of Loss (I lose money on Kiva, but it still has worked out less than 3% via luck and diversification.

Time to repay (lock up of float for 6 months or longer has a price, vs getting cash from Walmart which can actually work out as a free loan..)

A fixed fee to fund via credits card (less risk of loss, more guarantee of loss)

Time to repay (3 months vs 6 months, but still a lockup period)

Then I started thinking ‘outside the box’…

Second Lesson

In addition, I was able to look forward to November/December and find items like our Car insurance payment, and was able to send in the funds a bit early.

So what did I learn?

I’m fine paying 3% transactions fees. I’d pay more than 3% if I can profit.

I like profit.

I’m OK with fancy hotels.

(PS the USD dollar is fiat currency, it is backed by the US Government, which is supposed to be more stable than the Altitude Reserve, but who knows…)

The post Ramblings from my latest Minimum Spend rush appeared first on Saverocity Travel.

* This article was originally published here

from RSSMix.com Mix ID 8312273 https://proshoppingservice.com/ramblings-from-my-latest-minimum-spend-rush/

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nicholerestrada · 6 years ago

Text

Ramblings from my latest Minimum Spend rush

I’ve happily moved away from almost all manufactured spend, but recently found myself with a somewhat pressing need to meet some hefty minimums. ; I learned some good lessons here, that perhaps will help. ; One thing I’ll suggest is that if you’re currently happy with doing giftcards/money orders or have some other gigs running, it might be harder to get onboard with what I’ve been up to, so put it in the someday/maybe file.

Need Requirements

Before Spend Requirements was need. ; I needed 6 nights (2 nights then 4 nights) of hotels (nice ones, because I’m valuing vacation time very highly right now) and I also needed to finish a full $1K of spend on a recent AS card application (acquired with pure speculation in mind).

Spend Requirements

I identified a great SPG property that was 10K per night ($380 cash price) that worked for the first two nights. $5K Spend

I identified a 5 star hilton for 50K per night, or a 4 star DoubleTree for 20K per night. ; Haven’t decided on which one I will go for yet. $3K Spend.

That AS card.. $1K Spend

All in, $9K spend required, and I need it fast because I want the hotels locked in.. we’re talking first 1-2 weeks of card ownership to hit these.

The Strategy

I held both the SPG and AS card ($6k Spend) for a week or so before executing spend. ; This allowed me to finish off spend on the other AS card I got (His/Hers) before focusing on the next ones. ; I decided that I would use a recent (future at the time) cruise to meet min spend, unfortunately I didn’t identify and execute the Hilton points (100K Surpass offer) until a day or so before departure, so it didn’t come along for the ride.

Paying a Premium

After several years, and 11 free cruises, I’m starting to fall out of favor with NCL. The swine. ; For the first time, they set me at a tier level that doesn’t include free casino advances. ; I tried to quickly engineer that, and have them re-evaluate, but didn’t like the attitude of the person I was working with, and rather than ‘HUCA’ them I decided to just ignore the loss and grab a Margarita and hit the pool instead. That cruise the casino still gave me $200 of free money in addition to the cruise, so whatevs.

I put the SPG card as the credit card on file for the cruise (this one scoops up all expenses) and pulled out about $6K from the Casino at 3%. ; I then visited the front desk of the cruise and asked to make a partial payment of $1K on the AS card. ; All in, $180 to meet the spend, in exchange for straight cash.

I’d lie if I said it was instant. ; The line in the cruise front desk is akin to walmart, albeit a little shorter, but the key difference being that I was able to sip on a Pina Colada while waiting in it.

First Lesson

Paying cash to meet spend, at $30 per $1,000 makes you appreciate that the amount of min spend required to trigger a bonus matters. ; It was starkly obvious when dealing with the extremes of a $5K card and a $1K card. I do wonder if I would have noticed this difference if both cards were at $3K. Previously, when MSing it’s something I’ve never really cared about at the $0-$5K min spend levels, but it does make a difference in both cost and time. ; For the MSer’s, many times you cannot buy either the GC or the MO at that level in a single transaction, but you ignore that you are doing multiple trips to make spend because it is ‘free’.

The fee for gaining 30,000 SPG (25+spend of 5) was $150. ; This means that my hotel cost $75 per night, and I have 10k leftover. 10K SPG is a solid night ‘somewhere’ but I still value these as ‘orphaned points’ because I have no pressing need for them right now.

Luckily for me year 1 fee is waived, but frankly, if the card had $95 fee attached too, I would have still spent $245 for the bonus because it involved such a low level of friction to my daily routine. However, it reinforces that ‘travel is rarely free’ and instead pushes the notion of ‘deeply discounted’. ; I think that the willing acceptance to pay $150 to gain the bonus, vs run around town with giftcards and money orders is a big step.

Fancy enough for $75 a night, and I’m a loyal SPG Gold, don’t you know?

So my first lesson is that min spending even with a 3% surcharge is a good deal for me. ; ;

An Altitude Reserve point is worth 1.5 cents, and earned at 3x on travel. ; Therefore, even without chasing a bonus, paying $30 for $45 of hotel travel is a good deal to me. ; It is an investment, because I would move asset class from cash, to funny money. I would hesitate to do this too far into the future speculatively due to the risk that the Altitude Reserve is not backed by Silver, like the USD, but I would move in a certain amount of points in order to cover my immediate 6-12 month travel.

Back from the Cruise

Two cards down, but $3K on the Hilton Surpass to go and a goal of 7 days to meet spend. ; My first thought was Kiva. ; I like using Kiva for lazy ‘MS’ it has no fee to fund, but it has two downsides: ;

Risk of Loss (I lose money on Kiva, but it still has worked out less than 3% via luck and diversification.

Time to repay (lock up of float for 6 months or longer has a price, vs getting cash from Walmart which can actually work out as a free loan..)

My mind went then to the IRS. ; I expect another refund this year, and we haven’t paid any tax yet so in theory I could give them a loan and get it back. ; I generally don’t advise messing with the IRS though, and like Kiva, it has two downsides:

A fixed fee to fund via credits card (less risk of loss, more guarantee of loss)

Time to repay (3 months vs 6 months, but still a lockup period)

Then I started thinking ‘outside the box’…

Second Lesson

After a while, It can be very easy to forget about real spend. ; Personally, for the last 2-3 years I’ve been doing min spend in 1 transaction in most cases, but since my time became limited, and options closed, things have changed. I rarely think about using a card for ‘real spend’ as I have a few that I use for this. With fewer options, I started looking around for real expenses that were close, and see if I could ‘Forward Shift’. I managed to apply about $1400 here via reimbursed business expenses. I generally avoid this also, because it is a PITA to track, but since the year is almost over, and I have good accounting software, I went for it. ; ;

In addition, I was able to look forward to November/December and find items like our Car insurance payment, and was able to send in the funds a bit early.

In terms of a relatable example, Resellers have a great option here, because if you buy $1K of inventory on a personal card, you can reimburse it instantly, even if it takes 6 months or more to sell. ; For me, it was mainly licenses and renewals for various professional organizations.

The lesson I picked up here was that by shifting natural/organic spend to the card of the day, slipping a $100 grocery bill onto the new card vs the 5% card came at a cost. ; Often times that cost could be 3%, if you value the points (not the bonus) at 2%. ; So it might be better to stick with the old 5% transaction, and pay 3% out of pocket to build the $3K minimum.

Interestingly, the Surpass could be a good argument for, or against this lesson. On the one hand, at 6x you could argue a full $3000 of Grocery spend being valued at 18,000 could be another night, or almost two, if you can find a property that fits. ; Alternatively, you might find that 18,000 points are orphaned in your account for years, and have no value.

So what did I learn?

I’m fine paying 3% transactions fees. I’d pay more than 3% if I can profit.

I like profit.

I’m OK with fancy hotels.

;

(PS the USD dollar is fiat currency, it is backed by the US Government, which is supposed to be more stable than the Altitude Reserve, but who knows…)

;

The post Ramblings from my latest Minimum Spend rush appeared first on Saverocity Travel.

* This article was originally published here

Source: https://proshoppingservice.com/ramblings-from-my-latest-minimum-spend-rush/

from Garko Media https://garkomedia1.wordpress.com/2019/04/06/ramblings-from-my-latest-minimum-spend-rush/

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talldarknsexy · 6 years ago

Text

Escapades in Egypt

After a night on the ferry we docked at the port in Aswan. We were just adjacent of the famous high dam that holds back lake Aswan from the Lower Nile and prevents seasonal flooding. A ferrymen agreed that I should stage my bike with the rest of the cargo. It was on the top deck anyways and I didn't want to have to follow after the 200 other people. So, I placed my bike next to some stuff, but this upset some of the otherwise friendly Sudanese mamas who then started yelling at me. The ferryman and a few others came to my defense which just aggravated them even more. The ferryman offered to move my bike and in the confusion knocked over their coffee pot straight onto their sleeping mat without noticing. Upon seeing this, they started screaming at me as I was now wheeling my bike away from the scene. Anyways, I shimmied my bike back to the top deck, said goodbyes to my Sudanese ferry buddies, and headed through customs where an Egyptian official would get frustrated with my broken zippers and literally rip apart my tool bag. "What this???" He questioned about my patch kit. "Clearly, you're not a golfer... It's a patch kit." From the dock, I rode just 15km to the city of Aswan and was greeted by many a "Welcome to Egypt!" The last 2km however, I took a shortcut that went through the town's dumping grounds. A dystopian scene with piles of garbage still burning, hazy with smoke, and growling with packs of wild dogs lurking around. Just a few blocks away, emerged David's hostel. He opened it up 3 years ago and runs little profit but his incentive was to perfect his English. He had done this already, as it was expert level, but still failed to pass Australia's English entrance visa exam. I started to wonder if I would be able to, personally. This is an extra requirement for Arabic countries and even though David is of the 10% Christian Coptic minority, the same bias applies. Anyways, he's since given up on Australia and runs the hostel (out of his basement) with a true passion I've seldom seen. It was a nice place and had wifi and clean tap water, both of which I hadn't experienced from a hostel in many months. That and, not to mention, I had access to supermarkets and ATMs again after Sudan. I met an Israeli guy there, Amir. This was unusual, because outside of the Sinai, Israeli backpackers are almost unheard of in Egypt. I went out that night with him and another Dutch fella. David dropped us off in town and we went to an amazing museum- history, artifacts, artwork, mummies, the works... Then grabbed some food and scoured the riverfront for a place that served alcohol. And after over a month, I finally had a beer. Amir had expressed some interest in the biking, and as always, I'd told him anyone is welcome to join. Except unlike all the others... Amir actually did. We went to the market with David the next day and picked one out from the China bike shop in town for $70. We scrounged some China parts from the market: mirror, tube, racks, bell, and a red $4 child's helmet. We grabbed some empty food bins and zip ties and rigged him some hobolo panniers. He'd already been carrying camping and cooking gear, so we slapped everything together quickly. There was no need to come up with a cheesy nickname for the bike as it was already labeled the "Flying Pigeon." The Flying Pigeon was washed in neon green and fake chrome- she was glorious... Amir had gone from backpacker to cycle tourist for less than $100 and under 24hrs. We set off the next day for the Flying Pigeon's native voyage. She and Amir did well. And I had not only riding company, but an Arabic translator, as Amir spoke some. That day we visited an enormous temple which we had almost entirely to ourselves. Back on the road, some kids had hurled rocks at us. Amir had surely had similar experiences in Israel as he wasn't phased in the slightest and didn't even so much as turn his head. We ate liver sandwiches for lunch, got invited for tea with some elders, and then camped by the Nile and took a dip at sunset. The next day, we rode off and stopped again midday for lunch and another temple visit, this one was in impeccable condition, but had much more visitors as the Nile cruise boats stopped here. Here, the fat waddling tourists de-board the luxury Nile ferries only to be taken to the temples in horse drawn chariots. Amir and I watched one throw an egyptian note down from a chariot down to a "begging" child. "Becom?" I asked, and the kid flashed me a $20egp note. "Sweets?" I asked. To which he smiled and nodded. But, the temples themselves were amazing. Amir was fairly versed in Egyptian mythology and was able to point out the various gods and some of the stories. We marveled around and contemplated the feasibility of construction and the complexity of their religious beliefs, both dating back almost four thousand years. Before leaving town, we stopped at a China bike shop to get Amir a new rear tire which had almost quit in only about 100km. The shopkeeper insisted we invest an extra dollar in a different looking tire. "Hatha afdal?" I asked. "Yees! Made in Indeea!" He happily exclaimed. Now, with Amir's Arabic, police checkpoints had been a breeze, but I'd warned him that there might come a time when that would change. And rightfully so, as it soon did. We got held up at one and Amir insisted with them that we did not need an escort. The captain would just reply that he's Egyptian and it is his duty to protect us. So, off we rode with a police truck behind us and 5 armed men. They chugged behind us that afternoon and wouldn't allow us to stop and honked at any kids that tried to high five us. And after a lot of argument on where we could stay that night, we ended camped out back a police station. The next day we reached Luxor. We, being us two cyclists and the different crew of 6 police behind. We rolled up and checked into the wrong hostel, but with the same name. Something we didn't realize until a few days later. Anyways, we spent the 2-3 days exploring temples, eating ridiculously good and inexpensive food (sometimes possibly pigeon,) and did a Nile cruise with some friends. In the end, Amir decided to ditch the bike before leaving Luxor. He was a little fed up with police and with how it would soon unfold, I certainly can't blame him. He got lucky though and sold the Flying Pidgeon to "Bob the Balloon Man" who ran a hot air balloon business and lived next door to the hostel. So, most cyclists have police escort for maybe half of Egypt. Mine was a little excessive. But, a combination of my poor Arabic, my American passport, and me traveling solo may have exasperated things. About 50km outside of Luxor, after waiting another half hour at yet another police checkpoint, they had me take an unexpected turn. Soon, I found myself on the remote desert highway, but with the police still chugging behind me. This road would be great for cycling except for the fact that I had zero food and had no idea were I was staying. Truthfully, the police probably had no idea either, they just want to drive you to the next checkpoint so they can finish their shift. It was a long, 160km day that ended with a hard climb that came out of nowhere. This I didn't finish until well into the dark and cold. But, luckily the fellas at the ambulance post I stayed at were pretty hilarious and helped to cheer me back up. The following day was even worse, however, it was actually quite cold and the police had me do ~120km. By the end of it I was experiencing some pretty bad knee pain and was pedaling with only one foot. It was another night staying with an ambulance crew and we shared some food together. I was pretty defeated, however and worried about my knee. I was woken up around midnight by a police officer who came in to verify I was there. I woke up around 3:30am and at the upon agreed upon time of 5am, was told to wait another hour until 6am so the officer could go back to sleep. After 30km of pedaling with one leg, I reached another checkpoint. Here, I'd been told I wouldn't need escorts... At least for a while until outside of Cairo. This clearly wasn't the case for me though. I'd explained it many times in broken Arabic and English. It was a desert with nothing... Not even a blade of grass lives out here. And I was getting sick and injured trying to follow their checkpoint regiment. I had one of my ambulance buddies who showed up there help explain the lack of need. He did a great job, but they just insisted on saying it was for my safety. It almost worked, but they just tailed behind me a half kilometer, pretending not to be there. Once, a young couple in a sedan with a bike rack pulled over to I believe offer me a bottle of water. The police truck sped up, pulled over in front of me, and ushered them away. Mid afternoon I was pretty broken. Struggling to pedal with one, now very fatigued leg. The wind picked up and I must have been doing about 5km/h because a policeman got out to jog past me. I pulled into a rest stop and laid down just praying that when I opened my eyes, the police would be gone. Instead, another police car showed up and there must have been about 8 or so policemen altogether. I'd had enough, and for the 100th time, loudly voiced my opinion that they were wasting there time. At one point, the officer called his cousin to help translate. He finally got the message and told me "Okay, continue as you like." I was incredulous, but he insisted and I thanked him, apologized, and gave him a hug. They sped off, but sure enough, I spotted them parked up the road about a kilometer. I said fuck it. Pulled off the road and camped behind a dune, just 500m from where they left me. It was a splendid night camped alone, resting my knee. But unfortunately, it was still painful in the morning. I rode about 20km to a petrol station and filled up on snacks. The guys there were super helpful, but I saw one suspiciously ran off to an ambulance post nearby, so I took off. Sure enough, about 30 mins later, I was surrounded by police. They either arrested me or "saved me" depending on who you ask. Apparently they had the entire region's police force looking for me. I was approached first by a 3 star officer so fat he was out of breath stepping out of his truck. He took my passport and made some frantic calls. The two petty officers with him wanted to know how I was able to survive a night in the cold. They then loaded my bike onto the truck and we sped off to a police control checkpoint. I wasn't really sure if I was being arrested of not. In short, I was there for the next 4-5 hours. The fat officer and his peers were on the phone half the time and all the other, lower ranking officers wanted to hang out, get me food and drinks, and take selfies. I wasn't cuffed or anything, but at one point I did step out of the cab to grab something from my bike and was met by several jumpy officers. We started to drive off twice but officer Mohammed Fatasfuck would receive a call and we'd turn around. It was finally night when we drove to Al Minya. We parked, unloaded the bike and I was ushered into a tourist police office that was something out of an 80's KGB headquarters. I was brought into an office where I met with another officer Mohammed and later his boss, officer Mohammed. They ordered three mango drinks and as nice as they were, I made sure That I was the last to sip mine. We talked for a while and they were incredulous that I'd spent the night sleeping in the desert. Terrorists, snakes, foxes, and desert lions were among their chief concerns. The latter of which haven't even existed for several decades. Anyways, Mohammed and Mohammed assured me under no uncertain terms that I wasn't doing anymore cycling in Egypt. They'd initially asked was how much I could afford for a travel company to orchestrate the remainder of my trip. So, they weren't exactly reassured at my plans to stay in an unnamed hostel in Cairo and then bus to Israel or Jordan. They took it upon themselves to organize it for me at no cost. They made some calls and arranged a hotel that night, a bus the next day, and a hotel for the first night in Giza. After that, they claimed, I was free to do as I liked- or so was their claim. I didn't get to the hotel until around 11pm. It was nice, but if I were ever to have a room bugged with cameras, this would have been it. The next day I was escorted by flatbed pick to the bus station and after the bus, again to the hotel. The hotel was actually more of a resort... A FIVE STAR resort as was published there. They had no reservation in my name. The manager was very agitated with me. The police escort didn't want to get involved but called up the rank to a General Mohammed. About 2 minutes later the front desk's phone rang. The manager (Also Mohammed) went white in the face, hung up, and checked me in with profuse apologies. I have no idea what exactly was said over the phone, but can only imagine the threats that were made by General Mohammed of the Tourist Police. Anyways, I was told that I wouldn't be leaving the premises until checkout the next day. So, basically was under resort arrest with an officer positioned in the lobby. This place was fucking unreal though and my suite was the size of an apartment. I'm sure I couldn't afford anything off the menu, so rationed the leftover biscuits and crackers that I'd stocked from the petrol station and filtered the tap water. This I did, ironically, on my private balcony overlooking the crescent pool. I also was pretty numb and reflective. Here I was, on my balcony in a 5 star resort, that I did not pay for, with a personal bodyguard out front. Not only did I not deserve this, but I was told the two officers I'd evaded both lost a year's salary. Their account was much different than mine, but I'd asked the Mohammeds to go easier on them if they had a say. The next morning there was a small breakfast. Just kidding. There was a LOT of breakfast. I ate enough for a week. I had thought that morning I would be free, at least per what one of the Mohammeds had originally told me. Certainly not the case though. So, an officer was waiting out front with a flatbed. The officer's name was... Well, it was Hani. We drove to the tourist district of Giza where I thought I would be checking into a hostel. But first, General Mohammed wanted to meet with me. After some waiting and joking around with Hani (as he at least recognized how ridiculous this was) he ushered me through the security and ticket booth. And all of sudden I was facing the pyramids. Not at all how I'd anticipated it... But their presence was immense and the brief experience, surreal. Two military jeeps pulled up and 4 generals in suits came out. I met General Mohammed who spoke great English and shook hands with his peers. They drank tea, discussed amongst each other, and Mohammed asked about my travel plans which were to leave Egypt ASAP because there was clearly no end to this police attention. At the end of their discussion, Mohammed expressed their relief: "they think you look almost Egyptian" he said. After this was resolved, Hani and I headed to a hostel nearby. There was no one at reception and Hani got a call from Mohammed that a hotel was sorted. In the end, I handed over an $11 note for what otherwise must have been a $100 hotel. Hani took off and I was put in the hands of Daii, who would be my babysitter for the next two days... (A babysitter dressed in a full suit and armed with a tech-9.) He slept in the hotel lobby and we'd take turns buying each other meals. He at least had a sense of humor, like Hani and realized the ridiculousness of the situation. This came in handy especially when I went back to visit the pyramids. We were in tourist central, but luckily I had Daii to keep me safe! At least the camel handlers heckled me less as I was a VIP with a personal bodyguard. I took us off into the desert to the alignment point where you can see all the great pyramids in view. I felt a little bad that Daii was dusting up his nice leather shoes. He also had to stop to sit on a rock every few minutes to catch his breath. Sometimes he'd even light up another cigarette. "Mish Tammam" I'd say: not good. To which he'd smile and laugh. Well worth the trek though. There were few people around and away from the noisy and crowded city, you can appreciate the serenity of the desert, and observe the massive scale of these ancient pyramids still towering over the very modern, sprawling city. The next day I would take a bus from Cairo to the Taba border. Daii was instructed to follow me the entire way until I got stamped at immigration. We rode over the Suez Canal and through the surreal Sinai desert. The actual border crossing was an unceremonious end to my journey on the African continent. But I'd like to remember the highlight of Egypt as looking out at the pyramids. Old and new societies juxtaposed against one another, with my police friend Dai next to me. Out of breath, and smoking another cigarette.

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