#moving on from restaurant to the food truck was moving on from beam ok

[celestial-sapphicss]

i stayed there, dust collected on my pinned-up hair,

i'm sure that you got a wife out there, kids and Christmas but i'm unaware,

'cause I'm right where,

i cause no harm, mind my business, if our love died young, I can't bear witness,

and it's been so long, but if you ever think you got it wrong, i'm right where

you left me

you left me no

you left me no choice

but to stay here forever

jim x beam - right where you left me, t.s.

i am so normal about a show that ended weeks ago. @akkpipitphattana come cry with me about it, k thx.

[watchyourbluesturngolden]

cats and babies

This is the first piece I’ve ever written so if anyone sees this be nice pls and thank u

There could be typos/ weird formatting, this was typed entirely on my phone

I also feel the need to say all of my medical knowledge is from Grey’s anatomy and googling things I saw on grey’s anatomy so this is probably not that accurate ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  

Word count: 6,160

Warnings: Car accidents, blood, angst (but with a v happy ending ofc bc sad endings are Not For Me), hospitals/medical stuff, again a very happy ending, I would like to emphasize the happy ending so no one gets scared away from reading this, did I mention there’s a happy ending?

"So, what'd'ya say? Chinese?"

They were deciding where to go for dinner after a long day of touring their favorite art museums. Harry and Y/N had been dating about two years now, and (cheesy as it sounds) they loved each other more and more every day. 

"Chinese sounds great," Y/N smiled, glancing over at Harry. The golden sun reflected off his curls, making him look absolutely angelic. 

He smiled, which turned into a chuckle, which turned into full blown laughter. She was confused. "What is it?" What's so hilariou- eyes on the road!!" 

"Sorry, sorry," he laughed. "Nothing, just- do you-" he breathed slowly, calming down a bit. "Do you remember the first time we had Chinese food? She blushed, laughing with him at the memory. 

Their first date had been... disastrous, to say the least. They had both been nervous, but both trying to act confident. They had decided on a nice, fancy, black tie restaurant, and Y/N was excited. When he picked her up in a limousine, she was hardly unable to contain herself.

However, their plan fell apart almost from the beginning. When they got to the place, a big red sign read "CLOSED FOR REPAIRS"

"Ooook... that's... weird," Y/N had grimaced. "What should we do now?" 

"Uh... we could... try the one a few blocks over? Yeah, that's a good place too, I know the owner. He always has a table for me. That'll work!"

Y/N hasn't quite cared about the wrench thrown into their plans. She really liked Harry so far, and she though he liked her too. So she chirped "Sure! Sounds great."

She hadn't noticed how embarrassed he looked when he opened the car door for her. He couldn't believe his luck! He was finally on a date with a girl he really liked, really wanted to impress, and the best restaurant in town closed with no notice? How could this happen? But he shook it off, climbing in after her and alerting the driver of their change of plans. 

When they got to the next place, Harry immediately got worried. It looked very crowded, and while the owner usually held a table for Harry, it didn't seem so tonight. 

He pulled out his phone.

"Hey, Luke! Yeah, I'm great! Listen, do you by any chance have a table-" He paused, and then his face fell. His voice kept its happy tone, though. "No, no problem at all, I understand. Yeah, for sure, a different night. Thank you!" He hung up, looking more than a little dejected. 

Y/N put a hand on his arm. "It's ok, I promise. I swear I didn't just agree to go out with you for the fancy food. We can go anywhere, 'Im really not upset!" 

"Agh, thank you. You're very sweet. But really, you deserve a fancy place. Only it seems everyone in the world is determined to make sure we don't get to do that," He huffed. "Maybe..." And he pulled out his phone again. He glanced at her curious face. "How do you feel about Chinese?" He asked sheepishly.

  Y/N beamed. "I love it," and there was no trace of insincerity on her face. 

"Right then, Chinese it is!" he found the closest place on his phone, telling the driver the address.

After a few minutes of eating, Y/N looked around the table for a fork. She could handle big foods, like the chicken, with the chopsticks, but definitely not the rice. 

Harry asked what she needed. She was a bit embarrassed to tell him she wasn't good enough with chopsticks to eat her rice, but he was kind about it. He helped show her how to use them without making too big of a mess. Still, she dropped half her plate on a napkin in her lap. 

At the end of their meal, Y/N burst out laughing when she picked up her napkin. Harry looked at her, confused, until she placed what was basically a full serving of rice on the table. He was also unable to contain his laughter, to which Y/N responded by throwing a few grains of rice at him. 

He threw a balled up napkin at her, and she blew a straw wrapper in his face. This escalated until she splashed what was left of her water glass on him. There was stunned silence for a moment, and Y/N thought she went too far. Then he looked at her and burst into laughter. She sighed in relief, laughing with him. "I'm sorry, that was too much," but she couldn't keep the smile off her face at the sight of the water dripping down his face.

"A little water never hurt anyone," he said, his eyes twinkling as he splashed her with his own water. 

Y/N was pulled from the happy memory of their first date when the car skidded on the ice. 

"Careful... if I'd known it was this slippery we'd have found a closer place," she said nervously.

"Nah, we've talked about this, the only good place is the one two towns over. I understand you love Minnesota and all but it is NOT the best place to find good Chinese food," he smirked.

"I will not have this Minnesota slander, not in this house. Maybe you're the issue, with your sophisticated taste and all," Y/N said, laughing at his disgruntled look. "Sophisticated? I took you for Chinese food on our first date. Nothing about that screams "sophisticated" to me." 

"Yeah, but we were dressed VERY fancy. That counts," Y/N laughed. 

"Oh really? that's what makes me sophisticated? alright then, you're right, I'm, extremely-" 

The car slid just a little too far for Y/N's liking. 

"Harry, are you sure it's safe to be driving on this? I think it's getting worse, and- look, it's starting to rain." She checked the weather on her phone. "Yeah, it's at that weird temperature where it's halfway freezing. The road will be worse on the way back." 

"I think we're ok," He reassured her. "The car has 4 wheel drive, and I'll go slow. I think the biggest danger is us not getting our Chinese food," he smiled at her. "Uh, no," Y/N said, rolling her eyes. "I'd say the biggest danger is crashing and dying in a firey car wreck." 

"Always so negative, Y/N," Harry laughed. "We're perfectly fine-" he spoke too soon, because right then the car slid again. A lot, this time. They almost slid right through a stop sign. 

Y/N clutched the armrest. 

"We're almost there, you better not kill me before I get my Chinese food, Styles. I finally know how to eat rice with chopsticks without..." She stopped halfway through her sentence because she was laughing so hard. "Without... dropping all of it on my lap." 

They dissolved into giggles, especially when Harry said, "got any more water to throw at me?" 

The car slid once more, and Y/N felt her pocket nervously. She had bought a ring for Harry. It was nothing too special, but it was the one year anniversary of the first time they had gone to an art museum together. She wanted to commemorate that with something special, so she had gone to the museum gift shop and found the perfect ring. It had a silver band, a little thinner than the rest of his, and a labradorite stone set into it. She thought it would complement his other jewelry nicely. 

She kept her hand on the little box in her pocket, careful not to make Harry suspicious. 

He wasn't looking at her, though; he was completely focused on the road. His hands gripped the wheel hard enough to turn his knuckles white. Y/N felt a little more nervous seeing this. Harry was an excellent driver, and he usually had one hand on the wheel and the other holding hers. He only gripped the wheel this tightly when he felt unsafe driving. 

Y/N looked out at the darkening sky. She was not a fan of storms, especially ones that make the roads icy. Like a true Minnesotan, she knew that under the right circumstances, a bit of rain could make it nearly impossible to drive.

A car sped past them, almost veering into their lane when it went over a particularly icy patch. 

"Harry, really, I don't know if we should keep going," Y/N said nervously.

"I know, but I'm not sure what we should do. I think it's safer to just keep going and hope the rain stops. We're about 10 minutes away, but if we turn around it's almost a 2 hour drive." 

"Yeah... you're right. It's better to just keep going. Just... go slow," Y/N said, biting the inside of her cheek. 

"Stop doing that," Harry chided in a singsong voice. 

"How can you even tell? you weren't even looking at me," Y/N laughed. 

"I know how you are when you're nervous, Y/N. Biting your cheek won't do anything but hurt." 

Y/N smiled. She had never had someone care this much about her. Someone who knew her this well, almost better than she knew herself. She was so hopelessly in love... 

She was so busy thinking about what she would say when she gave him the ring that she didn't hear the horn blaring. She looked up just in time to see the truck driving straight down the middle of the road towards them. 

She could tell instantly the driver of the truck couldn't do anything. He was sliding on the ice like they had before. Harry jerked the wheel to the right, moving the car out of the way. 

It wasn't enough.

Y/N heard a horribly loud crashing noise, and then there was nothing. 

Y/N shot straight up out of the bed she was in, gasping. Someone put their hands on her shoulders, trying to soothe her and get her to lay back down. She pushed the hands away as her vision came into focus. She was in a room filled with people and noise and 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦.

She panicked for a minute before she realized where she was. Clearly an Emergency Room. There were 4 doctors and nurses around her, checking her eyes, ears, reflexes, pulse, breathing. She threw her arms out to try and get some space. One of the nurses caught her hand, holding it in both of hers. 

"Y/N, you're alright. You're in the hospital. You were in a car accident. Do you have any pain? Whe-"

"Harry! Where's Harry?? I need to see him, I have to, I have to go-" She stuttered as she pushed the doctors away from her, trying to get up again.

  The same nurse held her back.

"Y/N, we need to make sure you're ok before you can get up. If you let us help, you'll be able to see Harry sooner. Can you lay back? Do you have any pain?"

  "No, no I'm fine, I'm ok! I need to see Harry, I need to know if he's ok! Please!" Y/N looked frantically around at the doctors, hoping one of them knew something. 

The doctor who appeared to be in charge ordered, "Someone go get an update on the guy they brought in with her. See how he's doing." 

"Thank you, thank you so much," Y/N breathed, finally laying back. 

"There we go. Do you have any pain Y/N?" The nurse asked again. 

"No, I'm totally fine. I'm- " Y/N brushed her hair out of her face. When are brought her arm down, she saw that her hand was covered in blood. "I'm bleeding!" She cried, panicking. 

"It's ok, it's not too bad," one of the doctors said, examining her head. "It looks like it'll need maybe 5 or 6 stitches. We can fix that up right away." 

Y/N closed her eyes. How had this happened? Harry moved the wheel, she knew he did. How had they crashed this badly? 

The doctor who had been sent to check on Harry came back into the room. Y/N snapped her eyes open, looking at her expectantly.

"He is stable. That's the important thing right now. However, he's been pretty badly injured. He broke his femur and clavicle. He has a small brain bleed, and he is covered in cuts from the glass. He's also pretty bruised from the airbag and seatbelt. He is intubated, because he was having some trouble breathing. He might need surgery to repair the brain bleed, but right now they're waiting and hoping it will get better on it's own." 

Y/N exhaled. "But... he's ok? I mean... he's alive?" 

The doctor smiled. "Yes. He's doing ok." 

Y/N finally allowed herself to breathe. She noticed she was crying but she didn't do anything to wipe her tears away. 

"Ok, Y/N," said the doctor stitching up her face. "I'm finished here. You need to stay here for a little while longer so we can monitor you. There is an IV in your arm to keep you hydrated. If you need anything, call for a nurse. Also, and this is important, don't get out of this bed without someone helping you. You've been through a lot today, but the adrenaline is wearing off, which might make you feel shaky. Do you need anything right now?" 

"No, I'm... I'm fine. Thank you," Y/N said, wiping her eyes. 

After he left her bed, she felt her pocket. She breathed a sigh of relief when she felt the ring still there. Then she mentally kicked herself for being worried about a silly ring when Harry was... no. She wouldn't let herself think that. Harry was 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦. They were both alive, and they were both ok.

About an hour later, a nurse came in. After confirming that she felt totally fine, Y/N anxiously asked when she could see Harry. 

"I'm sorry, the ICU is family only," The nurse said. She really did look sorry, but this did nothing to make Y/N feel better. 

"I- I'm his wife!" Y/N said quickly, not even thinking. She most definitely was 𝘯𝘰𝘵 his wife. She wasn't even his fiancee. She slipped the ring from her pocket onto her finger, then held up her hand to the nurse. 

The nurse pretended not to notice the fact that the ring hadn't been there before, and that the ring was easily a size too big. "Oh! Then of course you can see him," She said, helping Y/N off the bed slowly. "I'll take you to his room." 

"Thank you so much," Y/N said, taking her first few steps slowly. 

"Careful- you're still attached to this IV pole," The nurse said, adjusting the tubing so it wasn't in her way. "You can hold onto it for support- yes, just like that." 

Y/N got more nervous with every step towards Harry's room. What would he look like? Would he be in pain? Would he know who she was? Would he... be mad at her? 

When she walked into his room, she almost started crying all over again. He looked, well, awful. He was covered in cuts and bruises. He had several tubes and wires connected to him, as well as a large tube taped in his mouth. He had a cast on his leg and a sling on his arm.

Y/N looked at the nurse who was taking his vitals. 

"How is he?" She asked in a small voice. 

"He's ok for now. He is stable, which is very good. He's unconscious, but we hope to see him wake up soon. You can sit with him, hold his hand, talk to him. If you need anything, just press the call button." 

She left, leaving Y/N and Harry alone. This time, she really did start crying. This was awful, and it was all her fault. She was the one who wanted to go for Chinese food. She was the one who picked today, the first wintery stormy day of the year to go for a long drive. And now.. 

"Harry... Harry I'm so sorry," Y/N said, sniffling. She held onto his hand, the one that wasn't attached to a broken collarbone.  "This is all my fault, and now you're... and I got off with nothing but a cut on my forehead, and it's not fair and I'm so sorry," She let out a sob. 

She continued on like this, crying and talking and crying some more, for a few hours, before she fell asleep in the chair next to him. She woke up around 9 the next morning with a stiff next and puffy eyes. She looked at his face, still covered in bruises, and kissed his hand. The nurse came in to check on him and told Y/N to go get some breakfast, reminding her that she couldn't care for Harry if she didn't care for herself. Y/N reluctantly agreed, going as fast as she could. The nurse had disconnected her IV sometime in the night, and she could move much faster without it. 

She got back to the room with her bagel and resumed her position in the chair right next to Harry. She talked to him as if he was awake, imagining she heard his beautiful voice responding to her. 

She had managed to keep the crying to a minimum today. She kept telling herself that if- no, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 Harry woke up, she didn't want to look like a monster with red eyes. 

Her phone had been found by some paramedics, so she found Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone online and began to read to him. It was a little weird, but Harry loved these books, especially when he was sick.

Y/N was used to just imagining she heard his voice with her in the room, but suddenly she heard something that wasn't her. She gasped. 

"He's choking!! Nurse!!" She yelled for help, frantically pushing the call button. "Help!" 

Several nurses rushed in. One ushered Y/N back and out of the room, telling her to give them space to work. 

"What's- What's happening? What are they doing??" Y/N tried to go back in, but the nurse held her shoulders. 

"He's trying to breathe over the tube, Y/N. That's a very good sign. It means he's breathing on his own," The nurse said, trying to keep Y/N calm. 

"Does- does that mean he's waking up?" Y/N asked, not wanting to get her hopes up. 

"Not for sure, but it's a very good sign."

After a few minutes, the nurses came out of Harry's room, looking excited. "Y/N, he's awake! He's very groggy and can't speak yet, but he is definitely awake. You can go in and sit with him again if you'd like. We gave him some more medicine for the pain, so you have about 15 minutes to talk before he starts going a little..." She made a swirling motion next to her head. 

Y/N didn't care if he was high on morphine. She just cared that he was alive and awake and didn't... hate her. 

Harry was laying in the bed, looking at her with great concern in his tired eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but no noise came out. Y/N rushed over to take his hand. 

"It's ok, they said you might not be able to talk for a little while yet. It's ok, I'm here, it's ok," Y/N said, smoothing his hair. 

Harry cleared his throat, coughing. He gestured toward the water cup on his side table. 

"Oh, of course." Y/N picked up the pitcher and poured him a glass, setting it in his good hand. 

He raised the straw shakily to his lips as   Y/N watched carefully to make sure he didn't spill. She gently lifted the cup out of his hands when he held it up to her.

His small smile was enough to make Y/N cry all over again.

"Oh, Harry," She cried, holding her head in her hands. "It's all my fault. I'm so sorry this happened, I did this to you- you almost died!" 

"W-what?"

Y/N whipped her head up. "You can talk?" She said, overjoyed.

Harry coughed and spoke again. "Of course I can talk." 

His voice was rough and it sounded like it hurt everytime he spoke, but it was the most beautiful thing Y/N had ever heard. 

"What are you talking about, it's all your fault?" He rasped, looking utterly confused. "What even happened?" 

With tears leaking from her eyes, Y/N explained all she knew, which still wasn't much. Harry remembered everything as she told him, both their eyes watering as her voice shook.

"Why... why're you crying? Does your forehead hurt? I can call the nurse..." He reached for the call button.

"No, no, I'm ok," She took his hand in hers. "I'm just so sorry, because it honestly is my fault, I'm the one who wanted Chinese food and picked 𝘵𝘰𝘥𝘢𝘺 of all days to drive 2 hours away and-" 

He cut her off by raising his finger to her lips. 

"It's not your fault... it's mine. I'm the one who convinced you the only good Chinese food is so far away and I'm the one who was driving. I couldn't keep you safe..." 

Harry had never looked so sad. 

"No!" Y/N exclaimed. "Do you not see me right now? I'm absolutely fine, you did keep me safe. You swerved out of the way... wait a minute," She paused, realization hitting her. "You didn't think we could avoid the truck at all, did you? You knew it would hit us either way, but you made sure it would hit as far from me as possible." 

Harry looked down. "I figured you're more important than me, I had to do what I could."

"Harry Styles!" Y/N whisper-yelled. "If you weren't so 𝘪𝘯𝘫𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘥 I would 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘤𝘬 you right now! How could you do that? How could you put yourself in 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 like that?" 

"Oh, that's actually why I got so injured, because I knew you'd try to hit me for this," He smiled charmingly at Y/N. She just scowled. 

"Did you really expect me to just say, "oh well, guess she's a goner! bye Y/N! nice knowin' ya!" No, of course not. Of course I'd put myself in danger for you. Always." 

Y/N's lip trembled. "Why do you have to be so romantic after you do such stupid things? it makes it really hard to stay mad at you," She said, wiping her eyes. 

"Yeah, that was the goal there," He laughed. 

Then he caught sight of the ring on her finger.

"That's pretty, when did you get that?" He mock gasped. "Did you get engaged while I was in a coma?" 

“No," Y/N laughed. "It's funny actually. I bought it from the museum gift shop. I wanted to give it to you as a present, for the anniversary of the first time we went there together. I was going to give it to you over Chinese food, and it was going to be 𝘢𝘸𝘦𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 and 𝘯𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘨𝘪𝘤 and ��𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭." 

Harry smiled. "That's lovely of you, darling. Why... why's it on your finger though?" 

"Oh! right." Y/N sheepishly pulled the ring off her finger. "They wouldn't let me see you because I'm not family, so I threw it on and said we were married," She said, blushing furiously. "Sorry about that." 

Harry smiled. "Why are you sorry?" 

"Um... we're 𝘯𝘰𝘵 married... so... I don't know, I just thought you might think it's weird, or, something..."  Y/N finished lamely. She held the ring out to him. 

"Happy anniversary." 

"Why don't you keep it?" 

"Right, of course, you don't need a reminder of this day," Y/N slipped the ring back into her pocket, on the verge of tears because she messed up 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯.

"No, that's not... I meant, why don't you keep it... on your finger?" 

She pulled the ring out of her pocket again, looking confused. "Why?" 

Harry plucked it out of her hand, holding it up to her. "Because I want you to marry me," He said, slipping it onto her finger with the sweetest smile she had ever seen. 

Y/N smiled at him. "It's ok, Harry, you're very high on all the painkillers right now. I won't hold you to anything you say," She laughed a little. 

"I'm not... why would I be on painkiller... oh yeah," Harry grinned, looking around. "I remember why I'm high right now." 

"Riiight." 

"I might be high, but I still want to marry you," he said is a singsong voice. 

Y/N laughed. "Harry, why don't we talk about this when you're sober, ok?"

Harry pouted. "Please? Please marry me? I love you, and you're so pretty, and you're so nice to animals..." He started crying, apparently at how nice Y/N was to animals. "And... a cat! We can get a cat together!" 

"Harry, baby, don't cry, of course we can get a cat," She gently wiped the tears from his bruised face. 

"I won't stop crying until you say you'll marry me," Harry said defiantly, gripping    Y/N's arm. "Pleeeaaase?" 

"Ok, Harry, yes, I will marry you. Sure. You can stop crying now, ok?" 

"That's good, I'm glad, because you're my favorite person, and I looooove you, and you're my baaaaby..." 

At this point Harry was just singing random words, usually circling back to "baaaaby" and "looooove youuuu". 

Y/N felt happy for the first time in what felt like years, while really it had been less than 24 hours. 

Eventually, he wanted to see the ring again. Y/N held up her hand and he gasped. 

"It's so beautiful! I'll buy you a real one though, a real ring for our real wedding. Then we'll get a real house and have real babies, and a real cat," He said, with the dopiest grin Y/N had ever seen. 

"Oh? We'll have babies, huh? How many babies will we have?" 

"3," He answered quickly. "Two girls and a boy. No... 4. Two of each. That way they won't team up one of them." 

"Oh, sounds like you've thought about this a lot," Y/N laughed.

  "Every single day since we started dating, you know why?" 

"Why?" 

He motioned for her to lean closer.

  "Because I looooove you," He sang in her ear.

She pulled back, kissing his swollen cheek. 

"You're a sweetheart," She said affectionately. 

"So're you," He smiled. 

"I kind of like drugged Harry," Y/N laughed. "He's very cute." 

"Drugged Harry also likes drugged Harry, he feels like he's floating." 

"Oh, so drugged Harry talks about himself in the third person?" 

"He does now!" Harry smiled at her again. "Drugged Harry is tired... he's just going to..." 

Then the monitors started beeping rapidly. Several nurses ran in, bustling around and shouting various medical terminology. Another nurse ushered Y/N out of Harry's room for the second time that day. 

"No! No, I need to stay with him! I can't-"

"Shh... it's alright. They're going to do everything they can to help him. You have to let them help him. Why don't we go to the waiting room?"

Y/N exhaled shakily. If she couldn't stay with Harry, she might as well sit instead of hovering around the corner. 

"Yes, let's go to the waiting room," She said, after a few deep breaths. 

Y/N had been sitting on the waiting room for what felt like an eternity, but a glance at her phone told her it had only been 45 minutes. 

A woman in a surgical gown approached her, and Y/N stood up quickly. "What happened?" She asked immediately.

"Unfortunately, your husband's brain bleed did not resolve itself like we had hoped. He is in surgery, and for right now he's doing well," the surgeon said, looking sympathetic. 

"Ok... why did the monitors freak out? Did his heart stop? Is he going to wake up from surgery?" 

"The monitors went off because his heart was having trouble, but they were able to resuscitate him through CPR and defibrillation. It's too soon to know if he will wake up, but the surgeon is hopeful. I will come back to update you as soon as I can."

"Ok, thank you," Y/N said, sinking back into her chair.

  She felt a pain in her chest, like real, actual pain. What would she do without Harry? How would she live with herself, knowing he died trying to save her? 

She caught a glimpse of the ring on her finger and choked back a sob. Would she tell people she was engaged? No, of course not. Harry had been completely out of his mind when he'd asked her. 

She slumped down in her chair, wanting to curl up and cry. Instead, she called her mom. Through her tears, she explained everything that happened. 

"Oh, honey," Her mom sighed. "I'm so sorry. I'm on my way. I'll be there in about 7 hours, I'm sorry it'll take so long. Do you want to stay on the phone with me?"

  "No, I can't," Y/N sniffled. "I have to call Harry's family."

  "Do you want me to do that? I wouldn't mind, they're-"

"No, mom, thank you, but I should. I- I'm going to go. Love you," Y/N said, hanging up the phone. 

Checking her phone, Y/N realized it was the middle of the night in London where Harry's family lived. She didn't think she should wait, so she called Anne without another thought. 

"Oh, Y/N, I'm so sorry. We're getting the soonest flight. We won't be there until tomorrow morning. Will you be alright alone? Is your mother coming?" 

"Yes, my mom's on her way. I'm ok, thank you," Y/N said, rubbing her eyes. 

After she hung up the phone, it set in just how exhausted she was. She had slept poorly the night before, because of the awkwardness of sleeping in a chair and because she was so, so, worried for Harry.

She drifted into a fitful sleep where she dreamed of cars crashing, rings flying around, and Harry standing just out of her reach. He was like a rainbow, the closer she got to him, the more he faded. 

She startled awake and realized there were tears on her face. She checked her phone, seeing that it had only been 3 hours.  

She saw the same woman from before approaching her, this time wearing just scrubs. 

Y/ N stood to meet her. 

"Harry is out of surgery and doing well. We were able to repair the brain bleed. His heart stopped on the table," Y/N gasped at this, "But we were able to get him back. His ribs will be very sore and possibly even broken. All that aside, he is doing well, Mrs. Styles, and you can see him now," She said, Leading Y/N to the elevator. 

Her breath trembled as they walked towards his room. 

Harry was laying in his bed, looking like a fragile child. Even though he was so much bigger than her, right now he seemed so... small. 

Y/N looked at the nurse, asking to sit with him. She nodded and explained that two of his ribs were fractured and his collarbone would hurt him a lot when he woke up. 

Y/N held his hand with a featherlight touch, unwilling to jostle him even the smallest bit. 

After about an hour of her reading to him, she felt a small movement, barely even noticeable. Was it...?

She felt another movement. This time she was sure of it. He was squeezing her hand.

"I'm here Harry, I'm right here," She soothed,  moving her chair closer to him.

  He groaned sleepily before opening his emerald eyes and looking at her.

  "Hi," he smiled, squeezing her hand again. 

"Hi," Y/N said, crying more than a little bit. 

"What... did... are you ok?" Harry's brow furrowed. He seemed to have a hundred questions, but he settled on asking how she was. 

"Yes, Harry, I'm ok. How do you feel?" 

"Hurts," he said, closing his eyes. "But if you're ok, so am I." 

Y/N kissed his hand. "I see drugged Harry is still here? The one that is 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 cute and sweet?" 

"No, he's not. This is just regular Harry. I can tell because everything 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 hurts," He said with a small grimace.

"Oh, I'll get the nurse. They'll give you something," Y/N started to get up, but Harry's grip on her hand tightened. 

"Wait," he said pulling her back to him. "Before they make me go all loopy, I just want to say-" He paused, looking at the ring on her finger. "I love you, to my fiancee. I think it counts more when I'm not high." 

"Your- your fiancee? Harry, I told you I wouldn't hold you to anything you said before. You weren't in your right mind at all, I didn't even think you'd remember saying all that." 

"Yeah, but I remember asking you to marry me and you said yes. You might not be holding me to anything I said, but I'm holding you to that," He grinned. "You really want to deny a dying man his last... dying... wish?" 

Harry flopped his good arm dramatically over his forehead, wincing at the motion. Y/N helped him slowly lower it again. 

"First of all, you're not dying. Secondly, I don't want you to go through with this because you feel obligated, or because you think I'll be upset if you aren't ready to propose. It's totally fine, I promise, but why don't we talk about this when you're feeling better?" 

"No, I feel fine," He insisted.

Y/N gave him a look. "Really? You do? Aren’t you the one who just needed help moving your arm?" 

"Irrelevant. I feel fine, like, mentally. If you don't think you're ready to be engaged to me, that's ok. But don't say no because you think I didn't mean it. I did, with every part of me. I love you, and I want you to be my wife." 

"...Really?" Y/N asked, cheeks heating up.

"Really," Harry smiled. 

"And according to drugged Harry, you want to have a cat and 4 children." 

Harry laughed, wincing immediately.

"Don't make me laugh, my chest really hurts," He said, still holding her hand. 

"Sorry, sorry, they said you have some broken ribs. Also your collarbone. Also your femur. Geez, Styles, you're kind of a mess," You laughed. 

"Yeah, really," He smiled. "But seriously, will you? Will you be my wife?" 

"Of course I will, Harry. I love you so much, of course I will," Y/N said, gently kissing his cheek. 

"Great," Harry beamed at her. "Now that we've worked that out, can you get the nurse? Drugged Harry is ready to make a comeback." 

"Oh, right, sorry," Y/N said, reaching over for the call button. 

The nurse came in, giving Harry more medicine. 

"You'll start to have some relief within a few minutes," She said, leaving them alone again.  

"One more thing Y/N," Harry said. She could already tell he was a little more relaxed. "I have to get you a ring!" 

Y/N smiled, holding up her hand. "I already have one, remember?" 

Harry waved her hand away. "No, no, a bride can't buy her own ring! What kind of... chivalrous... gentleman... would I be if I didn't buy you a beautiful ring?" 

"Ok, Harry, as soon as you get out of here, we'll go ring shopping," Y/N promised. 

"And... to the cat shelter? You said we could get a cat... a kitty, a cat, a little kitty cat..." 

Harry had started singing mumbled words about cats and love and babies. Y/N knew it was going to be a long night. Still, she had never been happier.

[artificialqueens]

Girls in Love, Chapter 1 (Viopearlax) - Grey Darling

A/N: Hello friends! It's been a while lol. Anyway, here's the first chapter of my new Viopearlax fic, in which useless lesbian Pearl must navigate the perilous landscape of polyamorous romance while trying desperately not to lose it altogether. This is mostly just setting the scene - things are gonna get shippy in the next chapter. Special thanks to @dollalpaca for beta-ing this literal centuries ago. Hope you all enjoy!

“I’m getting married.”

Pearl almost choked on her water. “I’m sorry. You’re what?”

When Scarlet had asked Pearl out to dinner that night, Pearl had assumed it was just for a catch up. She hadn’t seen her little sister for ages, so of course she’d jumped at the opportunity when Scarlet had messaged her that morning. All she’d expected was banter, a good laugh at all the stupid shit they used to do when they were kids; the last thing Pearl anticipated was for her baby sister to tell her she was getting married, while Pearl herself was struggling to get someone to go out with her on more than one date. Wasn’t the older sister supposed to find their soulmate first?

But Scarlet was beaming. “I’m getting married!”

“Since when? Jesus, Scarlet, I didn’t even know you were dating anyone.”

“You so do!” Scarlet retorted, pouting. “You literally met her last year.”

“I did? Who the hell was it?” At this point, Pearl had no idea whether to be angry or just confused. “I mean, seriously, Scarlet, you’re what, twenty? Twenty one? You’ve got shitloads of time before you need to make any big decisions like that. This isn’t the kind of thing you can just decide to do on a whim.”

Scarlet stared down at her half-empty plate, tugging at her bottom lip with her teeth. When she spoke, she was quiet. “I thought you’d be happy for me…”

“I am- I mean- I don’t know.” Pearl slumped back in her chair. “I just… I think you’re a little young, that’s all. Give it a bit longer with this guy, maybe a year or two. If you’re still into him by then, then by all means, tie the knot. But-”

“She isn’t a guy, Pearl. She’s a she.” Clearly upset, she stabbed into a piece of pasta with force. “I thought you knew I liked girls?”

“I do.”

“So why’d you assume she was a guy?”

“I don’t know! I’m not exactly in the greatest headspace right now, Scarlet. Fine, you’re engaged to a girl you barely know-”

“I do know her! And I’m in love with her!”

By now, it felt as though the entire restaurant was staring at them. Pearl shot Scarlet a narrow eyed look. “Can you keep it down?”

“No! I thought you’d be happy for me, but I guess that’s just too fucking much for you. I was gonna ask you to be one of my bridesmaids, but if you’re gonna be such a bitch about it I’ll ask someone else!”

Pearl sighed heavily, squeezing her eyes shut. By the time she opened them again, Scarlet was pushing her chair out from the table, the harsh scraping of wood against wood just making everything feel worse. “Wait, Scarlet-”

“I’m done. Good fucking night.”

Pearl just watched as her little sister stormed out of the restaurant, clearly not intending to pay for their meal judging by the way she breezed past the counter without so much as a glance. Well, this wasn’t how she wanted this meal to end.

Pearl knew she was right. She knew that Scarlet was way too young to be getting married, and she highly doubted Scarlet had known this girl long enough to make a serious commitment. If Pearl couldn’t even guess who this fiance was, it was a bad sign—if something important happened to Scarlet, Pearl was always the first to know about it. Surely if she’d met the girl of her dreams, Pearl would’ve received at least five essay length texts about her by now. But she hadn’t, and that made Pearl incredibly suspicious.

At the same time, she absolutely hated the idea of her little sister being mad at her. From the moment Scarlet was born, she and Pearl were as thick as thieves, and any argument they ever had was always resolved ten minutes later, both of them sobbing and apologising profusely to each other. But somehow, Pearl knew she’d overstepped the line this time, and that it would take a lot longer than ten minutes to win Scarlet’s forgiveness. And frankly, that made her feel sick.

Sighing, Pearl hailed the waiter, deciding that a stiff drink was in order.

***

“She still hasn’t texted you back?”

“Nope.”

“Shit. You must have really pissed her off.”

Pearl groaned, turning around to softly bang her head against the metal surface of Katya’s all American Russian food truck. It was a place Pearl would often go to for wise counsel and sage advice, although often the hardest part was figuring out where Katya had parked the damn thing. Katya herself, who’d been one of Pearl’s best friends since she moved to the city, reached through the window of her truck to pat Pearl on the head.

“There, there.”

Pearl glanced up at her with a glare, not in the mood for half-assed comfort. Katya raised her hands in mock surrender.

“Sorry! What do you want me to say?”

Letting out yet another groan, Pearl turned back around to lean with her back against the truck. “I don’t know. Can you tell me I’m not a massive bitch?”

“Ok. You’re not a massive bitch.”

Somehow, it didn’t sound as comforting as Pearl thought it would. But then again, she’d imagined it coming out of Scarlet’s mouth, not Katya’s. “Thanks, I guess.”

“You’re just a bit of a sour puss today, aren’t you?” Katya started rearranging the various condiments she had adorning the window of the truck, not having much else to do since the lunch rush had come and gone. “Or are you just having an existential crisis?”

“Probably the last one. I just feel conflicted, Kat.”

“Right.”

“I want to feel happy for her, but I’m also worried about her. Does that make sense?”

“Yep.”

“Good. So I’m not going crazy.”

Katya thought for a moment before responding. “I don’t think anyone would think you’re going crazy. You’re worried about your sister getting married when she’s like, still at college. Why wouldn’t you be?”

“But you should’ve seen her last night. She looked like I murdered her puppy or something.”

“I mean, by the sounds of it you did stomp all over her romantic dreams.”

“Oh, fuck off, I did not.”

Katya chuckled, bringing out that bright, toothy grin of hers. It was usually infectious, but not today. Pearl was inoculated with guilt. “Well, would it make you feel better if you met the person she’s getting hitched to?”

“I mean, I’m trying to convince her to meet up with me again, and I’ve told her she can bring her girlfriend - uh, fiance. But she isn’t replying. I’m literally blowing up her phone and getting fuck all in return.”

“Hmm. It’s a tricky one. Maybe she just needs time to cool off?”

“Maybe. I just don’t want to wait - I want to be friends with her again.”

Katya pursed her lips before reaching her hand out. “Gimme your phone, I wanna see what you said.”

“Katya, I’m not giving you my phone.”

“Come on! I wanna see if you’re being apologetic enough.” When it was clear Pearl wasn’t going to relent, Katya pushed harder. “Trix says I’m really great at being a warm and friendly person, y’know. Maybe I could write you a really good apology.”

Pearl shook her head. “That’s not happening.”

“Aw, why not?”

“Because I’ve fucked up enough as it is. I’m not going to be that disingenuous to let someone else apologise for me. If Scarlet finds out about that, it’ll just make things worse.”

“You’ve got a point. Well, I guess you’re just doomed to wait it out.”

“Fuck…”

Just as the curse left her mouth, Pearl’s phone pinged. Katya’s eyes widened as Pearl scrambled to grab her phone out from the pocket of her jeans. It had to be a reply from Scarlet, it couldn’t be anything else. Somehow, she must have subconsciously known how much Pearl was beating herself up over their disastrous dinner the night before and felt the need to text her and reconcile. That was how the universe worked, right?

Pearl grabbed her phone, Katya leaning out of the window so she could see the screen. Almost nervous, Pearl tapped on the home button, lighting up the screen and revealing the text she was so desperate to see.

SHEA: Can you fill in for my shift tonight? Not feeling too hot. Thanks!!

*** Being the good friend that she was, Pearl did fill in for Shea’s shift that night. No, spending an extra seven hours at the dodgy bar she worked at wasn’t exactly what Pearl wanted to be doing, but at the very least it would take her mind off of Scarlet.

Or at least, she thought it would.

No matter how many cluttered trays of drinks she was made to serve, she kept on replaying her and Scarlet’s argument in her head again and again, the sense of guilt almost too much for her. Every single female customer she served had her wondering - is that the girl my sister’s getting married to? She knew it was a ridiculous thought. Scarlet would rather die than spend a second with the lowlifes that frequented the bar, but that didn’t stop Pearl from worrying about it.

Maybe she should’ve just been a good sister and supported Scarlet’s idea to get married. It wouldn’t have been that hard, right? She didn’t have to go all responsible, killjoy big sister on her and crush her romantic dreams. Scarlet was old enough to make her own mistakes, right? And who even knew whether or not this marriage would be a mistake? Maybe Pearl was just being paranoid?

These were the kind of thoughts that plagued her the entire night. She’d arrived at work at 8pm, all decked out in her skanky waitress uniform, hoping that work would take her mind off of her current crisis. But there she was, three hours later, hiding out in the break room because she just couldn’t calm down about it. Did that make her a bad worker? Yes - her break wasn’t for another hour. But she’d be no good to anyone if she spilled a tray of drinks all over a customer because she was too distracted by the image of Scarlet crying her eyes out to look where she was going.

Scrolling through all the text messages she’d sent to Scarlet, Pearl began to second guess what she thought had been perfectly acceptable apologies.

PEARL: I’m sorry about last night. Can we meet up and talk about it?

PEARL: I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m just worried. Sorry again - let me know if you’re free to meet up?

PEARL: I’m sorry, Scarlet. Please text back.

PEARL: I could shout dinner? We could get Indian takeout and talk this over. Like adults.

PEARL: You could bring your girlfriend? I want to meet her.

PEARL: Sorry. I was a bitch last night. Please text me back?

And still no reply. Maybe Pearl would be able to get by on the theory that Scarlet had lost her phone, or was out of credit or something. But she didn’t believe any of that for a second - she knew perfectly well Scarlet was pissed at her and not answering her texts for that very reason. It was silly to try and assume otherwise.

“Pearl? Pearl, where the- Oh my god, could you please go back upstairs?” Pearl looked up as one of the other waitresses poked her head into the break room, her full lips shaped into a defined frown. “We’re dying out there, there’s so many people.”

“Sorry, Aja, I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

“Yeah, and I’m probably gonna get my assed handed to me by dozens of impatient customers. Get your ass up here already!” With that, Aja was gone, her summons impossible to ignore.

Sighing, Pearl quickly checked her makeup in the mirror, straightened her dress, and stepped back out into the bar.

***

It should be illegal to make people work past two am. Pearl trudged into her tiny, cupboard sized apartment, head pounding from an unpleasant mix of not enough water and not enough sleep. At the very least, her daydreams (nightdreams?) about her bed and a nice, cool glass of water had distracted her from the Scarlet issue. So that was a small blessing.

Pearl flicked the light on as she arrived, wincing as the brightness made her headache even worse. She didn’t hate her apartment - it was tiny and under heated, sure, but there was space for a bed, a little kitchenette, a small bathroom off to the side, and her favourite bean bag chair. Plus, it had an amazing view of the city, something Pearl wasn’t planning on complaining about. Her artistic sensibilities had told her that if she didn’t get that view, she’d never forgive herself. She had to constantly remind herself about how great the view was when she was freezing her ass off in winter and would kill for a well heated apartment.

Making a beeline for the kitchenette, Pearl turned on the tap and poured herself a glass of water. It felt like magic as the water passed through her lips; the sticky, dry feeling in her throat vanishing in an instant. It even made her head feel a little better, although the brightness of the light cancelled out any progress on remedying it completely. You win some, you lose some, Pearl supposed.

After a second glass of water, Pearl didn’t even bother getting out of her uniform before collapsing into bed, dragging the duvet covers up to her chin and snuggling down into comfort. She was more than ready to drift off when she realised that she still needed to plug her phone in to charge. So, without making any effort to get out of bed, Pearl reached for her bag and pulled it towards her, digging her phone out from amongst the other items that cluttered it - wallet, pack of tissues, a worrying amount of receipts from Katya’s food truck. It was as she stuck the charger into her phone that the screen lit up, revealing a notification that made Pearl’s heart skip a beat.

It was a text from Scarlet.

Thoroughly jolted awake, Pearl scrambled to sit up and open the text, her thumbs impatiently tapping the screen as she waited for it to open. She bit her lip once it did, her wide eyes reading the text with more concentration than she’d ever read anything before.

SCARLET: Starbucks at 12. I’m bringing Yvie.

[lumiolivier]

The Good Old Days Chapter Four:  I Quit!

ICYMI:  Chapter Three:  Abuela’s Food Truck

A/N:  Hi, friends!  Here we are.  Another day.  Another week.  Another chapter.  And this one is 100% turning point.  And it’s beautiful.  So, as always...Feedback is appreciated.  A like...A reblog.  Just a little something, something so I know this isn’t a waste of time?  Please?  K, bye! x

Later that night, it was that time again.  Time to walk into the fire.  We could manage.  If all else fails, I’m sure there’s a cool guy willing to buy us drinks again.  But since there’s money in our bank accounts again, we could probably stand to buy our own.  Regardless, it was yet another night at the salt mines.  And a little positivity could go a long way.  If we go into this pissed off and bitter, people are going to pick up on that.  And I don’t need to bring that kind of energy.  I didn’t hate all of the staff.  Most of them weren’t exactly on my good side, but not all of them were terrible.  

 Then, I got to my first table of the night.  And they weren’t assholes.  I’ll take that as a win.  My next table?  Not miserable.  Ok. Things are starting to look up. But then…Toward the end of my shift. There they were.  Again.  They came back.  And they were in my section.  Fan…fucking…Tastic.  Still, I slapped on that fake ass smile they wanted to see.  Because god forbid I come off like I’m pissed off to see them.  Of course not.  Of course I’m happy to see you.  Because you coming in here means I get paid.  That correlation fucking sucked.

 “Oh…” she got one look at me and instantly turned her nose up.  Awesome, “It’s you.”

 “It’s me,” I confirmed, “Welcome back, ma’am.  How may I help you?”

 “Can you find me a new waiter?” she scoffed, “One that’s a little more competent than you?”

 “I am competent, ma’am,” I kept my cool.  Don’t let her piss me off.  Don’t let her piss me off.  Don’t let her piss me off.

 “If last night was any evidence of that,” she rolled her eyes, “I wouldn’t say so.  If you were in one of my restaurants, I wouldn’t have hired you in the first place.”

 “I’m sorry.” That you ever crawled out of the primordial ooze, “Now, other than a new waiter, how may I…?”

 “I want a new waiter.”

 Santa Maria, Madre de Dios.  Ruega por nosotros pecadores.  Ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerté.  Amén, “You were seated in my section, ma’am.  I’m sorry, but I can’t get you a new waiter.”

 “Then, we’re leaving.” Good fucking riddance.  She says she’s leaving, but she didn’t even move.  I wasn’t stopping her.  If that’s the case, then what the hell was she doing?  Other than terribly bluffing.

 Then, as if the night couldn’t have gone further downhill, my manager came over, “Is there a problem here?”

 “I want a new waiter,” the woman stood her ground, “I don’t care where I’m seated. I want a new waiter.”

 “Of course, ma’am.” Spineless prick, “Frankie, can I see you for a moment?”

 “Sure,” I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.  I followed him into the kitchen.  Oh, shit.  This can’t be good, “What’s up?”

 “This is the second night in a row I’ve gotten complaints about you.” Taking me over his knee in front of everyone would’ve been less demeaning, “And from the same person!”

 “She’s a prime example of the customer not always being right,” I bit the inside of my cheek in attempts to not blow right the fuck up about her.

 “That’s not part of our job, Frankie,” the manager scolded me, “Our job is to keep them happy and keep them coming back.”

 “It’s not part of our job to become their best friend,” I grumbled.  

 “If it was,” he went on, “I would’ve fired you by now.”

 “Look,” I swallowed my pride, “I need this job.  Don’t let this one customer be the deciding factor.”

 “You got one more chance, Frankie,” he sighed out, “If I hear one more peep out of that woman because of you, you’re on your ass.  I don’t care how bad you need this job.  I want you to buddy up to her like your life depends on it.  Because by the sounds of it, it does.”

 In that moment, I wasn’t sure what snapped in my brain, but when I opened my mouth again, what I intended to say was some sort of empty apology and to go back out there. However, that wasn’t the case, “I quit.”

 “What?”

 “I quit,” I spoke a little firmer.  That felt kind of good.  I untied my apron and dropped it in his hand, “I fucking quit.”

 “I thought you said you needed this job.”

 “I thought I did,” I beamed, “But I don’t.  It sounds like you need me more than I need you.  I fucking quit!  I don’t have to stay and deal with this bullshit anymore.  Fuck her.  Fuck you. Fuck everyone here I don’t share blood with.  Later, bitches!”

 And just like that, I walked out.  I was done. My last shift was over.  And I was done.  I had a feeling that if I were to come within a hundred feet of this place ever again, it’s going to be a police escort off the property.  I didn’t care anymore.  I was done.  I didn’t have to deal with the bullshit anymore.  I was free.  When I slipped into the alley to wait for César and Tony to finish up for the night, I put a quarter in the payphone outside and pulled out that business card.

 “Hello?”

 “You gave me your number, Old Man,” I couldn’t wipe the fucking smile off my face if I wanted to, “The least I could do is call, so you’re not waiting for the phone to ring.”

 “Frankie!” he chimed on the other end.  Oh, that just put a good feeling back in my heart.  The only thing that would make it any better would be if Abuela’s truck came by. But this would do, “How you doing, kid?”

 “I’m in,” I told him, “I’m so fucking in.”

 The other end was quiet for a minute.  Ok…Good feeling slowly going away.  Say something, Old Man.  You told me to call you when I was ready.  Just fucking say something, “And your brothers?”

 “Not sure about them yet,” I admitted, “But I know I’m in.  And…Uh…Before I’m completely in…”

 “What is it, Frankie?” he worried, “Everything alright?”

 “Everything’s fine,” I wasn’t sure how true that statement was.  I did just quit my job.  Out of pure anger and a snap decision.  But I also had this in my back pocket, “Are you busy tomorrow night?”

 “Can’t say I am,” the Old Man told me, “Why?”

 “My…” This was going to sound so stupid.  But whatever it takes, “My mother wants to have you over for dinner.”

 “That’s not a problem,” he allowed, “What time should I be there?”

 Holy shit. I wasn’t expecting that to go over so well, “Uh…Eight o’clock?”

 “I can do eight o’clock,” the Old Man confirmed, “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

 “Ok,” I nodded, “See you tomorrow night.”

 Slowly, but surely, I hung up the phone.  What the fuck just happened?  Hold on, Frankie.  Back track here.  One minute, you were dealing with the woman with the stick in her ass.  She wanted a new waiter and you weren’t having it. Mostly just to piss her off because you’re occasionally petty.  Then, your manager pissed you off even more.  You quit your job because of you being pissed off.  You called the Old Man.  And…Now, you’re having dinner with him and Mama tomorrow night.  My head hurts.  I needed painkillers.  And a lot of them.  We’ll start with aspirin and work our way up to morphine.

 “Hey, Frankie?” César came out first, “You alright, hermanito?  You seem like you’re about to kill someone.  Or like you’ve seen a ghost.”

 “A little bit of both actually,” I sat on the back steps, “Watch your asses in there. I just quit.”

 “Are you serious?” he gasped, “Frankie, why would you do that?”

 “I wasn’t dealing with it anymore,” I did all I could to keep myself from crying, “Fuck this place, César.  I’d love nothing more than to watch it burn to the ground, but I don’t have to deal with it anymore.  It was either I quit or I get fired because of the same woman that was trying to get me fired last night.  And I’ll be damned if I let her get the satisfaction.  I called the Old Man.  Everything should be fine.  He’s coming for dinner tomorrow night.”

 “So Mama can meet him,” César figured, “Did you tell him you’d take the job?”

 “I don’t have much of a choice now,” I shrugged, “It’s either unemployment or employment.  I don’t know about you, but I got a good feeling about taking the job with the Old Man.”

 “We’ll see what Mama has to say about him.”

 “The hell are you two doing out here?” Tony joined us, throwing on his jacket.

 “Waiting on your slow ass to get out here,” I jabbed.

 “Are you alright, Frankie?” he wondered, “I heard people say you were blowing up on the manager and that you walked out.”

 “I quit,” I filled him in, “I got something better lined up anyway.”

 “The Old Man?”

 “Hope so.”

 Just like any other night, the three of us hopped the subway and headed home.  I’m not going to miss this.  Not in the least bit.  If the Old Man lets me work in the Narrows, I’d be spitting distance from home. No more subways.  No more buses.  No more public transit.  I wonder if the Old Man would let me take his town car every now and then.  That’d be pretty cool, too.  Now, I just needed to tell Mama we were having company tomorrow night.  

 “Mama?” I went in first and did a quick look around, “We’re home.  And on time.”

 “Welcome home, mijos,” Mama greeted us from the living room, “Cómo te fué en el trabajo?”

 “Long,” Tony threw himself into the armchair.

 “Tiring,” César took the other end of the couch.

 “It’s funny you ask, Mama,” I bit the inside of my cheek, “Do you remember me telling you about the man from the restaurant?  The one we had drinks with last night that wanted to help us?”

 “Si.”

 “I talked to him tonight,” I went on, “Is it alright that he’s coming for dinner tomorrow night?”

 “That’s fine,” she allowed, “I’m glad you took my advice, Francisco.  I’m glad one of you listen to me.”

 “We listen to you, too, Mama!” Tony whined.

 “Antonio,” Mama hushed him, “I know you do.  But sometimes, tu hermanito listens a little better.  Isn’t that right, mijo?”

 “I do what I can,” I kissed her cheek, “I’m going to head to bed, ok, Mama?”

 “Ok,” her hand immediately went to my forehead, “You’re not getting sick, are you, Francisco?”

 “I’m alright,” I assured her.  I knew better than to tell her not to worry.  She’d beat me senseless for saying something so stupid.  But I digress, “Good night.”

 “Good night…”

 Today really did kick my ass.  And it went by in a blur.  I still had a hard time believing I quit the restaurant.  I didn’t realize it’d be that easy.  Fortunately, I had something else lined up.  As long as Mama liked the Old Man, I’d be golden.  If she didn’t…Well…What Mama doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?  And as long as he came through on our deal.  Tomorrow couldn’t get here fast enough.  So, I shut my eyes and hoped for the best.

 The next morning, I got up bright and early.  I knew Mama would be up, too.  She didn’t have to work today, so we had all day to do as we pleased. Although, I knew I’d have to break the news that I don’t have a job anymore to her eventually today.  She’ll start to wonder why Tony and César are going to work, but I’m sticking around home.  There’s no way I took tonight off just because the Old Man was coming to dinner. She might kill me for it, but I’m sure the new job will be much better than the old one.

 I looked over at my brothers’ beds and sure enough, they were still sleeping like babies. Aww…Every part of me was wanting to wake their asses up, but they had a long shift to put in tonight without me. Instead, I covered them both up a little better and quietly closed the door on my way out.  And they seem to think I’m the one that needs to be looked after.  Sometimes, I do, but nine times out of ten, these two would both be dead without me. I seem to remember a time when I had to stop Tony from walking into oncoming traffic.  Regardless, I walked into the kitchen and found Mama already at the stove.  I love her.

 “Buenos dias, Mama,” I kissed her cheek and got the coffee pot going.  

 “Buenos dias,” she gasped, “You’re up early, Francisco.  I would’ve thought you’d sleep until at least noon.”

 “Guess I’m just up early,” I shrugged, peeking over her shoulder, “What do you have going on?”

 “You said we were expecting company tonight,” Mama reminded me, “I thought I’d get an early start.”

 “You wouldn’t want a little help, would you?” I offered.  It didn’t matter what age I was.  Cooking was one of those things that always came naturally to me. Why?  I don’t know.  But I didn’t care.  Because I could still cook like a dream.  That’s something that would never go away.  And Mama knew that.

 “I’d love a little help,” she allowed, “While you and your brothers were shopping yesterday, I should’ve had you get some rice.  We’re completely out.”

 “Really?” That never happened.  Ever.

 “Nothing,” Mama showed me the end of the big ass bag of rice.  With no rice in it.

 “I’ll go get you some, if you need it.”

 “No, no,” she stopped me, “I’ll go get.  You stay here and keep an eye on things.  Make sure nothing burns.”

 “Got it,” I let her go off to the store and stayed behind to watch all the pots boil. Oh, Mama…You overdid.  I mean, I understand you want to go all out with your cooking when we have people coming over, but you didn’t need to go this hard. Bless this woman.  May no misfortune ever befall her.

 By the looks of it, she’s got churro dough started.  Muy bien, Mama.  Muchas gracias.  I know what I’m having for breakfast.  All it needed was to be piped.  The oil was hot enough.  Why not? I scooped the dough into a piping bag and started squeezing the dough into the oil.  Sweet Jesus…There were few things as satisfying as the first churro in the oil.  And Mama’s churros rarely disappointed.  She had something secret in the dough and she’d take that secret to the grave with her. Even I didn’t know it and I knew all of Mama’s cooking tricks.  Her churro recipe, though?  Way too coveted.

 “Buenos dias, hermanito,” César stumbled into the kitchen, still half asleep and admiring the small accumulation of churros cooling off to the side, “Hell yeah, Mama made churros.”

 Just as he went to reach for one, I immediately slapped the back of his hand, “No.”

 “Ow!” he nursed his hand, “What the fuck, Frankie?  You still have a whole fucking bag of dough yet.”

 “You know damn well Mama knows exactly how many this dough is going to make,” I shoved my finger in his face, “If one goes missing, she’s going to be pissed.  Do you want to throw off Mama’s rhythm?”

 “God no…”

 “Alright then,” I went back to making churros, “Besides, those are still probably pretty hot.  They just came out of the oil a couple minutes ago.”

 “Speaking of Mama,” César sat down at the kitchen table, “Where is she?  There’s no way in hell she’s still in bed.”

 “She had to make a grocery store run,” I told him, “Apparently, we were out of rice and no one knew it, so she went to get some.”

 “Oh, I can’t wait to come home from work tonight,” César swooned, “The best part about us having company.  Mama cooks. And cooks more than what the four of us could possibly eat.  We eat like kings for the next week.”

 “Or your lazy ass learns to cook,” I teased him a bit.

 “Why would I do that,” he retaliated, “when you’d do all the cooking for me anyway?”

 “Because you wouldn’t do it right,” I rolled my eyes.  Both Mama and I had a thing when it came to the kitchen.  No one dares use it other than us, “I wouldn’t trust you ten feet in front of a microwave, let alone actually attempt cooking.”

 “Thanks, Frankie,” César made his coffee, “Love you, too.”

 “If I didn’t love you,” I argued, “Would I be doing this?  Would I have beaten you for the sake of you not burning yourself on churros?”

 “Valid point,” he gave me an appreciative nod.

 “Good morning…” And there’s the other one.  I was wondering how long it would take them to wake up once Mama started cooking.

 “Morning, Tony,” I grabbed a cup for him from the cabinet and handed it off.

 “Bless you.”

 “I do what I can,” I went back to the churros on the stove.  Mama always said to keep cooking them until they float.  Then, take them out of the oil.

 Oh, tonight was going to be a night.  I could feel it already.  My bones wouldn’t lie to me.

[alicescripts]

Live show: Los Angeles, California

On October 30, we are releasing the Alice Isn’t Dead novel, a complete reimagining of the story from the ground up. It is a standalone thriller novel for anyone looking for a scary page-turner, whether they’ve heard this podcast or not. Available for preorder now. And preordering helps authors out tremendously, so please consider it. Thanks so much!

Hi, this is Joseph Fink. What you’re about to hear is the live Alice Isn’t Dead performance at the Largo in Los Angeles on April 5, 2018. This live episode was not any material from the podcast, but instead was a standalone show focused on the weird and interesting sites and places of LA. It was an incredible night, and thank you to those who came out to see it. Enjoy the show.

--

Oh. I’m sorry, I uh, I didn’t expect um, I-I didn’t know that anybody would be listening. [clears throat] OK. Um, when you tell a story, you should expect an audience but sometimes I don’t think about that. I just tell the story the same way I breathe, just move life in an out of my body.  I suppose you could listen if you want.

My name is Keisha. I’m a truck driver. It’s weird isn’t it the-the way say our jobs as though they were an identity rather than a thing we do for money. I mean do you think that outside of capitalism we’d confuse our self image with what pays the bills? [chuckles] Sorry. I-I got away from myself. Story not polemic, right.

I became a truck driver because, well, that-that’s a long one. I thought my wife alice was dead. But she isn’t dead. And she’s out there somewhere on the highways and back roads, and I’m trying to find her. Just driving my truck around and around looking for her. That’s who I am really. I am the one that looks for Alice. And Alice is the one who isn’t dead, but isn’t here.

I was in Los Angeles. All downtowns are the same downtown, they are landscapes built for the facilitation of money and business without thought to he human experience. And we are tiny to these monuments and that we are allowed to pass among them is a privilege, not a right. Still each downtown bears some mark of its city. The LA downtown, despite surface similarities, could not be mistaken for New York or Chicago, it’s too eclectic. It’s too strange in its architecture. LA is, is much more than movies but – movies infuse everything because movies are the only history the city will acknowledge. The history of the indigenous people, the history of the Latino people, these are set aside. The city looked at all the people that had already come and thought, ah! A blank slate! And so they did not draw from the Gabrielino or the Chumash or even the Spanish in their missions, they drew from the movies. From the foundational idea that LA could and should be anywhere in the world. So the style of LA is every style, each house and each neighborhood built in wildly different ways. It’s art deco and Spanish stucco and mid-century modern.

In Brand Park, out in Glendale, there’s this enormous house turned public library that is less actual Middle Eastern and more movie Middle Eastern, built by the wealthy white man whose garden that park once was. There’s nowhere in LA that feels stylistically of one piece, and it is that incoherence that provides the coherence of the city.

You see, I’ve come to town on your word, Alice. Only it wasn’t your word direct of course just – whispers through a network of safe houses and gatekeepers, those living on the fringe of society who can be trusted with the kinds of messages we send back and forth. But who knows how the messages mutate mouth to mouth? But still, even through this mutilation of intent, I can hear your voice, like a heartbeat, your skin and bone.

It’s Tanya in Omaha, a friend of the cause, who reaches out to me on my radio to finally lay your words to rest. There’s a meeting in Los Angeles, you’ve heard. You don’t know the exact nature and purpose of this meeting, no one seems to, but the word is that it’s a meeting of those at the heart of it, the ones that are making the real choices, that shape every decision that we think we freely make. So I’ve come to town to find that meeting. I will find this meeting and then… shit, I don’t know. And then I will decide what to do next.

I’m faced with a mystery that’s so much bigger than myself that it sits like an uneven weight in my chest. I feel off balance, so I take comfort in smaller mysteries, ones that don’t matter at all. In Pico-Robertson, a five minute walk from six different synagogues, and a celebrity chef kosher Mexican restaurant called Mexikosher, is a strange synagogue with no windows. The architecture is unmistakable. Modern LA Jewish has a certain look and this place has it, right down to the arches designed to look like the two tablets of the Commandments. Except this synagogue is several stories tall, and with no visible entrance.

What does it mean to blend in? What-what does it mean to, to disguise, what does it mean to stick out? These are intrinsically Jewish questions. A people that has, throughout over a thousand years of oppression, variously done all three. And this way too the building is very Jewish. Of course it is not a synagogue. It is, in fact, 40 oil wells hidden inside a soundproofed structure designed to look like a synagogue. And it is not the only one, just five minutes down the road is an office building with no doors and no windows, that one is 50 wells.

The machinery of our system is not hidden below us, it is disguised among us. Rocks that are actually utility boxes, trees that are cell towers. That vacant house that we walk by day after day, the one with the opaque windows? Actually a maintenance entrance for the metro.

Which buildings are real and which ones are disguises? It doesn’t matter, I suppose. But that’s what makes me enjoy considering it.

Sylvia’s here too. She’s really come a long way from the teenage runaway I first discovered on the side of a highway. Did you tell her about the secret meeting, Alice? She is both more vulnerable and far braver than either of us, did you send her to this place? [sighs] We reunited on one of the vacant cul-de-sacs near LAX, where neighborhoods that had once been an airport’s buffer zone were now demolished.

“Heya,” Sylvia said, as though we were meeting at the continental breakfast at a hotel, not on a dark empty street after months of not seeing each other. “Hey yourself,” I said. “Why did you come?” She shrugged, performed nonchalance. “Same reason as you, I guess.”

Well then I guess neither of us knew. Because I had no idea why I was there, I didn’t even knew who was meeting in this town, let’s start with that. OK what what organization, what secret brotherhood, what ancient cabal that influences world events is now sitting around the table in some sterile backroom in this sunny, thirsty city?

I could have asked Sylvia what she knew about it, but I didn’t. I felt like I would be following a script you gave to me, Alice, and I am not interested in your dictating my actions. So instead I asked her: “How you been?” And she took a long slow breath that was more answer than words could ever be. “[sighs] I’ve been good,” she said. “You know, trying my best, finding places to sleep, finding a friendly face on the other side of a meal.” She shrugged. “I guess it’s the same struggle for everyone. But those of us who live on the road, everything is amplified, you know?” I do know. Goddammit, I know.

I wasn’t even sure where in the region this meeting might be held. So I drove out east to the desert where the mountains looked like set backdrops, unreal and perfect, taking up half the sky. Palm Springs, the town killed by cheap plane tickets. Why drive two hours from the city for the weekend, when it’s possible to weekend in Honolulu or Costa Rica instead? Then, having died, Palm Springs hung on just long enough for everything dated about it to become vintage cool. Now it’s back, a mid-century modern paradise of steel beams and rock walls and that style of beautiful, but featureless wooden security fence that only exists in Southern California. Old motels not updated since the heyday of the 50’s now are converted to hip resorts with (farmed) table food and upscale tiki bars. The city is an Instagram feed. Which is both snark and compliment, because it is a genuinely beautiful place.

I wondered the town, feeling that there was something worth finding there, but unsure where it would be hidden. I visited Elvis’ Honeymoon Hideaway, a garish airplane of a house with giant wings of a roof looming at the end of a cul-de-sac, providing kitsch to the dwindling population of Elvis enthusiasts.

That house was built on sale for 9 million a few years back and is now reduced to an easy 4, so make those owners an offer and you too could own a house that is listed as a historical site. A place where Elvis had sex a few times. It probably doesn’t have a dishwasher, though, so… Just south of Cathedral City, I saw a sign that looked familiar. It’s this huge neon pink elephant, mouth wide in mid-laugh, splashing herself. A pink elephant carwash. The sign has a twin sister in Seattle, that one is famous. It was weird running into her in the desert too. It was like driving through the suburbs and suddenly finding out that 150 years ago, they also built an Eiffel tower in Pomona.

I stopped the car and I just gawked up at her. It made me so happy. And then, looking down from the sign, the horror came to me. I saw someone walking towards me with a shuffle that I recognized. Like their legs had no muscle or bone but were heavy sacks of meat attached to their body. One dead leg thrust forward after another, and as the man came close, he looked up and I went from dread suspicion to horrible certainty.

He’s one of those creatures that I call Thistle men. Sagging human faces hung limply on skulls that are the wrong shape. Yellow teeth, yellow eyes. They are serial murderers hunting the back roads of our highway systems, and one of them was here.

He made eye contact with me. He laughed, a sound like hanging knives clattering together. And then he was gone. The neon elephant’s face no longer seemed friendly. I mean it, too, seemed to be laughing.

Sylvia and I, we split up for the day. We just watched the traffic and people, looking for suspicious crowds, folks that don’t fit in with the tourists and the beautiful people working as baristas just for now. Of course we don’t know what those suspicious crowds would even look like. Grey men in grey suits going greyly about the tedious business of running the world? Or, like the Thistle men, monsters of hideous aspect?

I reached out to my friend Lynn who works as a dispatcher at my trucking company. She and I became friends soon after I started. She doesn’t take shit, I don’t give shit, we get along that way. “Any unusual moments in Los Angeles?” I said. “Strange shipments, unsual routings, anything?” “You know I can’t tell you that,” she said. “What if I said please?” I said. She snorted into the phone. [chuckles] “In that case, sure,” she said. “I always like you when I’m polite, let me see what I can find.”

Sylvia and I saw nothing of note that day. We ate together at a Korean barbeque place built into the dome of what had once been a restaurant shaped like a hat. “This is nice,” she said towards the end of the dinner. It was, it really was.

You know, a city is defined by its people but it’s haunted by its ruins. There are no cities without vacant lots, the skeletons of buildings, ample evidence of disaster and failure. Our eyes slide past them because they tell a different story about our city than the one we wanna hear. A story in which all of this could slip away in a moment. Even though we know this fact is true, even more for Los Angeles than most cities. This city will some day be shaken to the ground, or burned, or covered over with mud, or drowned by the rising sea or strangled by draught. The question is, as it is for each of us in our personal lives, not if it will die but how.

I like to go and look at these broken places where the refuse of recent history shows. It allows me to look at a region differently, maybe see what I was missing. And if a secret meeting was gonna be hidden here, where but in the cracks? So I peer in. I search.

Above the Pacific Coast highway in the hills of Malibu that are so beautiful when they aren’t falling or burning, is what remains of a house. That house was a mansion built in the 50’s and burned in the 80’s when its location finally caught up to it. There’s now a popular hike that goes right into the ruins, so any walker can go see this place where people lived as recently as 30 years ago. A ruin shouldn’t be so new. A Roman home destroyed by a volcano, well OK you know. A medieval castle, sure. Even an old stone settler’s hut, 100 years old, alright, OK that make sense. But a house that once held a television and a shower? It feels wrong to walk on the foundation, stepping over the bases of walls and around the chimney. It was a home not so long ago, and now it is transformed. Transformation is uncomfortable, and easily mistaken for an ending.

In Griffith Park, I met with Sylvia in the old zoo. All the animal enclosures are still there, and you can sit in them and look at where once caged animals lived, and now wild animals are free to come and go.

Sylvia and I sat in the artificial caves, trying to imagine what the purpose of this secret meeting was. Sure, generally the word was out that it was a meeting of those in control in order to further control us, but specifics were, as they often are, lacking. Sylvia asked me: “Do you feel like this story is too convenient?” And I had no way to respond but nodding. “But we still have to look for it, right?” she said. And I nodded again.

As the sun moved behind the hills, it got very cold. She said, “Yeah”. And I said, “Yeah.” And neither one of us meant it.

Gentrification comes for us all. Let’s leave aside for a moment the many issues of endangered communities and rocketing prices, and consider just two cases of what people will look past to get access to LA property. December 6, 1959, in the hills just below Griffith Park, a doctor lived with his wife in a mansion with an incredible view. The Christmas tree was up for the season, wrapped gifts underneath. At 4:30 in the morning, the doctor got out of bed, retrieved a ball-peen hammer and murdered his wife with it. Then he attacked his daughter, though she survived. And then he took a handful of pills and was dead by the time police arrived.

That house stood empty ever since, still filled with the family’s things: the furniture, the tree, wrapped gifts underneath. A prime house in a prime LA area, but who would live in a house where such horror had happened? For 60 years, no one. Well, the house sold for 2.2 million last year. A view of the city, just above those (-) [0:21:06]. Well at this point, who wouldn’t take some hauntings and a terrible bloody past for that?

Meanwhile the Cecil Hotel in Hollywood, site of an inordinate number of murders and suicides, where the Night Stalker lived in the 80’s while causing terror across the region, where just a few years back, a body floated in the water tank for days before being discovered, is now the boutique Stay on Main. A rebranding for this rebranded city. Even our murders are getting gentrified.

Maybe it’s me. I don’t know, maybe I just don’t like change. Change is often wonderful. But we should definitely think hard about what we are changing into, and what that change might mean. We should just spend a little time thinking about that.

[long break]

Still searching for this meeting. I went up the coast, over the Grade and down toward Axnard, not as cool as Ventura or as rich as Camarillo. Oxnard gets by. As I waited to hear from Lynn, I walked on Silver Strand, just watching the surfers. Many, even now in the winter. Nothing will keep them out of those frigid Alaskan currents. I headed south to Channel Island harbor. It was absolutely peaceful on its shore. The ocean is chattering and restless, the harbor sleeps. It does not stir except to send crumbling waves in the wake of the few boats in and out.

During my walk, I saw a rowboat. Old, practically falling apart. Something about the occupants of the rowboat made me look closer. Stooped figures in awkward postures that looked painful. One of them turned to face me, though the boat was 60 feet offshore, and even at that distance, I could see. Two Thistle men, floating in a rowboat in the (Sound).

“Ooooooooooooooooo,” one of them shouted at me in a gentle high-pitched voice. “Ffffffffffffffffffffffffffff.” There was something that looked a lot like a human arm poking out over the rim of the rowboat.

I returned to my truck. Not everything is my problem.

Worship is a feeling so all-encompassing that it can be easy to misunderstand from outside. Take the worship of Santa Muerte, a Mexican (folk) saint of death, likely a legacy of pre-Colombian devotion, dressed in the clothes of the colonizing religion. The church has spent a long time trying to suppress her worship, but of course the church has never been good at actually suppressing much, and devotion to Santa Muerte has only spread in recent times.

Like many figures of death, she represents healing and well-being. Religion often lies in embracing contradiction. Those on the outside, they see this as a weakness but those on the inside recognize it as strength. The temple of Santa Muerte in Los Angeles is just down on Melrose Avenue, sharing a building, as everything in LA does now, with a weed store. It is a one-room shrine established by a husband and wife, full of life-sized skeletons bearing (-) [0:25:04]. It would be easy as an outsider to default to one’s own associations with skeletons and come to one’s own emotional conclusions, but it is healthier to embrace the contradiction of these symbols of death. That, after all, physically hold us up for as long as we live. To deny Santa Muerte is to deny our own bodies.

Meanwhile on the other end of the spectrum, the Bob Baker Marionette Theater carries a different kind of worship: devotion to a performance style that time has left behind. And the outside of the building is – let’s face it, it’s creepy. Because, like skeletons, puppets have taken on a certain cultural connotation in the wider world. But we should try to see it from the inside, as the earnest expression of performance and joy.

Mm mm. No I can’t. Mm mm, I ju- not with puppets. Skeletons, fine. Loose-skinned monsters from whatever world, well I’ve deal with them, but puppets? Mm mm.

Lynn got back to me. “You didn’t hear this from me,” she said. “That goes without saying,” I said. “No it doesn’t,” she responded, “because I just told you that. Now, there have been some shipments that don’t belong to any company. Or the company info is missing from them, I can’t understand what I’m looking that. They certainly don’t hold up to any scrutiny at all, so I don’t think that they were expecting scrutiny. These things stand out so bad that they might as well be big red arrows pointing at a location in Los Angeles.”

It was late afternoon. Sylvia was asleep in the back of the truck’s cab. I lowered my voice. “Where?” She told me. I looked at Sylvia, knowing she would want me to wake her up, to take her with me. But I didn’t. I let her sleep. I went alone. Better that one of us survive.

I went where Lynn told me: up La Cienega, past a mall and a hospital. I came to the address she gave me. An unassuming place. If it weren’t for the brightly lit shine, I might not have even spotted it from the street. I went through the gates. There was a courtyard there, deserted. The air was still and there was no sound, but the stillness felt temporary, like the pause after an act of violence before anyone can get over their shock and react. I continued through the doors to a dark room. Not the grand hall I might have expected for a meeting like this, but a cozy place. Rows of theater seats. A stage draped in red curtains, from which a speaker stood addressing the crowd. There was music. Was that music? Or was it the shifting and squirming of inhuman bodies? Because there was something inhuman in this place, I could feel it. Not the people in the seats, they seemed completely human. Looking up at the person speaking, following the narrative, and slowly having information dawn on them.

In fact, the people in the seats did not at all seem like the kind of people I would expect at a meeting like this. Were these the powerful, the wicked? Were these the unseen hands ushering us to disaster? Looks can be deceiving. Everything can be deceiving, up to and including the truth, but no. I did not think that these were monsters, I thought they were people like me. People lured to the spot for the same reason I had been, because the story of the meeting had been a very good story. It played exactly into how I had thought the world works. It fed my suspicions and it led me to this place. And I think the same is true for every person in that room. They were there, like I was there, looking for a good story. But why were they led there? Hmm? If the meeting itself was a decoy, then what was the true purpose of this moment?

And that’s when I saw them. Lingering in the shadows at the edges of the crowd. Men with faces that sagged. Flesh that peeled. Yellow teeth, yellow eyes. Thistle men ringed the crowd. (Wools to sheep, parks to bunnies). Hunters. Prey. Did the people in their seats notice? Did they look into the shadows and see the inhuman eyes peering back at them, did they smell the breath of the Thistle men, like mildew, like soil? A smell of rot from deep within, cold lungs, did they hear the occasional laugh coming from a gurgling broken throat? Did they look beside them at seats that were empty and think, wasn’t someone here just moments ago? Or was there? But surely there wasn’t, because where could they have gone? And then the shadows at the edges of the crowd, the people that had once sat in those seats, were led into a place from which they could never return.

I understood. A simple plan: tell an irresistible story. A story that is exactly what all of us fighting Thistle might want to hear. That we were right all along. That the world really is against us in so simple and easy a way that the culprits could all meet in one room. And we would come to hear that story, and then Thistle would take us. Why hunt when instead they could lure?

Standing in the door to that hall of horrors, I saw the faces of the Thistle men as they turned and noticed. One gave a yelp and started to lope towards me and I fled. Where the courtyard had been empty, it was now packed shoulder to shoulder full of men with loose faces and eyes that went yellow at the edges and wet lips hiding sharp teeth. They were waiting for the crowd inside. Hungry creatures preparing to feed on any person that stepped out of that theater. I pushed into and past them, using their momentary surprise to escape, and I ran until my throat was dry and ragged, through that courtyard and out to where the lights of the strip club across the way flashed back and forth, back and forth, and then into my car and then onto the maze of freeways where it is so easy to disappear.

I kept my eye glued on the mirrors, but no one was chasing me. Somewhere behind me, an audience of innocents remained in Thistle’s trap, and I wouldn’t help them. I couldn’t.

Instead, I went back to the truck. Sylvia was still asleep in the cot. I sat in the driver’s seat. I was exhausted. The sun had fully set, and I allowed my eyelids to drift downwards. “Hi,” said Sylvia. She was in the passenger’s seat turned sideways towards me. It was light again. I don’t know how long I’d slept, I know I didn’t dream. There are small mercies in life, I guess. “Did you find out anything?” Sylvia said. I looked in her eyes. She’s so young. It wasn’t right and it wasn’t fair that she was out here like me on this labyrinth of roads and rest stops. But that’s just what it was. For her and for me and for so many others.

And she looked at me with trust. And I looked right back and I said, “I didn’t find anything. I don’t think the meeting is even real. Let’s get out of here.” Sylvia yawned, she stretched, she nodded. “Yeah OK,” she said. “Might as well. Too bad this turned out to be nothin’.” “Too bad,” I said.

So now here I am telling the story from just outside of Ashland, Oregon. Los Angeles is hundreds of miles behind me now. It isn’t far enough.

I love you, Alice. I stayed alive another day. You do the same, OK? OK.

[applause]

Joseph Fink: Thank you to everyone who came out for our Largo show. We will be back in two weeks with chapter 1 of our third and final season. This show would not be possible without our Patreon supporters. Such as the incredible Ethel Morgan, the indomitable Lilith Newman, the victorious Chris Jensen, and the electrifying Melissa (Lumm).

If you would like to join these folks in helping us make this show, please check out patreon.com/aliceisntdead, where you can get rewards like director’s commentary on every episode, live video streams with the cast and crew, bonus episodes, and more.

Thanks for listening, and see you soon.

[kittyboo8015]

Eruri Drabble

For my favorite Dad, @ackbang

I know you didn’t ask for this but I’ve always wanted to write something for you and I felt inspired by your response to an ask about Levi being a chef and Erwin trying to help out and messing up. This is my take on that. I hope you like it and I love you ❤️

Erwin furrowed his brows in concentration as he slowly fed the dough through the pasta maker. He watched in anticipation as the noodles arrived safely and unbroken draped over his awaiting hand. A satisfied smile crossed his face as he carefully lowered the pasta into the boiling water on the stove.

A nervous excitement buzzed in his veins as he stirred the freshly made tomato sauce he had prepared earlier, bubbling at a perfect simmer. Erwin chuckled to himself as he thought back to a point in time when he had never eaten foods that didn’t come from a jar or box with the words ‘easy’ or ‘fast’ on the label.

_______________

When he and Levi had first started dating, Erwin had never used any kitchen appliances outside of the fridge and microwave. He had been perfectly content with just popping something in, hitting some buttons and being able to scarf it down in minutes.

That had all changed after a disastrous first attempt at surprising Levi with a homemade dinner. Erwin had felt a bit nervous about cooking a meal for his boyfriend, whom just happened to be a professional chef at a busy restaurant downtown. It had been a match made in heaven as far as Erwin was concerned.

Levi liked to cook and Erwin liked to eat. Not only that but Erwin’s eyes had been opened to the world beyond the realm of TV dinners and instant ramen. Levi made such amazing meals for the both of them even when he was tired from a full day’s work. Erwin appreciated that so much that he had decided that he would give Levi a break and return the favor.

Even though Erwin had no cooking experience other than microwaving from his college days and the instructions he had glanced at on wikihow, he figured it couldn’t be that hard. He had chosen to make spaghetti with tomato sauce since the recipe seemed to be straightforward and was even accompanied by pictures. It also involved very few appliances which was good because Levi’s fancy kitchen was pretty much like the small man’s work persona: pristine and intimidating.

Erwin gathered the tomatoes, onions and garlic that the recipe had called for and placed them on the counter. The next step was to boil the tomatoes and sauté the onion and garlic in some olive oil. After taking another glance at the directions on his phone, he noticed that the estimated cooking time was at least 2 hours from start to finish. Erwin now regretted procrastinating for most of the afternoon. After studying the steps again, he figured he could combine a few and still be done before Levi arrived home from work.

Erwin hacked up some onions and garlic and crammed them into the blender along with some tomatoes.He then set a pot with water on the stove and plopped the noodles in. He put the lid on the blender and flipped the switch. The machine made a small screeching sound and then quieted down to a hum. All seemed well so he decided to text Mike about a meme Hange had sent him earlier that he thought was hilarious.

Moments later all hell had broken loose when the lid from the blender shot off towards the ceiling, the contents inside erupting like a geyser covering the once gleaming stainless steel appliances in a torrent of puréed vegetables. Erwin gaped at the scene before him in amazement that turned into sheer panic. Just when he thought that things couldn’t get any worse, he then heard footsteps approaching before they stopped abruptly and a confused “What..the..Fuck?” sounded from the kitchen entrance.

Erwin sighed and turned to face his boyfriend. Levi’s expression appeared to be somewhere between disbelief and disgust. “I tried to surprise you with dinner and I messed up, I’m sorry Levi.” Erwin replied softly and awaited the wrath that was sure to follow.

Levi remained silent and moved forward into the kitchen. Erwin watched anxiously as Levi surveyed the dripping walls and then plucked uncooked pasta from the pot on the stove. Erwin swallowed nervously when Levi turned his attention back to him.

Levi shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re lucky I love you, ya know that?” Levi asked.

Erwin gave a solemn nod. “I know.” He murmured apologetically.

Levi then sprang into action. “First we’re going to clean this shit up, then we’re ordering takeout and starting tomorrow I’m teaching you how to cook.” Levi ordered as he handed Erwin a bucket and sponge.

“Thank you Levi, I appreciate it.” Erwin murmured apologetically.

Levi sighed.”I’m just glad that you didn’t hurt yourself, idiot. I still love you.” He replied as he swatted Erwin’s ass as he moved past him to get started.

____________________

Levi kept true to his promise and taught Erwin how to cook as they prepared dinner together on the weekends. Erwin enjoyed watching Levi move around the kitchen with the grace of an experienced dancer while Erwin was more like a lame horse. He cherished those lessons because not only did he learn how to cook, he felt that his bond with Levi grew even stronger.

Levi never did forget the dinner disaster but thankfully the only time it ever came up was at social gatherings among friends when Levi overindulged in cocktails which happened pretty rarely. As soon as Erwin heard the words; “Hey Erwin, remember the time you surprised me by making dinner?” He would excuse himself from the room with a groan.

___________

The timer on the oven chimed loudly bringing Erwin back from his memories and into the present. He grabbed some oven mitts and removed the garlic bread from the oven and placed it in the bread basket to cool. He then proceeded to set the table and plated the food knowing that Levi would arrive home at any moment. The only mishap was a small sauce stain on the tablecloth but it was easily remedied by a strategically placed candle holder.

Levi arrived on time as usual and Erwin had met him at the door. “Well I didn’t see any ambulances or fire trucks outside so I’m guessing everything went ok?”Levi asked trying to hide a smile.

Erwin pouted. “Thanks for the vote of confidence darling.” Erwin sulked.

“I’m kidding, you sap.” Levi replied as he walked into the dining room.

__________________

Dinner went perfectly much to Erwin’s relief. Levi actually finished his plate and Erwin beamed with pride at the silent compliment. Levi was not one to feign satisfaction and Erwin loved him for that.

Finally Levi leaned forward and looked Erwin in the eyes. “Hey, do you remember that time-“

Erwin groaned. “Really, Levi?” He interrupted growing irritated.

Levi held up one finger. “ I wasn’t finished, don’t be rude.” He chided. “Remember That time you made that fucking amazing dinner and I let you eat your favorite dessert in bed?”

A crooked grin crossed Erwin’s face when Levi grabbed the strawberries and whipped cream from the refrigerator. “I can’t say I do.” Erwin said huskily.

“Well, get naked and meet me in the bedroom and I’ll make sure you’ll never forget.” Levi purred as he walked past.

[littlemisskookie]

Star Light, Star Bright

Star Light, Star Bright Ship: Shooting Star/ Guardian Angel!Jimin | Reader Description: When you wish upon a star, you never really think he’d come to visit. Warnings: Fluff, Intercourse, Fingering, Slight Cum Play, Slight Dirty Talk, ANGST Word Count: 7,595 A/N: Fluffier (sorta) than my other writings, and maybe not as dirty. It’s still there though. I was starting to think I’d never get around to writing this but I’m so glad I finally finished!

You threw your bag on the bed, plopping down on the covers, your back bouncing against the mattress. You were wrecked, basically half-drunk, with smeared lipstick and mascara streaks down your cheeks. You just stopped by a fast food restaurant only to be greeted by looks of pity and the hamburger you ordered. It was finished halfway through the ride home, where you sat in the back of a crummy Uber with a chatty driver who wanted to know why you were so smashed.

Fuck, your love life was up in flames.

You got enough alcohol in your system to finally try to make a move on your close friend who you were crushing on for months, only to walk in on him pounding into another friend. Your drunk self stumbled out, absolutely dazed, and it hit like a truck.

You haven't gone on a date for way too long, and you haven't gotten long in so long. You had been so busy with life, and now you were sure your crush was far more interested in Miss Butterfly Tattoo. Nice tattoo, though, you had to admit. Damn her for getting a good artist.

You sighed to yourself, rubbing your face, perhaps ruining your crusty eyeliner and such everywhere, making it worse. Why was it every time you liked someone they seemed to be staring in another direction? Like seriously, was it so much to ask? For a chance?

You grumbled to yourself, pulling yourself off of your bed and shaking your head. Sulking won't do much good. You've sulked too much. Instead, you fished out your practically dead phone, tapping on dating sites in a desperate attempt to get someone seemingly decent. You didn't want just a regular hookup- you at least wanted something. But it seemed like your type of rugged and tough didn't seem to mesh well with your actual personality, because your narrowed eyes and strong personality would drive men away to call you a bitch.

And honestly, you couldn't blame them. All this time you thought you needed someone as tough as you to be on your level and to put you down to a point that could control you in some aspect- from nights like these where you were a bitter mess. But the guys you saw weren't open to feelings and while they were strong and head strong and physically strong in most aspects, they frankly had you butting heads with them. Your independence and opinion got stronger, and it was like two dominant forces that didn't do well. You became more hardened after each man.

Maybe you needed someone to soften you up.

But a soft guy would typically end up being the ones who wouldn't look at a girl like you anyways. And once again, you were overlooked towards the girl who was better than you were. More pure, more soft, more innocent. More appealing, at least to guys like that apparently.

Ugh.

You pulled on a hoodie, wrapping it around your tight and promiscuous dress as you stepped outside on the balcony, letting the cold night air hit you. It was too early in the morning. You should be passed out on the couch or something about now, or perhaps in a makeout session until your drunk self finds out the guy said something entirely too stupid or you yourself admit something humiliating to make him run away.

Your eyes stare up at the stars, clear as day, and you sit down on the floor, letting your hooded eyes stare up at the small twinkling lights. You yawned, an old childhood rhyme coming to mind. You hadn't heard it in years, but it was always what your mother told you to say when you wished for the impossible.

You needed to go back to being that naive, little girl again anyways.

Closing your eyes, you take in a deep breath, letting your eyes stare back at the brightest star in the sky. "Star bright, star light, the first star I see tonight; I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight."

This was stupid. You were stupid. You were a grown ass woman reciting a children's rhyme. Yet, you let yourself slip into character, imagining yourself back at five years old, bright eyes filled with hope as you squeezed onto a teddy bear half your size, your nightgown dragging your feet as you rushed to a window to wish on the same star every night. You never wished for anything big, mainly a toy or something, and by the time you stopped it was because you knew wishing wouldn't do anything.

Your eyes light up, though, as you see a small glimmer, a small light zooming across the sky. A shooting star? It had to be, but- never mind. You were being ridiculous. But you knew the small girl you used to be would be rather disappointed if you passed away what made countless movies, books, and such.

You take a deep breath, laughing at yourself, smelling the alcohol on your own breath. "I wish I had a boy who loves me as much as I love him."

You were so stupid, and you knew the wish wouldn't come true. But it was for your inner child's sake. You knew that. And you shook your head as you grinned to yourself. Here you were, wishing on stars. Was this what rock bottom felt like?

You got up, opening the door to head inside when a strange hissing sound filled your ears. You furrowed your brows as the sound got louder, and turned around, seeing a ball of light zooming closer to you. Your eyes widened, and it was so close you shrieked, closing your eyes and ducking down, slamming your body to the ground as you covered your head and ears with your arms, shaking. You felt something scorching whir above your head, giving you the feeling of a sunburn on the back of your neck.

And it all went silent.

You peeked from under your arms, scrambling up to a sitting position to gape at the small pile of dust and glitter on your floor. It was a rather big pile, admittedly, and it seemed to be formed with fine glitter of bright pink, purple, and blue.

"What the f-"

You shrieked again as the glitter started to move, as though picked up by some sort of wind, and the bits started to glow and beam, reflecting in the lights as it started to fly up in the air. You scrambled back, your heart beating fast as you stared in horror, seeing the pile melt and form into what appeared to be a statue.

You were breathing heavily, absolutely in shock to see what appeared to be a man wearing an oversized sweater, made completely out of the pink, purple, and blue specks, and formed so perfectly, you thought you were staring at an angel who took a bath in glitter. Your eyes were wider than golf balls as the bright colors started to fade into pastel pink for hair, tan peach for skin, and the rest of the body and clothes were formed.

You let out a small yelp as the figure opened his eyes, the color a bright blue. What the fuck was going on right now?! The figure then stumbled back a bit, scratching his head, a few glitter pieces falling from his hair as he squeezed his eyes shut, getting used to his surroundings.

He looked to you, finally, plump and perfectly shaped lips you were convinced were shaped by the angels themselves curling into a smile, and his eyes lit up brighter than even the ball of light that flew towards you seconds ago.

"You called?"

"OK WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!?" you shouted out, scrambling up. "I'm not drunk enough for- for this! I know I didn't take any edibles, so why don't you just explain Mr. Glitter where that ball of light or whatever came in here and- and why you're here and what the FUCK happened? This is trespassing- this is insane! I ought to be trying to stab you with a butter knife or something with a few pew pew stabs to the heart, you know! You're lucky you're beautiful but I almost had a heart attack! Why are you here?!"

The man raised a brow, smiling sheepishly. "You think I'm beautiful?"

Your cheeks burned. "IS THAT ALL YOU GOT FROM THAT CONVERSATION?!"

"Woah woah, alright, let's take it easy!" the man said, rushing towards you with his arms outstretched. "You look like you're about to faint, now, let's sit you down. I'll make you some water to sober you up now, and we can explain everything in the morning- er, after you get some rest."

"No!" you fumed. "You're explaining right here, right now! None of this 'you'll know later' bullshit, am I clear? Explain to me right now! What are you doing here, who are you, and what are you?"

"Alright, alright, I'll explain," the man assures. "Just sit down first, alright?" He offers a hand to you, most of it masked from the pale blue sleeve of his hoodie.

You narrow your eyes, reluctantly taking his hand and pulling yourself up, going over to sit down on the couch. You crossed your arms, waiting. He stands before you, a serene expression on his face that made your insides explode. Did he do this often?

"First thing first," he smiles. "I'm Jimin, and I'm your guardian angel."

You blink at him. "What. I mean, wait what? WHAT?"

Jimin waves his hands in motion to calm you down. "Yes, I am. We come to you in the form of stars, and we glow the brightest in your eyes in particular. We come to assist you when we are told you have a wish to change your life, and we typically come down to assist with that task and look after you. You've made a wish to experience love, which will ultimately change your life in some aspect, depending on the experience, and I'm supposed to help you find it. Usually, we don't assist so... directly, but I've been told that this was a different mission than most."

You gape at him. "You mean to tell me I have a guardian angel? Shouldn't you be coming when I'm about to die? Or I don't know, why weren't you here before? Why haven't you been there to stop me from being stupid and falling for the wrong guys or going out drunk or ultimately from becoming a wreck? And a falling star? You're a falling star? A star? That defies science in all aspects! That's illogical and just plain ridiculous!"

"You just saw a man form out of stardust," Jimin coughs. "And I'm not an actual shooting star- at least not the kind your scientists refer to. Only you can see me when I come down here in that... what did you call it? Ball of light? Glitter? Well, if you saw all of that, clearly your science isn't able to detect everything. I'm not the ball of gas millions of light-years away, but we do refer to ourselves as stars, in a sense. We each own one little star where we're able to reside and watch over the humans we've been assigned to, and we come down to Earth only when the time is right."

"I don't believe it," you say, dazed. This was so much to take in. You weren't sure if you needed to be flat out drunk to deal with this, or just sober. But the in between you currently were in wasn't exactly helping.

"Well you sort of saw it all with your own eyes, so you sort of have to," Jimin smiles. "Besides, Y/N, I've been waiting for this moment for so long!"

You quirk a brow at his excited stature, seeing how he seemed to glow. "Uh, might I as why? How do you know my name?"

"I have to watch over your hardest moments, and at times I have to send you messages through your conscious so that you can make decisions. It doesn't always work, but it does add some morals and such for you. I've had to keep an eye on you and wait patiently for the moment that was supposed to flip your world upside down. You always seemed to be in such pain when it came to that category, though, it was sad. Guy after guy seems to be a piece of  a puzzle you keep trying to fit your own piece, jamming the two together until you eventually give up on it. You seem hurt, after all this time, as though you believe you'll never have love, that I couldn't wait to come down to help you."

"You've been watching me all this time?" you say, eyes wide. That was embarrassing...

"Only the times you were most in need, don't worry," Jimin smiles, assuring you. "Nothing creepy, per se. But my mission is to help you fall in love."

"And that's supposed to change my life? How?" You raise your eyebrows skeptically.

"Who knows?" Jimin shrugs. "Maybe the heartbreak will lead you to something bigger and better in life. Maybe you'll meet your future husband. The possibilities are endless, but apparently, this love is going to be what shapes you into you for the rest of your life, that turns your life around."

"Well it's not so pretty right now," you grumble to yourself, still seemingly dazed. "What happens if I find this love?"

"Then my job is done and I go back," Jimin confirms. "I'll still be whispering in your ear the right thing to do, of course, but I won't be able to return to Earth. That's the sad truth."

"Are you like an alien or something?" you question.

"And this is the point where I tell you to get to bed," Jimin says. "It's been a long day, you've had a lot of things happen, and information to process. Let's get you to bed and then we'll talk later, alright?"

"Wait," you pause. Your eyes shoot up to his. "Give me your hand."

The man raises an eyebrow and does as he's told, and you take it in your hands. His hands were small, the flesh soft, and had you not seen it with your own eyes you would have never guessed he was made from stardust.

Before you know it, you're being ushered to the bathroom.

Before long it became normal to have an actual star in your apartment. He stayed there (rent free, mind you, though he had no need for food or sleep, which as a major convenience for you, though you'd often wonder exactly what he did to keep himself busy while you were away or asleep) and would sometimes tag along after you got done with your more so mundane routines, and he would sometimes tag along on boring errands or have to accompany you when you went to parties to simply get drunk out of your mind.

Typically that's where Jimin would try to convince you to talk to a potential love interest, but you'd start taking drink after drink until you were a giggly mess, keen on forgetting your troubles and instead prolonging Jimin's mission of helping you find love, and too many nights you were stumbling into his embrace instead as he took you home. You were a mess, you knew that, but frankly you'd drink more to forget you were a mess. It wasn't something that happened every night, but it was enough to where even you knew you were a nuisance.

Jimin didn't care though. He was sweet and gentle, and kind, and you would've guessed- even if it didn't happen before your very eyes- that he was nothing less than an angel. He was too perfect, too soft, and his looks were positively angelic.

He mentioned he didn't approve of your drinking, but frankly, it wasn't something you intended on stopping without a clear reason. You weren't flat out drunk, where you couldn't remember a single thing that happened. But you were drunk enough where you wouldn't think about what you were doing, a pleasant buzz in your mind and your arms feeling silky and loose. You didn't hurt anyone, sure, but you were a slight fumbling mess. Jimin wasn't fond of your ways to cope but nonetheless didn't complain or criticize you.

You had a cup in your hand one particular night, singing the song that was playing from the top of your lungs, and walking over to the pink haired star. "Hello, annngel~" you mused, singing off key. Jimin laughed, swinging his arm around your waist to direct you.

"I think we ought to get you back home," Jimin says, taking the cup from your hand and setting it down on a nearby table.

You pouted at your friend and guardian, rolling your eyes, "I'm just having a bit of fun, Jiminie! Cheer up, hm?"

Jimin snickers, rolling his eyes. "Alright, let's get you home." You lean his weight on him, stumbling as he guides you out.

"Hey Starboy," you slur, "are you a virgin?"

Jimin stops, his eyes wide. "What?" he sputters.

"Have you stuck your glittery cock in some other ang-"

He clamps his hand over your mouth, to which you lick his palm. Why does he taste like angel food cake? Jimin shakes his head, continuing to drag you out. "If you must know, I'm not."

"Seriously? But I always see you as so pure and innocent and sweet," you muse aloud. "You're an angel, aren't you? I'd think you'd be holy and all that."

Jimin laughs. "I don't think I want to go into details, Y/N."

"Fair enough," you muse. You're outside now, and you two probably have to get to the car. God, did you park far? Ugh. You cling onto Jimin, yawning. "Y'know, I don't think I'll  be able to find love, Jimin. Anyone I love doesn't love me back. What's the point? What'll be so great about love that it changes everything? You're going to be stuck down here forever, it's hopeless Jimin."

"Don't say that," he coos. "You're pretty, you're smart- when you're sober, and you're downright hilarious. Anyone would be lucky to have you."

"What about you?" you ponder. "Would you date me?"

Jimin purses his lips. "Not with how drunk you get so often. But that's the only thing. I just feel like I'd be so worried about you, the thought of what could happen to you if you happened to drink too much, it'd eat me up alive."

You frown at that. Were you undesirable because you were drunk?

"So if I didn't drink, would I be desirable?" you ask.

"You already are," he assures you. "But I think it's just one of those things you should learn to keep under control. Not for someone to like you, though, but because it'd be healthier. You don't want to dive into alcoholism, and honestly, you'd be better off."

You laugh. "That's not what I'm asking. Would you find me desirable if I stopped drinking so often?"

His brows furrow. "I already find you desirable. But the whole point of me being here is to help you find the love that'll change how you view life, isn't it?"

True. But the thought sort of dug into your head, and you started imagining a date with Jimin. Was he right about your drinking problem? Should you stop? Would that help you on the path to love? "Alright, Starboy, want to make a bet?"

"What kind of bet?" he asks you. You spy your car as you two stumble closer.

"If I can go clean from alcohol, will you go on a date with me?" you grin smugly. "I want to cross it off my bucket list. Besides, I'm curious what a shooting star such as yourself would do for a date. I expect something cheesy and special."

His eyes are wide and he steps away from you for a second. "Are you serious about this?"

You shrug. "I'm drunk, but yes. I'm curious!"

He laughs aloud, ushering you to the car as he yanks open the car door. "Alright. But it's not going to be easy. Three months completely sober and clean from alcohol, and I'll take you on a date. I'm encouraging you to do the right thing."

"That's your job," you say. "And three months? That'll be easy, tch. You've got a deal! Starting now I'll stop my drinking problem! But you're expected to help me."

"That's fine," Jimin grins. "But I don't think it'll be as easy as you suspect."

"Say, Jiminie, can you stop being an angel? And how do you become one?" you ask him, yawning.

"You're sure asking a lot tonight, aren't you?" He chuckles, shaking his head. "We're born angels, but we can stop if we break laws and choose to leave. But we become fallen angels, and we have to stay in sort of a prison for a long time depending on our crime before we're sent to Earth, banished to the deserts and destined to wander through the surface of the world."

"That's intense," you muse.

"Well, it happens, though rarely," he shrugs. "Now, get in, Y/N, we need to get you to bed."

By the time you were both home, he seemed to already be pulling the covers over you. You were sleepy, admittedly, and felt somewhat like a child having to be put to bed, but decided to grab onto his wrist as he turned away.

"Jiminie!" you whined. "Sing for me?"

"What? Why?" he asks, his brows furrowed.

"I can't sleep," you lied. You could literally barely keep your eyes open. Still, you were curious. "Sing for me?"

"Sing what?" he sighed. He couldn't say no to you, especially when you tried to act cute. He only said no when it was something bad- since it was in his nature, of course- but at small requests like this? He knew you were stubborn, but he was a giver.

You grinned devilishly. "Twinkle twinkle, little star-"

"Are you kidding me," he hissed under his breath, squeezing his eyes shut.

"You don't have to if you don't want to."

He smiled softly. "No, no, it's fine. Cliche, but fine. Let's see if I remember it, actually, it's been a while."

You smiled triumphantly, staring at him through your lashes. His fingers wove through your hair as he softly smiled to you. "Twinkle twinkle, little star~" he sang, his voice soft and in a whisper. This was the cheesiest thing in your life, but you didn't really mind with him. "How I wonder what you are. Up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky. Twinkle twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are."

You'd sing along, with the still half-drunk idiot you were, but his voice left you in silence, and you were mesmerized. His hand continued to comb through your hair. "When the blazing sun is gone, when he nothing shines upon, then you show your little light. Twinkle twinkle, all the night, twinkle twinkle, little star. How I wonder what you are."

And with that, your eyes shut.

Stopping your continuous habit to feel the warm buzz of alcohol proved harder than you thought. It was like a constant craving, and you'd think on occasion- at least once a day, at the bare minimum- about the feeling of being drunk, of the bitter taste you came to enjoy on your lips.

Jimin helped you. When you begged for at least one more drink- because how could it hurt?- he'd shake his head, saying, "Don't do this for the date, do this for yourself. If it's worth it, take a sip." Each time you turned down the drink, and you were good for the next few days. He had a point. You did want to stop, but drinking felt so good. Then again, you knew if you took it just one more step you could end up being an alcoholic. You were already craving it, and that wasn't a good sign.

But somehow you made it. The thoughts about the alcohol and its effects seemed to disappear, and you became preoccupied with other hobbies you found yourself enjoying. You didn't even remember the date set up or the deal, until it officially ended. On that day, you stared at the calendar, at the date you circled with pink dry erase marker- because fuck the cliche red- exactly three months ago. You squealed, finding Jimin on the balcony that he so lovingly tried to kill you on months ago, and tossed it his way, screaming, "I did it! I did it! Eat that, Starboy! You owe me a date! I did it, we did it!"

You were a hyper mess, hopping up and down, and Jimin smiling widely to you, giving you a big bear hug and saying how proud he was of you.

And now was the day.

You stared down at your skirt and t-shirt, glancing at yourself in the mirror. Why were you so nervous? Jimin was your friend. He had helped you through so much, and probably more now that you thought about it. You weren't such a party girl, and you were actually finding out you enjoyed things other than getting drunk now. You wouldn't have done that without Jimin, that was true.

But he was just a friend, right? He only agreed to this date based off of a drunken suggestion. But your heart seemed to beat wildly around him, you knew it. His smile would make you melt, and your legs feel like jelly. You liked him. A lot. A lot a lot. You loved him, but you always assumed it was just friend love.

What if it was in love love?

That was ridiculous. But he did always seem to give you the same glow the alcohol used to give you. Minus the hangover. More of the jitters.

And Jimin was cheesy to the bitter end. He rented a pickup truck, letting you tag along on a ride until you were in the countryside. It wasn't until he placed blankets and pillows in the back that you fully understood what his plan was.

You gawked at him. "I knew you'd be cheesy, but this is something else!"

Jimin laughed. "You asked for something sweet and cheesy. I deliver, don't I?"

Why was your heart fluttering so much? You were supposed to think of this as a friend date! You were thankful it was already dark out, otherwise, he'd see how flushed your cheeks already were. What was wrong with you? Why were you acting like this to your friend?

"A night looking at the stars," you say, climbing in and grabbing a pillow, hugging it. "Your brothers and sisters and friends, watching our date? Sounds creepy."

"They'll be too busy to pay attention," Jimin laughed. "Besides, it's not like being outside would really change anything. They'd still see if they wanted."

"So let the stars bear witness for the sins we're about to commit tonight!" you cheered, spreading your arms wide as the pillow dropped in your lap. "What neither man nor king can reach, that shows that we're all the same, for some things we cannot reach? For what looks down upon mankind and the atrocities we commit, until we join them in the heavens? Alas!"

Jimin busts out laughing. "I'd ask if you're drunk, but apparently you're just weird."

You pout, pursing your lips. "I'm not! I'm trying to sound sophisticated!"

"You sound like a philosophical drunk," he shakes his head, his pink hair swaying. You saw the small glimmer of his eyes twinkling as he stared at you. "But you're more the happy-go-lucky drunk, except when someone busts into your apartment in the form of stardust."

You laugh at that. "But I'm glad I stopped drinking, you know that? I never really thought of it as a problem. I never hurt anyone. I wasn't really in danger. But I was starting to get addicted to it. I'm glad I stopped diving back into it so often now, otherwise, I could've taken one more step into alcoholism, y'know?"

"Yeah," Jimin comments. His eyes are downcast, and you notice how he avoids your gaze.

"Jimin?" you cock your head to the side. "Starboy, what's wrong?"

"Is just that," he sighs. "I'm supposed to be helping you find love, but I've been here for so long, and no progress. I suggested dates and tried to bring guys to you and such, but you've turned down guy after guy. Am I really that much of a failure that I can't even do my job?"

Your eyes were wide, and you put your hand on his shoulder, feeling how soft the fabric was beneath your fingertips. "Listen to be, Jimin, you're not a failure. I... I turn down those guys because... because I simply don't like them." Oh no, there was a lump in your throat.

"How come? Don't you want to find love? Or to try? You never know, one could be the one to change your life for the better," Jimin grumbles.

"Hey, look at me," you say, taking his head and moving it so his gaze locked with his. "Frankly, I love having you here. I don't want them. You're the one who changed my life, you know. This whole experience, I realized that there really was more to life than drowning it in the feeling of being drunk. I've actually got hobbies and interests and I'm drunk on... on life instead! It's cheesy, but it's true. I'm drunk on being with you and being aware of everything in the world. Soaking it in. You changed my life, not any of them. I don't want them. I..."

You trailed off, your throat swelling to the point that you didn't want to finish the sentence.

"You what?" Jimin asks you.

You hug the pillow again, staring up at the stars, admiring how clear and bright they seemed away from city lights. "It's nothing, forget about it."

"It didn't sound like nothing," Jimin says. He places one hand on your knee, making your breath hitch and causing you to squeeze your pillow tighter. Jimin seems to realize, but keeps his hand there, not in a lustful way but rather in a comforting way to get you to open up. You tensed. "What was it?"

Your voice was quiet. "I only want you," you whisper.

"What? I couldn't hear what you said," Jimin says, his brows furrowing.

You turn to him, your eyes locking with his. "I said, I only want you," you say, your voice clear as a bell.

His eyes were wide and filled with surprise, but they were nothing compared to your own as he quickly landed his plush lips on yours. Your heart was racing, and his lips felt so full and lush. But it was over in a second, and Jimin was a flabbergasted mess.

"I shouldn't have done that- that was wrong- you must hate me- God, I'm an awful-"

Your hand flies to his chest, curling your fist into his shirt as you yanked him back to you, letting his lips crash against yours once again. You close your eyes, pulling him closer as you move your lips against his, trying to memorize the feeling of how soft and full they were. Jimin hesitates, but kisses back, his hand woven into your hair as he deepens the kiss himself, letting his lips dance with yours.

You come up for air, eyes hooded and breath quick. "Shut up," you smile, your hand going to his cheek. "You're perfect, you know that? Absolutely, and undeniably perfect, and don't believe anything else."

"You... you were supposed to fall in love with another man," Jimin says, pressing his forehead to yours. "You weren't supposed to feel the same. You were supposed to be with one of them, and I was supposed to help. It wasn't supposed to be this way. Why... why me?"

"They must've been stupid to put someone as angelic, perfect, and as beautiful down here to help a girl and not expect her to fall for him," you laugh. "I don't want them, Jimin. I want you. Only you. I have for a while now. You encourage a better version of myself, you bring out the best in me."

"This wasn't part of the plan," Jimin smiles, his lips meeting yours in a soft peck.

"Well, life doesn't go as planned, huh?" you laugh, kissing him lightly as you talk between kisses. "I didn't plan for you to literally fly into my apartment as glitter. I didn't plan to stop the constant drinking and partying. I'm sure you didn't expect to end up like this, in the back of a truck, with a girl you were supposed to help to fall for you instead. But I'm sure things would be pretty boring if everything went according to plan."

Jimin grins, kissing you again. You're lost in the feeling, a warm glow humming in your chest, your heart drumming as he presses against you. Your back is on the truck's floor, with Starboy himself on top of you, his body flushed against yours. You break away from the kiss, his face in your hands.

"I don't want to go too fast," you murmur. "This is still new to me, you know. Actually... actually truly feeling so... so immersed. I want to take my time while I can."

All he does is nod, pressing his forehead against yours as his lips meet yours. "We'll go as slow as you want," Jimin murmurs against your lips. "Let's enjoy the time we have together."

Months had passed, and Jimin was your official boyfriend, who you were steady with. You kept things slow, and things caught up, and frankly, he was what helped you get through most things. There were hardships through deadlines or unexpected problems, and he held your hand through it all, telling you it'd be fine. You didn't even realize how much you depended on alcohol in the past until you realized at this point you would've been drowning in it, perhaps dancing on some stranger's table, receiving drunken cheers that encouraged your shenanigans.

Today you simply drowned in your shooting star boyfriend, his hands interlocked with yours as your back pressed into the mattress, lips moving slowly against his. One of his hands slipped from your own to travel under the hem of your shirt, feeling squeezing the flesh between his fingers as he kneaded it. You mewled in response, arching into his touch as you felt his fingers pinch at the small bud.

His lips pop off yours, breath heavy. "You chose not to wear a bra today?" he asks between pants.

"I was in a rush," you smile, reaching up until his bottom lip was in between your teeth. He stayed still as you gently tugged it back, letting it snap back to him. He smiled, his lips already swollen, plush, plump, and bright pink.

"I'm not complaining," he murmurs, his other hand slipping down as he straddled your thighs, both hands massaging your breasts, your shirt riding up to reveal the perky buds. His tongue swiped over his bottom lip, and he dove down to suck tenderly one one nipple.

Your hand was woven into his hair, feeling the soft threads of hair as he performed his ministrations, and you sighed into his touch. Each touch felt like magic. Was it a boyfriend thing? Or a star thing?

His hands were hooking into the waistband of your shorts now, tugging them down to be discarded. He kissed his way down to your inner thigh, the scent of your bare heat hitting his nostrils. His thumb reached to your clit, his movements slow and precise, having you hum in pleasure.

He took his time, which you appreciated. Most guys you knew would be quick and rush the process, wanting to get it over with so that they could get their own enjoyment. Your boyfriend was a giver and enjoyed pleasuring you far more than you would've expected.

His finger ran over your slit, already feeling the set juices from your core, and he continued rubbing slow circles into your clit. Your hand continued to massage his scalp, combing through his cotton-candy pink hair as he pleasured you. You tensed when the finger that was running and swiping across your slit was instead circling around your entrance, teasing before entering.

Slowly he eased himself inside of you, two fingers at once, causing your breath to hitch as he started making scissoring motions. His thumb was adding just the right about of pressure against your clit.

"I want you to cum around my fingers, Y/N," he says, his breath fanning over your heat. "Can you do that for me?"

"Fuck," you curse quietly, slapping your hand over your mouth as he continued his ministrations, and a familiar pit was building in your lower stomach. "Yeah, definitely, no problem- shit!"

You jolted, feeling how sparks seemed to jolt from his thumb to your clit. You were getting close, and the swollen nub was already so sensitive. The coil was stretching, and Jimin's slow and steady movements seemed to bring you closer to the edge. You were already starting to clench around his fingers, and he was slowly easing in a third, taking his time until you reached your high, a low moan escaping your lips as your walls relaxed and went slack around his fingers instead of the tense state they were in. Jimin slipped them out, and you took his hand, popping them in your mouth as your tongue swirled around his fingers, staring him in the eye as you did so.

Jimin felt completely human as he did so, his breath hitching as the erection made his pants a bit tighter. You released his fingers, catching your breath. "Give me a minute, but I want to ride you, alright?" you panted.

Jimin laughed, pecking your lips. "Mhm." He reached over to the nightstand, grabbing for a condom and quickly unwrapping it. "I love when you come back home."

You caught your breath, and after a moment you were pushing him down to prop himself up on the pillows. "Take off your pants," you say, tugging at the waistband.

He does as he's told, chucking them off his body and gripping his member in his hand, stretching the condom on, giving it a few strokes as you prepared yourself. You grinned, climbing on top of him and positioning him right below your entrance as you straddled him. Slowly you lowered yourself on him, letting the head disappear in your folds, sinking down lower until the base seemed to disappear.

Jimin let out a low groan from the feeling of your heat and warmth enveloping him, and slowly he started thrusting up into you, letting you ride him at the pace you loved, where you could feel every inch of him rub against your walls. Whimpers escaped your lips, and you placed your hands on his shoulders, curling your fingers in the fabric of his hoodie as you bit your lip, small mewls of pleasure escaping.

He moved against you, his hips hitting your ass as you rode on top of him. His thrusts were precise and slow, hitting up at the angle you craved for. His hands were on your hips, lowering you up and down his length as he bit his own hip.

"Y/N, you feel so good around me," he moaned out, squeezing his eyes shut. "God, keep moving, just like that. Please don't stop."

You hopped up and down on him, your movements going a bit harder, slamming yourself on him to the point he was reaching deeper and deeper into you. Your head lolled back as a deep throaty moan slipped past your lips, and breathy pants followed.

One of Jimin's hands on your hips moved, to the point where his thumb was now pressing against your clit, the sensitive and swollen nub causing you to jerk in pleasure as jolts shot throughout your core. Jimin applied pressure to the bundle of nerves, the sensitive bunch making your moans louder and your peak sooner.

Jimin bites his lip, small grunts escaping as his singular thrusts start to get sloppy as he pumps himself in and out of you, showing he was close. He was rubbing your clit with intensity, his eyes trained on how his cock disappeared into your pussy and leaving you with pants as you tried to stay on him.

Your walls seemed to spasm around him, feeling how you shook around him as he kept up his thrusts. He chased his own high until he was filling up the rubber condom, and you two were left breathing heavily. You slipped off of him as he threw away the wrapper and you rushed to the bathroom, but you spent the night curled up into each other's arms and the sheets, content and happy.

You were in a starboy's arms, and he was in yours, and when morning woke you from your peaceful slumber you blurted out the first thing that escaped your lips.

"I love you."

Jimin was already awake, what with his lack of a need for sleep, though he could at will. But he woke to hear those words as soon as you uttered them, and you were completely calm, warm in his arms and unafraid for what his response would be.

"I love you too," Jimin whispers, and you grin, burying yourself in his chest.

He loved you back.

"I'll let you say your goodbyes," the star spoke, his face rigid and posture stiff as he waited outside your balcony.

You were teary-eyed, and so was Jimin. How were you supposed to know that a random star would show up on your balcony, saying that Jimin finished his mission and had to return to the others? That he'd have to leave you? For letting you find love and be loved back, and for your life to be changed? How could you know? How could he?

Perhaps it was to be expected, but it didn't make things any easier. Jimin's arms were tight around you as he buried his face in your shoulder, weeping softly.

"I don't want to go," Jimin spoke, his voice quiet and muffled, though you could hear him perfectly well. You were hugging him tightly, your own tears slipping down your cheeks.

"I don't want you to leave either," you whispered. "But there's no other choice."

"I could stay here. I could become a fallen angel, and I could see you again. Anything for you, just say the word," Jimin chokes.

"I could never do that to you," you say. "You're not going to a desert, you're not being banished here. You'll continue your life up there, you hear me? You'll be happy, and you'll continue your life. You helped me, you did your job. You loved me as I loved you and changed my world Jimin. Thank you. Thank you so much, but it seems that the universe works in odd ways. Nothing will go to plan you know, and as it turns out you're not destined to be with me. You're destined to be in the heavens. But maybe one day I'll join you."

He hugs you tighter. "I don't want to lose you."

"You never will," you spoke, your tears soaking into his shirt. "I love you."

"Hurry up," the star on the balcony spoke in a gruff manner.

Jimin pulls from you reluctantly. "I'll never forget you. Remember not to drink excessively, and take care of yourself. I love you."

And with that he crumbled in your arms, dissolving until he was nothing but a pile of dust- purple, blue, and pink glitter at your feet. The other star disappeared, and the two were picked up by an unknown wind until they became a bright light, slowly floating away from you.

And you collapsed to your knees, tears streaming down your cheeks as you said goodbye to your cherished angel.

"Mommy, can you sing me a lullaby?" your daughter yawned, her small hand clasped around the sheets as you pulled them over her.

"Mommy can't sing," you chuckled, smoothing her hair. "What would I sing anyways? I don't know any songs."

"Sing Twinkle Twinkle," the little girl mumbled. "That's what the other kids sing..."

Your eyes have a faraway stare, and you pull up a soft smile, your voice quiet and far off, remembering what was more than a man from years ago. Staring into your daughter's droopy eyes, you sing softly. "Twinkle twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are..."

Her eyes already start to shut.

"Up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky," you mumble, your eyes welling up with tears. Years from that fateful day he left and the memory brings tears to your eyes still. Your throat starts to swell.

"Twinkle twinkle, little star," you chuckle in a bitter laugh, seeing how your daughter was already asleep, unable to notice your voice crack. "How I wonder, where you are."

In the sandy dunes, a fallen angel walks through the sand, his arm raised before his eyes in a desperate and fruitless attempt to shield them from the unforgiving wind and sand. His feet slip, but he walks on, doing his best to eventually get to you.

X

[fanfictionbeginagain]

Chapter Twenty-Three

“I don’t see why we have to do this now. Your birthday is next month I could just meet them then.” I reasoned as I walked hand in hand with Richard down the street towards the restaurant.

“They’re my parents. They want to meet you.” He reasoned.

“Me meeting people in your life hasn’t exactly gone well.” I reminded him, “Robb! Stay close, don’t run too far ahead!” I called as my son danced ahead of us.

“That was one incident.” He told me.

It may have been only one incident but I was painfully reminded of it every time Richard introduced me to people in his life, “Robb! Don’t cross the road without us!” I called.

I knew I was taking my anxiety out of Robb but I couldn’t help it. If I thought, it had been important to Richard’s best friends to like me, that was nothing compared to how I felt in meeting his parents.

“How much do they know about me?” I asked curiously as we caught up to Robb.

“They know pretty much everything.” He shrugged.

“Everything?” I asked before I flicked my gaze ahead to Robb, “Stay close buddy!”

“About my role in Robb’s life. About us. About what happened to you. I’m very open with my parents.” He explained.

I sighed deeply. Jessica and Percy had not known about my past and yet they judged me before they had even met me. Richard parents knew everything about me, apparently, how could they not judge me harshly just as his friends had?

Glancing up, I saw Robb was skipping down the street, too far from us, “Robb! What did I say?!” I called out to him angrily. I had enough to think about tonight, I didn’t need to worry about him running ahead of me and getting himself into trouble, “Get back here!” I demanded.

“Hey,” soothed Richard as he tugged on my hand and pulled me to a stop, forcing me to face him.

I flicked my hair out of my eyes in annoyance as I faced him reluctantly, there was nothing that he could possibly say in this situation that would make me feel any better.

“I know your nervous, but please try to relax ok? They’re going to love you.” He said soothingly.

“These are your parents Richard, what’s the alternative if they don’t?” I challenged pointedly, I knew what the alternative would be if my parents didn’t like Richard; it would make me question my whole relationship with him and whether or not I wanted it to continue.

I still lived with the fear that the moment Richard stepped back to examine the situation and premature of our relationship that he would opt out. If his parents didn’t like me, how long would he stick around? It wasn’t just for Robb’s sake that I worried, though that was my main concern, but for my own sake as well. I liked Richard. I was really quite fond of him and I didn’t want him to leave.

“We’ll cross that bridge if it happens.” Was his genius response.

I rolled my eyes at his cavalier attitude as I turned my attention back to Robb, “Hey, what’s with the running ahead bud?” I demanded.

“I want to meet my new grandma and grandpa.” He said excitedly.

I blinked in shock, “Your new what?”

“We’re meeting Richard’s parents and he’s my dad. His parents are like my grandparents just like grandma and grandpa are.” He told me.

I couldn’t argue with his logic, but him proclaiming Richard’s parents were his grandparents made me uncomfortable because the two of them had not agreed to that and I didn’t want to force such a title upon them.

“And what are you gonna ask grandpa Rich when you see him?” asked Richard smiling happily.

“If I can ride in the fire truck.” Replied Robb happily.

I looked between the two of them in bewilderment, what on earth was going on here? Why was no one else concerned about how badly this whole thing could turn out?

“Good job.” He told them, holding his hand up for him to high-five. Robb smacked his little hand against his before he rushed ahead of us again.  

Richard turned to look at me, beaming proudly at Robb’s answer, seeming to find nothing wrong about the entire situation, “You look beautiful tonight.” He told me simply.

I tucked a hair behind me ear as we continued walking once more. I was wearing a long cream coloured skirt with peach coloured roses on it with a white lacy top and a pair of flesh coloured heels. I wanted to look nice and had agonized far too much over what I would wear because I knew a lot of judgement could be derived from my outfit and I wanted to present something that his parents might approve of.

“Come on, the restaurant is just up here.” He said as he began walking once more. I reluctantly followed after him.

The restaurant we were going to was Italian styled and called ‘500’. As Richard pulled open the door for Robb, who scrambled inside excitedly I took a look inside through the window, the walls were a pale blue colour with pictures of old vintage cars adorning them. The small wooden tables that were dotted around the restaurant oddly had yellow and red coloured chairs around them.

As we stepped inside, butterflies fluttered anxiously in my stomach and I desperately tried to quiet them as the host approached us.

“Table for Madden?” asked Richard.

“Right this way.” Smiled the host.

As we moved through the restaurant Richard, thankfully, had a hold of Robb’s hand as we walked which left me nothing to focus on but the horrible feeling in my stomach.

Approaching the table, I was easily able to spot Richard’s parents because his Father looked exactly like an older, greyer, version of Richard except for his eyes, which were brown instead of blue. Sitting beside him was a blonde haired women with the same beautiful blue eyes as Richard. As we approached the two stood up with a smile.

“Richard darling,” said his mother as she pulled him in for a brief hug.

“Hey mum.” He replied with a smile before he turned to his father and offered her his hand, “Hey dad.”

“Son.” He smiled as he shook his hand.

“Mum, Dad, this is Melanie.” He said gesturing to me, “Melanie, these are my parents Rich and Pat.” He explained.

“Hello there,” beamed Pat as she reached out and shook my hand, “We’re so glad to meet you.”

Not trusting myself to speak I simply smiled in greeting.

“Glad to meet you Melanie,” said Rich, smiling so widely that his eyes crinkled as he shook my hand.

“It’s nice to meet you.” I said quietly as I joined my hands in front of me nervously.

“Well, she’s a stunner.” Proclaimed Rich as he looked at me with an appreciative eye before he turned to his son, “What she doing with you?”

“I have no idea.” Grinned Richard.

I flushed at the compliment.

“Do you ride on a fire truck?” demanded Robb from below.

I looked down at him in horror. I was sure because he had interrupted us and spoken so rudely that his parents were sure to think I had a poorly mannered child and I opened my mouth to chastise him but before I could Rich looked down at him with a smile.

“Yes I do.” He replied.

“You must be Robb.” Said Pat as she bent her knees slightly to come down to Robb’s level.  

“Hello Grandma Pat.” Said Robb happily.

Part of me was relieved that Robb was being so polite, but another, far larger part of me was mortified that he had called her his ‘grandma’ without asking her first. Unsure of what I was supposed to do, I simply stayed silent and tried to look calm, the opposite of what I felt.

“We’re very glad to meet our grandchild.” Said Rich as he crouched down to look at Robb with a smile, “How old are you Robb?” he asked.

“I’m six and a half.” He replied.

“You are not!” said Rich, “You’re too big to be just six and a half.”

“He’s right. You’re gonna be as tall as your father.” Said Pat, glancing up at Richard for a moment with a smile.

Grandma Pat? Grandchild? Father? What was happening?!

How were his parents so ok with all of this? As far as they knew, I was just some girl that had gotten Richard to pretend to be my sons father. That placed no obligation on them to play along and yet they were. Why?

“You must be hungry, big boy like you must eat a lot.” Said Pat.

“Yes. I’m starving.” Said Robb happily.

“Well we better order dinner then or your gonna starve.” Said Rich.

Straightening up, Rich and Pat showed Robb over to the table while I stood still in absolute shock. I was jolted into awareness when Richard pulled a yellow chair out for me. Stepping over to the table, I woodenly sat down as butterflies flapped nervously in my stomach.

Sitting down next to me, Richard swiftly leaned over and pressed his lips to my cheek, “Breathe.” He told me quietly.

It only occurred to me then that I had been so tense that I’d forgotten to breathe, so I very deliberately took a deep and soothing breath.

Rich and Pat sat down on the other side of the table while Robb sat at the end of the table between Pat and myself.

I wasn’t sure I could stomach any food but I busied myself with grabbing the menu and holding it out so Robb could see, “What do you feel like eating bud?” I asked.

“Nuggets.” Said Robb.

“They don’t have nuggets here. Only pasta.” I told him.

“Do they have spaghetti?” he asked.

I browsed the menu quickly, they did not have spaghetti. What kind of Italian restaurant didn’t serve spaghetti? I began to panic as I desperately searched the menu for something he might eat.

‘Strozzapreti con ragu di manzo alla Napoletana’ which was described as curly sheets of pasta with slow cooked beef in tomato and red wine sauce, sounded like lasagne, which Robb liked.

“How about some lasagne?” I asked him.

He nodded enthusiastically.

I personally didn’t feel like eating, my stomach was too full of butterflies but I knew I had to order something for dinner so I stared at the page and tried to find something appetizing.

“What are you thinking?” asked Richard conversationally.

“I’m thinking the ravioli.” I answered as I stared at the menu, the ravioli ripieni di ricotta e melanzane, con salsa al ragu di mare was described as pasta parcels filled with ricotta cheese and aubergines, served with a seafood sauce.

“Yeah I’m thinking the swordfish.” He replied.

I’d never heard of swordfish being a particularly Italian meal. That being said, the restaurant didn’t even serve something remotely similar to the signature Italian meal.

“That sounds good son. I think I’ll get the same.” Announced Rich.

“I think I’ll get the risotto.” Said Pat.

I hadn’t noticed that a waiter had come over and was scribbling down on his notepad until he spoke, “Any drinks with that?” he asked.

“I’ll have a beer.” Replied Rich.

“Me too.” Said Richard.

“I’ll have a shiraz.” Replied Pat with a smile.

“Can I have a coke?” asked Robb.

“Yes.” I told him and the waiter scribbled something down.

“And for you ma’am? A glass of wine?” he asked.

“No thank you. Just a lemonade.” I replied, I couldn’t risk drinking at a time like this. I was jittery enough as it was.

“So Melanie,” began Pat as she folded her hands in front of her, “Tell us what you do with yourself.” She smiled.

I blanched, here came the judgement.

“Richard tells us you own your own business?” asked Rich curiously.

“Ah yes, I have a flower shop in Bethnal Green.” I replied.

“And that comes from your interest in gardening?” he asked.

“Yes, I enjoy gardening.” I said as I shifted in my seat nervously, how many questions were they going to fire at me? Did I answer correctly? Was gardening a strange habit to have?

“I love gardening, vegetables mostly but I never have time.” Said Pat with a sigh.

“It is very time consuming.” I agreed.

“Do you sell bouquets of flowers or plants and such?” she asked.

“I don’t really have a knack for flower arranging so mostly just plants and seedlings. But we do sell bouquets of the same flowers.” I explained.

“What’s the name of your shop?” asked Rich.

I suddenly felt stupid for saying the name of my shop as in that moment it felt a little juvenile, “Melanie’s Peonies.” I said reluctantly.

“Are Peonies your favourite flower?” asked Pat.

“Yes.”

“Taking notes are you Richard? You do something wrong; peonies.” Smiled Rich.

Richard nodded in response and I actually found myself smiling at the joke.

“I’ve always adored sunflowers.” Commented Pat.

“Yeah, try finding those in a flower shop.” Grumbled Rich.

Richard chuckled.

“Sunflowers are beautiful. I’ve always thought it was so magical the way sunflowers follow the sun.” I said.

She frowned in response, “Do they?”

“Yes. The face of the sunflower moves throughout the day so that it follows the sun.” I explained.

“Wow! I didn’t know that. Perhaps that’s why I’ve always had such trouble growing them as I planted them in the shade of a tree in the back yard.” She mused.

We were on a topic of conversation that I was comfortable with and I felt myself relax slightly, “You need to plant them in the sun.” I told her.

The topic of conversation turned to Richard and I was able to think back on the conversation I had shared with Richard’s parents. So far I thought I had done alright, there had been nothing that they critiqued or didn’t seem to like.

Dinner arrived shortly after and as we began to eat, Rich and Pat went back to questioning me.

“Do you like to travel Melanie?” asked Rich.

“A little.” I revealed as I finished a mouthful of my ravioli.

“Richard’s a big traveller. Thanks to his job he’s seen more of the world than we have.” Said Pat, smiling fondly at her son.

“I did a little traveling last year but my parents are actually away right now traveling over Europe.” I explained.

“How long have your parents been together?” she asked.

“Twenty-eight years I think.”

“And you’re their only child?”

“Yes. My parents always wanted to give me brothers and sister but my mother couldn’t have anymore.” I explained.

“Richard has two sisters and they used to love dressing him up as a child.” Said Pat, “They would dress him up as a girl and call him their older sister Rachel” she grinned.

“Really?” I asked, smiling in amusement as I turned to Richard.

“Ok, new topic!” he said loudly and I could see he was blushing.

“No, no. I want to hear more about Rachel.” I smiled.

“How about some dessert?” he replied, “I could go some dessert. What about you Robb?”

“Yeah!” he replied happily.

Surprisingly enough I was actually ok with staying and having dessert. My original plan had been to eat dinner and leave as quickly as possible but things were going so well, I saw no reason not to stay. I made to grab the menu and discuss with Robb what he would like but Pat had already leaned over and was showing him.

“Do you like ice cream?” she asked, “Or cake?”

“Both.” Said Robb.

“What about this one? Its called Panna cotta, its like chocolate pudding” she said pointing to an unknown item on the menu.

It was strange but seeing Pat with Robb, I was strongly reminded of how my parents interacted with him and it made me smile to think that he would now have another set of grandparents to spoil him.

“I’m torn between two.” Commented Richard.

Tearing my attention away from Robb I turned to him to see the two items on the menu he was looking at. There was the poached Vignole cherries in Montepulciano wine, served with vanilla ice cream and crumbled amaretti biscuits and the strawberries compote with crumbled pistachios and fresh basil flavoured whipped cream.

“Well why don’t you order one and I’ll order the other and we can share?” I suggested.

“Great idea.” Said Richard as he turned to me with a smile, “That’s why I love you.” He replied before he turned his attention to the waiter and tried to signal him over.

It took me a moment to really register what he had said because the words that meant so much had been so insignificantly dropped into the conversation. But I felt them and the impact they had. I quickly looked around the table to see if anyone else had noticed what he had said, but no one had looked up from their menus.

Had it really happened then? Had Richard just said he loved me? He’d said it so casually it was almost as if he hadn’t given the words any thought before he said them. Which on one hand was a good thing it meant that he really felt them if he had unthinkingly admitted it, but it made me wonder, if he had said them so flippantly, if he really meant them.

Deciding not to dwell on it then I turned my attention back to Robb and Pat rather than focus on what Richard had just said.

“Do you like school Robb?” asked Rich.

“Yeah.” He smiled.

“What’s your favourite subject?” he asked.

“Sport.”

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

“A knight.”

They continued to ask Robb questions as we waited for dessert and they seemed genuinely interested in the answers similar to the way my parents were. They weren’t just asking to be polite but actually wanted to know about the boy that they had inherited as a grandchild.

As they spoke, I took the opportunity to think over what Richard had said to me. No guy said the big ‘L’ word without thinking it through so I knew that when he had said it, he’d meant it. But how did I feel about that?

Obviously it made me happy. I knew Richard loved Robb but to hear he loved me was amazing. It gave me a strange sense of security to know that he loved me. But with him saying the words, I knew I needed to declare my feelings for him pretty soon. I had no issues with doing that but the reason I hadn’t done it yet was because he hadn’t and I was afraid of how he would react if I went first. Perhaps he was thinking the same thing and hadn’t officially declared anything because he was afraid of what would happen if he went first.

As dessert was served, I began to examine my feelings for Richard; he was good with Robb. Robb adored him and he adored Richard. They were good together… but how did I feel independently of what Robb felt?

He made me happy. Far happier than anyone had ever made me. He was a great guy who I was lucky to have in my life but more than that, he made me a better person. Before I met him I was so scared of so many things the most prominent of which was trusting people and being intimate. Slowly but surely, Richard had helped me overcome those fears and in giving me that confidence I had done things I never thought I would do and it had made me far happier than I ever thought possible.

Did I love him? Yes. Was I ready to say that to him? I wasn’t sure.

“I used to like playing football with Rupert but he went up to heaven so we can’t play anymore.” Said Robb.

I blinked when I heard Robb talking about our benefactor Mr. Pilkinton. I hadn’t thought about him in so long but it seemed Robb still did and I was suddenly wondering if I needed to talk to him a little more about what had happened to his dear friend.

“I’m trying to teach Richard how to play but he’s not very good.” Said Robb.

“I thought you were good at Football Richard?” asked Rich turning to his son with interest.

“No, it’s a completely different game in Australia.” I explained, “It’s a cross between basically all of the ‘Football’ versions around the world, grid-iron, rugby, soccer, touch footy.”

He nodded in understanding.

“It’s very popular there but it’s not really played in other countries.” Explained Richard.

We continued talking and all in all it was a very enjoyable night. As we said goodbye, Richard’s parents smiled and hugged me saying they were looking forward to seeing me and Robb again.

Even though I thought the whole night had gone well, the moment we were alone, after Richard had put a sleeping Robb to bed, I asked him, “What did they think? Did they like me?”

He sighed deeply and shook his head as he approached me.

My spirit plummeted as he shook his head in disappointment, I must have done something wrong for them not to like me. I had thought things were going so well but obviously they hadn’t. They didn’t like me. What had I done wrong?

Grasping my face between his hands he stared me directly in the eye, “They loved you.” He told me seriously.

I blinked in shock before a smile broke out across my face, as quickly as my spirits had sunk, they were suddenly soaring, “Really?” I asked happily.

“Really.” He assured me, smiling cheekily, “They loved you. They loved Robb.” He told me.

Smiling happily, I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him happily. The happiness mixed with relief gave me a strange giddy feeling that turned into a euphoric high as we kissed.

[mimiandmattpowell]

Week 11: Myanmar + Thailand

March 5 - Free hotel breakfast - (Mediocre at best) - (So many backpackers) - Photo editing in the room - (Air-con FTW) - Buy Moustache Brothers tix for later - (Need 2 more tourists or no show) - Head to coffee shop (wifi) - En route lured into woodworker gallery - Discover epic hand-carved table tops - Ascertain price - Continue to coffee shop - (Total Starbucks knock-off) - (but with way better food) - (OMG the Vietnamese spring rolls) - (And the fish) - (Annnd the purple rice) - (Wifi still sucks, because, Myanmar) - Return to the woodworker - Realize an 8 x 3 ft top is approx less $500 - Huddle, excitedly, to scheme - (How the hell to get one back to Brooklyn?) - Confer with owner regard desired table specs - Agree to visit wood shop outside town next am - Wander into Aye-Myit-Tar Myanmar Restaurant - (Mostly-locals spot) - (Everyone seems to think we are quite funny) - Epic feast for price of 2 cheap entrees - (And a couple bottles of local whiskey) - Moustache Brothers Comedy & Dance Show - (Hold-over political dissidents from junta years) - (Just us and two German tourists) - (In the garage of the performers’ home) - (Beers for roughly $0.50) - (Served by star’s 6yr old granddaughter) - Lights out

March 6 - Repeat breakfast at hotel - Learn airport transfer takes over 90mins - (To travel 38km, because, Myanmar) - Flake on shopkeep - (No time for wood shop in light of above) - Taxi to airport - Mandalay > Bangkok - Airport Burger King + McDonalds combo lunch - (BK chicken sandwich with McDonalds fries) - Music search for upcoming iMovies - Bangkok > Chiang Mai - Check in to May Flower Grande - (Nimman district where the hip local kids hang) - 7-Eleven resupply run - (7-Eleven is ubiquitous in Thailand) - Shots on the walk back to hotel - FaceTime with Guy and Kelly at KBS for Matt

March 7 - Breakfast buffet at hotel - (This joint does breakfast right) - Microbus pickup by Elephant Nature Park - (Delays due to others boarding wrong bus) - 90min into mountains to Elephant Highlands - (Mostly switchback dirt roads along cliffs) - (Limited air-con) - First look & getting acquainted with elephants - (3 rescued female Asian elephants that is!) - Prepare watermelon & pumpkin snacks - (Using large, dangerous cleavers) - First elephant feeding session - Walk them thru jungle and papaya farm - (While feeding them cucumber treats) - Trio decide to try to uproot a banana tree - (Observe in awe) - (Elephants eat 300 kg of food a day, man) - Humans take a lunch break - Elephants daily mud bath - (They quickly bore of mud and start grazing) - (Did we mention they like to eat?) - Elephant bonding moment - (One wanders off downhill out of view) - (Others quickly notice) - (And freak out) - (And run past humans) - (Smashing trunks into ground and trumpeting) - Elephants reunite and snuggle up - And examine each other all over with trunks - (Our hearts melt) - Elephant bath time - (We join elephants in watering hole) - (And splash buckets of water on them) - (This leads to big ole water fight) - (Humans have the most fun) - (Soaked with elephant water) - (And who knows what else) - Quick shower and change - Prepare afternoon snack - (Sloppy balls of rice, banana, salt & tamarind) - (Elephants watch obsessively) - Feed the (still) hungry elephants - Say our goodbyes - (Mimi is SO. FREAKING. SAD. to leave) - Ride home with huge elephant-loving grins - (Mimi is beaming) - Booze & Thai Iced Espresso at Dude! Cafe - (Thai Iced Espresso is rocket fuel) - Terrible haircut & beard trim at local barber - (The 90s hip-hop soundtrack made it all ok) - Shower up & back out hunting for dinner - (No one seems to want to let us eat) - Stumble into local cool kid bar & grill - Order a beer, whiskey & 2 pork belly plates - Get 66oz beer, bottle rum, 4 tiny pieces pork - (To be fair, the pork was damn good) - Get hammered & make friends - Black out. Pass out.

March 8 - Awake to hangovers of holy proportions - Attempt breakfast at hotel as antidote - Crawl back to cold, dark, hotel room - Music, photo editing & recovery - Struggle to late lunch at rad salad joint - (Long convo about life, love & childhood) - Slink back to the safety of our room - 12-hour iMovie session - (check above here and herefor the results) - Dinner & Chang’s 22ozs at locals spot - (Not another tourist in sight) - Food via street carts without menus - (Fried squid, testicles, chicken wings, skewers) - (Off-the-charts tasty and less than $10) - Ice cream on the walk home - (Milk cheese for Mimi. Coffee for Matt)

March 9 - Breakfast at the hotel - (Can’t say enough about this free breakfast) - Drop-off laundry - Wander our neighborhood & window shop - Smoothies for lunch - 4-hour spa session - (Questionable quality across all services) - Retrieve laundry - Rest & relax - Head toward old city & then night market - Stop at rooftop bar of swanky hotel at sunset - (Could-have-been-South-Beach spot) - Grab street vendor dim sum on the walk - (Delicious, large bag for $1) - Get tired & stop again for booze & spring rolls - Enter tourist epicenter of Chiang Mai - (Complete with hostess bars) - Explore night market - More food - (Yummy Turkish food) - More drinks near strange stage - (Complete with stranger dancers) - FaceTime with Marge - Text birthday wishes to Uncle Mantequillo - Songthaew (pick-up truck taxi thing) home - (Aggressive negotiation from foolish figure)

March 10 - Breakfast at the hotel - Pack and prep for Phuket - Phone time with Reverend Jonah Bloom - Smoothies at hotel juice bar - Songthaew to airport - Chiang Mai > Phuket - Inflight scuba refresher discussion - Long taxi ride to Fasai House in Khao Lak - (Overpaid by about 3x) - (Driver passes time on YouTube while driving) - (Enjoying countless girl eating popsicles vids) - Drinks at roadside bar - Dope ass meaning of life convo - Dinner at Spinach - Zzzzzz

March 11 Day 1 aboard MV South Siam Similan Islands National Park Northern Andaman Sea 8.6579º N, 97.6467º E

- Early South Siam Divers pickup to docks - 1hr speedboat to MV South Siam - (Anchored at Koh Similan) - Boat briefing - Meet Van, our South African dive master - Gear up

Dive #1 Christmas Point at Koh Similan 1100hrs | 49 min | 66 ft | 82º

- Swim-thurs - Giant puffer - Napoleon wrasse - Tuna - False percula clownfish (aka Nemo!) - Triggerfish - Parrotfish - (Much larger here than the Caribbean) - Giant moray eel - The usual re-acclimating challenges - (Leaks, over-breathing, general ineptitude, etc)

- Yummy lunch on boat

Dive #2 Three Trees at Koh Similan 1304hrs | 49 min | 68 ft | 82º

- Huge green turtle as soon as we splash - (Chowing down on the reef) - A small army of barracuda - Juvenile tuna - Field of garden eels - Clown triggerfish - Oriental sweetlips - (Lisa Lowry would love this fish) - Shoals of triggerfish - Filefish

- Finally assigned our room - (Upgraded to large cabin in bow) - (Shocker – tour leader took a shine to Mimi)

Dive #3 Koh Bon 1553hrs | 45 min | 73 ft | 82º

- Schools after school of bluefin trevally - Scores of sea stars of all colors and varieties - Schools of bait fish moving as one bait ball - Fields of anemone with varieties of clownfish - Trumpetfish of many different colors stalking

Dive #4 Tachai Reef at Koh Tachai 1854hrs | 33 min | 51 ft | 81º

- Mimi’s first night dive! - Pufferfish - 4 giant moray eel - Batfish in small groups - Clearfin lionfish - (Different species from Caribbean invaders) - Crabs - More sea stars - Feather stars - (Totally incredible) - (Liz Powell would love – it’s purple and black) - Eerie beams of light from distant divers' lights

- Dinner. Beers. Crash.

[tyleroakley-obsessed]

Ed. Note: Who says you can’t eat vegetarian in Memphis? Contributor Stacey went on a Chubby-Vegetarian-approved food tour recently to check out the duo’s collaborations with local restaurants. I hear they have a great veggie burger at new downtown steakhouse 117 Prime, too. The Chubby Vegetarian is husband-and-wife-team Justin Fox Burks and Amy Lawrence. The two will be at St. George’s Antiques Arcade this Sat. April 28 from 11 a.m. 1 p.m. and will give demos and sign their cookbooks! Recently, I (Stacey) had the pleasure of restaurant hopping with Justin Fox Burks, who you may know as The Chubby Vegetarian. (Technically TCV is more of a brand than a person, as Justin’s wife, Amy Lawrence, is critical to the operation.) In addition to two cookbooks, Justin and Amy now have five different vegetarian dishes at five different restaurants in Memphis. Justin and I set about tasting them and talking shop one Friday afternoon. If you’re looking for vegetarian options in Memphis, this food tour is for you! In order to eat them all, Justin said we had to have rules: 1. No booze and 2. No side dishes.  Photo courtesy of The Chubby Vegetarian Justin doesn’t receive any compensation for the dishes—only satisfaction. He’s been a vegetarian since his teens and taught himself to cook vegetables so that he wouldn’t end up as a “carbo-tarian.” He says, “People hate the tofu – it’s about the vegetables, grains and beans. It’s too easy to swap out meat for tofu. It’s ok for making the transition [to vegetarianism], but sooner or later you want to think about using vegetables in their natural form.” 1. The King’s Oatmeal at Sunrise Memphis We started out at Sunrise Memphis where Chef/Owner Ryan Trimm has Justin’s creation on the menu: The King’s Oatmeal. It’s sliced bananas, oatmeal, peanut butter, maple syrup, and…COCONUT BACON. I’ll let Justin explain that last bit. “If you take coconut and smoke it and toast it, it comes out bacon-y.” I must have looked skeptical because he added, “Ok, it speaks the language of bacon.” Stacey Greenberg Justin loves to take vegetables and present them in a different way. He thought he might sell Ryan on his carrot dogs (yes, hot dogs made from grilled carrots!), but the chef fell in love with his superfood packed oatmeal creation. But, best of all, the coconut bacon is available as a substitute for real bacon in all of the Sunrise’s dishes. BLT, anyone? We tried the King’s Oatmeal and a biscuit with egg, cheese and coconut bacon. The King’s Oatmeal was really, really good. The crispy coconut bacon generously sprinkled on top really brought it all home. And, yes, it really did speak the language of bacon! Justin and Chef Ryan Trimm. Photo courtesy of The Chubby Vegetarian. The biscuit sandwich was also remarkable. Ryan says he’s been spending a lot of time trying to get the biscuits just right. “Everyone wants to eat them in their car, so I’m trying to make them less crumbly,” he explained. (I told him people need to sit down and eat their breakfast!) Stacey Greenberg Justin noted that the bacon does hold up surprisingly well inside the biscuit sandwiches, but thinks it’s especially good on top of something. Go see for yourself. It’s a great Memphis vegetarian breakfast option.  After we left Sunrise, Justin admitted that he was “ridiculously excited” about our food tour. (For the record, I was too!) “I never get to do this!” he said. 2. Vegetarian BBQ Nachos at The Rendezvous Our next stop was the Rendezvous. That’s right, the Rendezvous, one of our most famous barbecue restaurants. Justin is also a photographer, and in addition to regularly producing for the Memphis Flyer and Rhodes College, he does a lot of marketing shots. One day, while he and Anna Vergos Blair (who is also a vegetarian and the Rendezvous’ Marketing Director) were making pulled pork sandwiches look beautiful, they got a little hungry. At the time there were only two vegetarian options on the menu—the Greek salad and the red beans and rice. Justin says the Greek salad is owner John Vergos’s grandmother’s recipe and that he beams with pride whenever he talks about it. The red beans and rice was Anna’s creation. “It’s unusual and unique – BBQ flavored. Very Memphis. Very good,” says Justin. As they were talking, Justin suggested taking the red beans and rice a bit further. “You could put it on a bun and make it a Sloppy Joe,” he told Anna. They did it that day and loved it, but a bigger conversation was sparked and the red beans and rice nachos were born. Nachos! “It’s simply Brim’s chips, red beans and rice, cheese dip, barbeque sauce, and jalapeños. And it’s delicious. Crunchy-cheesy-salty-spicy wonderfulness,” he says. I couldn’t wait to try them, as I am admittedly a bit of a nacho-tarian. They really are SO good. I definitely think that any vegetarian who somehow ended up in the Rendezvous in Memphis with their pork-loving friends could absolutely order the nachos and leave happy. Heck, I did, and I love barbeque. It’s great to have another vegetarian BBQ option in Memphis. 3. Chubby Vegetarian PoBoy at The Second Line Our next stop was The Second Line for Justin’s namesake poboy, The Chubby Vegetarian. “[Chef/Owner] Kelly [English] has been incredibly supportive of us from the start,” says Justin. “It’s difficult to figure out how we’d be where we are without him.” Stacey Greenberg A series of fortunate events led to Justin and Amy’s first book deal. Justin landed a guest judging spot on the Food Network’s “Great Food Truck Race” when they came through Memphis, and then Kelly invited him and Amy to take over Restaurant Iris for a brunch. They invited their soon-to-be editor to eat their food at a sold out meal in one of the City’s most elegant restaurants. “Those two things along with hard work on our proposal sealed the deal on our first book,” he says. When the Second Line was still a twinkle in Kelly’s eye, he said to Justin, “Come up with a vegetarian po-boy, and I’ll name it after you.” Justin says the prospect was nerve wracking. “Amy and I worked on it and came up with two at a time then did a single elimination tournament.” They created king oyster mushroom, jackfruit, eggplant andouille, and mushroom poboys. After one bite, Kelly said “This is it” and declared the mushroom the winner. Stacey Greenberg Justin used a red wine reduction and put the mushrooms in whole. The result is wonderfully messy — the juice runs down your arm. “I gotta be honest. I love this sandwich,” says Justin. “It’s at once transformative of the ingredient and also retains the ingredient. It’s not processed to the point of garbage.” Pro tip: the Chubby Vegetarian mushroom gravy is also available on the OG poboy which is made of French fries. We tried both and made short order of them. From Justin to Kelly? Photo by Stacey Greenberg 4. Foxy BBQ Sandwich at City Silo Our last stop was at City Silo Table and Pantry for the Foxy BBQ sandwich. When they were transitioning to City Silo from Cosmic Coconut, Chef Will Byrd was catering a wedding and needed something vegetarian to barbeque. Meanwhile, owner Scott Tashie went to Justin and Amy’s cookbook signing and tasted the squash ribs they made for sampling. He immediately told Will and decided to also add it to the new menu. “It was important to have a good BBQ dish because I love BBQ,” says Scott. Their version uses a pulled spaghetti squash and he says it sells well, especially for customers who want to try something that’s not mainstream or are looking for a vegetarian bbq experience in Memphis. Scott added that it took him a while to come up with the perfect name. Justin’s grandfather called him Foxy, so he immediately loved it when Scott decided on Foxy BBQ. “It was a nice hook to the past for me,” he says. Scott and Justin. Photo by Stacey Greenberg. Y’all. The Foxy BBQ is aah-mazing. In addition to the squash, there’s a spicy red cabbage slaw, and the Rendezvous’ gluten free BBQ sauce. The one we tried also had a fried egg and avocado added. Wow. And yes, it totally satisfies the BBQ craving. Memphis vegetarians, take not! 5. Chipotle Sweet Potato Burger at Park + Cherry (vegan!) P.S. Kevin and Kristi Bush of CFY Catering / Park & Cherry recently added the (vegan) Chipotle Sweet Potato Burger from the Chubby Vegetarian cookbook to the new menu.  Photo courtesy of Chubby Vegetarian “It’s their take on it inspired by our recipe, and Justin and I love what they’ve created. The bun and the mayo are both vegan, and Justin and I appreciate that they made sure that all the components were just right,” says Amy. Justin doesn’t know what their next restaurant menu item will be, but he hopes there are more. “Amy and I like to innovate and then move on to the next thing,” he says. Novel’s restaurant, Libro, featured their beet ravioli for a week over the holidays. And they’ve been known to do pop ups at Iris, Etc. So, you never know! Follow Justin and Amy on Instagram to see what they come up with next. Follow the Chubby Vegetarian: Website Instagram Facebook YouTube Also check out their two cookbooks, The Chubby Vegetarian: 100 Inspired Recipes for the Modern Table and The Southern Vegetarian: 100 Down-Home Recipes for the Modern Table About The Author Stacey Greenberg is a freelance writer who lives in Cooper Young with her two teenaged sons. She’s a contributor to Thrillist.com, Edible Memphis, I Love Memphis, and Memphis Travel. She’s also the author of the award winning blog, Dining with Monkeys (diningwithmonkeys.com). A lifelong Memphian, she loves the fact that she’s never met a stranger here. Are you a home owner in Memphis, with a broken garage door? Call ASAP garage door today at 901-461-0385 or checkout https://ift.tt/1B5z3Pc

http://ilovememphisblog.com/2018/04/the-chubby-vegetarians-5-memphis-dishes-you-should-try/

[newstfionline]

Tales From the Border: 2 Weeks Along the US-Mexico Frontier

AP, April 7, 2017

TIJUANA, Mexico--The smells and sounds of Tijuana smack us as soon as we open the doors of our bug-splattered rental, a Jeep Renegade: food stalls selling roasted corn, churros and hot dogs; a near-empty bar blaring the oompa-oompas of norteno, Mexico’s answer to polka.

This is our last stop. We have just logged 3,000 miles from the Gulf of Mexico to the Pacific Ocean, crisscrossing back and forth across the world’s 10th-longest border 22 times over two weeks and blogging about the experience. We have traversed the terrain through which President Donald Trump would build a 30-foot-high wall; we have talked to anyone and everyone who was willing to open up to us.

We’ve seen a father and daughter speak through the bars of the border fence, and talked to an Arizona rancher who supports the wall but who has installed taps at every well on his desert property so migrants can drink. In Ciudad Juarez, we watched Mexican children throw rocks across the fence at railroad maintenance vehicles in the U.S. In Tijuana, we met a U.S. Army veteran who crossed the border, in her words, to “hide” from life for a few hours.

What we’ve found, from the near-empty migrant shelters of Tamaulipas state in Mexico to the drug-running corridors of the Sonoran desert, is a region convulsed by uncertainty and angst, but rooted in a shared culture and history unlikely to be transformed by any politician, or any barrier man can construct.

Border life “is not going to change,” said Ramon Alberto Orrantia, a 54-year-old restaurant parking attendant who has lived in Tijuana for 48 years. “People continue doing the same thing. Life is normal.”

Practically everyone we met has been welcoming and evinced a deeply held sense of the place they inhabit--from the Mexican-American sheriff in Nogales, Arizona, who shook hands through the fence and chatted amiably with a man he later said was probably a lookout for smugglers, to the cheery border agent in Deming, New Mexico, who astonished us with a thorough knowledge of the history of the AP’s founding during the Mexican-American War.

I’ve spent six years living and reporting along the border, most of it in the Rio Grande Valley of South Texas. My traveling companion, Rodrigo Abd, is an Argentine photographer who has covered some of the most violent conflicts on the planet but has spent little time on the border. He expected every American he met there to be fervently pro-Trump and pro-wall, but we often had a hard time finding such people.

Mostly, we found a culture that is neither exclusively Mexican nor American but distinctively both.

Nowhere was that more clear than in Columbus, New Mexico, and Palomas, Mexico, where each day about 1,200 children in backpacks and sneakers wake up in Mexico, cross the border and hop on school buses.

These kids are all American citizens; many of their parents were deported and moved to the frontier so they could get a U.S. education. They are the epitome of the bicultural border population, growing up fluent in both English and Spanish and prepared to thrive on either side.

“There are more opportunities there ... more hours of work, and I think that all favors them,” said Ada Noema Gonzalez, whose 10-year-old son Jesus and 9-year-old daughter Karen live in Palomas and attend class at Columbus Elementary.

But life on the border is not always so hopeful. Drug trafficking and its accompanying violence are grave concerns. And Trump’s presidency has turned U.S.-Mexico relations on their ear with politicians exchanging insults, threats of possible trade wars, fears of mass deportations and near-constant talk of the wall.

All along the trip, people shared their very real concerns. Some feared the heavily armed cartel smugglers who mule cocaine shipments through their backyards in the dead of night. Others harbored less violent worries of losing a job or being separated from loved ones.

Fernie Velasco in Sunland Park, New Mexico, was grilling a mountain of steak next to his trailer when Rodrigo asked to photograph his kids jumping on a trampoline. A U.S. citizen who works construction and spent more than a decade as a migrant farm worker, he worries that his Mexican wife could lose her work permit and be deported at any time, leaving him alone with the kids.

In northern Mexico, thousands of people eke out a living at the so-called maquiladora plants that boomed under the endangered North American Free Trade Agreement and crank out all sorts of goods for export to the United States, everything from shoes to toys to electronics.

But while these jobs are treasured, it’s not an easy life. Reynosa plant worker Jorge Santiago told us how maquiladora entry-level wages, while well above Mexico’s minimum wage, are barely enough to scrape by: “Here everyone makes it with overtime.”

U.S. Homeland Security Secretary John F. Kelly acknowledged this week that despite Trump’s frequent promises to put up a solid barrier the length of the border, “it is unlikely that we will build a wall from sea to shining sea.”

To travel the length of the border is to understand why.

Where the Rio Grande makes a long slow curve through the aptly named Big Bend National Park, we bore witness to how nature already dwarfs any man-made wall that could be built. Here, twin sheer cliff faces rise 1,500 feet above the water.

At the bottom of the canyon there’s a shallow river with no border agents on either side to prevent park visitors from wading across. “As far as we understand, we just crossed an international border,” David Finston, a retired math professor from Las Cruces, New Mexico, told us.

Just west of El Paso, workers were welding hundreds of steel panels into place in a stretch of see-through fencing that was planned before Trump’s election and replaces a shorter chain-link fence. (There are now about 650 miles of different kinds of fence along the border.)

Many residents on both sides say the current fence is not stopping border crossers. Every night, they lean ladders up against the barrier and climb over.

Randy Calderon, a 44-year-old retired U.S. Army military police officer and security specialist, doesn’t favor a solid wall--he thinks blowing sand could build up to where people could just walk over it--but he likes this see-through fence of parallel bars in tandem with sensors and boosted policing.

“It’s a visual deterrent ... a slow-down, which gives the security guards on the inside a chance to respond,” he said.

In Arizona, Jim and Sue Chilton offered a different take on the wall.

Jim hides surveillance cameras all over the couple’s 50,000-acre ranch in Arivaca, about 80 miles southwest of Tucson, and showed us videos on his laptop of camouflaged smugglers carrying backpacks through the scrub brush. They walk with military precision, stepping on rocks and wearing carpet-soled slip-ons to avoid leaving tracks.

“Outrageous,” said Jim, who has encountered smugglers carrying AK-47s. He has a beef with people from far away who shrug off border security.

“They say, ‘Oh, it’s OK for all these people to walk through Jim Chilton’s ranch,’” he said. “I mean, they have no skin in the game.”

And yet he and his wife both have empathy for the migrants who risk death to cross the border. Some have died on the Chilton’s ranch, prompting them to install drinking taps.

“No one comments on the cost of not having effective protection of the border,” Sue Chilton said. “That cost includes all those dead people, the raped and mutilated, the otherwise abused and abandoned.”

As the sun goes down over the ocean off Tijuana, a lighthouse comes alive and its rotating beam slaps a border surveillance tower on U.S. soil. At a nearby bar, Mexican baseball fans are watching the San Diego Padres beat the Los Angeles Dodgers on four large-screen TVs.

The San Ysidro U.S. port of entry between Tijuana and San Diego is the busiest crossing in the Western Hemisphere, handling 50,000 northbound vehicles and 25,000 pedestrians each day--more people than the top two U.S. airports for international arrivals combined. They’re crossing to go to work or school; as tourists; to visit family, dine out and party; to shop for cheaper medicines in Mexico or flat-screen TVs in the United States--which, odds are, may very well have been assembled in Mexico in the first place.

The two countries do about $584 billion in commerce each year, with much of that crossing by land. People along the border are more likely to be bilingual and often share an affinity for things like baseball teams, jacked-up pickup trucks and chile-spiced cuisine. They draw water from the same rivers to drink and irrigate crops, and their governments work to protect the same ecosystems and imperiled species.

It’s a relationship that can be adversarial at times. Far more often, it’s symbiotic.

“We Mexicans have been through a lot, especially here in our own country,” said Hector Mendez Leon, a 28-year-old Mexican who was about to cross from Tijuana to his cashier’s job at a clothing store in Chula Vista, California. “So for Mexico, a president like (Trump) is like having a cold. One day you will get over it.”

[artificialqueens]

How to Adore the Seasons 2/4 (Adore-centric) - Mac

AN: Hi there friends! This is the second part in a four part series I’m doing where I pair up Adore with someone else and a season to describe how that particular person loves Adore. Idk if that makes sense. Oh well.

Summary: It’s Adore’s birthday, and Alaska has planned some surprises.

Summer (Alaska/Adore):

“She turned to the sunlight

   And shook her yellow head,

And whispered to her neighbor:

   “Winter is dead.” ― A.A. Milne, When We Were Very Young

Adore woke up to the sound of screaming.

Then she let herself slump back into the cool sheets when she figured out where, or more specifically, who the sound was coming from.

She groaned and pulled the blankets over her head, as Alaska poked at her with her nail-less fingers.

“Rise and shine bitch. Let’s go.”

“Mhhhhhmph.” Came from under the blankets.

“What? I can’t hear you.” Adore could feel the smile in Alaska’s voice, and it made her want to strangle the blonde even more than normal.

Adore removed the covers and pointedly looked, well tried to look, her eyes were practically glued shut, at Alaska. “I said fuck you.”

Alaska mocked offense, “Is that any way to treat your elders.”

“When they wake you up at 4 in the morning it is.”

“We gotta get going if we want to catch it.”

Adore wasn’t going to ask what they were supposed to catch. She wasn’t. She was going to go back to sleep. She wasn’t goin-“Catch what?” SHIT

“You’ll see.” Alaska said with a smirk that wasn’t altogether menacing, but definitely not reassuring. “But you have to GET UP first.”

They played tug-of-war with the blankets for a few minutes before Adore’s fatigued muscles gave out. “Fine. But fuck you still.”

Alaska gave a little victory dance that Adore attempted, and failed, not to laugh at. She then began traipsing about Adore’s room, throwing open curtains and humming some ridiculous song that Adore couldn’t be bothered to figure out. Adore took her sweet time getting up and dressed, pointedly ignoring Alaska’s huffs when she took too long. Just as the shirt went over her head, Adore’s world went dark.

“The FUCK?” Adore pulled at the blindfold.

Alaska batted her hands away. “It is a surprise! Keep it on.“

“If you make me fall, I swear.”

“I won’t. Just trust me.”

Adore bites her tongue on a smart reply and allows herself to be lead to a car and driven away. “If it were anyone else,” she mumbles to herself.

Adore hears Alaska fumble with something for a minute, then the unmistakable sound of a disk tray retracting, and suddenly the car is full of music.  And curse Alaska for knowing all of Adore’s favorite music. She was really trying to be angry at the older queen, but the unconscious smile on her lips gave her away.

Alaska saw it, but wouldn’t mention it. She would however, file it away in her mind to be brought out at a later date. And that feeling that accompanied Adore’s smile would also need to be analyzed later. But now, now wasn’t about her.

Alaska kept checking her watch nervously, and gave an audible sigh of relief when they finally arrived. She hopped out and pulled Adore with her. The two walked only a few steps before they stopped.

“Just one more minute now.” Alaska said, mainly to herself. They stood side by side for what felt like ages, before Adore felt Alaska’s hands beside her face.

Adore’s world went from pitch black to full of color in .2 seconds. The sunrise filled the entire horizon line and Adore’s lungs to the brim.

“Wow.” Adore breathed.

“Yeah.” Alaska smiled.

The orange sun was just barely peeking its head up around the curve of the earth, but the color had spread already. Pinks and light purples mixed with blues and yellows around the edges of the horizon. The whole thing blended together to paint the most beautiful art piece either queen had ever seen.

The two stood there for what felt like ages but also only seconds. The sun was no longer eye level when Alaska slipped the blindfold back on Adore’s face.

“HEY!” Adore shouted in indignation.

“We aren’t done yet.”

Adore smiled. A full-unbridled one this time. If this next surprise was anything like the first she knew waking up at the ass-crack of dawn would be worth it.

They drove for a much shorter distance this time. Adore noticed, because she had only just started to get comfortable when Alaska came to a stop. They both hopped out, and Adore smiled again. Her favorite breakfast place. She could tell by the smell alone. It was only open one day of the week, and at the most awful times. As a creature of the night, Adore never could find herself awake before 11:00am, and thus, she missed her opportunity for the most delicious omelet every week.

Adore was ecstatic, and then she was confused. It was a Tuesday. This place was only open on Thursdays. Alaska, sensing the question at the tip of her tongue, tried to move them along by pulling off the blindfold and shaking her hands as if to say ‘ta da.’ Adore let it go for now, the rumbling in her stomach taking priority.

They entered the empty restaurant, picked the best seat in the house, and had their food within minutes of sitting down. Adore didn’t hesitate before digging in. Alaska, ever the patient one, was content to wait a few moments between each bite and just smile at the younger girl.

When Adore finally came up for air, Alaska spoke softly, “Happy Birthday Danny.” Adore beamed at her, and the older queen immediately burst into giggles. Adore looked at her confusedly until Alaska motioned with her hand at her own face. “You’ve got something right…” Adore struggled for a few moments before Alaska took pity, and wiped the stray cheese residue from her cheek. Adore and Alaska sat in relative silence afterwards. There was no rush, there was only time.

Adore isn’t sure how long they sat, only that when they finally got up, the newborn sun now hung high up above them.

Alaska re-did the blindfold and proceeded to take Adore to every activity Adore enjoyed doing, and even some things she had never done before. They went to a trampoline park, and got so incredibly sweaty that Alaska would definitely need to get her car deep cleaned. They had a picnic in the arboretum. They went zip-lining and swimming and talked for hours about the complexities of life, drag, and the pursuit of marijuana. Adore couldn’t remember a time she felt more understood by another person.

Till the last stop.

Adore let herself once again be blindfolded and whisked away to an undisclosed location. This time, when they came to a halt, Adore couldn’t even begin to figure out where they were. She listened for any identifying sounds, but her brain kept coming up empty. All she could tell was that they were outside. Alaska led her by the hand up a few wooden stairs, and then allowed her to stand by herself a few moments.

“You can take it off now.”

Adore did as instructed, and the resulting chant of “Happy Birthday” rung out. Adore spun around wildly, trying to get a glimpse of everything and everyone. All around her were the people she loved most in her life, a beautifully decorated park, and mountains of food. Before she could take it all in, her mother enveloped her in a huge hug. Bianca and Courtney followed next and squeezed the life out of her, whispering how proud they were, and getting a few jabs in here and there.

The party was magnificent. There was a pool and a gazebo and a food truck. Anything Adore could have ever needed was right with her. The party had Alaska written all over it.

Adore searched high and low for any trace of the blonde, but kept missing her. Finally she spotted the lanky queen, and Adore grabbed her friend before she could dart away.

“Hey Lasky. Uh. I just wanted to say thanks for everything today. You did so much, and I really have no idea why, cause its just little old me, but…but thank you. Really. For everything. “Alaska looked down at her, and for the first time that day, Adore could see some trepidation in her eyes. “Whats wrong Lasky?”

“I just…I didn’t want to tell you here. This is your party and you should be being happy with everyone.” Alaska looked this way and that, rather guiltily.

“What’s going on? You can tell me. Anything. You know that.”

Alaska looked unsure, but pulled Adore closer to her so she could whisper, “I’mmovingnextweektonewyorkforajobandiwantedtotellyoubuticouldntandimgoingtomissyousofuckingmuch”

“Wait, hold on, slow down. You’re moving?”

“Yeah.” Alaska was quick to clarify, “I wanted to tell you. All this time I wanted to, but I didn’t know how, and I knew as soon as I did it would be real.” The older queen looked devastated. “I’m just going to miss you, and I was scared I would lose you. So I put it off, and I think all those feelings bubbled up and then…this.” Alaska gestured to the party around them.

Adore looked at her long and hard. She wasn’t sure if she was angry or sad or happy. So she resorted to doing the thing she always did when she felt overwhelmed, she hugged Alaska.

It was a fierce, strong hug that left the two feeling equal parts better, and like they bruised some ribs.

“Ok.” Adore finally said.

“Ok?”

“Yeah. Ok. That doesn’t change anything. You are still my best friend. I still would do anything for you. I still think you are the most amazing person in this world. Nothing will have to change, except I guess that whole time change thing. But other than that, nothing has to change. You don’t have to lose me.”

Alaska’s face broke out into the biggest grin Adore had seen on her in a while. Alaska launched herself at Adore, and the two stood holding each other for ages, until Bianca yelled across the park at them to get a room.

They finally broke away from the embrace, but kept their fingers interlocked as they made their way back over to the others and they stayed that way till they reached the security line at the airport. And while they may physically have untangled their fingers at the gate, they would forever be intertwined.